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I
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
SEVENTH EDITION.
THE
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA
OR
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
SEVENTH EDITION,
WITH PRELIMINARY DISSERTATIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE SCIENCES,
AND
OTHER EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
INCLUDING THE LATE SUPPLEMENT,
A GENERAL INDEX,
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME XX.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;
M.DCCC.XLII.
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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
SCULPTURE.
Sculpture. ^CULPTURE is the art of imitating visible form by
' v^-"' b-3 means of solid substances, such as marble, wood, or
Origin of metals. The art is one of very great antiquity, and is gene-
scu 1,lul e# rally thought to have originated from idolatry, as it was found
necessary to place before the people the images of their gods,
to enliven the fervour of their devotion. The pyramids and
obelisks of Egypt, which were probably temples, or rather
altars, dedicated to the sun, were covered with hierogly-
phical emblems of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and reptiles,
at a period prior to that in which there is any unexception¬
able evidence that mere statue-worship prevailed even in
that nursery of idolatry.
But though it appears thus evident that picture-writing
was the first employment of the sculptor, we are far from
imagining that idolatrous worship did not contribute to
carry his art to that perfection which it attained in some
of the nations of antiquity. Even in the dark ages of Eu¬
rope, when the other fine arts were almost extinguished,
the ceremonies of the Church of Rome, and the veneration
which she taught for her saints and martyrs, preserved
among the Italians some vestiges of the sister arts of sculp¬
ture and painting; and therefore, as human nature is every¬
where the same, it is reasonable to believe that a similar ve¬
neration for heroes and demigods would, among the ancient
nations, have a similar effect. But if this be so, the pre¬
sumption is, that the Chaldaeans were the first who invent¬
ed the art of hewing blocks of wood and stone into the
figures of men and other animals; for the Chaldaeans were
unquestionably the first idolaters, and their early progress
in sculpture is confirmed by the united testimonies of Be-
rosus, Alexander Polyhistor, Apollodorus, and Pliny, not to
mention the eastern tradition that the father of Abraham
was a sculptor.
Mr Brom- Against this conclusion, however, Mr Bromley, in his
ley's theory History of the Fine Arts, has urged some plausible argu-
ture stat‘l1g these, he professes not to be original, or
vented by to derive his information from the fountain-head of anti-
the Scy- quity- He adopts, as he tells us, the theory of a French
thirns. writer, who maintains, that in the year of the world 1949,
VOL. xx.
about three hundred years after the deluge, the Scythians Sculpture,
under Brouma, a descendant of Magog the son of Japhet, «*' -v—
extended their conquests over the greater part of Asia. Ac¬
cording to this system, Brouma was not only the civilizer
of India, and the author of the Brahminical doctrines, but
also diffused the principles of the Scythian mythology over
Egypt, Phoenicia, Greece, and the continent of Asia.
Of these principles Mr Bromley has given us no distinct
enumeration; the account which he gives of them is not to
be found in one place, but must be collected from a va¬
riety of distant passages. In attempting therefore to pre¬
sent the substance of his scattered hints in one view, we
shall not be confident that we have omitted none of them.
The ox, says he, was the Scythian emblem of the genera¬
tor of animal life, and hence it became the principal divi¬
nity of the Arabians. The serpent was the symbol of the
source of intelligent nature. These were the common
points of union in all the first religions of the earth. From
Egypt the Israelites carried with them a religious venera¬
tion for the ox and the serpent. Their veneration for the
ox appeared soon after they marched into the wilderness,
when, in the absence of Moses, they called upon Aaron to
make them gods which should go before them. The idea
of having an idol to go before them, says our author, was
completely Scythian ; for so the Scythians acted in all their
progress throughout Asia, with this difference, that their
idol was a living animal. The Israelites having gained their
favourite god, which was an ox, not a calf, as it is rendered in
the book of Exodus, next proceeded to hold a festival, which
was to be accompanied with dancing; a species of gaiety
common in the festivals which were held in adoration of
the emblematic urotal or ox, in that very part of Arabia, near
Mount Sinai, where this event took place. It is mentioned
too as a curious "and important fact, that the ox which was
revered in Arabia was called Adonai. Accordingly Aaron,
announcing the feast to the ox or golden calf, speaks thus,
To-morrow is a feast to Adonai, which is in our translation
rendered to the Lord. In the time of Jeroboam we read of
the golden calves set up as objects of worship at Bethel and
A
SCULPTURE.
^Sculpture. Dan. Nor was the reverence paid to the ox confined to
Scythia, to Egypt, and to Asia. It extended much farther.
The ancient Cimbri, as the Scythians did, carried an ox of
bronze before them on all their expeditions. Mr Bromley
also informs us, that as great respect was paid to the living
ox among the Greeks as was offered to its symbol among
other nations.
The emblem of the serpent, continues Mr Bromley, was
marked yet more decidedly by the express direction of the
Almighty. That animal had ever been considered as em¬
blematical of the supreme generating power of intelligent
life. And was that idea, says he, discouraged, so far as it
went to be a sign or symbol of life, when God said to Moses,
“ Make thee a brazen serpent, and set it on a pole, and it
shall come to pass that every one who is bitten, when he
looketh on it, shall live ?” In Egypt the serpent surround¬
ed Isis and Osiris, the diadems of their princes, and the
bonnets of their priests. The serpent made a distinguish¬
ed figure in Grecian sculpture. The fable of Echidne, the
mother of the Scythians, gave her figure terminating as a
serpent to all the founders of states in Greece ; from which
their earliest sculptors represented in that form the Titan
princes, Cecrops, Draco, and even Ericthonius. Beside the
spear of the image of Minerva, which Phidias made for the
citadel of Athens, he placed a serpent, which was supposed
to guard that goddess.
In Egypt, as well as in Scythia and India, the divinity
was represented on the leaves of the tamara or lotus. Pan
was worshipped as a god in that country, as well as over
the east. Their sphinxes, and all their combined figures
of animal creation, took their origin from the mother of the
Scythians, who brought forth an offspring that was half a
woman and half a serpent. Their pyramids and obelisks
arose from the idea of flame, the first emblem of the su¬
preme principle, introduced by the Scythians, and which
even the influence of Zoroaster and the Magi could not re¬
move.
We are told that the Bacchus of the Greeks is derived
from the Brouma of the Indians; that both are represent¬
ed as seated on a swan swimming over the waves, to indi¬
cate that each was the god of humid nature ; not the god
of wine, but the*god of waters. The mitre of Bacchus was
shaped like half an egg; an emblem taken from this cir¬
cumstance, that at the creation the egg from which all
things sprung was divided in the middle. Pan also was re¬
vered among the Scythians; and from that people were de¬
rived all the emblems by which the Greeks represented this
divinity.1
This the- To form conclusions concerning the origin of nations,
(ay errone- jjie rise and progress of the arts and sciences, without the
aid of historical evidence, by analogies which are sometimes
accidental, and often fanciful, is a mode of reasoning which
cannot readily be admitted. There may indeed, we ac¬
knowledge, be resemblances in the religion, language, man¬
ners, and customs, of different nations, so striking and so
numerous, that to doubt of their being descended from the
same stock would savour of scepticism. But historical
theories must not be adopted rashly. We must be certain
that the evidence is credible and satisfactory before we pro¬
ceed to draw any conclusions from it. We must first know
whether the Scythian history itself be authentic, before we
make any comparison with the history of other nations.
But what is called the Scythian history, every man of learn¬
ing knows to be a collection of fables. Herodotus and Jus¬
tin are the twro ancient writers from whom we have the
fullest account of that warlike nation; but these two his¬
torians contradict each other, and both write what cannot Sculpture,
be believed of the same people at the same period of their '
progress. By Strabo2 and Herodotus3 they are represented
as the most savage of mortals, delighting in war and blood¬
shed, cutting the throats of all strangers who came among
them, eating their flesh, and making cups and pots of their
skulls. It is not conceivable that such savages could be
sculptors; or that, even supposing their manners to have
been such as Justin represents them, a people so simple and
ignorant could have imposed their mythology upon the Chal-
dseans, Phoenicians, and Egyptians, whom we know by the
most incontrovertible evidence to have been great and po¬
lished nations so early as in the days of Abraham.
Taking for granted, therefore, that the Scythians did not
impose their mythology on the eastern nations, and that the
art of sculpture, as well as idolatrous worship, prevailed first
among the Chaldaeans, we shall endeavour to trace the pro¬
gress of this art through some other nations of antiquity, till
we bring it to Greece, where it was carried to the highest
perfection to which it has yet attained. We shall then fol¬
low out the art in its decline and subsequent revivals in
modern times.
The first intimation that we have of the art of sculpture
is in the book of Genesis, where we are informed, that when
Jacob, by the divine command, had returned to Canaan, his
wife Rachel carried along with her the teraphim or idols of
her father. These we are assured were small, since Rachel
found it so easy to conceal them from her father, notwith¬
standing his anxious search. We are ignorant, however,
how these images were made, or of what materials they
were composed. The first person mentioned as an artist of
eminence is Bezaleel, who formed the cherubim which co¬
vered the mercy-seat.
I.—EGYPTIAN, PHOENICIAN, AND ETRURIAN SCULPTURE.
The Egyptians practised the art of sculpture very exten- Egyptian
sively ; and the number and variety of their works remain- sculpture
ing, from the most rude to the most perfect in execution,
give us reason to believe we have specimens of their earliest
as well as latest productions. Two circumstances appear
to have obstructed the progress and advancement of the art
in Egypt. First, the persons of the Egyptians were not
possessed of the graces of form, elegance, or symmetry ;
and consequently they had no perfect standard on which
to model their taste. They resembled the Chinese in the
cast of their face, and in the clumsy rounding of their con¬
tours. Secondly, they were confined by their laws to the
principles and practices of their ancestors, and were not per¬
mitted to introduce any innovations. Their statues were
always formed in the same stiff attitude, with the arms hang¬
ing perpendicularly down the sides. So far w'ere they from
attempting any improvements, that in the time of Hadrian
the art continued in the same rude state as at first; and
when their slavish adulation for that emperor induced them
to place amongst the objects of their worship the statue
of his favourite Antinous, the same inanimate stiffness in
the attitude of the body and position of the arms was ob¬
served.
Notwithstanding the attachment of the Egyptians to an- Fjrst styl
cient usages, Winckelman thinks he has discovered two dif¬
ferent styles of sculpture, which prevailed at different periods.
The first of these ends with the conquest of Egypt by Cam-
byses; the second begins at that time, and extends be¬
yond the reign of Alexander the Great. In the first style,
the lines which form the contour are straight, and project-
1 It would be tedious to follow our author through the whole of this subject; and were we to submit to the labour of collecting and
arranging his scattered materials, we should still view his system with some degree of suspicion. It is drawn, as he informs us, from the
work of M. D'Ancarville. entitled Recherches sur VOrigine, VEsprit, et les Progres, des Arts de la Grice.
2 Lib. vii. 3 Lib. iv. cap. 62.
SCULPTURE. 3
Sculpture, ing a little ; the position is stiff and unnatural. In sitting
^—v—^ figures the legs are parallel, the feet squeezed together,
and the arms fixed to the sides; but in the figures of wo¬
men the left arm is folded across the breast; the bones and
muscles are faintly discernible ; the eyes are flat and look¬
ing obliquely, and the eyebrows sunk,—features which de¬
stroy entirely the beauty of the head ; the cheek-bones are
high, the chin small and piked ; the ears are generally placed
higher than in nature, and the feet are too large and flat.
In short, if we are to look for any model in the statues of
Egypt, it is not for the model of beauty, but of deformity.
The statues of men are naked, only they have a short apron,
and a few folds of drapery surrounding their waist. The
vestments of women are only distinguishable by the bor¬
der, which rises a little above the surface of the statue. In
this age it is evident the Egyptians knew little of drapery.
Second Of the second style of sculpture practised amongst the
style. Egyptians, Winckelman thinks he has found specimens in
the two figures of basaltes in the Capitol, and in another
figure at the Villa Albani, the head of which has been re¬
newed. The first two of these, he remarks, bear visible
traces of the former style, which appear especially in the
form of the mouth and the shortness of the chin. The
hands possess more elegance ; and the feet are placed at a
greater distance from each other than was customary in
more ancient times. In the first and third figures the arms
hang down close to the sides; in the second they hang
more freely. Winckelman suspects that these three statues
were made after the conquest of Egypt by the Greeks.
They are clothed with a tunic, a robe, and a mantle. The
tunic, which is puckered into many folds, descends from
the neck to the ground. The robe in the first and third
statues seems close to the body, and is only perceptible by
some little folds. It is tied under the breast, and covered
by the mantle, the two buttons of which are placed under
the epaulette.
The Egyptian statues were not only formed by the chisel;
they were also polished with great care. Even those on
the summit of an obelisk, which could only be viewed at a
distance, were finished with as much labour and care as if
they had admitted a close inspection. As they are gene¬
rally executed in granite or basalt, stones of a very hard tex¬
ture, it is impossible not to admire the indefatigable patience
of the artists. The eye was often of different materials from
the rest of the statue ; sometimes it was composed of a pre¬
cious stone or metal. We are assured that the valuable dia¬
mond of an empress of Russia, the largest and most beau¬
tiful hitherto known, formed one of the eyes of the famous
statue of Scheringham in the temple of Brahma.
Herodotus mentions two Egyptian statues, one placed
before the temple of Vulcan at Memphis, the other in the
city of Sais by king Amasis, each of which was seventy-five
feet long. I he colossal sphinx near the great pyramid rises
twenty-five feet. The sitting statues of Memnon, the mo¬
ther and son of Osmandue, at Thebes, are each fifty-eight
feet high. To these we might add a number of similar works
known by remaining fragments, or described by authors.
Most of the great works of the Egyptians were executed
in the reign of Sesostris, who lived in the time of Reho-
boam king of Israel, a thousand years before the Christian
era, which shows that the arts of Egypt and of Greece were
in a progressive state of improvement at the same time.
ihe enormous works of Egypt have struck foreign visi¬
ters with wonder and awe, from Herodotus down to the
members of the French Institute. Herodotus says, “one
of their buildings is equal to many of the most considerable
Greek buildings taken togetherand M. Ripaud observes,
“ these works are so prodigious, they make every thing we
do look little.” The Egyptians had notions of durability
in their works which no other nation has succeeded in imi¬
tating : they seemed to work as if they laughed at time.
war, barbarism. Quantity w'as every thing with them, or Sculpture,
almost so ; quality but little. They wished to please them- —-v——^
selves and astonish posterity, and they succeeded.
The ancient authors who give the most satisfactory ac¬
counts of Egyptian antiquities are, Herodotus, Diodorus
Siculus, Josephus, Strabo, Clemens of Alexandria, Jambli-
cus, and Orus Apollo. Among the modern writers, we
may mention Pocock, Savary, Norden, and Denon, as wor¬
thy of perusal on this subject.
The Phoenicians possessed both a character and a situa- Phoenician
tion highly favourable to the cultivation of statuary. They sculpture,
had beautiful models in their own persons, and their indus¬
trious character qualified them to attain perfection in every
art for which they had a taste. Their situation raised a
spirit of commerce, and commerce induced them to culti¬
vate the arts. Their temples shone with statues and co¬
lumns of gold, and a profusion of emeralds was everywhere
scattered about. All the great works of the Phoenicians
have been unfortunately destroyed ; but many of the Car¬
thaginian medals are still preserved, ten of which are de¬
posited in the cabinet of Florence. But though the Car¬
thaginians were a colony of Phoenicians, we cannot from
their works judge of the merit of their ancestors.
The Persians made no distinguished figure in the arts This art
of design. They were indeed sensible to the charms of not culti-
beauty, but they did not study to imitate them. Theirvated
dress, which consisted of long flowing robes concealing the p1101.1^ t*le
whole person, prevented them from attending to the beau- er:,‘ “
ties of form. Their religion, too, which taught them to
worship the divinity in the emblem of fire, and that it was
impious to represent him under a human form, seemed al¬
most to prohibit the exercise of this art, by taking away
those motives which alone could give it dignity and value;
and as it wras not customary among them to raise statues to
great men, it was impossible that statuary could flourish in
Persia.
The Etrurians, or ancient Tuscans, in the opinion of Wine- Etrurian
kelman, carried this art to some degree of perfection at an sculpture,
earlier period than the Greeks. It is said to have been in¬
troduced before the siege of Troy by Dcedalus, who, in or¬
der to escape the resentment of Minos king of Crete, took
refuge in Sicily, whence he passed into Italy, where he left
many monuments of his art. Pausanias and Diodorus Si¬
culus inform us, that some works ascribed to him were to
be seen when they wTote; and that these possessed that
character of majesty which afterwards distinguished the la¬
bours of Etruria.
A character strongly marked forms the chief distinction
in those productions of Etruria w'hich have descended to
our times. Their style was indeed hard and overcharged ;
for it is not to be supposed that a people of such rude man¬
ners as the Etrurians could communicate to their works
that vividness and beauty which the elegance of Grecian
manners inspired. On the other hand, there are many of
the Tuscan statues which bear so close a resemblance to
those of Greece, that antiquaries have thought it probable
that they were conveyed from that country, or Magna
Graecia, into Etruria, about the time of the Roman con¬
quest, when Italy was adorned with the spoils of Greece.
Among the monuments of Etrurian art two different First style,
styles have been observed. In the first the lines are straight,
the attitude stiff, and no idea of beauty appears in the for¬
mation of the head. The contour is not well rounded, and
the figure is too slender. The head is oval, the chin piked,
the eyes flat, and looking asquint. These are the defects of
an art in the state of infancy, which an accomplished mas¬
ter could never fall into, and are equally conspicuous in
Gothic statues as in the productions of the ancient natives
of Florence. They resemble so much the style of the
Egyptians, that one is almost induced to suppose tl at
there had once been a communication between these two
4 • SCULP
Sculpture, nations; but others think that this style was introduced by
Daedalus.
Second Winckelman supposes that the second epoch of this art
style. commenced in Etruria about the time at which it had
reached its greatest perfection in Greece, in the age of
Phidias. But this conjecture is not supported by any proofs.
The joints are strongly marked, the muscles raised, and the
bones distinguishable; but the whole mien is harsh. In
designing the bone of the leg, and the separation of the
muscles of the calf, there is an elevation and strength above
life. The statues of the gods are designed with more de¬
licacy. In forming them, the artists were anxious to show
that they could exercise their power without that violent
distension of the muscles which is necessary in the exer¬
tions of beings merely human ; but in general their atti¬
tudes are unnatural, and the actions strained. If a statue,
for instance, hold any thing with its fore-fingers, the rest
are stretched out in a stiff position.
II.—GRECIAN SCULPTURE.
According to ancient history, the Greeks did not emerge
from the savage state till a long time after the Egyptians,
Chaldaeans, and Indians, had arrived at a considerable de¬
gree of civilization. The original rude inhabitants of Greece
were civilized by colonies which arrived among them, at
different times, from Egypt and Phoenicia. These brought
along with them the religion, the letters, and the arts of
their parent countries ; and if sculpture had its origin from
the worship of idols, there is reason to believe that it was
one of the arts which were thus imported; for that the gods
of Greece were of Egyptian and Phoenician extraction is a
fact incontrovertible. The original statues of the gods,
however, were very rude. The earliest objects of idola¬
trous worship have everywhere been the heavenly bodies ;
and the symbols consecrated to them were generally pillars
of a conical or pyramidal figure. It was not till hero-wor¬
ship was ingrafted on the planetary that the sculptor thought
of giving to the sacred statue any part of the human form ;
and it appears to have been about the era of their revolu¬
tion in idolatry that the art of sculpture was introduced
among the Greeks. The first representations of their gods
were round stones placed upon cubes or pillars; and these
stones they afterwards formed roughly, so as to give them
something of the appearance of a head. Agreeable to this
description was a Jupiter which Pausanias saw in Pegeum,
in Arcadia. These representations were called Hermes;
not that they represented Mercury, but from the word
which signified a rough stone. It is the name which Ho¬
mer gives to the stones which were used to fix vessels to
the shore. Pausanias saw at Pheres thirty deities made of
unformed blocks or cubical stones. The Lacedaemonians
represented Castor and Pollux by two parallel posts; and
a transverse beam was added, to express their mutual affec¬
tion.
If the. Greeks derived from foreign nations the rudiments
of the arts, it must redound much to their honour, that in a
few centuries they carried them to such wonderful perfec¬
tion as entirely to eclipse the fame of their masters. It is
by tracing the progress of sculpture among them that we
are to study the history of this art; and we shall see its
origin and successive improvements correspond with nature,
which always operates slowly and gradually.
Causes The great superiority of the Greeks in the art of sculp-
whicli pro- ture may be ascribed to a variety of causes. The influence
nioted the 0f climate over the human body is so striking, that it must
»rt of jiave fjxe(i the attention of every thinking man who has
sculpture reflected on t]ic subject. The violent heats of the torrid
m reeee. an(j t}ie excessive cold of the polar regions, are unfa¬
vourable to beauty. It is only in the mild climates of the
temperate regions that it appears in its most attractive
T U 11 E.
charms. Perhaps no country in the world enjoys a more ^ufpture.
serene air, less tainted with mist and vapours, or possesses
in a higher degree that mild and genial warmth which can
unfold and expand the human body into all the symmetry
of muscular strength, and all the delicacies of female beauty,
in greater perfection, than the happy climate of Greece;
and never was there any people that had a greater taste for
beauty, or were more anxious to improve it. Of the fom
wishes of Simonides, the second was to have a handsome
figure. The love of beauty was so great among the Lace¬
demonian women, that they kept in their chambers the
statues of Nereus, of Narcissus, of Hyacinthus, and of Castor
and Pollux, hoping that by often contemplating them they
might have beautiful children.
There was a variety of circumstances in the noble and
virtuous freedom of the Grecian manners, that rendered
these models of beauty peculiarly subservient to the culti¬
vation of the fine arts. There were no tyrannical laws, as
among the Egyptians, to check their progress. They had
the best opportunities to study them in the public places,
where the youth, who needed no other veil than that of
chastity and purity of manners, performed their various
exercises quite naked. They had the strongest motives to
cultivate sculpture, for a statue was the highest honour
which public merit could attain. It was an honour ambi¬
tiously sought, and granted only to those who had distin¬
guished themselves in the eyes of their fellow-citizens. As
the Greeks preferred natural qualities to acquired accom¬
plishments, they decreed the first rewards to those who ex¬
celled in agility and strength of body. Statues were often
raised to wrestlers. Even the most eminent men of Greece,
in their youth, sought renown in gymnastic exercises. Chry-
sippus and Cleanthes distinguished themselves in the pub¬
lic games before they were known as philosophers. Plato
appeared as a w'restler both at the Isthmian and Pythian
games; and Pythagoras carried off the prize at Elis. Tim
passion by which they were inspired was the ambition of
having their statues erected in the most sacred place of
Greece, to be seen and admired by the whole people. The
number of statues erected on different occasions was im¬
mense ; of course the number of artists must have been
great, their emulation ardent, and their progress rapid.
As most of the statues were decreed for those who van¬
quished in the public games, the artists had the opportu¬
nity of seeing excellent models ; for those who surpassed
in running, boxing, and wrestling, must in general have been
well formed, yet would exhibit different kinds of beauty.
The high estimation in which sculptors were held was
very favourable to their art. Socrates declared artists to
be the only wise men. An artist could be a legislator, a
commander of armies, and might hope to have his statue
placed beside those of Miltiades and Themistocles, or those
of the gods themselves. Besides, the honour and success
of an artist did not depend on the caprice of pride or of ig¬
norance. The productions of art were estimated and re¬
warded by the greatest sages in the general assembly of
Greece; and the sculptor who had executed his work with
ability and taste was confident of obtaining immortality.
It was the opinion of Winckelman, that liberty was high¬
ly favourable to this art; but, though liberty is absolutely
necessary to the advancement of science, it may be doubt¬
ed whether the fine arts owe their improvement to this
cause. Sculpture flourished most in Greece when Pericles
exercised the power of a king, and in the reign of Alex¬
ander when Greece was conquered. It attained no per¬
fection in Rome until Augustus had enslaved the Romans.
It revived in Italy under the patronage of the family of
Medici, and in France under the despotic rule of Louis
XIV. It is the love of beauty, luxury, wealth, or the pa¬
tronage of a pow erful individual, that promotes the progress
of this art.
5
S C U L P T U R E.
Sculpture. It will now be proper to give a particular account of the
ideas which the Greeks entertained concerning the stand-
Grecian ar(j 0f ^eauty jn the different parts of the human body.
beauty And with respect to the head, the profile which they chief-
The head, ly admired is peculiar to dignified beauty. It consists in a
line almost straight, or marked by such slight and gentle
inflections as are scarcely distinguishable from a straight
line. In the figures of women and young persons, the fore¬
head and nose form a line approaching to a perpendicular.
The fore- Ancient writers, as w7ell as artists, assure us that the
head. Greeks reckoned a small forehead a mark of beauty, and a
high forehead a deformity. From the same idea, the Cir¬
cassians wore their hair hanging down over their foreheads
almost to their eyebrows. To give an oval form to the
countenance, it is necessary that the hair should cover the
forehead, and thus make a curve about the temples, other¬
wise the face, which terminates in an oval form in tl^e in¬
ferior part, will be angular in the higher part, and the pro¬
portion will be destroyed. This rounding of the forehead
may be seen in all handsome persons, in all the heads of
ideal beauty in ancient statues, and especially in those of
youth. It has been overlooked, however, by modern sta¬
tuaries. Bernini, who modelled a statue of Louis XIV. in
his youth, turned back the hair from the forehead.
The eyes. It is generally agreed that large eyes are beautiful; but
their size is of less importance in sculpture than their form,
and the manner in which they are enchased. In ideal
beauty, the eyes are always sunk deeper than they are in
nature, and consequently the eyebrows have a greater pro¬
jection. But in large statues, placed at a certain distance,
the eyes, which are of the same colour with the rest of the
head, would have little effect if they were not sunk. By
deepening the cavity of the eye, the statuary increases the
light and shade, and thus gives the head more life and ex¬
pression. The same practice is used in small statues. The
eye is a characteristic feature in the heads of the different
deities. In the statues of Apollo, Jupiter, and Juno, the
eyes are large and round. In those of Pallas they are also
large; but by lowering the eyelids, the virgin air and ex¬
pression of modesty are delicately marked. Venus has small
eyes, and the lower eyelid being raised a little, gives them
a languishing look and enchanting sweetness. It is only
necessary to see the Venus de’ Medicis to be convinced
that large eyes are not essential to beauty, especially if we
compare her small eyes with those which resemble them in
nature. The beauty of the eyebrows consists in the fine¬
ness of the hair, and in the sharpness of the bone which
covers them ; and masters of the art considered the joining
of the eyebrows as a deformity, though it is sometimes to be
met with in ancient statues.
The mouth. The beauty of the mouth is peculiarly necessary to con¬
stitute a fine face. The lower lip must be fuller than the
upper, in order to give an elegant rounding to the chin.
The teeth seldom appear, except in laughing satyrs. In
human figures the lips are generally close, and a little open¬
ed in the figures of the gods. The lips of Venus are half
open. In figures of ideal beauty, the Grecian artists never
interrupted the rounding of the chin by introducing a
dimple; for this they considered not as a mark of beauty,
and only to be admitted to distinguish individuals. The
dimple indeed appears in some ancient statues, but antiqua¬
ries suspect it to be the work of a modern hand. It is sus¬
pected, also, that the dimple which is sometimes found on
the cheeks of ancient statues is a modern innovation.
The ears. No part of the head was executed by the ancients with
more care than the ears, though little attention has been
given to them by modern artists. This character is so de¬
cisive, that if we observe in any statue that the ears are not
highly finished, but only roughly marked, we may conclude
with certainty that we are examining a modern production.
The ancients wrere very attentive to copy the precise form
of the ear in taking likenesses. Thus, where we meet with Sculpture,
a head the ears of which have a very large interior open- s—
ing, we know it to be the head of Marcus Aurelius.
The manner in which the ancient artists formed the hair The hair,
also enables us to distinguish their works from those of the
moderns. On hard and coarse stones the hair was short,
and appeared as if it had been combed with a wide comb ;
for that kind of stone was difficult to work, and could not
without immense labour be formed into curled and flowing
hair. But the figures executed in marble in the most
flourishing period of the art have the hair curled and flow¬
ing; at least where the head was not intended to be an
exact resemblance, for then the artist conformed to his
model. In the heads of women, the hair was thrown back,
and tied behind in a waving manner, leaving considerable
intervals; which gives the agreeable variety of light and
shade, and produces the effects of the claro-oscuro. The
hair of the Amazons is disposed in this manner. Apollo
and Bacchus have their hair falling down their shoulders ;
and young persons, until they arrived at manhood, wore
their hair long. The colour of the hair which was reckon¬
ed most beautiful, was fair; and this they gave without dis¬
tinction to the most beautiful of their gods, Apollo and
Bacchus, and likewise to their most illustrious heroes.
Although the ravages of time have preserved but few of The hands,
the hands or feet of ancient statues, it is evident from what
remains how anxious the Grecian artists w7ere to give every
perfection to these parts. The hands of young persons
were moderately plump, with little cavities or dimples at
the joints of the fingers. The fingers tapered very gently
from the root to the points, like wrell-proportioned columns,
and the joints were scarcely perceptible. The terminat¬
ing joint was not bent, as it commonly appears in modern
statues.
In the figures of young men the joints of the knee are The legs
faintly marked. The knee unites the leg to the thigh with-and feet,
out making any remarkable projections or cavities. The
most beautiful legs and best-turned knees, according to
Winckelman, are preserved in the Apollo Saurocthones, in
the Villa Borghese; in the Apollo which has a swan at its
feet; and in the Bacchus of the Villa Medicis. The same
able connoisseur remarks, it is rare to meet with beautiful
knees in young persons, or in the elegant representations
of art. As the ancients did not cover the feet as we do,
they gave to them the most beautiful turning, and studied
the form of them with the most scrupulous attention.
The breasts of men were large and elevated. The breasts The breast
of women did not possess much amplitude. The figures and lower
of the deities have always the breasts of a virgin, the beauty Part oi the
of which the ancients made to consist in a gentle elevation. ,0<'y'
So anxious were the women to resemble this standard, that
they used several arts to restrain the growth of their breasts.
The breasts of the nymphs and goddesses were never re¬
presented swelling, because that is peculiar to those women
who suckle. The paps of Venus contract and end in a
point, this being considered as an essential characteristic
of perfect beauty. Some of the moderns have transgress¬
ed these rules, and have fallen into great improprieties.
The lower part of the body in the statues of men was form¬
ed like that of the living body after a profound sleep and
good digestion. The navel was considerably sunk, especi¬
ally in female statues.
As beauty never appears in equal perfection in every part i,|saj i)eau.
of the same individual, perfect or ideal beauty can only bety.
produced by selecting the most beautiful parts from different
models; but this must be done with such judgment and
care, that these detached beauties when united may form
the most exact symmetry. Yet the ancients sometimes
confined themselves to one individual, even in the most
flourishing age. Theodorus, whom Socrates and his dis¬
ciples visited, served as a model to the artists of his time.
6 SCULP
Se-ulpture. Phryne also appears to have been a model to the painters
and sculptors. But Socrates, in his conversation with
Parrhasius, says, that when a perfect beauty was to be pro¬
duced, the artists joined together the most striking beau¬
ties which could be collected from the finest figures. e
know that Zeuxis, when he was going to paint Helen, unit¬
ed in one picture all the beauties of the most handsome
women of Crotona.
The dra- The Grecian sculptors, who represented with such suc-
pery ot sta- cegs ni0S(- perfect beauty of the human form, were not
regardless of the drapery of their statues. They clothed
their figures in the most proper stuff, which they wrought
into that shape which was best calculated to give effect to
their design.
The vestments of women in Greece generally consisted
of linen cloth, or some other light stuff, and in later times
of silk, and sometimes of woollen cloth. They had also gar¬
ments embroidered with gold. In the works of sculpture,
as well as in those of painting, one may distinguish the linen
by its transparency and small united folds. The other light
stuffs which were worn by the women were generally of
cotton produced in the isle of Cos ; and these the art of
statuary was able to distinguish from the linen vestments.
The cotton cloth was sometimes striped, and sometimes em¬
bellished with a profusion of flowers. Silk was also employ¬
ed ; but whether it was known in Greece before the time
of the Roman emperors cannot easily be determined. In
paintings it is distinguishable by changing its colour in dif¬
ferent lights, to red, violet, and sky-blue. There were two
sorts of purple ; that which the Greeks called the colour of
the sea, and Tyrian purple, which resembled lac. W oollen
garments are easily known by the amplitude of their folds.
Besides these, cloth of gold sometimes composed their
drapery. But it was not like the modern fabric, consisting
of a thread of gold or of silver spun with a thread of silk;
it was composed of gold or silver alone, without any mix¬
ture.
Vestments. The vestments of the Greeks, which deserve particular
attention, are the tunic, the robe, and the mantle.
The tunic was that part of the dress which was next to
the body. It may be seen in sleeping figures, or in those
in deshabile ; as in the Flora Farnese, and in the statues of
the xlmazons in the Capitol. The youngest of the daughters
of Niobe, who throws herself at her mother’s side, is cloth¬
ed only with a tunic, which was of linen, or some other
light stuff, without sleeves, fixed to the shoulders by a but¬
ton, so as to cover the whole breast. None but the tunics
of the goddess Ceres and comedians have long straight
sleeves.
The robes of women commonly consisted of two long
pieces of woollen cloth, without any particular form, at¬
tached to the shoulders by a great many buttons, and some¬
times by a clasp. They had straight sleeves which came
down to the wrists. The young girls, as well as the women,
fastened their robe to their side by a cincture, in the same
way as the high priest of the Jews fastened his, and as it is
still done in many parts of Greece. The cincture formed
on the side a knot of ribbons sometimes resembling a rose
in shape, which has been particularly remarked in the two
beautiful daughters of Niobe. In the younger of these the
cincture is seen passing over the shoulders and the back.
Venus has two cinctures, the one passing over the shoulder,
* and the other surrounding the waist. The latter is called
cestus by the poets.
The mantle was called peplon by the Greeks, which sig¬
nifies properly the mantle of Pallas. The name was after¬
wards applied to the mantles of the other gods, as well as
to those of men. This part of the dress was not square, as
some have imagined, but of a roundish form. I he an¬
cients indeed speak in general of square mantles, but they
received this shape from four tassels, which were affixed to
T U R E.
them ; twm of these were visible, and two were concealed Sculptur^
under the mantle. The mantle was brought under the
right arm, and over the left shoulder; sometimes it was at¬
tached to the shoulder by two buttons, as may be seen m
the beautiful statue of Leucothoe at the Villa Albam.
The colour of vestments peculiar to certain statues is
too curious to be omitted. To begin with the figures or
the gods, the drapery of Jupiter was red, that of Neptune
is supposed bv Winckelman to have been sea-green. The
same colour also belonged to the Nereids and the Nymphs.
The mantle of Apollo was blue or violet. Bacchus was
dressed in white. Martianus Gapella assigns green to Gy -
bele. Juno’s vestments were sky-blue, but she sometimes
had a white veil. Pallas was robed in a flame-coloured
mantle. In a painting of Herculanum, Venus is in flowing
drapery of a golden-yellow. Kings were arrayed in purple,
priests in white, and conquerors sometimes in sea-green.
With respect to the head, women generally wore no
covering but their hair; when they wished to cover the
head, they used the corner of their mantle. Sometimes we
meet with veils of a fine transparent texture. Old women
wore a kind of bonnet upon their head, an example of which
may be seen in a statue in the Capitol, called the Prajicu ;
but Winckelman thinks it is a statue of Flecuba.
The covering of the feet consisted of shoes or sandals.
The sandals were generally an inch thick, and composed of
more than one sole of cork. I hose of Pallas in the Vida
Albani has two soles, and other statues had no less than five.
The most authentic monuments of the ancient style are Ancient
medals, containing an inscription which leads us back to style ot
very distant times. The writing is from right to left, in^1^
the Plebrew manner, a usage which was abandoned before 1
the time of Herodotus. The statue of Agamemnon at Elis,
which was made by Ornatas, has an inscription from right
to left. This artist flourished fifty years before Phidias.
It is in the intervening period therefore between these two
artists that we are to look for the cessation of this practice.
The statues formed in the ancient style were neither dis¬
tinguished by beauty of shape nor by proportion, but bore
a close resemblance to those of the Egyptians and Etru¬
rians. The eyes were long and flat; the section ot the
mouth not horizontal; the chin was pointed; the curls of
the hair were ranged in little rings, and resembled grains
enclosed in a heap of raisins. What was still worse, it was
impossible by inspecting the head to distinguish the sex.
The characters of this ancient style were these: the de¬
signing wras energetical, but harsh; it w as animated, but
without gracefulness; and the violence of the expression
deprived the whole figure of beauty.
The grand style was brought to perfection by Phidias, Tlie grand
Polycletus, Scopas, Alcamenes, Myron, and other illus-st> e-
trious artists. It is probable, from some passages of an¬
cient writers, that in this style were preserved some cha¬
racters of the ancient manner, such as the straight lines,
the squares, and angles. The ancient masters, being the
legislators of proportions, and thinking they had a right to
distribute the measures and dimensions of the parts of the
human body, have undoubtedly sacrificed some degree of
the form of beauty, to a grandeur which is harsh, in compa¬
rison of the flowing contours and graceful forms of their
successors.
Phidias, the great master of this art, was born at Athens Pliidias.
in the seventy-third Olympiad, about 488 years B. c. He
was the contemporary of Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, and
other eminent men, and was engaged by Pericles to super¬
intend the decoration of the temple of Minerva and other
public works. “ His superior genius,” says Flaxman, “ in
addition to his knowledge of painting, which he practised
previous to sculpture, gave a grandeur to his compositions,
a grace to his groups, a softness to flesh, and flow to dra¬
peries, unknown to his predecessors, tiie character of whose
SCULPTURE.
Sculpture, figures was stiff rather than dignified; their forms either
meagre or turgid ; the folds of drapery parallel, poor, and
resembling geometrical lines, rather than the simple but
ever-varying appearances of nature.” Quintilian says of
Phidias, “ his Athenian Minerva, and Olympian Jupiter at
Elis, possessed beauty which seemed to have added some¬
thing to religion, the majesty of the work was so worthy of
the divinity.” The greatest work of this chief of sculptors
was the Jupiter at Elis, sixty feet in height, formed of ivory,
enriched with the radiance of golden ornament and pre¬
cious stones, and justly esteemed one of the seven wonders
of the world.
Mstvl^06* r^ie ^ird style of Grecian sculpture was the graceful or
u ~ • 1 • beautiful. Praxiteles and Lysippus introduced this style.
Being more conversant than their predecessors with the
sweet, the pure, the flowing, and the beautiful lines of na¬
ture, they avoided the square forms, which the masters of the
second style had too much employed. They were of opinion
that the use of the art was rather to please than to astonish,
and that the aim of the artists should be to raise admiration
by giving delight. The artists who cultivated this style did
not, however, neglect to study the sublime works of their
predecessors. They knew that grace is consistent with the
most dignified beauty, and that it possesses charms which
must ever please; they knew also that these charms are
enhanced by dignity. Grace is infused into all the move¬
ments and attitudes of their statues, and it appears in the
delicate turns of the hair, and even in the adjusting of the
drapery. Every sort of grace was well known to the an¬
cients; and great as the ravages of time have been amongst
the works of art, specimens are still preserved, in which can
be distinguished dignified beauty, attractive beauty, and a
beauty peculiar to infants.
Praxiteles. Praxiteles, a native of Magna Graecia, was born about 364
years b. c. He excelled in the highest graces of youth and
beauty. “ None,” says a judicious writer on sculpture,
“ ever more happily succeeded in uniting softness with
force,—elegance and refinement with simplicity and purity :
his grace never degenerates into the affected, nor his deli¬
cacy into the artificial. Over his compositions he has
thrown an expression spiritual at once and sensual; a volup¬
tuousness and modesty which touch the most insensible, yet
startle not the most retiring.” Among the known works of
this master are his Satyr,Lupid, Apollo the Lizard-killer,
and Bacchus leaning on a Fawn. The famous Venus of
Gnidos was also his work. This statue seems to offer the
first idea of the Venus de’ Medicis, the statue which still
“ enchants the world,” and “ fills the air around with beauty,”
and which is probably the repetition of another Venus of
Praxiteles.
Lysippus. Lysippus of Sicyon, the younger, the contemporary and
rival of Praxiteles, it is believed worked only in metal. Al¬
though he is said to have executed upwards of six hundred
works, not one remains. The Tarentine Jupiter, sixty feet
high, was one of his great works. He excelled in the know¬
ledge of symmetry, and many of his works were finished with
the utmost delicacy and truth. He was so great a favourite
with Alexander, that he alone was allowed to make casts of
the prince. It gives us some idea of the high consideration
in which his works were held by the Romans, that even
fiberius trembled in his palace at an insurrection of the
people, occasioned by the removal from one of the public
baths of a figure by Lysippus.
Existing The works that remain to us of ancient art sufficiently at-
specimens test the excellence of the Greeks in sculpture. We can only
sculpture.11 aIIude very 1)rie% to some of the most celebrated of these
productions. The Apollo Belvidere, believed to be the
Apollo of Calamis mentioned by Pliny, has with justice been
deemed one of the most admirable works of Grecian art.
This statue “ breathes the flame with which ’twas wrought,”
as if the sculptor had left a portion of his own soul within the
7
marble, to half-animate his glorious creation. The Dying Sculpture.
Gladiator is another greatly-valued work, finely designed, full N-«-•'
of truth, and admirably executed. The Fawn of the Flo¬
rence Gallery, so wonderfully restored by Michel Angelo,
is an exquisite and characteristic representation. The Fight¬
ing Gladiator, and several of the statues of Venus, Diana,
Mercury, and Bacchus, are expressive productions of the best
days of Grecian sculpture. These precious monuments of
art, the ancient groups, display the sentiment, heroism, beau¬
ty, and sublimity of Greece, existing as it were before us.
The Laocoon, animated with the hopeless agony of the fa¬
ther and sons, is the work of Apollodorus, Athenodorus,
and Agesander of Rhodes. The groups of Dirce, Hercules,
and Antaeus,1 Atreus, Orestes, and Electra, and Ajax sup¬
porting Patroclus, are examples of fine form, character, and
sentiment. The group of Niobe and her youngest daugh¬
ter, by Scopas, is an exquisite specimen of art, replete with
heroic beauty and exalted passion. The group of the
Wrestlers is a representation of difficult but harmonious
composition; and that of Cupid and Psyche show s much
elegance combined with graceful proportion.
The Elgin Marbles, now the property of the British na¬
tion, belong to a period in the history of Grecian sculpture
when the art had reached its highest excellence. “ These
marbles,” we quote from the Library of Useful Knowledge,
“ chiefly ornamented one edifice, dedicated to the guardian
deity of Athens, raised at the time of the greatest political
power of the state, when all the arts which contribute to
humanize life Were developing their beneficial influence.
Many of the writers of Athens, whose works are the daily
text-books of our schools, saw in their original perfection
the mutilated marbles w'hich wre cherish and admire. The
Elgin collection has presented us with the external and ma-
tirial forms in which the art of Phidias gave life and reality
to the beautiful mythi which veiled the origin of his native
city, and perpetuated in groups of matchless simplicity the
ceremonies of the great national festival. The lover of
beauty, and the friend of Grecian learning, will here find a
living comment on what he reads ; and as in the best and
severest models of antiquity we always discover something
new to admire, so here we find fresh beauties at every visit,
and learn how infinite in variety are simplicity and truth,
and how every deviation from these principles produces
sameness and satiety.”
Clay was the first material employed in statuary. An Materials
instance of this may be seen in a figure of Alcamenes in of Grecian
bas-relief in the Villa Albani. The ancients used their statues,
fingers, and especially their nails, to render certain parts
more delicate and lively ; and hence arose the phrase ad
tmguem foetus homo, an accomplished man. It was the
opinion of Count Caylus, that the ancients did not use mo¬
dels in forming their statues. But to disprove this, it is
only necessary to mention an engraving on a stone in the
cabinet of Stosch, which represents Prometheus engraving
the figure of a man, with a plummet in his hand to measure
the proportions of his model. The ancients as well as the
moderns made wrorks in plaster ; but no specimens remain
except some figures in bas-relief, of which the most beauti¬
ful were found at Baiae.
The works made of ivory and silver were generally of a
small size. Sometimes, however, statues of a prodigious
size were formed of gold and ivory. The colossal Minerva
of Phidias, which was composed of these materials, was
twenty-six cubits in height.
The Greeks generally hewed their marble statues out of
one block, though they afterwards worked the heads sepa¬
rately, and sometimes the arms. The heads of the famous
group of Niobe and her Daughters have been adapted to
their bodies after being separately finished. It is proved
by a large figure representing a river, which is preserved in
the Villa Albani, that the ancients first hewed their statues
SCULPTURE.
s
Sculpture, roughly before they attempted to finish any part. When
the statue had received its perfect figure, they next pro¬
ceeded to polish it with pumice-stone, and again carefully
retouched every part with the chisel. The ancients, when
they employed porphyry, usually made the head and extre¬
mities of marble. It is true, that at Venice there are four
figures entirely composed of porphyry; but these are the
production of the Greeks of the middle age ; some of their
noblest works w ere cast in bronze. They also made statues
of basalt and alabaster.
III.—ROMAN SCULPTURE.
1.—Ancient Italian Sculpture.
The Romans made the conquest of the world so much
the passion of their hearts, that they had little enthusiasm
to spare for art. They admired the works of Greece, and
filled Rome with statues; but though they inherited the
empire, they succeeded not to the genius of that little knot
of republics. In their hands sculpture soon degenerated;
it became more vulgar and more absurd every succeeding
reign. As they worshipped the gods of Greece, they were
content to find them ready made to their hands, and their
chief works were statues of their great men, and triumphal co¬
lumns and arches. Their best and most characteristic sculp¬
ture was history. The Trajan Column represents, in one
continued winding relief, from the base to the summit, the
actions of the emperor; and his statue stood at the top to
show him as the consummation of all glory. The Romans,
when they conquered Britain, adorned the temples and
courts of justice with statues of divinities. These remains
are executed with such deficiency of skill as countenances
the conjecture, that the gods and altars, as well as the roads
of the time, were executed by the soldiers.
Almost the only excellence to which the Romans could
lav claim, was their collection of busts. Ihese, fiom Ju¬
lius to Galienus, embracing a period of three centuries, ex¬
hibit a series invaluable in the history of art, and in some
instances worthy of comparison with the best works of the
kind executed in the earlier ages. The busts are confined
to the emperors of Rome; all others were forbid to be
sculptured. The most perfect specimens cease with the
reign of Augustus. Towards the close of the first century,
forcible and free execution is substituted for purity of de¬
sign and natural expression. A stiffness and laboured ap¬
pearance marks the works of the reign of Hadrian. Some
traits of good workmanship are observable in the busts of
Aurelius. In the times of Severus the art had degenerated,
and every subsequent reign shows a farther debasement,
till all traces of excellence finally disappear.
2.—Modern Italian Sculpture.
The first revival of modern art may be reckoned from
the reign of Constantine, when Christianity w'as established.
We will not, in this sketch, dwell on the works of this pe¬
riod, which indeed do not afford much matter for interest¬
ing contemplation ; but pass on to the time when indications
Donatello, of real power and genius first appeared. I he most distin¬
guished restorer of sculpture was Donatello, born at Flo¬
rence in 1383. Some of his works, both in bronze and
marble, might be placed beside the best productions of an¬
cient Greece without discredit. His alto-relievo of Two
Singing Boys is a superior piece of sculpture. The bronze
statue of Mercury by this master, at Florence, is equally
remarkable. His marble statue of St George was greatly
admired by Michel Angelo, who, after gazing at it for
some time in silence, suddenly exclaimed “ March !” A si¬
milar anecdote is told of this great man, wdio addressed these
words to another work of Donatello’s, Saint Mark, “ Mar¬
co, perche non mi parli ?” The basso-relievos of the life
of Christ by Donatello abound in noble conceptions, but Sculpture,
they were the works of advanced age, and were finished by “v
hlSLorenzoSGhiberti, born in 1378, showed his great talents Ghiberti,
at the early age of twenty-three, w hen he commenced that
splendid work, the doors of the Baptistry at F lorence. Ihese
doors are three in number, all in uronze. 1 he southern
door, on the panels of which are sculptured the life of St
John the Baptist, is by Andrea da Pisa. The northern and
eastern doors are by Ghiberti. On the former is repre¬
sented the life of our Saviour, and the latter exhibits the
principal events recorded in the Old Testament. I hey oc¬
cupied Ghiberti for forty years, and are justly considered
noble specimens of art. The eastern door was regarded by
Michel Angelo as worthy to be the gate of Paradise.
We come now to notice Michel Angelo, the most illus-Michel Aj
trious master of modern art, whether regarded as sculptor, -
painter, or architect. Born in 1474, and living to the ad¬
vanced age of ninety, this celebrated man was the means
of influencing by his mighty genius the efforts of art during
the m-eater part of the sixteenth century. Whatever be
the various opinions of Michel Angelo, all unite in ac¬
knowledging the wondrous power of his works in sculpture-
It is only when he has overstrained the muscular energy of
his subjects that fault can be found at all. In some in¬
stances we no doubt find him exaggerated, and deficient in
repose. His conceptions were generally vast, almost su¬
perhuman, and in this spirit they were executed. With •
him expression and character were primary considerations,
and he made ideal beauty and form subservient to his for¬
cible representations. His works have a strong, marked
character of their own ; his thoughts are always elevated,
and his figures full of dignity. He is never feeble. If not
sublime, he is never insipid. The sentiment of aggrandiz¬
ing his subject often prevails. His statue of Moses in b.
Pietro, in Vincoli, though severely criticised, is a gieat
work. “ The true sublime,” says Forsyth, “ resists all ridi¬
cule. The offended lawgiver frowns on undepressed, and
awes you with inherent authority.” The recumbent statues
in the monument of Julian de’ Medicis, in the Medici chapel,
of Daybreak and Night, are grand and mysterious, and de¬
note a mighty mind and hand. rlhe pensive sitting figure
of Lorenzo de’ Medicis is finely conceived; and the Madonna
and Child in the same chapel has, in the opinion of Iflax-
man, “a sentiment of maternal affection never found in
Grecian sculpture, but frequently in the works of this artist,
particularly in his paintings, and that of the most tender
kind.” Michel Angelo brought the principles of art to
great perfection. “ Anatomy,” says Flaxman, “ the motion
and perspective of figure, the complication, grandeur, and
harmony of his grouping, with the advantages and facility
of execution in painting and sculpture, besides his mathema¬
tical and mechanical attainments in architecture and build¬
ing, which, together with the many and prodigious works
he accomplished, demonstrate how greatly he contributed
to the restoration of art.”
Giovanni di Bologna, a Frenchman by birth, was one of Giovanni
the most celebrated of Michel Angelo’s scholars. His Bologna,
Venus coming from the Bath, both standing and kneel-
ing, are remarkable for delicacy and grace ; and his Mercury
is beautifully conceived and finely executed. Benvenuto
Cellini obtained celebrity for his group of Perseus and
Medusa. Bernini enjoyed great reputation in his day, but
his Apollo and Daphne seems his only wmrk of distin¬
guished merit, although he has been also esteemed for the
ease and nature of his portraits. His larger works were
considered by Flaxman as remarkable for presuming airs, •
affected grace, and unmeaning flutter.
Sculpture continued to flourish in Italy during a portion Canova.
of the seventeenth century, but after that it rapidly declin¬
ed. An illustrious man, however, was destined to raise it
S C U L P T U Pv E.
Sculpture, to a new existence. Antonio Canova, born in Possagno in
s > 1757, though weakly in constitution, gave early indications
of future excellence. His diligence in studying sculpture
was unwearied, and he was distinguished among the Vene¬
tian artists by a laborious exercise of hand, a restless acti¬
vity of fancy, and an enthusiastic longing for fame. The
people of Venice felt the beauty of Canova’s works. He
went to Rome and executed his group of Theseus and the
Minotaur, which was pronounced by the first judges as “ one
of the most perfect works which Rome had beheld for
ages.” From this fortunate hour to the end of his life, he
produced a rapid succession of statues and groups, which
carried his fame far and wide over the world. Before 1800
he had given to the world some of his most successful per¬
formances ; the monuments of Ganganelli and Rezzonico;
the groups of Venus and Adonis, and of Cupid and Psyche;
the Hebe, and the Sommariva Magdalene. These statues
were entirely by his own hands, unassisted by workmen.
When his success produced wealth, his protection of rising
merit was admirable. His liberality in this respect was as
boundless as his enthusiasm for the arts. He died in 1822,
having executed fifty-three statues, twelve groups, and mo¬
numents, busts, and relievos amounting to the extraordi¬
nary number of 176 complete works, which are now dis¬
persed all over Europe. Canova principally excelled in the
beautiful and graceful. He never attempted to tread
Di Michel Angeol la terribil via.
Hence his favourite subjects wTere those of female grace
or youthful beauty. Paris, Perseus, Palamedes, Psyche,
Hebe, Venus, Nymphs, and Dancers, are the most popular
of all his works. In some of these there is an approach to
affectation and French taste, especially in the draperies;
and, perhaps, in avoiding the extremes of anatomical force and
muscular development, he has too much addicted himself
to flowing outline and polished surface. But his taste im¬
proved with his progress in the art. He felt the superiority
of simplicity over affectation, as is visibly shown in the
noble productions of his riper years, his Pauline, the mother
of Buonaparte, the Endymion, and the recumbent Magda¬
lene. Although his power of conception was inferior to the
illustrious artists of Greece, he nevertheless rivalled them
in the vivid grace and exquisite skill of his works. Well
did Byron say, in the lifetime of this great artist,
Such as the great of yore, Canova is to-day.
The genius of Canova gave a new impulse to Italian
tistsTof the sculpture. Thorwaldsen, though a Dane by birth, may be
Italian considered an Italian artist. His Triumph of Alexander,
school. the Mercury, the Night, and Aurora, are works which have
sufficiently established the claim of this great artist to the
admiration of his ow n age, and that of posterity. Danneker,
the sculptor of the Ariadne at Francfort, seems also to be¬
long to the existing school of Italy. There are others, whom
we cannot enumerate, who are also in the fair road to emi¬
nence ; but, singular to say, few of these are sons of that
land which has so well been called
Mother of arts, as once of arms.
IV. ENGLISH SCULPTURE.
The Romans, when they withdrew their troops from Bri¬
tain, left some taste for sulpture behind them, and their suc¬
cessors the Saxons made attempts to imitate the human
form. The Normans introduced a better style of art, and
the return of the crusaders brought a relish for Grecian
statuary into this country. In the reign of Henry III. the
wrorks of English artists were characterized by good sense
and simple grace, which redeemed the imperfections of
workmanship. In the chapel of Henry VII. we see monu¬
ments carved with great skill. The Protestant religion was
VOL. xx.
9
not favourable to the art, and our sculptures, after the Re- Sculpture,
formation, were mostly by foreigners. The first English-v'-'—''
sculptor of note was Gibbons, who, about the close of the^j^”"8’
seventeenth century, executed many admirable works in
wood. About the same time lived Cibber, an artist of ori¬
ginality and pow'er. The far-famed figures of Raving and
Melancholy, carved in stone, are his best-known produc¬
tions, and, in spite of Pope’s satirical lines on the “brain¬
less brothers,” they stand foremost in conception and se¬
cond in execution among the efforts of English sculpture.
The bas-reliefs on the sides of the monument in London,
and some statues at Chatsworth, are from his chisel.
Roubiliac, a Frenchman by birth, was so long resident Roubiliac,
in England that he has been adopted as a British artist.
Although Flaxman has pronounced a poor opinion of Roubi¬
liac’s works, they have nevertheless taken a lasting hold of
public admiration. He was a man deeply imbued with poetic
feelings, and had an unbounded enthusiasm for his profession.
Some of his works are fanciful and conceited, but others
again possess much elegance of action, and all are very
beautifully executed. His figure of Eloquence is masterly
and graceful. Canova said it was one of the noblest sta¬
tues he had seen in England. The statue of Sir Isaac New¬
ton is another of his masterpieces; Chantrey calls it “ the
noblest of all our English statues. There is an air of na¬
ture and a loftiness of thought about it, which no other
artist has in this country, I suspect, reached. You cannot
imagine any thing grander in sentiment, and the execution
is every way worthy of it.” His most famous work is the
monument of Mrs Nightingale, in Westminster Abbey: with
some allegorical extravagance, it exhibits feeling and pa¬
thos, and the workmanship is quite marvellous.
“ Banks,” says Cunningham, “ was the first of our native Banks.-
sculptors whose aims were uniformly lofty and heroic, and
who desired to bring poetry to the aid of all his composi¬
tions.” His groups and statues were, however, coldly re¬
ceived. His sketches, which are full of vigour and feeling,
have been highly esteemed. The statue of Achilles mourn¬
ing the loss of Briseis has not been excelled for fine action
and noble proportions. Nollekens, like Banks, was ambi- js'ollekens.
tious to introduce a purer and more tasteful style of art, but
his great works hardly came up to expectation. His busts
are however excellent, and will preserve his fame. Cun¬
ningham, from whose agreeable publication on English art
we have already quoted, says, “ the claims of Nollekens to
distinction are threefold ; bust sculpture, monumental sculp¬
ture, and poetic sculpture. He attained to eminence in
all, but to lasting fame, I apprehend, only in the first, and
even then the permanent meed is secured to him more from
the lasting importance of some of his subjects, than from
the splendour of the art with which he has invested them.”
Bacon infused more English sense into sculpture than any Bacon,
of his predecessors, or his contemporaries Banks and Nolle¬
kens. His statue of Samuel Johnson, in St Paul’s, is an ex¬
cellent work; stern, severe, full of surly thought and con¬
scious power. Howard, also in St Paul’s, is expressive of
the philanthropic and benevolent man it represents. Bacon
had great skill in workmanship, and he never spared his
labour. Some of his monuments are rather too much crowd¬
ed with ornaments and objects of secondary interest.
The most eminent sculptor this country has yet produced, Flaxman.
John Flaxman, was born in 1755. “ The elements of his
style,” said Sir Thomas Lawrence, “ were founded in Gre¬
cian art—on its noblest principles—on its deeper intellec¬
tual power, and not on the mere surface of its skill. Though
master of its purest lines, he was still more the sculptor of
sentiment than of form; and whilst the philosopher, the
statesman, and the hero, were treated by him with appro¬
priate dignity, not even in Raphael have the gentler feel¬
ings and sorrows of human nature been treated with more
touching pathos than in the various degrees and models ot
a
10
SCULPTURE.
Sculpture, this inestimable man. Like the greatest of modern painters,
^—-Y^—^ lie delighted to trace, from the actions of familiar life, the
lines of sentiment and passion, and, from the populous haunts
and momentary peacefulness of poverty and want, to form
his inestimable groups of childhood and maternal tender¬
ness, with those nobler compositions from holy writ, as
beneficent in their motive as they were novel in design.”
The classical productions of Flaxman are now known far
and wide, and they have given the world a high idea of the
genius of England. “ Michel Angelo and Flaxman,” ob¬
serves an excellent critic, “are the only two sculptors who,
with genius for the minute as well as the grand, have dared
sometimes to be remiss, and leave sentiment to make its way
without the accompanying graces of skilful labour.” His
workmanship wras certainly sometimes slovenly, and his dra¬
peries heavy. The monuments he executed are not his
ablest works. His illustrations of Homer, ^Eschylus, and
Dante, are worthy of the great originals; and the engravings
from these works have given Flaxman an European reputa¬
tion. The mind of this great artist was essentially poetical,
and his genius was, in the strictest sense of the words, ori¬
ginal and inventive.
We must touch lightly on the living artists of this coun¬
try. It is satisfactory to think that ours is not an age in
which sculpture is retrograding in Britain. The splendid
genius of Chantrey has nobly sustained the reputation Flax¬
man earned for us. His statues, now very numerous, are
works of decided excellence ; whilst his busts are the most
admirable productions of that kind in the world. Westma-
ceded Schluter of Hamburg, who repaired to Rome, and Sculpture,
attached himself to the manner of Michel Angelo. Mes- v-"'"
serschmidt executed many excellent pieces of sculptuie in
Vienna. In later times Ohnmacht, Sonnenschein, Nahl, and
the two Shadofs, have distinguished themselves as artists.
The Spinning Girl of the Younger Shadof is an exquisite
piece of sculpture. The Germans promise to advance ra¬
pidly in sculpture, from the enthusiasm they show in ac¬
quiring the true principles of the art.
VI. of EXPRESSION, ACTION, AND PROPORTION IN SCULP¬
TURE.
French
sculpture.
Spanish
sculpture.
German
Without expression, gesture, and attitude, no figure can Expression
be beautiful, because in these the graces always reside. It and atti-
was for this reason that the graces are always represented tude.
as the companions of Venus.
The expression of tranquillity was frequent in Grecian
statues, because, according to Plato, that was considered
as the middle state of the soul between pleasure and pain.
Experience, too, shows that in general the most beautiful
persons are endowed with the sweetest and most engaging
manner. Without a sedate tranquillity, dignified beauty
could not exist. It is in this tranquillity, therefore, that
we look for the complete display of genius.
The most elevated species of tranquillity and repose was
studied in the figures of the gods. The father of the gods,
and even inferior divinities, are represented without emo¬
tion or resentment. It is thus that Homer paints Jupiter
cott has also shared largely in public favour. Several of shaking Olympus by the motion of his hair and his eye-
his monuments and other works are ably executed. We brows. Jupiter, however, is not always exhibited in this
do not name other artists of rising fame. Their merit, if tranquil state. In a bas-relief belonging to Rondini he
they truly possess any, will be duly appreciated, for a cor- appears seated on an arm-chair with a melancholy aspect,
rect taste in works of sculpture is every day becoming more The Apollo of the Vatican represents the god in a fit ot
generally diffused in Britain. rage against the serpent Python, which he kills at a blow.
The artist, adopting the opinion of the poets, has made the
v.—french, SPANISH, and german sculpture. nose tlie ^at of anger, and the lips the seat of disdain.
To express the action of a hero, the Grecian sculptors
Our sketch would be imperfect did we not allude to the delineated the countenance of a noble virtuous character
sculpture of France, Spain, and Germany. In France, the repressing his groans, and allowing no expression of pain to
art began to be practised with success about the middle of appear. In describing the actions of a hero, the poet has
the sixteenth century. Gougon finished the famous Foun- much more liberty than the artist. The poet can paint
tain of the Innocents in 1550. The works of Cousin evince them such as they were before men were taught to subdue
genius ; and Pilon has been admired for energy in his pro- their passions by the restraints of law or the refined customs
ductions. Jacques D’Angouleme, a contemporary of Mi- of social life. But the artist, obliged to select the most
chel Angelo’s, possesses merit. Giovanni di Bologna, of beautiful forms, is reduced to the necessity of giving such
whom we have previously spoken, filled his country with an expression of the passions as may not shock our feelings
the principles of his master. Sculpture flourished in France and disgust us with his production. The truth of these re-
during the reign of Louis XIV. Voltaire says of one of the marks will be acknowledged by those who have seen two
artists of this time, Girandon, “ il a egale tout ce que 1’an- of the most beautiful monuments of antiquity, one of which
tiquite a de plus beau.” This is great praise, and scarcely represents the fear of death, the other the most violent
merited, although his designs are noble and his taste cor- pains and sufferings. The daughters of Niobe, against
rect. An example of his style is well seen in his Tomb of whom Diana has discharged her fatal arrows, are exhibited
Richelieu. Puget is also much esteemed by his country- in that state of stupefaction which we imagine must take
men. The succeeding artists of France were followers more place when the certain prospect of death deprives the soul
or less of the styles of Girandon and Puget. The art may of all sensibility. The fable presents us an image of that,
be said to be in a flourishing state at present. stupor which JEschylus describes as seizing the daughters
A great number of names have been recorded by Spa- of Niobe when they were transformed into a rock. The
nish writers as eminent in sculpture. The greater part of other monument referred to is the image of Laocoon, which
them seem to have been employed in ornamenting the exhibits the most agonizing pain that can affect the muscles,
churches of Spain, and few are known from their works in the nerves, and the veins. The sufferings of the body and
other countries. Berruguete, one of the best artists of the elevation of the soul are expressed in every member
Spain, studied under Michel Angelo at Rome, and adorned with equal energy, and form the most sublime contrast ima-
Madrid, Saragossa, and other towns, with his works, which ginable. Laocoon appears to suffer with such fortitude,
exhibit much of the grandeur and expression of ancient art . that, whilst his lamentable situation pierces the heart, the
After him Paul de Cespedes was celebrated as a sculptor whole figure fills us with an ambitious desire of imitating
of great skill. In the eighteenth century Philip de Castro his constancy and magnanimity in the pains and sufferings
became a distinguished sculptor, and contributed greatly to that may fall to our lot.
spread the principles of correct taste in Spain. Philoctetes is introduced by the poets as shedding tears,
Prior to the seventeenth century, Germany appears to uttering complaints, and rending the air with his groans and
sculpture, have made little progress in sculpture. Ranchmuller pre- cries; but the artist exhibits him silent, and bearing his
13
SCULPTURE.
Sculpture, pains with dignity. The Ajax of Timomachus is not drawn
—-'y'''—'' in the act of destroying the sheep which he took for the
Grecian chiefs, but in the moments of reflection which suc¬
ceeded those of frenzy. So far did the Greeks carry their
love of calmness and slow movements, that they thought a
quick step always announced rusticity of manners. De¬
mosthenes reproaches Nicobulus for this very thing; and
from the words he makes use of, it appears that to speak
with insolence and to walk hastily were reckoned synony¬
mous.
In the figures of women the artists have conformed to the
principle observed in all the ancient tragedies, and recom¬
mended by Aristotle, never to make women show too much
intrepidity or excessive cruelty. Conformably to this maxim,
Clytemnestra is represented at a little distance from the
fatal spot, watching the murderer, but without taking any
part with him. In a painting of Timomachus representing
Medea and her children, when Medea lifts up the dagger
they smile in her face, and her fury is immediately melted
into compassion for the innocent victims. In another re¬
presentation of the same subject Medea appears hesitating
and indecisive. Guided by the same maxims, the artists of
most refined taste were careful to avoid all deformity, choos¬
ing rather to recede from truth than from their accustomed
respect for beauty, as may be seen in several figures of
Hecuba. Sometimes, however, she appears in the decre¬
pitude of age, her face furrowed with wrinkles, and her
breasts hanging down.
Illustrious men, and those invested with the offices of
I dignity, are represented with a noble assurance and a firm
aspect. The statues of the Roman emperors resemble those
of heroes, and are far removed from every species of flat¬
tery, in the gesture, in the attitude, and in the action.
They never appear with haughty looks, or with the splen¬
dour of royalty ; no figure is ever seen presenting any thing
to them with bended knee except captives, and none ad¬
dresses them with an inclination of the head. In modern
works too little attention has been paid to the ancient cos¬
tume. Winckelman mentions a bas-relief which was exe¬
cuted at Rome for the fountain of Trevi, representing an
architect in the act of presenting the plan of an aqueduct
to Marcus Agrippa. The modern sculptor, not content
with giving a long beard to that illustrious Roman, contrary
to all the ancient marble statues as well as medals which
remain, exhibits the architect on his knees.
In general it was an established principle to banish all
violent passions from public monuments. This will serve
as a decisive mark to distinguish the true antique from sup¬
posititious works. A medal has been found exhibiting two
Assyrians, a man and woman, tearing their hair; with this
inscription, Assyria, et. Palaestina. in. potest, p. r. re-
dac. s. c. The forgery of this medal is manifest from the
word Palaestina, which is not to be found in any ancient
Roman medal with a Latin inscription. Besides, the vio¬
lent action of tearing the hair does not suit any symbolical
figure. This extravagant style has been imitated by some
of the modern artists. Their figures resemble comedians
on the ancient theatres, who, in order to suit the distant
spectators, put on painted masks, employed exaggerated
gestures, and far overstepped the bounds of nature. This
style has been reduced into a theory in a treatise on the
passions, composed by Le Brun. The designs which ac¬
company that work exhibit the passions in the very highest
degree, approaching even to frenzy. But these are calcu¬
lated to vitiate the taste, especially of the young; for the
ardour of youth prompts them rather to seize the extremity
than the middle ; and it will be difficult for that artist who
has formed his taste from such impassioned models ever to
acquire that noble simplicity and sedate grandeur which
distinguished the works of ancient taste.
Proportion is the basis of beauty ; indeed there can be
no beauty without it, but proportion may exist where there Sculpture,
is little beauty. Experience every day teaches us that
knowledge is distinct from taste ; and proportion, therefore, U ProPor-
which is founded on knowledge, may be strictly observedtl01u
in any figure, and yet the figure have no pretensions to
beauty. The ancients considering ideal beauty as the most
perfect, have frequently employed it in preference to the
beauty of nature.
The body consists of three parts, as well as the members.
The three parts of the body are the trunk, the thighs, and
the legs. The inferior parts of the body are the thighs,
the legs, and the feet. The arms also consist of three parts,
and these three parts must bear a certain proportion to the
whole as well as to one another. In a well-formed man the
head and body must be proportioned to the thighs, the legs,
and the feet, in the same manner as the thighs are propor¬
tioned to the legs and the feet, or the arms to the hands.
The face also consists of three parts, that is, three times the
length of the nose ; but the head is not four times the length
of the nose, as some writers have asserted. From the place
where the hair begins to the crown of the head are only
three fourths of the length of the nose, or that part is to the
nose as nine to twelve.
It is probable that the Grecian as well as Egyptian art¬
ists have determined the great and small proportions by
fixed rules, and established a positive measure for the di¬
mensions of length, breadth, and circumference. This sup¬
position alone can enable us to account for the great con¬
formity which we meet with in ancient statues. Winckel¬
man thinks that the foot was the measure which the an¬
cients used in all their great dimensions, and that it was by
the length of it that they regulated the measure of their
figures, by giving to them six times that length. This, in
fact, is the length which Vitruvius assigns (Pes vero alti-
tudinis corporis sexto;, lib. iii. cap. 1). That celebrated an¬
tiquary thinks the foot is a more determinate measure than
the head or the face, the parts from which modern painters
and sculptors often take their proportions. This propor¬
tion of the foot to the body, which has appeared strange
and incomprehensible to the learned Huet, and has been
entirely rejected by Perrault, is however founded upon ex¬
perience. After measuring with great care a vast number
of figures, Winckelman found this proportion observed not
only in Egyptian statues, but also in those of Greece. This
fact may be determined by an inspection of those statues
the feet of which are perfect. One may be fully convinced
of it by examining some divine figures, in which the artists
have made some parts beyond their natural dimensions. In
the Apollo Belvidere, which is a little more than seven heads
high, the foot is three Roman inches longer than the head.
The head of the Venus de’ Medicis is very small, and the
height of the statue is seven heads and a half; the foot is
three inches and a half longer than the head, or precisely
the sixth part of the length of the whole statue.
VII. PRACTICE OF SCULPTURE.
We have been thus minute in our account of the Gre-Grecian
cian sculpture, because it is the opinion of the ablest critics sculpture
that modern artists have been more or less eminent as they stu(hec* by
have studied with the greater or less attention the models™®^11
left us by that ingenious people. Winckelman goes so far
as to contend that the most finished works of the Grecian
masters ought to be studied in preference even to the works
ot nature. This appears to be paradoxical; but the reason
assigned for his opinion is, that the fairest lines of beauty
are more easily discovered, and make a more striking and
powerful impression, by their reunion in these sublime
copies, than when they are scattered far and wide in the
original. Allowing, therefore, the study of nature the high
degree of merit it so justly claims, it must nevertheless be
S C U L P T U R E.
Sculpture, granted that it leads to true beauty by a much more te-
dious, laborious, and difficult path, than the study of the
antique, which presents immediately to the artist’s view the
object of his researches, and combines, in a clear and strong
point of light, the various rays of beauty that are dispersed
throughout the wide domain of nature.
As soon as the artist has laid this excellent foundation,
acquired an intimate degree of familiarity with the beauties
of the Grecian statues, and formed his taste after the ad¬
mirable models they exhibit, he may then proceed with
advantage and assurance to the imitation of nature. The
ideas he has already formed of the perfection of nature, by
observing her dispersed beauties combined and collected in
the compositions of the ancient artists, will enable him to
acquire with facility, and to employ with advantage, the de¬
tached and partial ideas of beauty which will be exhibited
to his view in a survey of nature in her actual state. ^ hen.
he discovers these partial beauties, he will be capable of
combining them with those perfect forms of beauty with
which he is already acquainted. In a word, by having al¬
ways present to his mind the noble models already men¬
tioned, he will be in some measure his own oracle, and will
draw rules from his own mind.
Two ways There are, however, two ways of imitating nature. In
of imitat- the one a single object occupies the artist, who endeavours
ing nature. represent it with precision and truth ; in the other, cer¬
tain lines and features are taken from a variety of objects,
and combined and blended into one regular whole. All
kinds of copies belong to the first kind of imitation; and
productions of this kind must be executed necessarily in
the Dutch manner, that is to say, with high finishing, and
little or no invention. But the second kind of imitation
leads directly to the investigation and discovery of true
beauty, of that beauty whose idea is connate with the hu¬
man mind, and is only to be found there in its highest per¬
fection. This is the kind of imitation in which the Greeks
excelled, and in which men of genius excite the young
artists to excel after their example, namely, by studying
nature as they did. After having studied in the produc¬
tions of the Grecian masters their choice and expression of
select nature, their sublime and graceful contours, their
noble draperies, together with that sedate grandeur and ad¬
mirable simplicity that constitute their chief merit, the
curious artists will do well to attend to the manual and me¬
chanical part of their operations, as this is absolutely ne¬
cessary to the successful imitation of their excellent manner.
Models of . It is certain that the ancients almost always formed their
statues. first models in wax. To this modern artists have substi¬
tuted clay, or some such composition. They prefer clay
before wax in the carnations, on account of the yielding
nature of the latter, and its sticking in some measure to
every thing it touches. We must not, however, imagine
from hence that the method of forming models of wet clay
was either unknown or neglected among the Greeks. On
the contrary, it was in Greece that models of this kind were
invented. Their author was Dibutades of Sicyon; and it
is well known that Arcesilas, the friend of Lucullus, ob¬
tained a higher degree of reputation by his clay models
than by all his other productions. Indeed if clay could.be
made to preserve its original moisture, it would undoubt¬
edly be the fittest substance for the models of the sculp¬
tor ; but when it is placed either in the fire or left to dry
imperceptibly in the air, its solid parts grow more com¬
pact, and the figure, losing thus a part of its dimensions,
is necessarily reduced to a smaller volume. This dimi¬
nution would be of no consequence did it equally affect
the whole figure, so as to preserve its proportions entire.
But this is not the case. For the smaller parts of the
figure dry sooner than the larger; and thus losing more of
their dimensions in the space of time than the latter do,
the symmetry and proportions of the figure inevitably suffer.
This inconvenience does not take place in those models that Sculpture,
are made in wax. It is indeed extremely difficult, in the v v ' .
ordinary method of working the wax, to give it that de-
oree of smoothness that is necessary to represent the soft¬
ness of the carnations or fleshy parts of the body. This
inconvenience may, however, be remedied by forming the
model first in clay, then moulding it in plaster, and lastly
casting it in wax. And, indeed, clay is seldom used but
as a mould in which to cast a figure of plaster, stucco, or
wax, to serve henceforth for a model by which the mea¬
sures and proportions of the statue are to be adjusted. In
making waxen models, it is common to put half a pound of
colophony to a pound of wax; and some add turpentine,
melting the whole with oil of olives.
So much for the first or preparatory steps in this pro- Method of
cedure. It remains to consider the manner of working the working
marble after the model so prepared. The method here ema ' I
followed by the Greeks seems to have been extremely dif¬
ferent from that which is generally observed by modern
artists. In the ancient statues we find the most striking
proofs of the freedom and boldness that accompanied each
stroke of the chisel, and which resulted from the artist’s
being perfectly sure of the accuracy of his idea, and the
precision and steadiness of his hand. The most minute
parts of the figure carry these marks of assurance and free¬
dom ; no indication of timorousness or diffidence appears,
nothing that can induce us to fancy that the artist had oc¬
casion to correct any of his strokes. It is difficult to find,
even in the second-rate productions of the Grecian artists,
any mark of a false stroke or a random touch. This firm¬
ness and precision of the Grecian chisel was certainly de¬
rived from a more determined and perfect set of rules than
those which are observed in modern times.
The method generally observed by the modern sculptor
is as follows. First, out of a great block of marble he saws
another of the size required, which is performed with a
steel saw without teeth, casting water and sand thereon
from time to time; then he fashions it, by taking off what
is superfluous with a steel point and a heavy hammer of
soft iron ; after this, bringing it near the measure required,
he reduces it still nearer with another finer point; he then
uses a flat cutting instrument, having notches in its edge,
and a chisel to take off the scratches which the former has
left; till at length, taking rasps of different degrees of fine¬
ness, he by degrees brings his work into a condition for
polishing.
After this, having studied his model with all possible at¬
tention, he draws upon this model horizontal and perpendi¬
cular lines which intersect each other at right angles. He
afterwards copies these lines upon his marble, as the painter
makes use of such transverse lines to copy a picture, or to
reduce it to a smaller size. These transverse lines or squares,
drawn in an equal number upon the marble and upon the
model, in a manner proportioned to their respective dimen¬
sions, exhibit accurate measures of the surfaces upon which
the artist is to work ; but cannot determine, with equal pre¬
cision, the depths that are proportioned to these surfaces.
The sculptor, indeed, may determine these depths by ob¬
serving the relation they bear to his model; but as his eye
is the only guide he has to follow in this estimate, he is al¬
ways more or less exposed to error, or at least to doubt.
He is never sure that the cavities made by his chisel are
exact; a degree of uncertainty accompanies each stroke ;
nor can he be assured that it has carried away neither too
much nor too little of his marble. It is equally difficult to
determine, by such lines as have already been mentioned,
the external and internal contours of the figure, or to trans¬
fer them from the model to the marble. By the internal
contour is understood that which is described by the parts
which approach towards the centre, and which are not mark¬
ed in a striking manner.
s c u
Scum It is further to be noticed, that in a complicated and la-
II . borious work, which an artist cannot execute without as-
Scutan. sjstance> he is often obliged to make use of foreign hands,
V Jr_v " wliich have not the talents nor the dexterity that are neces¬
sary to finish his plan. A single stroke of the chisel that
goes too deep is a defect not to be repaired; and such a
stroke may easily happen, where the depths are so imper¬
fectly determined. Defects of this kind are inevitable, if
the sculptor, in chipping his marble, begins by forming the
depths that are requisite in the figure which he designs to
represent. Nothing is more liable to error than this man¬
ner of proceeding. The cautious artist ought, on the con¬
trary, to form these depths gradually, by little and little,
with the utmost circumspection and care; and the determin¬
ing of them with precision ought to be considered as the
last part of his work, and the finishing touches of his chisel.
Method of The various inconveniences attending this method deter-
copyingan- mined several eminent artists to look out for one that would
tuef Sta" k*3 liable to less uncertainty, and productive of fewer errors.
The French Academy of Painting at Rome devised a me¬
thod of copying the ancient statues, which some sculptors
have employed with success, even in the figures which they
finished after models in clay or in wax. This method is as
follows. The statue that is to be copied is enclosed in a
frame that fits it exactly. The upper part of this frame is
divided into a certain number of equal parts, and to each
of these parts a thread is fixed with a piece of lead at the
end of it. These threads, which hang freely, show what
parts of the statue are most removed from the centre with
much more perspicuity and precision than the lines which are
drawn on its surface, and which pass equally over the higher
and hollow parts of the block. They also give the artist a
SCUPPERS are pipes of lead inserted in openings bored
from the deck through the sides of a ship, to carry the water
off from the deck to the sea. To avoid the inconvenience
of having the scuppers broken by the working of the ship,
each is formed of two pipes, one of which is passed up¬
wards to the deck through the opening in the ship’s side,
and having its lower end nailed on the outside planking;
the other, which is of smaller diameter, after being woold-
ed on the outside with flannel dipped in tallow, is passed
downwards into the lower pipe, through the opening in the
deck, and its upper end secured on the plank of the deck.
In order to prevent the entrance of water by these scup¬
pers when a ship is inclined, valves of metal are placed over
the external outer ends, which close with the pressure of
the external water. In merchant-vessels, leather-pipes, called
scupper-hoses, are sometimes nailed round the opening for
the same purpose. Sometimes scuppers are only leaden
pipes passed through the ship’s side, and turned and fasten¬
ed at each end.
SCURVY, a dreadful disease, in the prevention and cure
of which, Dr Beddoes thinks, the mineral acids, especially
the nitric and vitriolic, may be employed with as much suc¬
cess as the vegetable acids.
SCUTAGE (scutagium ; Saxon, scildpening') was a tax
or contribution raised by those that held lands by knights’
service, tow-ards furnishing the king’s army, at one, two, or
three merks for every knight’s fee. Henry III., for his voy¬
age to the Holy Land, had a tenth granted by the clergy,
and scutage, three merks of every knight’s fee, by the laity.
This was also levied by Henry II., Richard I., and King John.
SCUTARI, a city of the western part of Turkey, the
capital of the province of the same name, sometimes also
called by the Turks Iskandria. It is situated on the river
Drenas, at its efflux from the Lake Bojana. It is the seat
of a Greek bishop. It contains Greek and Catholic churches,
several mosques, and about 4000 houses, with 16,000 inha¬
bitants. There is a considerable employment furnished by
S C Y 13
tolerable rule to measure the more striking variations of Scute
height and depth, and thus render him more bold and de- , II
termined in the execution of his plan. Scyila.
But even this method is not without its defects. For ' /
as it is impossible, by means of a straight line, to deter¬
mine with precision the procedure of a curve, the artist has,
in this method, no certain rule to guide him in his contours;
and as often as the line which he is to describe deviates
from the direction of plumb-line, which is his main guide,
he must necessarily feel himself at a loss, and be obliged to
have recourse to conjecture. It is also evident, that this
method affords no certain rule to determine exactly the
proportion which the various parts of the figure ought to
bear to each other, considered in their mutual relation and
connections. The artist, indeed, endeavours to supply this
defect by intersecting the plumb-lines by horizontal ones.
This resource has, nevertheless, its inconveniences, since
the squares formed by transverse lines that are at a dis¬
tance from the figure, although they be exactly equal, yet
represent the parts of the figure as greater or smaller, ac¬
cording as they are more or less removed from our position
or point of view. But notwithstanding these inconve¬
niences, the method now under consideration is certainly
the best that has hitherto been employed. It is surer and
more practicable than any other we know, although it ap¬
pears, from the remarks we have now been making, that it
does not exhibit a sure and universal criterion to a sculptor
who executes after a model.
To polish the statue, or make the parts of it smooth and of polish-
sleek, pumice-stone and smelt are used ; then tripoli; and ing statues,
when a still greater lustre is required, burned straw is em¬
ployed.
the building of ships and exporting of timber, and by fish¬
eries. It is not on the sea-shore ; but the village of Polna
is the place where vessels load and unload, and which is for¬
tified and protected by the castles Dragos and Golbaschi.
SCUTE (scutum), a French gold coin of three shillings
and fourpence in the reign of Henry V. Catharine queen
of England had an assurance made her of sundry castles,
manors, lands, &c. valued at the sum of forty thousand
scutes, two of which were worth a noble.
SCUTTLES, in a ship, holes in the decks of a ship, either
for air, or as passages to the store-rooms; also openings
in a ship’s side for the admission of air. If, in order to sink
a ship, a hole be cut in her bottom, she is said, in nautical
language, to be scuttled.
SCYLAX, a celebrated mathematician and geographer
of Caria, flourished under the reign of Darius Hystaspes,
about 558 before Christ. Some have attributed to him the
invention of geographical tables. We have under his name
a geographical work published by Hceschelius; but it is
written by a much later author, and is perhaps only an
abridgment of Scylax’s Ancient Geography.
SCYLLA, in Ancient Geography, a rock in the Fretum
Siculum, near the coast of Italy, dangerous to shipping, op¬
posite to Charybdis, a whirlpool on the coast of Sicily, and
both of them famous in mythology. Scylla and Charybdis
have been almost subdued by the repeated convulsions of
this part of the earth, and by the violence of the current,
which is continually increasing the breadth of the straits.
If proper allowance be made for these circumstances, we
shall acquit the ancients of exaggeration, notwithstanding
the dreadful colours in which they have painted this pas¬
sage. It is formed by a low peninsula called Cape Pelorus,
stretching eastward on the Sicilian side, immediately within
which lies the whirlpool of Charybdis; and by the rocks
of Scylla, which a few miles below, on the Calabrian shore,
project westward. The current runs with surprising force
from the one to the other alternately in the direction of the
14
Scyros
II .
Scythia.
S C Y
tide, and the tides themselves are very irregular. Thus
vessels, by shunning the one, were in the utmost danger of
being swallowed up by the other.
At present, in moderate weather, when the tide is either
at ebb or flood, boats pass across the whirlpool ; but, in ge¬
neral, it is like the meeting of two contending currents,
with a number of eddies all around ; and even now, there
is scarcely a winter in which there are not some wrecks.
SCYROS, an island in the yEgean Sea, at the distance of
about twenty-eight miles north-east from Euboea. It is
sixty miles in circumference. It was originally in the pos¬
session of the Pelasgians and Carians. Achilles retired there
to avoid going to the Trojan war, and became father of Ne-
optolemus, by Deidamia, the daughter of King Lycomedes.
Scyros, which was conquei'ed by the Athenians under Cimon,
was very rocky and barren. It is now called Sciro. Long.
25. 0. E. Lat. 38. 15. N.
SCYTALA Laconica, in Antiquity, a stratagem or de¬
vice of the Lacedaemonians, for the secret writing ol letters
to their correspondents, so that if they should chance to be
intercepted, nobody might be able to read them.
To this end they had two wooden rollers or cylinders, per¬
fectly alike and equal; one of which was kept in the city,
the other by the person to whom the letter was directed.
For the letter, a skin of very thin parchment was wrapped
round the roller, on which the matter was written ; and this
being done, it was taken off, and sent away to the party,
who, upon putting it in the same manner upon his roller,
found the lines and words in the very same disposition as
when they were first written.
SCYTHE, a well-known instrument, which has been long
employed in cutting grass. See Agriculture.
SCYTHIA, an ancient name for the northern parts of
Asia, now known by the name of Tartary; and also for
some of the north-eastern parts of Europe.
This vast territory, which extends itself from the Ister or
Danube, the boundary of the Celts, that is, from about the
25th to almost the 110th degree of east longitude, was di¬
vided into Scythia in Europe and Scythia in Asia, includ¬
ing, however, the two Sarmatias, or, as they are called by
the Greeks, Sauromatias, now Circassian Tartary, which lay
between and separated the two Scythias from each other.
Sauromatia was also distinguished into European and Asia¬
tic ; and was divided from the European Scythia by the
river Don or Tanais, which falls into the Palus Mseotis, and
from the Asiatic by the Rha or Volga, which empties itself
into the Caspian Sea.
The Asiatic Scythia comprehended, in general, Great
Tartary, and Russia in Asia; and, in particular, the Scythia
beyond or without Imaus contained the regions of Bogdoi
or Ostiacoi, and Tanguti. That within or on this side of
Imaus had Turkestan and Mongul, the Usbeck or Zagatai,
Kalmuck and Nagaian Tartars, besides Siberia, the land of
the Samoiedes, and Nova Zembla. These three last not
being so soon inhabited as the others, were, as may be rea¬
sonably supposed, wholly unknown to the ancients; and the
former were peopled by the Bactrians, Sogdians, Gandari,
Sacks, and Massagetes. As for Sarmatia, it contained Al¬
bania, Iberia, and Colchis, which now form Circassian Tar¬
tary and the province of Georgia.
Scythia in Europe reached, towards the south-west, to
the Po and the Alps, by which it was divided from Celto-
Gallia. It was bounded on the south by the Ister or Danube
and the Euxine Sea. Its northern limits have been sup¬
posed to stretch to the fountain-heads of the Borysthenes or
Dnieper, and the Volga, and so to that of the Tanais. The
ancients divided this country into Scythia Arimaspsea, which
lay eastward, joining to Scythia in Asia ; and Sarmatia Eu-
ropeana on the west. In Scythia properly so called were
the Arimaspaei on the north, the Getae or Dacians along
the Danube on the south, and the Neuri between these two.
SEA.
It contained therefore European Russia or Muscovy, and
the Lesser Crim Tartary, to the eastward ; and, on the west,
Lithuania, Poland, part of Hungary, Transylvania, Walachia, _
Bulgaria, and Moldavia. Sarmatia is supposed to have
reached northward to that part of Sweden called Feningia,
now Finland ; in which they placed the Ocenes, Panoti, and
Hippopodes. This part they divided from Northern Ger¬
many, now the western part of Sweden and Norway, by the
Mare Sarmaticum or Scythicum, which they supposed to run
up into the Northern Ocean, and, dividing Lapland into two
parts, formed the western part of Sweden and Norway into
one island, and Finland into another; supposing this also to
be cut off from the continent by the gulf of the same name.
Although the ancient Scythians were celebrated as a war¬
like people, yet their history is too uncertain and obscure
to enable us to give any detail which would not prove
equally tiresome and uninteresting to the reader. Mr Pin¬
kerton, in a dissertation on their origin, endeavours to prove
that they were the most ancient of nations ; and he assigns
for the place of their first habitation the country known by
the name of Persia. From Persia, he thinks, they proceed¬
ed in numerous hordes westward, surrounded the Euxine,
and peopled Germany, Italy, Gaul, the countries bordering
on the Baltic, and part of Britain and Ireland. That the Scy¬
thians were of Asiatic origin, cannot, we think, be question¬
ed ; and as Persia was peopled at a very early period, it
may not improbably have been their parent country. But
when our author contends that their empire had subsisted
for more than 1500 years before Ninus, the founder of the
Assyrian monarchy, and that it extended from Egypt to the
Ganges, and from the Persian Gulf and Indian Sea to the
Caspian, we cannot help thinking that his prejudices against
the Celts, and his desire to do honour to his favourite Goths,
have made him advance a paradox inconsistent with the
most authentic records of antiquity. His dissertation how¬
ever is ingenious, and replete with curious learning.
SEA, in a strict sense, signifies a large portion of water
almost surrounded by land, as the Baltic and Mediterranean
Seas ; but it is frequently used for that vast body of water
which encompasses the whole earth. See the articles Geo¬
logy and Physical Geography.
Sea-Air is that part of the atmosphere which is above
the sea. Sea-air has been found salubrious and beneficial
in certain distempers. This may be owing to its contain¬
ing a greater portion of oxygenous gas or vital air, and be¬
ing less impregnated with noxious vapours, than the land.
Dr Ingenhousz made several experiments to ascertain the
salubrity of sea-air. By mixing equal measures of common
air and nitrous air, he found that at Gravesend they occu¬
pied about L04, or one measure and y^jths of a measure ;
whereas on sea, about three miles from the mouth of the
Thames, two measures of air, one of common and one of
nitrous air, occupied from 091 to 0'94. He attempted a
similar experiment on the middle of the channel between
the English coast and Ostend ; but the motion of the ship
rendered it impracticable. He found that in rainy and
windy weather the sea-air contained a smaller quantity of
vital air than when the weather was calm. On the sea-shore
at Ostend it occupied from 94^ to 97 ; at Bruges he found
it at 105, and at Antwerp 109^. Dr Ingenhousz thus
concludes his paper. “ It appears, from these experiments,
that the air at sea and close to it is in general purer and
fitter for animal life than the air on the land, though it seems
to be subject to the same inconstancy in its degree of purity
with that of the land; so that we may now with more con¬
fidence send our patients labouring under consumptive
disorders to the sea, or at least to places situated close to
the sea, which have no marshes in their neighbourhood. It
seems also probable that the air will in general be found
much purer far from the land than near the shore, the for¬
mer being never subject to be mixed with land-air.’’
Sea
II .
Sea-Air.
15
S E A - L I G H T S.
Sea-Lights. gEA.Light, and Lighthouse, are terms which, although not
strictly synonymous, are indifferently employed to denote
the same thing. A Sea-light may be defined as a light so
modified and directed as to present to the mariner an ap¬
pearance which shall at once enable him to judge of his
position during the night, in the same manner as the sight
of a landmark would do during the day.
Early The early history of lighthouses is very uncertain ; and
history. many ingenious antiquaries, finding the want of authentic
records, have endeavoured to supply the deficiency by con¬
jectures based upon casual and obscure allusions in ancient
writers, and have invented many vague and unsatisfactory
hypotheses on the subject, drawn from the heathen mytho¬
logy. Some writers have gone so far as to imagine, that
the Cylcopes were the keepers of lighthouses ; whilst others
have actually maintained that Cyclops was intended, by a
bold prosopopoeia, to represent a lighthouse itself. A no¬
tion so fanciful deserves little consideration ; and in order
to show how ill it accords with that mythology of which it
is intended to be an exposition, it seems enough to quote
the lines from the ninth Odyssey, where Homer, after de¬
scribing the darkness of the night, informs us that the fleet
of Ulysses actually struck the shore of the Cyclopean island,
before it could be seen.
’’'EvO' ovris tyjv vrjcrov iatfipciKev 6(p6aXpoi(riv
vOvt ovv KvpnTa paKpa KvXivSofxera ttot'l y^tpcrov
’Euridopci/ jrp'iv pf/as euacreAuous eVtKfXcrat
Odijss. ix. 146.
There does not appear any better reason for supposing,
that under the history of Tithonus, Chiron, or any other
personage of antiquity, the idea of a lighthouse was con¬
veyed ; for such suppositions, however reconcileable they
may appear with some parts of the mythology, involve ob¬
vious inconsistencies with others. Nor does it seem at all
probable, that in those early times, when navigation was so
little practised, the advantages of beacon-lights were so ge¬
nerally known and acknowledged, as to render them the
objects of mythological allegory.
Colossus About three hundred years before the Christian era,
Rhodes. Chares, the disciple of Lysippus, constructed the celebrated
brazen statue, called the Colossus of Rhodes, which was of
such dimensions as to allow vessels to sail into the harbour
between its legs, which spanned the entrance. There is con¬
siderable probability in the idea, that this figure served the
purposes of a lighthouse; but we do not remember any passage
in ancient writers, where this use of the Colossus is expressly
mentioned There is much inconsistency in the account of
this fabric by early waiters, who, in describing the distant ob¬
jects which could be seen from it, appear to have forgotten
the height which they assign to the figure. It was partly de¬
molished by an earthquake, about eighty years after its com¬
pletion ; and so late as the year 672 of our era, the brass of
which it was composed, was sold by the Saracens to a Jewish
merchant of Edessa, for a sum, it is said, equal to L.36,000.
Pharos of Little is known with certainty regarding the Pharos of
Alexandria. Alexandria, which was regarded by the ancients as one of
the seven wonders of the world. It was built by Ptolemy Sea-Lights.
Philadelphus, about 300 years before Christ; and it is re-
corded by Strabo, that the architect Sostratus, the son of Dex-
iphanes, having first secretly cut his own name on the solid
walls of the building, covered the words with plaster, and, in
obedience to Ptolemy;s command, made the following in¬
scription on the plaster : “ King Ptolemy to the gods, the
saviours, for the benefit of sailors.” What truth there may
be in this account of the fraud of Sostratus, there is now
no means of determining; and the story is only now in¬
teresting, in so far as it shows the object of the royal
founder and the use of the tower. The accounts which
have reached us of the dimensions of this remarkable edi¬
fice, are exceedingly various ; and many of the statements
regarding the distance at which it could be seen, are clearly
fabulous. Josephus approaches nearest to probability, and
informs us, that the fire which was kept constantly burning-
in the top, was visible by seamen at a distance equal to
about forty miles. If the reports of some writers are to be
believed, this tower must have far exceeded in size the
great pyramid itself; but the fact that a building of compar¬
atively so late a date, should have so completely disappear¬
ed, whilst the pyramid remains almost unchanged, is a suf¬
ficient reason for rejecting, as erroneous, the dimensions
which have been assigned by most writers to the Pharos of
Alexandria. Some have pretended that large mirrors were
employed to direct the rays of the beacon-light on its top,
in the most advantageous direction; but there is nothing like
respectable evidence in favour of this supposition. Others,
with greater probability, have imagined that this celebrated
beacon was known to mariners, simply by the uncertain and
rude light afforded by a common fire. In speaking of the
Pharos,1 the poet Lucan, on most occasions sufficiently fond
of the marvellous, takes no notice of the gigantic mirrors
which it is said to have contained. It is true that, by using
the word “ lanipada,” which can only with propriety be ap¬
plied to a more perfect mode of illumination than an open
fire, he appears to indicate that the “flammis” of which he
speaks, were not so produced. The word lampada may,
however, be used metaphorically ; and flammis would, in
this case, not improperly describe the irregular appearance
of a common fire. Those who are desirous of knowing all
that occurs in ancient authors, on the subject of the Pharos
of Alexandria, may consult Pliny, 1. xxxvi. c. 12.; 1. v,
c. 13., and 1. xiii c. 11. Strabo, 1. xvii. p. 791, et seq.
Caesar, Comment, de Bell. Civil, 1. iii. Pompon. Mela. 1. ii.
c. 7. Ammian. Marcellin. 1. xxii. c. 16. Joseph, de Bell.
Judaic. 1. vi. Nicolas Lloyd’s Lexicon Geographicum, and
the Notitia Orbis Antiqui of Celarius, 1. iv. c. 1, p. 13.
Mr. Moore, in his History of Ireland, (vol. i. p. 16.) Coruna
speaks of the Tower of Coruna, which he says is mentioned Tower,
in the traditionary history of that country, as a lighthouse
erected for the use of the Irish in their frequent early in¬
tercourse with Spain. In confirmation of this opinion, he
cites a somewhat obscure passage from JEthius, the cosmo-
grapher. This in all probability is the tower which Hum¬
boldt mentions in his Narrative under the name of the Iron
1 Septima nox, Zephyro nunquam laxante rudentes,
Ostendit Phariis iEgyptia littora flammis.
Sed prius orta dies nocturnam lampada texit,
Quam tutas intraret aquas.
JRharsal. ix. 1004.
16
Sea-Lights. Tower, which was built as a lighthouse by Caius Saevius
Lupus, an architect of the city of Aqua Flavia, the modern
Chaves.
Modern Such seems to be the sum of our knowledge of the an-
history. cient history of lighthouses, which, it must be admitted, is
neither accurate nor extensive. Our information^ regard¬
ing modern lighthouses, is of course more minute in its de¬
tails, and more worthy of credit, as the greater part of it is
drawn from authentic sources, or is the result of the actual
observation of the writer of this article, who has visited the
most important lighthouses of Europe. It seems sufficient
SEA-LIGHTS.
Winstanley’s lighthouse, the Winchilsea man-of-war was Sea-Lights,
wrecked on the Eddystone rocks, and most of her crew'
wpre lost. Three years, however, elapsed, after this me¬
lancholy proof of the necessity of a light before the Tri-
nitv House of London could obtain a new act to extend then-
powers ; and it was not till the month of July 1706, that
the construction of a new lighthouse was begun under the
direction of Mr. John Rudyerd of London. On the 28th
of July 1708, the new light was first shewn, and continued
to be regularly exhibited till the year 1755, when the
whole fabric was destroyed by accidental fire, after stand-
most important ugntnouses ui ^u.upc. ^ —“y ff.rtv.spven vears. But for this circumstance, it is im-
here to notice briefly the most remarkable establishments of mg forty s. ^ y^ ^ lighthouse mig}lt) with occa
the kind now in existence; reserving for the latter part^  ^ lsjatp(q_ as Mr. Rudverd seems to hav<
Tour de
Corduan.
the article, the more appropriate and important topics of the
methods of illumination, and the systems of management.
The first lighthouse of modern days which merits atten¬
tion, is the Tour de Corduan, which, in point of architec¬
tural grandeur, is unquestionably the noblest edifice of the
kind in the world. It is situated on an extensive leer at
the mouth of the River Garonne, and serves as a guide to
the shipping of Bordeaux and the Languedoc Canal, and
indeed of all that part of the Bay of Biscay. It was found¬
ed in the year 1584, and was not completed till 1610, under
Henri IV. It is minutely described in Belidor’s Architec¬
ture Hydraulique. The building is 197 feet in height, and
consists of a pile of masonry, forming successive galleries,
enriched with pillasters and friezes, and rising above each
other with gradually diminished diameters. These gal¬
leries are surmounted by a conical tower, which terminates
in the lantern. Round* the base is a wall of circumvalla-
amrtmeMstre (hrmed,Somewhat Tn the style of casemates, erecting a lighthouse of stone, and ^
This wall is an outwoik of defence, and receives the chief dations,by cutting the surface of the rock mto regular bon
sional repair, have lasted, as Mr. Rudyerd seems to have
executed his task with much judgment, carefully rejecting
all architectural decoration, as unsuitable for such a situa¬
tion, and directing his attention to the formation of a tower
which should offer the least resistance to the waves. The
height of the tower, which was of a circular form, and con¬
structed of timber, was, including the lantern, 92 feet, and
the diameter at the base, which was a little above the level
of high water, was 23. ,
The advantages of a light on the Eddystone having
been so long known and acknowledged by seamen, no time
was permitted to elapse before active measures were taken
for its restoration ; and Mr. Smeaton, to whom application
was made for advice on the subject, recommended the
exclusive use of stone as the material, which, both from
its weight and other qualities, he considered most suitable
for the situation. On the 5th of April 1/56, Mr. Smea¬
ton first landed on the rock, and made arrangements for
Eddystone.
shock of the waves. The tower itself contains a chapel,
and various apartments; and the ascent is by a spacious
staircase. The first light exhibited in the Tour de Cor¬
duan, was obtained by burning billets of oak-wood, in
a choffer at the top of the tower; and the use of coal in¬
stead of wood, was the first improvement which the light
received. A rude reflector, in the form of an inverted
cone, was afterwards added, to prevent the loss of light
which escaped upwards. About the year 1780, M. Lenoir
was employed to substitute reflectors and lamps ; and in
1822, the light received its last improvement, by the intro¬
duction of the dioptric instruments of M. Fresnel.
Plate I. fig. 7, shews the form of this celebrated light¬
house, and is made from drawings in the possession of the
writer of this article, who, in 1834, spent several days there.
The history of the celebrated lighthouse on the Eddy¬
stone rocks is well known to the general reader, from
the narrative of Mr. Smeaton the Engineer. These rocks
are QL miles from the Ram-Head, on the coast of Cornwall;
and from the small extent of the surface of the chief rock, and
its exposed situation, the construction of the lighthouse was
a work of very great difficulty. The first erection was of
timber, designed by Mr. Winstanley, and was commenced
in 1696. The light was exhibited in November 1698. It
was soon found, however, that the sea rose upon this tower
to a much greater height than had been anticipated, so
much so, it is said, as to “bury under the water” the
lantern, which was sixty feet above the rock; and Mr.
Winstanley was therefore afterwards under the neces¬
sity of enlarging the tower, and carrying it to the height
of *120 feet. In November 1703, some considerable repairs
were required, and Mr. Winstanley, accompanied by his
workmen, went to the lighthouse to attend to their execu¬
tion ; but the storm of the 26th of that month, carried away
the whole erection, when the engineer and all his assistants
unhappily perished.
The want of a light on the Eddystone, soon led to a
fatal accident; for not long after the destruction of Mr.
zontal benches, into which the stones were carefully dove¬
tailed or notched. The first stone was laid on 12th June
1757, and the last on the 24th of August 1759- The tower
measures 68 feet in height, and 26 feet in diameter at the
level of the first entire course, and the diameter under the
cornice is 15 feet. The first twelve feet of the tower form
a solid mass of masonry, and the stones are united by means
of stone joggles, dovetailed joints, and oak treenails. It is
remarkable, that Mr. Smeaton should have adopted an arch¬
ed form for the floors of his building, instead of employing
these floors as tie-walls formed of dovetailed stones. 1 o
counteract the injurious tendency of the outward thrust of
these arched floors, Mr. Smeaton had recourse to the in¬
genious expedient of laying, in circular trenches or beds in
the stones which form the outside casing, sets of chains,
which were heated by means of an application of hot
lead, and became tight in cooling. The light was exhibited
on the 16th October 1759; but such was the state of the
lightroom apparatus in Britain at this period, that a feeble
light from tallow candles was all that decorated this noble
structure. In 1807, when the property of this lighthouse
again came into the hands of the rl rinity House, on the ex¬
piry of a long lease, Argand burners, and parabolic reflectors
of silvered copper, were substituted for the chandelier
of candles. Plate I. fig. 3, shews a section of the Eddy¬
stone lighthouse, as executed according to Mr. Smeaton’s
design. .
The dangerous reef called the Inch Cape, or Bell Rock, Bell- Rock,
so long a terror to mariners, was well known to the earliest
navigators of Scotland. Its dangers were so generally ac¬
knowledged, that the Abbots of Aberbrothick, from which
the rock is distant about twelve miles, caused a float to be
fixed upon the rock with a bell attached to it, which being
swung by the motion of the waves, served by its tolling to
warn the mariner of his approach to the reef. Amongst the
many losses which occurred on the Bell-Rock in modern
times, one of the most remarkable is that of the liork,
seventy-four, with all her crew, part of the wreck having
S E A - L I G H T S. 17
Sea'Lights, been afterwards found on the rock, and part having come
ashore on the neighbouring coast. During the survey ot
the rock also, many instances were discovered of the extent
of loss which this reef had occasioned, and many articles of
ships’ furnishings were picked up on it, as well as various
coins, a bayonet, a silver shoe-buckle, and many other small
objects. Impressed with the great importance of some guide
for the Bell-Rock, Captain Brodie, R.N., set a small sub¬
scription on foot, and erected a beacon of spars on the rock,
which, however, was soon destroyed by the sea. He ai'ter-
wTards constructed a second beacon, which soon shared
the same fate. It was not, however, until 1802, when the
Commissioners of Northern Lights brought a bill into
Parliament for power to erect a lighthouse on it, that any
efficient measures were contemplated for the protection of
seamen from this rock, which, being covered at every spring
tide to the depth of twelve feet, and lying right in the fare¬
way to the Firths of Forth and Tay, had been the occasion
of much loss both of property and life. In 1806, the bill
passed into a law, and various ingenious plans were suggest¬
ed for overcoming the difficulties which were apprehended,
in erecting a lighthouse on a rock twelve miles from land,
and covered to the depth of twelve feet by the tide. But the
suggestion of Mr. Robert Stevenson, the engineer to the Light¬
house Board, after being submitted to the late Mr. Rennie,
was at length adopted ; and it was determined to construct a
tower of masonry, on the principle of the Eddystone. On
the 17th of August 1807, Mr. Stevenson accordingly landed
with his workmen, and commenced the work by preparing
the rock to receive the supports of a temporary wooden py¬
ramid, on which a barrack-house, for the reception ol the
workmen, was to be placed ; and during this operation, much
hazard was often incurred in transporting the men from the
rock, which was only dry for a few hours at spring tides,^
to the vessel which lay moored off it. The lowest floor ot
this temporary erection, in which the mortar for the building
was prepared, was often broken up and removed by the force
of the sea. The foundation having been excavated, the
first stone was laid on the 10th July 1808, at the depth
of sixteen feet below the high-water of spring-tides, and
at the end of the second season, the building was five feet
six inches above the lowest part of the foundation. The
third season’s operations terminated by finishing the solid
part of the structure, which is thirty feet in height; and
the whole of the masonry was completed in October 1810.
The light was first exhibited to the public on the night
of the 1st of February 1811. The difficulties and haz¬
ards of this work, were chiefly caused by the short time
during which the rock was accessible between the ebbing
and flowing tides ; and amongst the many eventful incidents
which render the history of this work interesting, was the
narrow escape which the engineer and thirty-one persons
made from being drowned, by the rising of the tide upon
the rock, before a boat came to their assistance, the attend¬
ing vessel having broken adrift. This circumstance occur¬
red before the barrack-house was erected, and is narrated by
Mr. Stevenson in his account of the wmrk, published at the
expense of the Lighthouse Board in 1824, to which we may
refer for more minute information on the subject of this work,
and the other lights of the coast of Scotland.
The Bell-Rock Tower is 100 feet in height, 42 feet in
diameter at the base, and 15 at the top. The door is 30
feet from the base, and the ascent is by a massive cop¬
per ladder. The apartments, including the lightroom, are
six in number. The light is a revolving red and white
light, and is produced by the revolution of a frame containing
twenty Argand lamps, placed in the foci of parabolic mirrors,
arranged on a quadrangular frame, whose alternate faces
have shades of red glass placed before the reflectors, so that
a red and white light is shewn successively. The machi- Sea-Lights,
nery, which causes the revolution of the frame containing
the lamps, is also applied to tolling two large bells, to give
warning to the mariner of his approach to the rock in foggy
weather. Plate I. fig. 6, shews a section of the Bell-Rock
Lighthouse, and an elevation of the temporary barrack-house,
which was removed on the completion of the work.
The most remarkable lighthouse on the coast of Ireland Carlingford
is that of Carlingford, near Cranficld Point, at the entrance
of Carlingford Lough. It was built according to the de¬
sign of Mr. George Halpin, the Inspector of the Irish Lights;
and was a work of an arduous nature, being founded twelve
feet below the level of high-water on the Hawlbowling
Rock, which lies about two miles off Cranfield Point. The
figure is that of a frustum of a cone, 111 feet in height,
and 48 feet in diameter at the base. The light, which is
fixed, is from oil burned in Argand lamps placed in the foci
of parabolic mirrors. It was first exhibited on the night
of the 20th December 1830.
The Commissioners of the Northern Lighthouses have Skerryvore
lately taken measures for erecting a lighthouse on the rock of
Skerryvore, which lies in the channel between the Western
Isles of Scotland and the north of Ireland. The solid rock is
only about 40 yards square, and is about 13 miles from the near¬
est pointof the Island of Tyree. It is exposed to the unbroken
fury of the Atlantic, there being no land between it and the
coast of America. The works were commenced last season
on the rock, by the erection of part of a wooden barrack for
the reception of the workmen, during the building of the tower
of masonry. This barrack, which resembled that of the
Bell- Rock, shewn in Plate I. fig. 6, disappeared on the night of
the 3d November 1838 ; and when the writer of this article
visited the rock, on the 16th of the same month, only a single
beam remained. Several spars of a large vessel, and some of
the beams of the barrack, afterwards came ashore on the Is¬
lands of Tyree and Coll; a circumstance which has led to the
belief, that the fabric had sustained some injury by the collision
of some heavy body in motion. From the tremendous height
to which the sea was observed to rise on the rock, there
is, on the other hand, some reason to suspect that the fury
of the waves alone may have demolished the unfinished
structure of the barrack. The works were resumed in the
spring of 1839*
There are various other lighthouses which, in themselves,
are sufficiently deserving of a separate notice, were it not
that they have, more or less, something in common with
those already described, which are unquestionably the most
remarkable edifices of the kind. We shall, therefore,
now proceed to consider the methods of illumination, which
have been adopted in lighthouses ; a subject to which much
attention has of late years been directed, and which is the
most important consideration connected with those esta¬
blishments, whose utility depends solely upon the distance
at which the light can be seen, and the facility with which
the mariner can recognise their individual appearance as
indicative of a particular part of the coast.
There can be little doubt, that dow n to a very late period, Coal lighu
the only mode of illumination adopted in the lighthouses,
even of the most civilized nations ofEurope,was the combus¬
tion of wood or coal in a chauffer on the top of a high tower.
It is needless to enlarge upon the evils of such a method ;
they need only be named to be understood ; for it is diffi¬
cult to conceive how an efficient system of lighting a coast
could be managed under such disadvantages. The uncer¬
tainty caused by the effects of wind and rain, and the im¬
possibility of rendering one light distinguishable from ano¬
ther, must have, at all times, rendered the early lighthouses,
in a great measure, useless to the mariner.
M. Teulere, a member of the Royal Corps of Engineers Catoptric1
 system.
VOL. XX.
1 From the Greek /ca/oTrrpoj', a mirror, a compound of Kara, opposite to, and oitTopai, 1 nee.
C
18 SEA-LIGHTS.
Sea-Lip Ills of Bridges and Roads in France, is, by some, considered
the first who hinted at the advantages of parabolic reflec¬
tors ; and he is said, in a memoir dated the 26th June 1783,
to have proposed their combination with Argand lamps,
ranged on a revolving frame, for the Corduan lighthouse.
Whatever foundation there may be for the claim of M.
feulere, certain it is, that this plan was actually carried in¬
to effect at Corduan under the directions of the Chevalier
Borda, and to him is generally awarded the merit of hav¬
ing conceived the idea of applying parabolic mirrors to
lighthouses. These were prodigious steps in the improve¬
ment of lighthouses, as not only the power of the lights was
thus greatly increased, but the introduction of a revolving
frame proved a valuable source of distinction amongst lights,
a^d has since been the means of greatly extending their
utility. The exact date of the change on the light of the
Corduan is not known ; but as it was made by Lenoir, the
same young artist to whom Borda about the year 1780, in¬
trusted the construction of his reflecting circle, it has been
conjectured by some, that the improvement was made about
the same time. If this conjecture be correct, the claim of
M. Teulere must of course fall to the ground. The reflec¬
tors were formed of sheet-copper, plated with silver, and
had a double ordinate of 31 French inches. It was not long
before these improvements were adopted in England, by
the Trinity House of London, who sent a deputation to
France to inquire into their nature. In Scotland, one of the
first acts of the Northern Lights Board in 1786, was to sub¬
stitute reflectors in the room of coal-lights, then in use at
the Isle of May in the Firth of Forth, and the Cumbrae Isle
in the Firth of Clyde, which had, till that period, been the
only beacons on the Scotch coast. The reflectors employ¬
ed were formed of facets of mirror glass, placed in hollow
parabolical moulds of plaster, according to the designs of
the late Mr. Thomas Smith, the engineer of the board, who,
as appears from the article Reflector in the Supplement to
the third edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, was not
aware of what had been done in France, and had, himself,
conceived the idea of this combination. The system of
Borda was also adopted in Ireland, and in time, variously
modified, it became general wherever lighthouses were
known.
Parabolo;- The property of the parabola, by which all lines incident
dal minors, on its surface from the focus make with normals to the
curve at the points of incidence, angles equal to the inclin¬
ation of these same normals respectively to lines drawn par¬
allel to the axis of the curve, is that which fits it for the
purposes of a lighthouse. A hollow mirror, formed by the
revolution of a portion of a parabola about its axis, has, in
consequence of this property, the power of projecting the re¬
peated images of aluminous point placed in its focus, in direc¬
tions parallel to the axis of the generating curve, so that when
the mirror is placed with its axis parallel to the horizon, a
cylindric beam of light is thereby sent forward in a horizon¬
tal direction. When such mirrors are placed side by side,
with their axes parallel on the faces of a quadrangular
frame which revolves about a vertical axis, a distant observer
receives the successive impressions which result from the
passage of each face of the frame, over a line drawn be¬
tween the observer’s eye and the centre of the revolving
frame. This arrangement constitutes what is called a re¬
volving light. A fixed light is produced by placing side
by side, round a fixed circular frame, a number of reflec¬
tors, with their axes inclined to each other, so a< to be radii
containing equal arcs of the frame on which they are placed.
It is obvious that a perfect parabolic figure, and a luminous
'point mathematically true, would render the illumination of
the whole horizon by means of a fixed light impossible; and
it is only from the aberration caused by the size of the flame
which is substituted for the point, that we are enabled to
render even revolving lights practically useful. But for this ab¬
erration, even the slowest revolution in arevolvinglight, which Rea- Light:
would be consistent with a continued observable series, such
as the practical seamen could follow, would render the flashes
of a revolving light greatly too transient for any useful pur¬
pose ; whilst fixed lights being visible in the azimuths only
in which the mirrors are placed, would, over the greater
part of the distant horizon, be altogether invisible. The
size of the flame, therefore, which is placed in the focus of
a parabolic mirror, when taken in connexion with the form
of the mirror itself, leads to those important modifications
in the paths of the rays, and the form of the resultant beam
of light, which have rendered the catoptric system of lights
so great a benefit to the benighted seaman.
It is obvious, from a consideration of the nature of the
action which takes place in this combination of the parabo-
loidal mirrors with Argand lamps, that the revolving light is
not only more perfect in its nature than the fixed light, but
that it possesses the advantage of being susceptible of an
increase of its power, by increasing the number of reflectors,
which have their axes parallel to each other, so as to con¬
centrate the effect of several mirrors in one direction. The
perfect parallelism of the axes of separate mirrors, it is true,
is unattainable, but approaches may be made sufficiently
rear for practical results ; and in order to prolong the dura¬
tion of the flash, the reflectors are sometimes placed on a
frame, having each of its sides slightly convex, by which
arrangement, the outer reflectors of each face of the frame
have their axes less inclined inwards from the radii of the
revolving frame wdiich pass through their foci.
The best proportions for the paraboloidal mirrors, depend Propor-
upon the object to which they are to be applied ; as mirrors 6onsailfLT
which are intended to produce great divergence in the form v<jr£t'ice of
of the resultant beam should have one form; whilst those pfra • ° 01 '
which are designed to cause a near approach to parallelism
of the rays, wall have another form. These objects may also
be attained by variations of the size of the flame applied
in the same mirror, but it is much more advantageous to
produce the effect, by a change in the form of the mir¬
ror, as any increase of the flame beyond the size which is
found to be most advantageous in other respects, cannot be
regarded otherwise than as a wasteful expenditure of light.
The details into which a full investigation of this matter
would lead us, are quite beyond the scope of this article,
and it therefore seems sufficient to give the formulae which
express the relations which exist between the size of the
flame, the reflecting surface, and the corresponding diver¬
gence of the reflected ray. If A represent the inclination
of any reflected ray to the axis of a paraboloidal mir¬
ror, e the distance of the focus from the point of reflec¬
tion, and d the distance from the edge of the flame to the fo¬
cus in the plane of reflection, we shall have sin A——,
e
and when the flame in the given plane of reflection is cir¬
cular, or has its opposite sides equi-distant from the focus
of the mirror, wre shall, by putting A'for the effective diver¬
gence of the mirror in the given plane, have A'=2 A.
When, therefore, great divergence, as in the case of the
fixed lights, is required, the prolate form of the curve is to
be preferred ; and the oblate is conversely more suited to
revolving lights.
The power of the reflectors ordinarily employed in light- Power of
houses, is generally equal to about 360 times the effect ofparaboloid-
the unassisted flame which is placed in the focus. This ^ mirrors,
value, however, is strictly applicable only at the distances
at which the observations have been made, as the propor¬
tional value of the reflected beam must necessarily vary with
the distance of the observer, agreeably to some law depen¬
dent upon the unequal distribution of the light in the lumin¬
ous cone which proceeds from it. The ordinary burners
used in lighthouses are one inch in diameter, and the focal
S E A - L
Sea-Lights, distance generally adopted is four inches, so that the effec-
tive divergence of the mirror in the horizontal plane may be
estimated at about 14° 22'. In arranging reflectors on the
frame of a fixed light, however, it would be advisable to cal¬
culate upon less effective divergence, for beyond 11° the
light is feeble ; but the difficulty of placing many mirrors
on one frame, and the great expense of oil required for so
many lamps, have generally led to the adoption of the first
valuation of the divergence.
Manufac- The reflectors used in the best lighthouses, are made of
ture and sheet copper plated in the proportion of 6 oz. of silver to
^flectorf ' ^ °Z* coPPer’ They are moulded to the paraboloidal
re e form, by a delicate and laborious process of beating with
mallets and hammers of various forms and materials, and are
frequently tested during the operation by the application of
a carefully-formed mould. After being brought to the curve,
they are stiffened by means of a strong bizzle, and a strap
of brass which is attached to it for the purpose of preventing
any accidental alteration of its figure. Polishing powders
are then applied, and the instrument receives its last finish.
Two guages of brass are applied to test the form of the
reflector. One is for the back, and is used by the work¬
men during the process of hammering, and the other is ap¬
plied to the concave face as a test, while the mirror is re¬
ceiving its final polish. It is then tested, by trying a bur¬
ner in the focus, and measuring the intensity of the light
at various points of the reflected conical beam. Another
test may also be applied successively to various points in
the surface, by masking the rest of the mirror. Having
placed a screen in the line of the axis of the mirror at some
given distance from it, it is easy to find whether the image
of a very small object placed in the conjugate focus, which
is due to the distance of the screen, be reflected at any dis¬
tance from that point on the centre of the screen through
which the prolongation of the axis of the mirror would pass,
and thus to obtain a measure of the error of the instru¬
ment. For this purpose, it is necessary to find the position
of the conjugate focus, which corresponds to the distance of
the screen. If b be the distance which the object should
be removed outwards from the principal focus of the mirror,
d the distance from the focus to the screen, and r the dis¬
tance from the focus to the point of the mirror which is to
r2
be tested, we shall have b=— as the distance which the
a
object must be removed outwards from the true focus on
the line of the axis.
Artaud The flame generally used in reflectors, is from an Argand
lamps used fountain-lamp, whose w ick is an inch in diameter. Much
in redee- care is bestowed upon the manufacture of these lamps
for the Northern Lighthouses, which have their burners tip¬
ped with silver, to prevent wasting by the great heat which is
evolved. These burners are also fitted with a slide appara¬
tus, accurately formed, by which the burner may be remov¬
ed from the interior of the mirror at the time of cleaning
it, and returned exactly to the same place, and locked by
means of a key. This arrangement, which is shewn in
Plate II. figs. 7, 8, and 9, is very important, as it insures the
burner always being in the focus, and does not require that
the reflector be lifted out of its place every time it is clean¬
ed ; so that, when once carefully set and screw'ed down to
the frame, it is never altered. In these figs, a a a represents
one of the reflectors, b is the lamp, c is a cylindric fountain,
which contains 24 oz. of oil. The oil-pipe, and fountain of
the former, is connected with the rectangular frame d, and is
moveable in a vertical direction upon the guide rods e and^i
by which it can be let down and taken out of the reflector,
by simply turning the handle g, as will be more fully un¬
derstood by examining fig. 8. An aperture of an elliptical
form, measuiing about two inches by three, is cut in the
upper and lower part of the reflector, the lower serving for
I G H T S. 19
the free egress and ingress of the lamp, and the upper, to Sea-Lights,
which the copper tube h is attached, serving for ventila- •***r^>'“*<*~'
tion ; i shews a cross section of the main bar of the chan¬
delier or frame, on which the reflectors are ranged, each
being made to rest on knobs of brass, one of which, as seen
at k k, is soldered on the brass band /, that clasps the ex¬
terior of the reflector.
Plate II. fig. 8, is a section of the reflector a a, shewing
the position of the burner b, with the glass chimney b', and
oil-cup l, which receives any oil that may drop from the lamp.
Plate II. fig. 7, shews the apparatus for moving the lamp
up and down, so as to remove it from the reflector at the
time of cleaning it. In the diagram, c, the fountain, is mov¬
ed partly down ; d, d shew s the rectangular frame on which
the burner is mounted, e e the elongated socket-guides, /’
the rectangular guide-rod, connected with the perforated
sockets on which the checking-handle g slides.
The modes of arranging the reflectors in the frames, are Arrange,
shewn in Plate I. figs. 2, 4, and 5. It seems quite unne-ment of re¬
cessary, after what is said on the subject of divergence, tot^ct5)rs on
do more than remark, that in revolving lights the reflectorsthe liUlie*
are placed w ith their axes parallel to each other, so as to
concentrate their power in one direction ; whilst in fixed
lights, it is necessary, in order to effect as equal a distribu¬
tion of the light over the horizon as possible, to place the
reflectors, with their axes inclined to each other, at an
angle somewhat less than that of the divergence of the re¬
flected cone. For this purpose, a brass guage, composed
of two long arms, somewhat in the form of a pair of com¬
mon dividers, connected by means of a graduated limb, is
employed. The arms having been first placed at the angle,
which is supplemental to that of the inclination of the axes
of the two adjacent mirrors, are made to span the faces of
the reflectors, one of which is moved about till its edges
are in close contact with the flat surface of one of the
arms of the guage. The different arrangements of the re¬
flectors w ill be more fully understood by referring to the
Plates.
Plate I. figs. 2 and 5, shew an elevation and plan of a
revolving apparatus on the catoptric principle. In these
figures, n n shews the reflector frame or chandelier; a o,
the reflectors with their oil-fountains/?/). The whole is
attached to the revolving axis or shaft q. The copper tubes
r r convey the smoke from the lamps ; s s are cross bars
which support the shaft at £ £ ; w « is a copper pan for re¬
ceiving any moisture which may accidentally enter at the
central ventilator in the roof of the light-room ; / is a cast-
iron bracket, which supports the pivot on the shaft; m rn
are bevelled wheels, w hich convey motion from the machine
to the shaft.
Plate I. fig. 4, shewrs a plan of one tier of reflectors ar¬
ranged in the manner employed in a fixed catoptric light;
n n shews the chandelier, q the fixed shaft in the centre,
which supports the whole, oo the reflectors, and p p the
fountains of their lamps.
A variety of the parabolic reflectors has been invent- Borriirr
ed by M. Bordier Marcet, the pupil and successor of Ar- Mara t’s
gand, who has laboured with much enthusiasm in per-re^ectors.
fleeting catoptric instruments, more especially with a view
to their application in the illumination of lighthouses and
the streets of towns. Amongst many other ingenious com¬
binations of parabolic mirrors, he has invented and con¬
structed an apparatus, which is much used in harbour-lights
on the french coast. The object of this apparatus is to
fulfil, as economically as possible, the conditions required
in a fixed light, by illuminating, with perfect equality,
every part of the horizon, by means of a single burner; and
M. Bordier Marcet has in his work-shop an instrument of
this kind, eight feet in diameter, which he constructed on
speculation. The apparatus used in harbour-lights, on
the French coast, is of much smaller dimensions, and does
20
S E A - L I G IT T S.
Sea Lights.not exceed fifteen inches in diameter. A perfect idea of
t}ie construction and effect of this apparatus, may be formed,
by conceiving a parabola to revolve about its parameter as
an axis, so that its upper and lower limbs would become
the generating lines of two surfaces possessing the property
of reflecting, in lines parallel to the axis of the parabola,
all the rays incident upon them, from a light placed in the
point where the parameter and axis of the generating para¬
bola intersect each other. This point being the focus of
each parabolic section of this apparatus, the light is equally
dispersed in every point of the horizon, when the axes of
the parabolic sections are in a plane perpendicular to a ver¬
tical line. But however perfectly this apparatus may at¬
tain this important object, it does so at the sacrifice of the
most efficient part of the parabolic surface, which lies be¬
tween the vertex and the parameter ; and, therefore, pro¬
duces a proportionally feeble effect. This beautiful little
instrument is shewn in Plate II, fig. 5 ; in which b shews
the burner p, p the upper reflecting surface, and p' p' the
lower reflecting surface, both generated in the manner above
described by the revolution of a parabola about its para¬
meter x b ; F is the focus of the generating parabola ; and
11 are small pillars, which connect the two reflecting plates,
and give strength to the apparatus.
M. Bordier Marcet has also prepared a very ingenious
modification of the paraboloidal mirror, which he has describ¬
ed under the name of fanal a double aspect; and the object
of which is, to obtain a convenient degree of divergence
from parabolic mirrors, by the use of tw o flames and two re¬
flecting surfaces, each of which is acted upon by its own flame,
and also by that of the other. This modification consists
in the union of two portions of hollow paraboloidal mirrors,
generated by the revolution of two parabolas about a com¬
mon horizontal axis, and illuminated by two lamps placed
in the focus of each. The first surface is generated by the
revolution on its axis of a segment of a paraboloid inter¬
cepted between the parameter and some double ordinate
greater than it, and may, from its form, be called the rib¬
bon-shaped mirror. The second surface is that of a pa¬
rabolic conoid, which is cut off by a vertical plane pass¬
ing through a double ordinate, which is equal to the para¬
meter of the parabolic ribbon, which is placed in front of
it. The elements of the curve which forms the conoidal
mirror, must be so chosen as to have its focus at a conveni¬
ent distance in front of that of the ribbon-shaped mirror, so as
to admit of placing the two lamps separate from each other,
as well as to produce the necessary degree of divergence,
which is to be obtained by the action of these mirrors re-
. spectively on the flame placed in the focus of the other.
These two mirrors are thus joined together. Each mirror
produces, by means of the lamp placed in its focus, an ap¬
proach to parallelism of the reflected rays, which M. Bor¬
dier Marcet has not inaptly termed the principal effect;
whilst the action of each surface on the lamp which is placed
in the focus of the other, causes what the inventor calls the
secondary or lateral effect. Their secondary action may
be described thus : The lamp, which is in the focus of the
ribbon, is much nearer the vertex of the conoid than its
own focus ; so that its rays making, with normals to the
suriace of the conoid, angles greater than those which are
formed by the rays proceeding from its focns, are of ne¬
cessity reflected in lines diverging from the axis of the
mirror. Those, on the contrary, which proceed from the
focus of the conoid, meet the ribbon-shaped surface, so as
to make angles with its normals more acute than those which
the rays from its own focus could do, and which are, there¬
fore, reflected in lines converging to the axis of the mirror.
These reflected rays must therefore cut the axis, and diverge
from it on the other side. This apparatus has been tried
with success at LaHeve and some other lights on the French
coast. But it is Impossible not to perceive the great loss of
light which results from the use of two flames in one mirror ; Sea-Lighta-
and it must not be forgotten, that the divergence which is
obtained is not confined to the horizontal direction in which
only it is wanted ; but the light is scattered in every direc¬
tion round the edge of the mirror.
Spherical mirrors have been employed in lighthouses Spherical
only when thev can be introduced as subsidiary parts in mirrors,
dioptric apparatus ; and any observations regarding them
will, therefore, be made in treating of the dioptric lights of
Fresnel.
Floating lights are only resorted to in cases of absolute Floating
necessity, as their maintenance is extremely expensive, lights-
whilst they are less to be relied on, and, in all respects, less
efficient than land lights. They are large vessels, built
with great breadth of beam, and are generally moored off
shoals, or serve as guides for taking channels. The lights
are from lamps placed in front of small reflectors, ranged in
lanterns, which are hoisted on the masts of the vessel. The
number of lights varies from one to three as the only means
of distinction, the feebleness of the light generally rendering
it inexpedient to adopt the distinctions derived from the
use of coloured media.
Catoptric lights are susceptible of nine separate distinc- Distinc¬
tions, which are called fxed, revolving white, revolving red t'ons of
and white, revolving red with two whites, revolving white
with two reds, flashing, intermittent, double fixed lights, and lg ' s*
double revolving white lights. The first exhibits a steady
and uniform appearance, which is not subject to any change ;
and the reflectors used for it, (as already noticed), are of
smaller dimensions than those employed in revolving lights.
This is necessary in order to permit them to be ranged
round the circular frame, with their axes inclined at such
an angle, as shall enable them to illuminate every point of
the horizon. The revolving light, is produced by the revo¬
lution of a frame with three or four sides, having reflectors
of a large size grouped on each side, with their axes paral¬
lel ; and as the revolution exhibits a light gradually in¬
creasing to full strength, and in the same gradual manner
decreasing to total darkness, its appearance is extremely
well marked. The succession of red and white lights is
caused by the revolution of a frame whose different sides
present red and white lights; and these, as already men¬
tioned, afford three separate distinctions, namely, alternate,
red, and white ; the succession of two white lights after
one red, and the succession of two red lights after one
white light. The flashing light is produced in the same
manner as the revolving light; but owing to a different
construction of the frame, and the greater quickness ot the
revolution, a totally different and very striking effect is pro¬
duced. The brightest and darkest periods being but mo¬
mentary, this light is characterised by a rapid succession
of bright flashes, from which it gets its name. The inter¬
mittent light is distinguished by bursting suddenly into
view and continuing steady for a short time, after which
it is suddenly eclipsed for half a minute. This striking ap¬
pearance is produced by the perpendicular motion of circu¬
lar shades in front of the reflectors, by which the light is
alternately hid and displayed. This distinction, as well as
that called the flashing light, are peculiar to the Scotch coast,
having been first introduced by the present Engineer oi
the Northern Lights Board. The double lights, which are
generally used only where there is a necessity fora leading
line, as a guide for taking some channel or avoiding some
danger, are exhibited from two towers, one of which is high¬
er than the other ; and when seen in one line, form a di¬
rection for the course of shipping. At the Calf of Man, a
striking variety has been introduced into the character of
leading lights, by substituting, for two fixed lights, two lights
which revolve in the same periods, and exhibit their flashes
at the same instant; and these lights are, of course, suscept¬
ible of the other variety enumerated above, that of two re-
SEA-LIGHT S.
Sea-Lights, volving fed and white lights revolving in equal periods.
The utility of all these distinctions is chiefly to be imputed
to their at once striking the eye of an observer and being
instantaneously obvious to strangers.
’Dioptric, Before entering upon the subject of the dioptric lights,
system of the writer of this article embraces with pleasure the oppor-
Fresnel. tunity afforded to him, of acknowledging the liberality of
M. Leonor Fresnel, the present Secretary of the Lighthouse
Commission of France. It was entirely owing to the readi ¬
ness with which M. Fresnel afforded him access to every
avenue of information on the subject of lighthouses, that
he was enabled to effect the object of a mission to France,
on which he was sent in the year 1834, by the Commission¬
ers of Northern Lights.
The first proposal of applying lenses to lighthouses, is
recorded by Smeaton in his account of the Eddystone
Lighthouse, where he mentions that, in I759j an optician
in London proposed grinding the glass of the lantern to a
radius ofsevenfeetsix inches; but the description is too vague
to admit of even a conjecture regarding the proposed arrange¬
ment of the apparatus. Above forty years ago, however,
lenses were actually tried in several lighthouses in the south
of England ; but their imperfect figure, and the quantity
of light absorbed by the glass, which was of inferior quali¬
ty and of considerable thickness, rendered their effect so
much inferior to that of the parabolic reflectors then in
use, that, after trying some strange combinations of lenses
and reflectors, the former were finally abandoned.
The object to be attained by the use of lenses in a light¬
house, is, of course, identical with that which is answered
by employing reflectors; and both instruments effect the
same end by different means, collecting the rays which di¬
verge from a point called the focus, and projecting them
forward in a beam, whose axis coincides with the produced
axis of the instrument. The actions by which these simi¬
lar results are effected, have been termed reflection and
refraction. In the one case, the light, as has been already
said, merely impinges on the reflecting surface, and is
thrown back; whilst in the other, the rays pass through
the refracting medium, and are bent or refracted from their
natural course.
Polyzonal ce^ebrate^ Buffon, to prevent the great absorption
, lenses. ' °f light by the thickness of the material, which would ne¬
cessarily result from giving to a lens of great dimensions a
figure continuously spherical, proposed to grind out of a solid
piece of glass, a lens in steps or concentric zones. This
suggestion of Buffon regarding the construction of large
burning glasses, was first executed, with tolerable success,
about the year 1780, by the Abbe Rochon; but such are
the difficulties attending the process of working a solid piece
of glass into the necessary form, that it is believed the only
other instrument ever constructed in this manner, is that
which was made by Messrs. Cookson of Newcastle-upon-
Tyne, for the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses.
The merit of having first suggested the building of these
lenses in separate pieces, seems to be due to Condorcet,
who in his Eloge de Buffon, published so far back as 1773,
enumerates the advantages to be derived from this method."
Sir David Brewster also described this mode of building len¬
ses in 1811, in the Edinburgh Encgclopcedia ; and in 1822,
the late eminent Fresnel, alike unacquainted with the sug¬
gestions of Condorcet, or the description by Sir David
Brewster, explained with many ingenious and interesting
details, the same mode of constructing these instruments.
To Fresnel belongs the additional merit of havihg first fol- Sea-Light
low'ed up his invention, by the construction of a lens, and
in conjunction with MM. Arago and Mathieu of placing a
powerful lamp in its focus, and indeed of finally applying
it to the practical purposes of a lighthouse. The fertile
genius of the French Academician has produced many in¬
genious combinations of dioptric instruments for lighthouses,
which w e shall have occasion to notice in the sequel.
The great advantages which attend the mode of con-Annular
struction proposed by Condorcet, are, the ease of execution, lense*.
by which a more perfect figure may be given to each zone,
and spherical aberration almost entirely corrected, and the
power of forming a lens of larger dimensions than could
easily be made from a solid piece. Both Buffon and Con¬
dorcet, how ever, chiefly speak of reducing the thickness of
the material, and do not seem to have thought of determin¬
ing the radius and centre of the curvature of the generating
arcs ot each zone, having contented themselves with simply
depressing the spherical surface in separate portions. Fres¬
nel, on the other hand, determined these centres, which
constantly recede from the axis of the lens in proportion as
the zones to which they refer are removed from its centre;
and the surfaces of the zones of theannularlens, consequently,
are not parts of concentric spheres, as in Buffon’s lens. It
deserves notice, that the first lenses constructed for Fresnel
by M. Soleil had their zones polygonal, so that the surfaces
were not annular, aform which Fresnel considered less accom¬
modated to the ordinary resources of the optician. He also,
with his habitual penetration, preferred the plano-convex to
the double-convex form, as more easily executed. After ma¬
ture consideration, he finally adopted crown glass, which,
notwithstanding its greenish colour, he considered more suit¬
able than flint glass, as being less liable to strice. All his
calculations w ere made in reference to an index of refrac¬
tion of 1*51, which he had verified by repeated experiments,
conducted with that patience and accuracy for which, amidst
his higher qualities, he was so remarkably distinguished.
These instruments have received the name oiannular lenses,
from the figure of the surface of the zones.
Fig. 6, Plate II, exhibits apian and section of an annular
lens of the largest size, whose focal distance is 92 centi¬
metres, or about 36-22 inches, and which subtends a lumi¬
nous pyramid of 46° of inclination, having its apex in the
flame.
Having once contemplated the possibility of illuminating Cylindric
lighthouses by dioptric means, Fresnel quickly perceived retractors
the advantage of employing for fixed lights a lamp placed
in the centre of a polygonal hoop, consisting of a series of
cylindric refractors, infinitely small in their length, and
having their axes in planes parallel to the horizon.
Such a continuation of vertical cylindric sections of va¬
rious curvatures, by refracting the rays proceeding from the
focus only in a direction perpendicular to the vertical sec¬
tions of the cylindric parts, must distribute a zone of light
equally brilliant in every point of the horizon. This effect
will be easily understood, by considering the middle vertical
section of one of the great annular lenses or burning glasses,
already described, abstractly from its relation to the rest of
the instrument. It will readily be perceived that this sec¬
tion possesses the property of simply refracting the rays at
right angles to the line of the section, or in a direction
parallel to the horizon, and cannot collect the rays from
either side of the vertical line ; and if this section, by its
revolution about a vertical axis, becomes the generating line
1 In all probability directly derived from the Greek didnTpa, an optical instrument with holes for looking through, which is a compound
of Sta, through, and dmopai, I see.
* On pourrait meme composer de plusieurs pieces ces loups ^ dcbelons ; on y gagnerait plus de facility dans la construction, une grande
diminution de de'pense, Tayantage de pouvoir letir donner plus d’e'tendue, et celui d’employer suivant le besoin un nombre des cercles plus
ou moms grand, et d’obtenir ainsi du meme instrument differens de'gres de force. Eloge de Buffon, p. 35. CEuvres de Condorcet, tom. iv,
22
SEA-LIGHTS.
Sea.Lights. of the enveloping hoop, above noticed, such a hoop would
0f course possess the property of refracting an equally dif¬
fused zone of light round the horizon. The difficulty, how¬
ever, of forming this apparatus, appeared so great, that
Fresnel determined to substitute for it a vertical polygon,
composed of what have been improperly called cylindric
lenses, but which in reality are mixtilinear and horizontal
prisms, distributing the light which they receive from the
focus, equally over the horizontal sector which they subtend.
This polvgon has a sufficient number of sides to enable it
to give at the angle formed by the junction of two of them,
a light not very much inferior to what is produced by one of
the sides ; and upper and lower courses of curved mirrors,
are so placed as to make up for the deficiency of the light
at the angles. The effect sought for in a fixed light is thus
obtained in a much more perfect manner, than by any com¬
bination of the parabolic mirrors used in the British light¬
houses.
An ingenious modification of the fixed apparatus is due
to the inventive mind of Fresnel, who also conceived the
happy idea of placing one apparatus of this kind in front of
another, with the axes of the cylindric pieces crossing each
other at right angles. As these cylindric pieces have the
property of refracting all the rays which they receive from
the focus, into a direction perpendicular to the mixtilinear
section which generates them, it is obvious that if two re¬
fracting media o*f this sort be arranged as proposed by Fres¬
nel, their joint action will unite the rays which come from
their common focus into a beam, whose sectional area is
equal to the overlapped surface of the two instruments, and
thus produce the effect of an annular lens. It was by avail¬
ing himself of this property of crossed prisms, that Fresnel
invented the distinction for lights, which he calls a fired
light varied by flashes; in which the flashes are caused by
the revolution of cylindric media, with vertical axes round
the fixed-light apparatus already described.
Mechanical Fresnel immediately perceived the necessity of combin-
larap. ing with the dioptric instruments which he had invented,
a burner capable of producing a large volume of flame;
and the rapidity with which he matured his notions on this
subject, and at once produced an instrument admirably
adapted for the end he had in view , affords one of the many
proofs of that happy union of practical with theoretical ta¬
lent, for which he was so distinguished. Fresnel himself has
modestly attributed much of the merit of the invention of
this lamp to M. Arago; but this gentleman, with great can¬
dour, gives the whole credit to his deceased friend, in a
notice regarding lighthouses, which appeared in the Annu-
aire da Bureau des Longitudes of 1831. The lamp has
four concentric burners, which are defended from the action
of the excessive heat, produced by their united flames, by
means of a superabundant supply of oil, which is thrown up
from the cistern below by a clock-work movement, and con¬
stantly overflows the wicks, as in the mechanical lamp of
Carcel. A very tall chimney is found to be necessary, in
order to supply fresh currents of air to each wick with suffi¬
cient rapidity to support the combustion. The carbonisa
tion of the wicks, however, is by no means so rapid as
might be expected, and it is even found that after they
have suffered a good deal the flame is not sensibly diminish¬
ed, as the great heat evolved from the mass of flame, pro¬
motes the rising of the oil in the cotton. The writer of
this article has seen the large lamp at the Tour de Corduan
burn for seven hours without being snuffed, or even having
the wicks raised.
The annexed diagrams will give a more perfect idea of
the nature of the concentric burner than can easily be con¬
veyed by words alone. The first shews a plan of a burner of
four concentric wicks. The intervals which separate the
wicks from each other and allow the currents of air to pass,
diminish in width a little, as they recede from the centre.
The next shews a section of this burner. 1C, (T, C , C Sea Ligbts,
are the rack handles for raising or depressing each wick, AB
is the horizontal duct which leads the oil to the four wicks,
L, L, L, are small plates of tin by which the burners are solder¬
ed to each other, and which are so placed as not to hinder
the free passage of the air; P is a clamping screw, which
keeps at the proper height the gallery R, R, which carries
the chimney. The last shews the burn¬
er with its glass chimney and damper.
E is the glass chimney, F is a sheet- iron
cylinder, which serves to give it a greater
length, and has a small damper D, capa¬
ble of being turned by a handle for regu¬
lating the supply of air; and B is the
pipe which supplies the oil to the wicks.
The great risk in using this lamp arises
from the leather valves that force the oil
by a clock-work movement, being occa¬
sionally liable to derangement; and se¬
veral of the lights on the French coast,
and more especially the Corduan, have
been extinguished by the failure of the
lamp for a few minutes, an accident which
has never, and scarcely can happen with
the fountain lamps which illuminate the
reflectors. To prevent the occurrence
of such accidents, and to render their
consequences less serious, various pre¬
cautions have been resorted to. Amongst
others, an alarum is attached to the lamp,
consisting of a small cup pierced in the bottom, which re¬
ceives part of the overflowing oil from the wicks, and is
capable, when full, ot balancing a weight placed at the
opposite end of a lever. The moment the machinery stops,
the cup ceases to receive the supply of oil, and the re-
SEA-LIGHTS.
Sea-Li "fit.®, mainder running out at the bottom, the equilibrium of the
lever is destroyed, and in falling, it disengages a spring which
rings a bell sufficiently loud to waken the keeper should he
chance to be asleep. It may justly be questioned whe¬
ther this alarum would not prove a temptation to the keep¬
ers to relax in their watchfulness and fall asleep. There
is another precaution of more importance, which consists
in having always at hand in the light-room a spare lamp
trimmed and adjusted to the height for the focus, which
may be substituted for the other in case of accident. It
ought to be noticed, however, that it takes about twenty
minutes from the time of applying the light to the wicks
to bring the flame to its full strength, which, in order to
produce its best effect, should stand at the height of near¬
ly four inches (10cm-). The inconveniences attending this
lamp have led to several attempts to improve it; and amongst
others M. Delaveleye has proposed to substitute a pump hav¬
ing a metallic piston, in place of the leather valves, which
require constant care, and must be frequently renewed. A
lamp was constructed in this manner by M. Lepaute, and
tried at Corduan ; but was afterwards discontinued until
some further improvements could be made upon it. It has
lately been much improved by M. Wagner, an ingenious
artist whom M. Fresnel employed to carry some of his
improvements into effect. In the dioptric lights on the
Scotch coast, a common lamp with a large wick is kept
constantly ready for lighting ; and in the event of the sud¬
den extinction of the mechanical lamp by the failure of the
valves, it is only necessary to unscrew and remove its bur¬
ner, and put the reserve-lamp in its place. The height
of this lamp is so arranged, that its flame is in the focus
of the lenses, when the lamp is placed on the ring which
supports the burner of the mechanical lamp; and as its flame,
though not very brilliant, has a considerable volume, it will
answer the purpose of maintaining the light for an hour
or two, until the light-keepers have time to repair the valves
of the mechanical lamp. No occasion for the use of this
reserve-lamp has yet occurred.
Mr. Old- The lamp invented by Mr. Oldham of Dublin, appears,
ams amp.from the simplicity of its construction, to be very suitable
for the purposes of a lighthouse ; and the writer of this ar¬
ticle is at present engaged in some experiments to ascertain
the possibility of applying the pressure used in Mr. Oldham’s
lamp to produce the same regular supply of oil to the con¬
centric burner, which is at present effected by means of the
mechanism of the French lamp.
Divergence The divergence of the annular lens is greatly less than
that of the parabolic mirror. It may be estimated in the
following manner. Let A be the angle of divergence of
any ray emerging from the lens, / the distance of the point
of incidence from the principal focus of the lens, and r the
23
of the ai
nular
lenses
radius of the flame, and we have sin. a = and when A'
is made the angle of the effective divergence of the lens, wre
have A'= 2a.
Adopting this rule we find the effective divergence of
the lens to be about 5° 9/, which does not differ much from
the observed divergence.
Manufac- The manufacture of the dioptric instruments is not dis-
optric in- t!ngUlslled by any peculiarity which requires special notice,
struments the Sldncbng and polishing being performed by means of
' powders gradually increasing in fineness, successively ap¬
plied as in the ordinary process of grinding glass. The
union of the several zones which compose an annular lens
is effected by means of small slips of thin copper, which hav-
ing one half passed into a groove in one zone, and the other
lalt into a corresponding groove in the adjoining zone, pre¬
vent, in the same manner as a. joggle in masonry, or a chock
1”, carpentry, the one zone from slipping past the other.
1 ie pieces are also united by a glue which possesses the
important property of being able to resist the action of con- Sea. Lights,
siderable heat, whilst it is by no means brittle. M. Fresnel
intrusted the work of building the first lens to the late M.
Soldi, optician to the king of France, to whose zeal and in¬
telligence he bears ample testimony in the Memoire in
which he describes the invention.
In order to test the figure of the lenses, moulds carefully Testing of
made may be applied; or the lens being mounted on aienses.
stand which permits its being set at any angle, the accu¬
racy of the whole instrument, and of each portion of it, may
be separately tested by the form and size of the spectrum
which is formed in the principal focus, by permitting the
solar rays to fall upon the lens at right angles. When any
particular portion is to be tried, the rest of the surface is co¬
vered with discs of strong grey paper or pasteboard. Another
method may be employed similar to that already described
as applicable to reflectors. This method consists in find¬
ing whether a small object placed in any point of the axis
farther from the lens than the principal focus, has its image
refracted accurately to a point on a screen placed in the
conjugate focus which is due to that distance. The same
principle of testing the instrument is also applied when a per¬
son stationed at a given short distance in front of the lens
observes whether its whole surface be completely illuminated
by a small flame placed in the conjugate focus corresponding
to that distance. All that is necessary, therefore, is to deter¬
mine these distances by means of formulae which express the
relations of the distances of the object and its image. If S re¬
present the distance of the eye from the lens, 0 the principal
focus, andcp the distance of the conjugate focus corresponding
to the observer’s distance 8, then we have
8—cp
If, again, adopting the same notation, we wish to find the
distance at which the image of an object placed at a given
distance from the lens greater than that of the principal
focus, should be accurately impressed on a screen, we have
, 00'
0'—0
Ihe curved mirrors, as already mentioned, are, strictly Curved
speaking, generated by portions of parabolas having their mirrors,
foci coincident with the common flame of the system. In
practice, however, they are made portions of a curve sur-
face, ground by the radius of the circle which osculates the
given parabola, and passes tangentially through the middle
of the chord which subtends the arc of the mirror. These
miirois are plates of glass, silvered on the back, and set
in flat cases of sheet brass. They are suspended on a cir¬
cular frame by screws, which are attached to the backs
of the cases, and which afford the means of adjusting them
to their true position in the lightroom, so that they may re¬
flect the horizon of the lighthouse to an observer’s eye
placed in the focus of the system. In order to test the ac¬
curacy of the mirrors, recourse may again be had to the for-
mulae of conjugate foci; thus, if we put r equal to the ra¬
dius of curvature of the mirror, d equal to the given distance
of any object from the mirror, and d' equal to the distance
of a moveable screen, which shall receive the true image of
the object if the mirror be accurately formed, we shall have
for this latter distance d'
rd
2d—r ’ Power of
rp, .j. „ the annular
1 ne effect of an annular lens may be estimated at mo- lenses, cy-
derate distances to be nearly equal to that of 3000 Argand lindrie re¬
flames of about an inch diameter ; that of a cylindric refrac-^rac^01s
tor at about 250 ; and that of a curved mirror may perhaps and curved
on an average be assumed at about 10 Argand flames. mirr°rs.
A beautiful apparatus, which has received the name of Catadiop-
the catadioptric light, from the compound action by which trie light,
it is characterised, was another of Fresnel’s applications of
24
Sea-Lights, dioptric instruments to the purposes of a lighthouse. This
' elegant apparatus consists of thirteen rings of glass of va¬
rious diameters arranged one above another, in an oval
form. The five middle rings have an interior diameter of
11-81 inches (30cm-) and refract equally over the horizon¬
tal plane of the focus the light which they receive from it,
and thus operate precisely in the same manner as the diopti ic
part of the fixed light apparatus. The other rings or prisms,
five of which are upper and three lower, are ground and set
in such a manner, that they project all the light derived horn
the focus in a direction parallel to the other rays by total
reflection. This effect is produced by arranging the prisms,
so that the incident rays, after being refracted at the first
surface, shall strike the reflecting side of the prism at such
an angle, that instead of passing through the prism at that
point,' they shall be totally reflected from it, and after a se¬
cond refraction emerge from tbe third side in a direction
parallel to those transmitted by the middle or simply re¬
fracting rings. When this apparatus is employed to light
only a part of the horizon, the rings are discontinued on the
side next to the land, and room is thus obtained for using
a common fountain lamp; but when the whole horizon is
to be illuminated, the apparatus must inclose the flame on
every side, so that it has in this case been found necessary
to employ the hydrostatic lamp of Thilorier, in which the
balance is sulphate of zinc in solution. Fresnel was pre¬
vented, by an early death, the consequence of severe appli¬
cation to scientific pursuits, from ever constructing this
beautiful instrument; and it was reserved for the present
enlightened secretary of the Commission des Phares to com-
plete his brother’s invention.
The nature of this apparatus will be fully understood by
a reference to fig. 1. Plate I. which shews its section and
iilan. F is the focal point in which the flame is placed,
r, r cylindric refractors, forming by their union a cylinder
with ‘a lamp in its axis, and producing a zone of light of
intpnsitv all round the horizon, and r', r' are cylindric
S E A - L I G H T S.
In the small apparatus of the fourth order, the nearness Sea-Tug!.*
of the prisms to the flame makes the angle subtended by
-v considerable ; and as the curvature
equal intensity all round the horizon, and r', r .
refractors having their axes at right angles to those of the
refractors r, r, and revolving around them. These extenoi
refractors in front of the inner refractors produce, by com¬
pound refraction, a beam similar to that resulting from an
annular lens. *, x are catadioptric prismatic rings acting
bv total reflection, and giving out zones of light of equal
intensity at every point of the horizon. The dotted lines
shew the course traversed by the rays of light which pro¬
ceed from the lamp and are acted upon by the rings of
glass. The catadioptric rings supply the places of the curv¬
ed mirrors M, M, shewn in Plate II. figs. 3 and 4 ; and as
the reflection from the inner surface of a prism is, theo¬
retically speaking, total, and the whole loss of light is mere¬
ly that which is due to absorption in passing through the
glass, and that which takes place at the two surfaces, there
must of necessity be a much greater proportion of the in¬
cident light transmitted by the catadioptric action than can
ever be obtained from the most perfect reflecting surface,
the loss from reflection being held to be in no case less
than one half of the incident light.
Catadiop- Tllis consideration, together with some other views re-
tric prisms garding the greater convenience of the catadioptric ap-
or lights paratus, led Mr. Alan Stevenson to propose to the Com-
of the first missioners of the Northern Lighthouses, in a report, dated
order. October 1836, that an inquiry should be instituted re¬
garding the practicability of substituting in lights of the
first order, a series of catadioptric prisms in the room of the
curved mirrors which are at present used in France. Hav¬
ing received authority from the Lighthouse Board, he cor¬
responded with M. Fresnel at Paris, who, in the most liberal
manner, furnished him with all the information regarding
the steps which he had pursued in reference to the smaller
apparatus, and at the same time suggested many import¬
ant views regarding the larger one.
the first refracting side considerable ; and as the curvature
of the reflecting side of the prisms depends upon this an-
Me the excess of the secant, above the radius of the arc, is
a notable quantity, and the radius of curvature is propor¬
tionally small. But in the prisms of the first order, Mr.
A Stevenson found, that the radius of curvature of the re¬
flecting side is upwards of 24 feet, and that, even when the
generating triangles are larger than those of the small ap¬
paratus, the excess of the secant over the radius is only
about -0125 inch. Where a flame of great size, like that
which illuminates the dioptric apparatus, is used, this cur¬
vature may be safely disregarded ; and is, indeed, such, that
it could not be accurately ground, on account of the great
length and unwieldiness of the radius. It is true, that an
approximation to the true figure might be made, by giv-
in<r to the reflecting side the form which would be traced
bv two tangents to "the curve, and thus forming a trapez¬
oidal prism ; but the difficulty of such an operation, where
so little glass is to be removed, and the increased source of
error from the necessity of an additional shifting of the glass
on the chucks, seem to be sufficient reasons for rejecting this
expedient. It ought also to be recollected, that in this case
the tendency of the deviation from the theoretical form, is
towards the side of safety, as the error in the path of any
ray which it could cause, would throw the light at its emer¬
gence from the prism below, and not above the hoi izon. I he
prisms may therefore be considered as rings generated by
the revolution of isosceles triangles round a vertical axis
passing through the focus of the system.
Mr. Edward Sang, F.ll.S.E. in an interesting communi¬
cation on the grinding of glass, which was lately read before
the Society of Arts for Scotland, pointed out the advantage
of adopting the highest point of the flame as the focus of
the system of reflecting rings. By this arrangement, the
light from the upper part of the flame, which would other¬
wise escape upwards, will be directed to the horizon, whilst
the rays from the lower parts of the flame will be usefully
directed to illuminate the space between the horizon and
the lighthouse.
All the lights on the dioptric principle, are illuminated Amnig**-
by a flame placed in the centre of the apparatus or com-merit of aj
mon focus of the principal lenses and cylindric refrac-
tors which are ranged round it. The burner ot the lamp l!0Uge°
varies in its dimensions and its consumption of oil, accord¬
ing to the size of the instruments employed, which also de¬
termines what is called the order of the light, a name ex¬
pressive of its ■power and range. Above and below the
strictly dioptric part of the apparatus of each order, there
are also accessary parts, which are generally simply catop¬
tric, and consist of curved mirrors arranged in tiers, one
above another, like the leaves of a Venetian blind and
placed so as to reflect to the horizon the rays received from
the lamp, which is in their common focus. At Corduan,
however, and at Planier, near Marseilles, the apparatus
above the principal lenses is dia-catoptric, being composed
of an union of eight lenses of 19’68 inches (50cm') of focal
distance, inclined inwards to the flame, which is in their
common focus, and thus forming a frustum of an octagonal
pyramid of 50° of inclination. These upper lenses are sur¬
mounted by plane mirrors, placed so as to reflect horizon¬
tally the beams transmitted by the lenses. In placing these
upper lenses, it has been thought advisable to give their
axes a horizontal inclination of 7° from that of the great
lenses. By this arrangement, the flash of the upper lenses
always precedes that of the principal lenses, as already no¬
ticed in speaking of the appearance of Corduan light. I he
use of the accessary apparatus is to collect the rays, which
would otherwise pass above and below the main lenses, with¬
out contributing to the brilliancy of the light. The nature
SEA-LIGHTS.
25
Sea-Lights, of the whole apparatus will be more fully understood by re-
ferring to the Plates.
Plate II. fig. 1, is a section of a revolving dioptric appa¬
ratus of the first order; F is the focal point in which the
flame is placed ; L, L great annular lenses, forming by their
union an octagonal prism, with the lamp in its axis, and pro¬
jecting in horizontal beams the light which they receive
from the focus ; L' L/ upper lenses, forming by their union
a frustum of an octagonal pyramid of 50° of inclination,
and having their foci coinciding in the point F. They par¬
allelise the rays of light which pass over the lenses. M, M,
plane mirrors, placed above the pyramidal lenses, and so in¬
clined, as to project the beams reflected from them in planes
parallel to the horizon ; X, X shew the rollers and wheel
work which give motion to the lenses ; and W is the weight
wThich moves the clock-work of the mechanical lamp H.
Plate II. fig. 2, is the plan of the apparatus shewn in fig. 1.
Plate II. fig. 3, shews a section of a fixed dioptric light
of the first order. F is the focal point in which the flame is
placed ; R, R cylindric refractors, forming by their union a
prism of thirty-two sides, or a true cylinder, with the lamp
in its axis, and producing a zone of light of equal intensity
in every point of the horizon ; M, M curved mirrors, ranged
in tiers above and below the cylindric refractors, and hav¬
ing their foci coinciding in the point F; the effect of the
mirrors increases the power of the light, by collecting and
transmitting the rays which would otherwise pass above and
below them, without increasing the effect of the light; W
is the weight which moves the mechanical lamp H. Plate
II. fig. 4, is a plan of the fixed apparatus of the first order.
Mr. Alan Stevenson having been directed by the Com¬
missioners of the Northern Lighthouses to convert the fixed
The cylin
dric form
given to the'
ref racting catoptric light of the Isle of May, into a dioptric light of the
belts of thedrst order, proposed, that an attempt should be made to form
first order, a true cylindric, instead of a polygonal belt for the refract¬
ing part of the apparatus; and this task was successfully
completed by Messrs. Cookson of Newcastle- The defect of
the polygon lies in the excess of the radius of the circumscrib¬
ing circle over that of the inscribed circle, which occasions
an unequal distribution of light between its angles and the
centre of each of its sides; and this fault can only be fully
remedied by constructing a cylindric belt, whose generat¬
ing line is the middle mixtilinear section of an annular
lens, revolving about its principal focus as a vertical axis.
This is, in fact, the only form which can possibly produce
an equal diffusion of the incident light over every part of
the horizon.
In a report to the Commissioners of the Northern Lights,
there is the following description of the refractors con¬
structed for the Isle of May Light. “ I at first imagin¬
ed,” says Mr. Alan Stevenson, “ that the whole hoop of re¬
fractors might be built between two metallic rings, connect¬
ing them to each other solely by the means employed in ce¬
menting the pieces of the annular lenses ; but a little consid¬
eration convinced me that this construction would make it
necessary to build the zone at the lighthouse itself, and would
thus greatly increase the risk of fracture. I was therefore
reluctantly induced to divide the whole cylinder into ten
arcs, each of which being set in a metallic frame, might be
capable of being moved separately. The chance of any er¬
ror in the figure of the instrument has thus a probability of
being confined within narrower limits; whilst the rectifica¬
tion of any defective part becomes at the same time more
easy. One other variation from the mode of construction
at first contemplated, has been forced upon me by the re¬
peated failures which occurred in attempting to form the
middle zone in one piece ; and it was at length found ne- Sea-Lights,
cessary to divide this belt by a line passing through the ho-
rizontal plane of the focus. This division of the central
zone, however, is attended with no appreciable loss of light,
as the entire coincidence of the junction of the two pieces
with the horizontal plane of the focus, confines the inter¬
ception of the light to the fine joint at which they are ce¬
mented. With the exception of these trifling changes, the
idea at first entertained of the construction of this instru¬
ment has been realized. An improvement of some import¬
ance might also be made upon the arrangement of this ap¬
paratus, by giving to the metallic frames which contain the
prisms, a rhomboidal,1 instead of a rectangular form. The
junction of the frames being thus inclined from the perpen¬
dicular, will not in any azimuth intercept the light through¬
out the wThole height of therefractingbelt, but the interception
will be confined to a small rhomboidal space, whose area will
be inversely proportional to the sine of the angle of inclina¬
tion ; and if the helical joints be formed betw een the oppo¬
site angles of the present rectangular frames, the amount of
intercepted light will be absolutely equal in every azimuth.”
The change of the light at the Isle of May, from the ca¬
toptric to the dioptric system, w as generally acknowledged
to be an improvement. A committee of the Royal Society
of Edinburgh made some observations on the two lights
which were exhibited in contrast on the night of the 26th
of October 1836, from the town of Dunbar, which is distant
about thirteen miles from the lighthouse. Their report,
which was drawn up by Professor Forbes, concludes in these
words:
“ The following conclusions seem to be warranted :
“ 1. That at a distance of thirteen miles, the mean effect
of the new light is very much superior to the mean effect
of the old light, (perhaps in the ratio of two to one.)
“ 2. That at all distances, the new7 light has a prodigious
superiority to the old, from the equality of its effects in all
azimuths.
“ 3. That the new light fulfils rigorously the conditions
required for the distribution of light to the greatest advan¬
tage.
“ 4. That at distances much exceeding thirteen miles,
the new7 light must still be a very effective one, though to
what extent the committee have not observed. The light
is understood to be still a good one, when seen from Edin¬
burgh at a distance of about thirty miles.”
The dioptric lights used in France, are divided into four Orders of
orders, in relation to their power and range ; but in regard the French
to their characteristic appearances, this division does not lights,
apply, as, in each of the orders, lights of identically the same
character may be found, differing only in the distance at
which they can be seen, and in the expense of their main¬
tenance. The four orders may be briefly described as fol¬
lows :—
Is/. Lights of the first order having an interior radius
or focal distance of 36*22 inches, (92cm-) and lighted by a
lamp of four concentric wicks, consuming 5702 * * * gallons of oil
per annum.
Id. Lights of the second order having an interior radius
of 27*55 inches, (70em*) lighted by a lamp of three concen¬
tric wicks, consuming 384 gallons of oil per annum.
‘id. Lights of the third order, lighted by a lamp of two
concentric wicks, consuming 183 gallons of oil per annum.
The instruments used in these lights are of two kinds, one
having a focal distance of 19*68 inches, (50cm*) and the other
of 9*84 inches (25cm-)
4/A. Lights of the fourth order, or harbour lights, having
1 “ The form could not be exactly rhomboidal, but would be a portion of a fiat helix intercepted between two planes, cutting the en.
veloped cylinder at right angles to its axis.”
* The experience of two at the Isle of May and Inchkeith, skew's that the annual expenditure of spermaceti oil, in lights of the first or¬
der, does not exceed 570 gallons.
VOL. XX. ,l‘
26
SEA- L I G II T S.
hea-Lights, an internal radius of 5-9 inches(I5cm ), and lighted by a lamp
of one wick, or Argand burner, consuming 48 gallons of oil
per annum.
The four orders, as already hinted above, and explained
by M. Fresnel in bis observations prefixed to the list of the
French lights for 1833, are not intended as distinctions ;
but are characteristic of the power and range of lights, which
render them suitable for different localities on the coast, ac¬
cording to the distance at which they can be seen. This di¬
vision, therefore, is analogous to that which separates our
lights into sea-lights, secondary lights, and harbour lights,
terms which are used to designate the power and position, and
not the appearance of the lights to which they are applied.
Each of the above orders is susceptible of certain com¬
binations, which produce various appearances, and consti¬
tute the distinctions used for dioptric lights; but the follow¬
ing are those which have been actually employed as the most
useful in practice :—
The first order contains, \st. Lights producing great
flashes, preceded by smaller ones, once in every minute, by
the revolution of eight great annular, and eight smaller len¬
ses, as at Corduan; ‘Id. Lights flashing once in every half
minute, and composed of sixteen half lenses. These lights
may have the subsidiary parts simply catoptric, as at Biar¬
ritz, or dia-catoptric, as at Planier ; and, ?>d. Fixed lights,
composed of a combination of cylindric pieces, with mir¬
rors ranged in tiers above and below them as at the Isle
d’Yeu.
The second order comprises revolving lights with sixteen
or twelve lenses, which make flashes every half minute ; and
fixed lights varied by flashes once in every four minutes,
as at Pilier, an effect which is produced by the revolution
of exterior cylindrical pieces.
The third order (larger diameter) contains common fixed
lights, and fixed lights varied by flashes once in every four
minutes, as at Aiguesmortes.
The third order, (smaller diameter,) contains fixed lights,
varied by flashes once in three minutes, as at Commerce on
the Loire, and common fixed lights, as at Aiguillon, Grave,
and Dunkerque.
The fourth order has fixed lights varied by flashes once
in every three minutes, and fixed lights of the common
kind, as at Pertuis-Breton, and La Coubre. It has been
thought necessarv to change the term “ fixed lights varied
by flashes,” for “'fixed light with short eclipses,” because it
has been found that, at certain distances, a momentary
eclipse precedes the flash.
These distinctions depend upon the periods of revolution,
rather than upon the characteristic appearance of the light;
and therefore seem less calculated to strike the eye of a sea¬
man, than those employed on the coasts of Great Britain
and Ireland. In conformity with this system, and in con¬
sideration of the great loss of light which results from the
application of coloured media, all distinctions based upon
colour have been discarded in the French lights.
Having thus fully described the nature of the catoptric
and dioptric modes of illuminating light-houses, we shall
next proceed to compare the merits of both systems, with a
view to determine their eligibility in revolving or in fixed
lights.
Repeated experiments were made at Gulan-hill, which
is distant from Edinburgh about fifteen miles, during the
winters of 1832 and 1833, under the inspection of the Com¬
missioners of Northern Lights, the result of which was,
that thelightof one of the great annular lenses used in the re¬
volving lights of the first order, was equal to the united effect
of about eight of the large reflectors employed in the revolv¬
ing lights on the Scotch coast. It may be said, however, that
the diacatoptric combination of pyramidal lenses and plane
mirrors of Corduan, adds the power of more than two reflec¬
tors to the effect of the great lens; but it ought to be remem-
Compari-
son of di¬
optric and
catoptric
lights.
Revolving
lights
bered that in the French lights, this additional power is used Sea-^ight*
only to lengthen the duration of the flash, and therefore in no
degree contributes to render the light visible to the mariner
at a greater distance. M. Fresnel found from the smaller
divergence of the lens, that the eclipses were too long, and
the bright periods of the revolution too short; and he there¬
fore determined to adopt the horizontal inclination of 7 for
the upper lenses, with a view to remedy this defect. As¬
suming, therefore, that it were required to increase the num¬
ber of reflectors in a revolving light of three sides, so as to
render it equal in power to a dioptric revolving light of the
first order, it would be necessary to place eight reflectors
on each face, so that the greatest number of reflectors re¬
quired for this purpose may be taken at twenty-four. M.
Fresnel has stated the expenditure of oil in the great lamp
of four concentric wicks at 750 grammes of oil of colza
per hour ; and it is found by experience at the Isle of
May and Inchkeith, that the quantity of spermaceti oil
consumed by the great lamp, is equal to that burned by
fourteen of the Argand lamps used in the Scotch lights.
It therefore follows that, by dioptric means, the consump¬
tion of oil necessary for fourteen reflectors, will produce a
light as powerful as that which would require the oil ot
twenty-four reflectors in the catoptric system followed on
the coast of Scotland ; and consequently, that there is an
excess of oil equal to that consumed by ten reflectors, or
400 gallons in the year, against the Scotch system. But
in order fully to compare the economy of producing two
revolving lights of equal power by these two methods, it
will be necessary to take into the calculation the interest
of the first outlay in establishing them.
The expense of fitting up a revolving light with twenty-
four reflectors, ranged on three faces, may be estimated^ at
L.1298, and the annual maintenance at L.418, 8s. 4d. The
fitting up a revolving light with eight lenses, and the dia¬
catoptric accessary apparatus, may be estimated at L.1263,
and the annual maintenance at L.280, 10s. 4d. It there¬
fore follows, that to establish, and afterwards maintain a ca¬
toptric light, of the kind called revolving white, (as that of
Start Point in Orkney, where the frame has only three faces’,)
so as to be equal in power to the dioptric light of Corduan,
an annual outlay of L.137. 18s. more would be required for
the reflecting light than for the lens light; whilst for a light
of the kind called revolving red and white, (as the Bell
Rock or Cape Wrath, where the frame has four faces,)
thirty-six reflectors would be required to make the light
equal in power to that of Corduan; and the catoptric light
would in this case cost L.333 more than the dioptric light.
We shall now speak of fixed lights, to which the dioptric Fixed
method is peculiarly adapted. The effect produced by the fights,
consumption of a gallon of oil in a fixed light, with twenty-
six reflectors, like that formerly exhibited at the Isle of May,
may be estimated as follows :—The mean intensity ot the
light spread over the horizontal sector subtended by one re¬
flector, as measured at each degree by the method of shadows,
is equal to that of 174 unassisted Argand burners. If, then,
this quantity be multiplied by 360degrees, we shall obtain an
aggregate effect of 62640, which, divided by 1040, the num¬
ber of gallons burned during a year, by twenty-six reflec¬
tors, would give sixty Argand flames for the intensity of
light maintained throughout the year by the combustion of
a gallon of oil. On the other hand, the effect of a diop¬
tric light like that lately established at the Isle of May, may
be estimated thus. The mean intensity of the light pro¬
duced by the joint effect of both the dioptric and catop¬
tric parts of a fixed light apparatus, may be valued at 376
Argand flames, which, multiplied by 360 degrees, gives an
aggregate of 135360; and if this quantity be divided by
570, the number of gallons burned by the great lamp in a
year, we shall have nearly 237 for the intensity of light
produced by the combustion of a gallon of oil It would
S E A - L
Sea-Lights, thus appear that in fixed lights, the French apparatus pro-
duces nearly four times more light, by the combustion of
the same quantity of oil, than can be obtained by the catop¬
tric mode.
But the great superiority of the dioptric method chiefly
rests upon its fulfilling perfectly the condition required in a
fixed light, by distributing a more intense light equally in
every point of the horizon. In the event of the whole ho¬
rizon not requiring to be illuminated, the dioptric light
would lose a part of its superiority in economy, and when
half the horizon only is lighted, it would be more expensive
than the reflected light; but the greater power and more
equal distribution of the light, may be considered of so great
importance, as far to outweigh any difference of expense. In
the latter case, too, an additional power might be given to
the light, by placing at the landward side of the lightroom,
a spherical mirror with its centre in the focus of the dioptric
apparatus. The luminous cone of which such a reflector
forms the base, instead of passing off uselessly to the land,
would thus be thrown back through the focal point, and
finally refracted, so as to contribute to the effect of the light
seaward.
The expense of establishing a fixed light composed of
twenty-six reflectors, may be estimated at L.950, and the
annual maintenance at L.425, 10s.; and the expense of fit¬
ting up a fixed light on the dioptric principle is L.1058; and
the annual maintenance may be taken at L.267, 6s. 4d.
It thus appears that the annual expenditure of the diop¬
tric fixed light is L.158, 3s. 8d. less than that of a fixed
light composed of twenty-six reflectors; and the light given
out is four times more powerful, and it is at the same time
more equally diffused over the horizon.
The comparative views already given of the catoptric and
dioptric modes of illuminating lighthouses, demonstrate that
the latter produces more powerful lights by the combustion
of the same quantity of oil ; while it is obvious that the
catoptric system insures a more certain exhibition of the
light, from the fountain lamps being less liable to derange¬
ment than the mechanical lamps used in dioptric lights. The
balance, therefore, of real advantages or disadvantages, and
consequently the propriety of finally adopting one or other, in¬
volves a mixed question, not susceptible of very absolute
solution, and leaving room for different decisions, accord¬
ing to the value which may be set upon obtaining a cheap¬
er and better light, on the one hand, as contrasted with less
certainty in its exhibition, on the other. A few general
Reeapitu- considerations, which may serve briefly to recapitulate the
btioii. arguments for and against the two systems, may not be out
of place. And, first, regarding the fitness of dioptric instru¬
ments for revolving lights, it may be observed, that, from
the details above given, it appears,
Revolving L*tf. That by placing eight reflectors on each face of a
lights. revolving frame, a light maybe obtained as brilliant as that
derived from the great annular lens ; and that in the case
of a frame of three sides, the excess of expense by the re¬
flecting mode, would be L.137, 18s.; and in the case of a
frame of four sides, the excess would amount to L.333.
2d. The diverging property of the lens being less than that
of the reflector, it becomes difficult to produce, by lenses, the
appearance which characterises catoptric revolving lights,
which are already so well known to British mariners; and any
change which might affect their appearance, would involve
many grave practical objections.
?>d. The uncertainty of the management of the lamp
renders it more difficult to maintain the revolving dioptric
lights without fear of extinction, an accident which has se¬
veral times occurred at Corduan and other French light¬
houses.
\th. The extinction of one lamp in a revolving catoptric
light is not only less probable, but leads to much less se¬
rious consequences than the extinction of the single lamp
I G H T S. * ‘27
in a dioptric light; because, in the first case, the evil is Sea-Lights,
limited to diminishing the power of one face by an eighth
part; whilst, in the second, the whole horizon is totally d, -
priced of light. The extinction of a lamp, therefore, in a
dioptric light, leads to evils which may be considered infi¬
nitely great in comparison with the consequences which
attend the same accident in a catoptric light.
Incomparing the fixed dioptric, and the fixed catoptric ap- Fixed
paratus, the results may be ranged under thefollowing heads
Is#. It is impossible, by means of any practical combina¬
tion of parabolic reflectors, to distribute round the horizon
a zone of light of exactly equal intensity; while this may
be easily effected, by dioptric means, in the manner already
described. In other words, the qualities required in fixed
lights cannot be so perfectly obtained by reflectors as by
refractors.
2(7. The light produced by burning one gallon of oil in
Argand lamps, with reflectors, has only abowi one-fourth of
the intensity of that produced by burning the same quantity
in the dioptric apparatus; and the annual expenditure is
L.158,3s.8d. less for the dioptric than for the catoptric light.
37. The characteristic appearance of the fixed reflecting
light would not be changed by the adoption of the dioptric
method, although its increased intensity would render it
visible at a greater distance.
Ath. From the equal distribution of the rays, the dioptric
light would be observed at equal distances in every point of
the horizon ; an effect which cannot be fully attained by
any practicable combination of parabolic reflectors.
5th. The inconveniences arising from the uncertainty
which attends the use of the mechanical lamp, are not so
much felt in a fixed as in a revolving light, because the
less complex nature of the apparatus admits of easier access
to it, in case of accident. In those situations, too, where
the horizon is not illuminated all round, the mechanical
lamp may perhaps be supplanted by a large fountain lamp
of four concentric wicks, the use of which would, in a great
measure, remove the objection of uncertainty in the exhibi¬
tion of the light.
loth. But the extinction of a lamp in a catoptric light,
leaves only one-26th part of the horizon without the bene¬
fit of the light, and the chance of accident arising to vessels
from it may, therefore, be considered as incalculably less
than the danger resulting from the extinction of the single
lamp of tne dioptric light, which deprives the whole horizon
of light.
7th. There may also, in certain situations, be some danger
arising from the irregularity in the distances at which the
same fixed catoptric light may be seen in the different
points of the horizon. This defect, of course, does not ex¬
ist in the dioptric light.
There can be little doubt, that the more fully the system Introduce
of Fresnel is understood, the more certainly will it take thet'on a'’^
place of all other systems of illumination for lighthouses, at
least, in those countries where this important branch of ad- svst(,m jn
ministration is conducted w ith the care and solicitude which Britain and
it deserves. To the Dutch belongs the honour of having other coun-
first embraced the system of Fresnel in their lights. The tries.
Commissioners of the Northern Lights followed in the train
of improvement, and in 1834, sent Mr. Alan Stevenson
on a mission to Paris, with full power to take such steps
for acquiring a perfect knowledge of the dioptric system,
and forming an opinion on its merits, as he should find
necessary. The singular liberality with which he was re¬
ceived by M. Leonor Fresnel, brother of the late illustrious
inventor of the system, and his successor as the Secretary of
the Lighthouse Commission of France, afforded Mr. A.Steven¬
son the meansof making such areport on his return, as induced
the Commissioners to authorise him to remove the reflecting
apparatus of the revolving light at Inchkeith, and substitute
dioptric instruments in its place. This change was complet-
28
S E A - L I G H T S.
Sea-Lights, ed, and the light exhibited on the evening of 1st October 1835,
and so great was the satisfaction which the change produc¬
ed, that the Commissioners immediately instructed Mr. Ste¬
venson to make a similar change at the fixed light of the Isle
of May, where the new light was exhibited on the 22d Sep¬
tember 1836. The Trinity HouseofLondon followed next in
adopting the improved system, and employed Mr. A. Steven¬
son to superintend the construction of a revolving diop-
. trie light of the first order, which was afterwards erected at
the Start Point in Devonshire. Other countries begin to shew
symptoms of interest in this important change; and America,
it is believed, is likely soon to adopt active measures for the
improvement of her lighthouses. Fresnel, who is already
classed with the greatest of those inventive minds which
extend the boundaries of human knowledge, will thus, at
the same time, receive a place amongst those benefactors
of the species who have consecrated their genius to the
common good of mankind; and, wherever maritime inter¬
course prevails, the solid advantages which his labours
have procured, will be felt and acknowledged.
Fuel of The fuel commonly adopted in the best lighthouses of
lighthoufes. Great Britain, is spermaceti oil, which is obtained from the
South Sea whale, (Physeter macrocephalus) ; and in France
the oil generally burned is expressed from the seed of a
species of wild cabbage, (Brassica oleracea colza), and
is called huile de colza. It appears from some experiments
made by M. Leonor Fresnel at Paris, in which he compared
the intensity of the light produced by the combustion of
equal parts of this oil and the spermaceti oil used in Eng¬
land, of which specimens had been sent to him by the Tri¬
nity House of London, that there is but little difference.
This conclusion differs somewhat from the result of the trials
at the Isle of May and Inchkeith, where flames of similar di¬
mensions to those produced from the colza oil are obtained
by the combustion of nearly one-fourth less spermaceti oil.
In the lights on the shores of the Mediterranean, olive oil is
chiefly used ; but the light obtained from it is feeble com¬
pared with that of spermaceti or colza oil.
Gas. In a few lighthouses which are near towns, the gas of pit
coal has been used ; and there are certain advantages, more
especially in dioptric lights, where there is only one large
central flame, which would render the use of gas desirable.
The form of the flame, which is an object of considerable
importance, would thus be rendered less variable, and could
be more easily regulated, and the inconvenience of the
clock-work of the lamp would be wholly avoided. But it
is obvious, that gas is by no means suitable for the majoi ity
of lighthouses, their distant situation and generally diffi¬
cult access, rendering the transport of large quantities of
coal expensive and uncertain ; whilst in many of them there
is no means of erecting the apparatus necessary for manu¬
facturing gas. There are other considerations which must
induce us to pause before adopting gas as the fuel of light¬
houses ; for, however much the risk of accident may be
diminished in the present day, it still forms a question, which
ought not to be hastily decided, how far we should be jus¬
tified in running even the most remote risk of explosion in
establishments such as lighthouses, whose sudden failure
might involve consequences of the most fatal description,
and whose situation is often such, that their re-establishment
must be a work of great expense and time. Gas is, be¬
sides, far from being suitable in catoptric lights, to which,
where the frame is moveable, as in revolving lights, it could
not be applied. .
Drumn ond The application of the Drummond and Voltaic lights
and Vol- to lighthouse purposes is, owing to their prodigious inten-
taic lights gj^ a very desirable consummation ; but it is surrounded
by so many practical difficulties, that it may safely, in the
present state of our knowledge, be pronounced unattainable.
The uncertainty which attends the exhibition of both these
Ifrhts, is of itself a sufficient reason for coming to this con¬
clusion. But other reasons unhappily are not wanting. SeaTaglit*.
The smallness of the flame renders those lights wholly m-^v~
applicable to dioptric instruments, which require a great
body of flame in order to produce a degree of divergence
sufficient to render the duration of the flash in revolving
lights long enough to answer the purpose of the manner.
M Fresnel made some experiments on the application of
the Drummond light to dioptric instruments, which com¬
pletely demonstrate their unfitness for this combination.
He found that the light obtained by placing it in the focus
of a great annular lens, was much more intense than that
produced by the great lamp and lens of Corduan ; hut the
divergence did not exceed 30'; so that, in a revolution like
that of Corduan, the flashes would last only If second,
and would not, therefore, be seen in such a manner as to
suit the practical purposes of a revolving light. I he great
cylindric refractor used in fixed lights of the first order,
was also tried with the Drummond light in its focus ; but
it gave coloured spectra at the top and bottom, and only a
small bar of white light was transmitted from the centre of
the instrument. The same deficiency of divergence com¬
pletely unfits the combination of the Drummond light with
the reflector for the purposes of a fixed light, and even it
this cause did not operate against its application in revolv¬
ing lights on the catoptric plan, the supply of the gases,
which is attended with almost insurmountable difficulties,
would, in any case, render the maintenance of the light
precarious and uncertain in the last degree.
In 1835, Mr. Gurney proposed the combination of streams Mr. Gur-
of oxygen with the flame of oil or wax, in order to obtain ney’s lamp
a powerful light of sufficient size to produce the divergence
required for the illumination of lighthouses. The Trinity
House of London entertained the proposal, and have since
been engaged in making experiments on this important
subject; and their efforts, it is believed, have been attend¬
ed with a measure of success which holds out a reasonable
prospect of this lamp being finally used in lighthouses. In
applying this light to reflectors, it is intended to use three
small flames, each about three-eighths of an inch in di¬
ameter, which produce, it is said, an effect equal to that of
ten common Argand lamps. I he burner intended for lenses
has seventeen films of flame, and is said to possess six times
the power of the Fresnel lamp. The light is considered
cheaper than that which is obtained by the combustion of
oil in atmospheric air.
We shall conclude by a brief account of the lights of va¬
rious countries, and the mode of management that is adopt¬
ed, so far as we have the means of speaking with certainty
on this subject.
The lights on the coast of England are under the man- Trinity
agement of the Corporation of Trinity House of Deptford House of
Strond. Before the reign of Henry VIII., the Trinity London.
House appears to have been merely a fraternity of seamen,
and it was not till the sixth year of Henry’s reign that it was
incorporated by royal charter. Elizabeth afterwards grant¬
ed the Trinity House certain privileges of ballastage, bea¬
conage, and buoyage, and empowered them to erect and
preserve “ beacons and signs for the sea.” It does not
appear, however, that this body specially undertook the
erection of lighthouses, till about the year 1676. Before that
time it was common to grant letters patent in favour of the
proprietors of the lands adjoining the site of a lighthouse,
empowering them to erect a lighthouse, and to levy certain
duties on shipping for its maintenance. In some cases
the patentee was bound to pay an annual sum to the Tri¬
nity House towards the support of their charities ; but in
other cases, he was quite independent. The Trinity House
have, in numerous instances, entered into new arrange¬
ments with the lessees at the expiry of their leases; but
it is now the practice of this board to erect and maintain
lighthouses on the coast, without the intervention of any
S E A - L I G H T S.
29
>!ea-Lights, arrangement of the nature of a lease 5 and the result, as
might be expected, has been very favourable to the in¬
terests of the public. The lights, which were formerly
maintained by lessees, whose interests, in some cases, led
them to adopt every saving, without regard to the effi¬
ciency of the light, are now maintained in a manner worthy
of the country to which they belong. This condemnation
of the manner in which the lessees of some of the lights dis¬
charged their obligations, by no means applies indiscrimi¬
nately to all of them ; for there were several honourable ex¬
ceptions. In 1834, the court of the corporation of Trinity
House consisted of one master, four wardens, eight assist¬
ants, and eighteen elder brothers. Of these, eleven are in
the honorary line of the brotherhood, and twenty-one are
chosen from the merchant service. There are also younger
brothers, whose number is unlimited, and who are elected
by the elder brothers. The elder brothers are self-elected
from the list of younger brothers. The business is managed
by seven committees, who separately superintend the trea¬
sury and accounts, the examination of and granting certi¬
ficates to masters in the navy and pilots, the supervision of
ballastage in the Thames, the lighthouses, the collection of
the dues, the pensioners and the management of the house
affairs. In each of these committees a majority constitutes
a quorum.
The rate of dues chargeable by the Trinity House before
the passing of the last act in 1836, varied from l-6th of a
penny to one penny per ton on each light passed; and it
appears from the Parliamentary Report of 1834, that in
1832, the nett amount of revenue was L.77,371, and the ex¬
pense of maintaining the lights was L.36,904, leaving a sur¬
plus of L.40,467. This surplus is partly expended in the
extensive charities which are distributed by the Corpora¬
tion, to the annual amount of L.35,000, and partly in the
erection of new lighthouses, and the maintenance of the ge¬
neral establishment.
Lights of The public lights in England, including Heligoland, are
, England. 71 in number, and may be arranged in the following class¬
es :—
Lights of
Scotland.
1st, Those belonging to, and under the ma¬
nagement of, the corporation of the Trinity
House of Deptford Strond, in number 
2d, Those in the charge of individuals, under
lease from the Trinity House, and having differ¬
ent periods to run, viz. the Longships, Smalls, and
Mumbles, in number 
3d, Those let by the crown to individuals for
a period of years, on leases renewed since 1822,
viz. Harwich, 2; Dungeness, 1; Wintertonness
and Oxfordness, 3 ; and Hunstanton Cliff, 1 ; in
number 
4th, Lights held originally under patents, sub¬
sequently sanctioned by acts of Parliament, and
now in the hands of proprietors, viz. the Spurn,
Tynemouth Castle and Skerries, in number 
5th, One light at Heligoland 
6th, One floating light at Benbridge Lodge...
Total number of public general lights in 1
England, j
55 lights.
3
9}
7
99
4
1
1
99
99
99
71 „
The lights in Scotland may be divided into public and
local or harbour lights. The public lights are under the
management of a board denominated “ Commissioners of
Northern Lights.” The Board was incorporated in 1786,
by the 38th Geo. HI. c. 58, and the Commissioners hold
their office at the board by virtue of the public situations
they fill. The Act of the 26th Geo. III. c. 101, gives au¬
thority to erect lighthouses and to collect duties.
The commissioners, twenty-five in number, are the Lord
Advocate and the Solicitor-General for Scotland ; the pro¬
vosts of Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Inverness, and
Campbeltown; the first bailies of Edinburgh and Glas- Sea.Lights,
gow ; the sheriffs of the counties of Edinburgh, Lanark, Ren-
frew, Bute, Argyll, Inverness, Ross, Orkney, Caithness,
Aberdeen, Ayr, Fife, Forfar, Wigton, Sutherland, and Kin¬
cardine, which are maritime counties or shires. The ser¬
vices of the commissioners are entirely gratuitous; there
are two or three general meetings annually, and the ge¬
neral business is conducted by committees, whose meet¬
ings take place as occasion requires. A committee of
the board was appointed at the time the Bell-Rock light¬
house was erected, which has been continued ever since,
and to which all general business is referred; special com¬
mittees have also been appointed for particular objects, as
for accounts, stores, experiments on lenses, light-duties,
visitation of lighthouses, special repairs and new works ; and
there is besides a sub-committee on each lighthouse. No
public lights on the Scotch coast are in the hands of pri¬
vate individuals ; and all the light-dues collected from the
general shipping in Scotland, are received by the Commis¬
sioners of Northern Lighthouses, for public use. In the year
1641, a patent for the erection of a private light in the island
of May, was ratified in the Scottish Parliament; and this
is supposed to have been the earliest sea-light on the shores
of Scotland. In 1814, the Commissioners purchased the
Island from the Duke of Portland for L.60,000, and erected
a new lighthouse there. There are now 25 land-lights under
the charge of the Commissioners, for which light-dues are
levied from the shipping generally; and there are 28 local
or harbour lights under the management of trustees and cor¬
porations, maintained by dues levied on the trade of the
respective ports where the lights are situated, and on ves¬
sels resorting to them. Some of these lights are establish¬
ed by act of Parliament, as those of Cumbrae, Clough, and
Toward, under the 29th of Geo. III. c. 20. Others, as those
of Leith and Dundee, are secured, by ancient charters, to
the fraternities of the ports; and others, as those of Mon¬
trose and Arbroath, were erected and are maintained, by
the ship-owners and merchants of the ports.
Before the passing of the Act 6th and 7th of William IV.
there was no separate charge for each of the lights under the
management of the Commissioners of the Northern Lights ;
but each vessel paid a fixed sum according to the limits
within which she came. The rates were as follows:—For
every British ship or decked vessel sailing within the limits
of the light of the island of May, viz. between the Castle
of Dunnottar on the north, and St. Abb’s Head on the
south, 2^d. per ton; and for foreign vessels sailing within
these limits, 5d. per ton. For every British ship or decked
vessel liable to dues without these limits, 2d. per ton ; and for
foreign vessels, 4d. per ton. Vessels sailing to or from any
place between Holyhead and Howth Head, both inclusive,
on the north, paid ^d. per ton for each of the three lights in
the Isle and Calf of Man; and foreign ships ^d. per ton ; but
if they had paid the other northern duties, they were ex¬
empted from the charge for these lights. The rates were le¬
vied on the registered tonnage of all vessels passing any of
the lighthouses, whether loaded or in ballast, outwards or
homewards bound, on a foreign voyage, or sailing coastways;
and it appears from the Parliamentary Report of 1834, that
the revenue of the Commissioners was L.36,283. Since
the passing of the act 6th and 7th of William IV. cap. 79, in
1836, however, the rates of the duties, and the mode of levy¬
ing them, have been completely altered, and in some degree
assimilated to the system pursued by the Trinity House, so
that a certain duty is now paid for every light that is passed.
The lights of Ireland have had frequent changes in re- Lights of
gard to superintendance, and they were finally placed un- Ireland,
der “ The Corporation for Preserving and Improving the
Port of Dublin,” by the act 50th Geo. HI. c. 35. The
powers of the corporation, which is generally named the
Ballast Board, have received various alterations by subse-
30
S E A ■ L I G H T S.
Sea-Lights, quent acts. It consists of 23 members, viz. the lord mayoi
and sheriffs of Dublin, three aldermen chosen by the board
of aldermen from their own body, and 17 members appoint¬
ed in the first instance by the act of incorporation, and who
are on all future vacancies empowered to elect new mem¬
bers. The board devotes one day a-week to the business
of the lighthouses.
There are thirty -six land lights, and three floating lights,
supported by the Ballast board in Ireland. Of these land
lights, twenty-six are public lights, and ten are local or har¬
bour lights. There are besides five other harbour lights on
the coast, supported by the trustees of the respective har¬
bours.
It appears from the Parliamentary Report of 1834, that
the revenue derived from collection of lighthouse dues in
Ireland during the year 1833, was L.42,060 The mode of
charging the light dues was formerly as follows:—Any
British or Irish vessel and foreign privileged vessels on over¬
sea voyages, paid one farthing per ton for every light they
passed in the track oftheir voyage; foreign ships not privileged
paid onehalfpenny per ton. Coasters, loaded, paid one farthing
per ton for every lighthouse or floating light they passed; it in
ballast, one eighth of a penny only per ton; and rules were laid
down as to the number of lights to be paid for by vessels navi¬
gating St. George’s Channel, to or from the Atlantic Ocean;
as well as for passing through the northern channel bound
to the northward, and returning; for going down St. George s
Channel, to the eastward; and for sailing from a western
port of Ireland to the eastward, without entering St. George’s
Channel.
Hew act of The last act of Parliament regarding lighthouses, was
tith and 7th the result of a report of a select committee on lighthouses,
William which was moved for by Mr. Joseph Hume, M.P. and which
IV. cap.79. sat in ]g34- The act was passed in 1836. The chief al¬
terations upon the former state of the Boards in which the
management of the lights is vested, are the following. The
duties levied under all former acts were repealed ; and it
was enacted, that every British vessel, and every privileged
foreign vessel, should pay the toll of one halfpenny, foi
every time of passing or deriving advantage from any
light, with exception of the Bell-rock, for which one penny
per ton is the toll. Every foreign vessel not privileged,
must pay double toll. The only exemptions from the
payment" of duties, are in favour of the King’s vessels,
those of the Trinity House, and all vessels going in bal¬
last, or engaged in the herring fisheries. Power was also
given to the Commissioners of the Northern Lighthouses,
to erect beacons, and moor buoys ; and the harbour lights
on the Scotch coast were placed under their controul. The
Act confers upon the Trinity House, the power of enter¬
ing any lighthouse under the charge of the other boards,
to inspect their condition, and gives them a controul as to
the erection of new lighthouses, or the alteration of those
already existing, both in Scotland and Ireland. But in the
event of a difference of opinion arising between the Trinity
House and either of the two other Boards, appeal may be
made to the Privy Council. The Act further provides that
an account of the receipt of all money, and a report of all
alterations made during the preceding year, should be an¬
nually laid before each House of Parliament, one month af¬
ter its meeting.
Expense The average expense of maintaining a land light in Great
of lights of Britain, is found to be about L.500, and that of a floating
light about L.1200.
The French lights, of which there are upwards of 100,
including about 60 harbour lights, are managed by a par¬
ticular section of the Direction Generale des Fonts et Chaus-
sees, which is called the Commission des Phares ; and more
than half of the lights areon the dioptric principle of Fresnel.
By an imperial decree of 7th March 1806, the lighthouses
(freat
Britain.
French
lights.
and beacons were placed under the charge of the Minister Sea Lights,
of the Interior; before which time they had been under the
immediate direction of the Administration of Roads and
Bridges. This decree required that the establishment of
ever?new beacon or light, should proceed upon the joint re¬
commendation of the Ministers of the Marine and the Inte¬
rior, and gave rise, in 1811, to the institution of the Com¬
mission des Phares, the members of which, with the ex¬
ception of the secretary, who is also engineer-in-chief, act
without any special remuneration, and in consequence of
their holding other official situations. At the time of its
first constitution, it appears by the report of Admiral de
Russel, that this Commission consisted of the following gen¬
tlemen, viz. Baron Becquey, councillor of state, director-
general of roads and bridges, President of the Commission;
M. Halgan, rear-admiral, and councillor of state; M. De
Pronv, inspector-general of roads and bi idges ; M. Ai ago,
astronomer-royal, member of the Institute ; M. Sganzin, in¬
spector-general of roads and bridges ; M. Rolland, inspec¬
tor-general of naval works; M. Tarbe De \auxclairs, in¬
spector-general of roads and bridges ; Al. Mathieu, mem¬
ber of the Institute ; and M. Augustin Fresnel, member of
the Institute, secretary and engineer-in-chief to the Com¬
mission.
All the more important plans for the improvement and
establishment of lights, are submitted to this Commission ;
but the plans for new lighthouse towers are only discussed
in reference to their fitness for the lights ; and every ques¬
tion regarding the buildings or estimates, is submitted to
the General Council of the Administration of Roads and
Bridges, for their final approbation. The Engineer of the
Commission prepares all the plans, and directs the fitting up
of the optical apparatus and the lanterns, and sends to the
engineers of the departments, the schemes for new lights,
that they may make the plans for the necessary buildings
connected with them. He also inspects the lights on the
coast, and is responsible for their efficient condition. In
the discharge of these duties, he is assisted by three con-
ducteurs of works, who generally see the apparatus fitted up,
and attend to the due performance of the light-room duty.
As soon as a new light is ready, the Administration causes
advertisements to be made in the most extensively circu¬
lated journals of Paris, containing a notice to mariners re¬
garding its position, appearance, and time of exhibition.
This notice is also circulated in every French port by means
of placards, which are affixed by the maritime authorities,
and generally appear about three months before the exhibi¬
tion of the light. By a late decree, too, of the Director-
general of roads and bridges, the Engineer publishes every
year a summary description of all the lights on the coast ol
France.
The other lights of Europe are, with the exceptions al- Other
ready mentioned, on the catoptric principle. 1 he writer °i Europea;i
this article has seen the greater number of the lights along hghts-
the coast, between St. Petersburgh and the Spanish Iron
tier ; and so far as he has been able to learn, their manage¬
ment is generally vested in some department ol the ex¬
ecutive government.
The Americans have been very active in the establish- American
ment of lighthouses. There are upwards of two hundred lights,
land lights along the coast of the United States, and twenty-
eight floating lights. Their management is entrusted to a
board called the General Lighthouse Establishment, which
appears to have been regularly organised so early as the year
179L The total expenditure connected with the Light¬
house Establishment in the year 1837, was about L.71,352 ;
a sum which includes about L.7000 for the maintenance of
upwards of 600 buoys and beacons, which are also under the
care of the Lighthouse Establishment. The Fifth Auditor
of the Treasury is the chief officer of the lighthouse board.
SEA-LIGHTS.
General
questions
regardi ng
lighthouses-
Distinction
and distri¬
bution of
lights.
See-Lights. The apparatus is on the catoptric principle ; but the reflec-
tors, which are illuminated by means of Argand lamps, are
of polished tin-plate, and of small dimensions. The light is
from spermaceti oil, the produce of the American South
Sea fishery ; but experiments have lately been made upon
oil produced from cotton-seed ; and there is some probabi¬
lity that this oil will be universally employed in the light¬
houses of America.
There are many questions of much interest regarding
Lighthouses, which appear to open an extensive field of in¬
quiry ; and it may be doubted whether some of them have
received that degree of consideration to which their import¬
ance entitles them. Amongst these we may rank the nu¬
merous questions which may be raised regarding the most
effective kind of distinctions for lights. Those distinctions
may be naturally expected to be the most effective which
strike an observer by their appearance alone. Thus a red
and white light, a revolving and a fixed light, offer appear¬
ances which are calculated to produce upon the observer a
stronger sense of their difference, than the same observer
would receive from lights whose sole difference lies in their
revolutions being performed in greater or less intervals of
time. On the other hand, the distinctions derived from time,
if the intervals on which they depend do not approach too
closely to each other, appear to afford very suitable means for
characterising lights ; and the number of distinctions which
may be founded upon time alone are pretty numerous. Co¬
loured media have the great disadvantage of absorbing light,
and the only colour which has hitherto been found useful in
practice is red, all others, at even moderate distances, serving
merely to enfeeble without characterising lights. In the
system of Fresnel, as already explained, all the distinctions
are based upon time alone. Mr. Robert Stevenson, the
engineer of the Northern Lighthouses, has invented two dis¬
tinctions, which, although they are produced by variations
of the time, possess characteristic appearances, sufficiently
marked to enable an observer to distinguish a light without
countingtime. Theone is calleda.flo.shingXugat,in which the
flashes and eclipses succeed each other so rapidly, as to give
the appearance of a succession of brilliant scintillations; and
the other has been called intermittent, from its consisting of a
fixed light, which is suddenly and totally eclipsed, and again as
suddenly revealed to view. The effect of this light is entirely
different from that of any revolving light, both from the great
inequality of the intervals of light and darkness, and also
from the contrast which is produced by its sudden disap¬
pearance and reappearance, which is completely different
from the gradual diminution and increase of the light in re¬
volving lights, more especially in those on the catoptric prin¬
ciple. The great and still increasing number of lights
renders the means of distinguishing them one of the most
important considerations connected with lighthouses.
Not less important, and very nearly allied to the subject of
distinction, is that of the arrangement of lights on a line of
coast. The choice of the most suitable places and the as¬
signing to each the characteristic appearances which are
most likely to distinguish it from all the neighbouring lights,
are points requiring much consideration; and it ought never
to be forgotten, that the indiscriminate erection of light¬
houses soon leads to confusion and that the needless exhibi¬
tion of a light, by involving the loss of a distinction, may
afterwards prove inconvenient in the case of some future
light, which time and the growing wants of trade, may call for
on the same line of coast. To enter at length upon this topic,
or even to lay down the general principles which ought to re¬
gulate the distribution of lights, would exceed the limits of
this article; but in connection with this it may be observed, that
tne superintendance of lighthouses should be committed to
one general body, andoughtnotto beleftto local trusts, whose
operations are too often conducted on narrow principles, with¬
out reference to general interests. The inconveniences arising
31
Arrange¬
ment of
lights on
t'.e coast
from interference between the distinctions of the lights under Sea-Lights,
one trust, and those of the lights under another, are there-'
by avoided ; and the full advantage is obtained of the means
of distinction at the disposal of both.
Another important general inquiry, is that regarding the Height of
most advantageous height for lighthouses ; but tins subject tower,
is so extensive, and embraces the consideration of so many
circumstances, that we can only glance at the chief elements
of the question. The distance at which lights should be seen,
depends very much upon their position in relation to the dan¬
gers of the coast; those which are outposts beyond the dan¬
ger, require a less extensive range than those which, from
unavoidable causes, are situated landward of the dangers
which they are intended to point out. Upon this cir¬
cumstance chiefly depends the height to which a lighthouse
tower should be carried ; but in many climates, the fogs by
which the upper and lower regions of the atmosphere are ob¬
scured, introduce elements into the question, which, it is to
be feared, must baffle all general rules.
The following works may be consulted on the subject of
lighthouses : Smeaton’s Narrative of the Eddystone Light¬
house. Lond. 1793. Stevenson’s Account of the Bell-
Rock Lighthouse. Edinburgh, 1824. Belidor, Architec¬
ture Hydraulique, vol. iv. p. 151. Peclet, Traite de 1’eclair-
age. Paris, 1827. Fresnel’s Memoire sur un Nouveau
Systeme d’eclairage des Phares. Paris, 1822. Admiral de
Rossel’s Rapport, contenant 1’exposition du systeme adopte
par la Commission des Phares pour eclairer les cotes de
France. Paris, 1825. Treatise on Burning Instruments,
containing the method of building large polyzonal lenses.
By David Brewster, LL.D. F.R.S. Edin. 1812. Fanale di
Salvore.nell’ Istria,illuminate agaz. Vienna, 1821. On Con¬
struction of Polyzonal Lenses and Mirrors of Great Mag¬
nitude, for Lighthouses and for Burning Instruments, and
on the Formation of a Great National Burning Apparatus.
By David Brewster, LL.D. F.R.S. (Edin. Phil. Jour. 1823.
vol. viii. p. 160.) Account of a New System of Illumina¬
tion for Lighthouses. By David Brewster, LL.D. F.R.S.
Edin. 1827. Saggio di Osservazione, or Observations on
the Means of Improving the Construction of Lighthouses ;
with an Appendix, on the Application of Gas to Light¬
houses. By the Chevalier G. Aldini. Milan, 1823. Bordier
Marcet’s Notice descriptif d’un fanal a double aspect, &c.
Paris, 1823. Bordier Marcet’s Parabole Soumise a I’art, on
Essai sur la catoptrique de I’eclairage. Paris, 1819. L. Fres¬
nel’s Description Sommaire des Phares et Fanaux allumes sur
les cotes de France, au lGr. d’Aout. 1837. Stevenson’s British
Pharos. Leith, 1831. The Lighthouses of the British Islands,
corrected to July 1836, from the Hydrographical Office of
the Admirality. Lond. 1836. Instructions pour le service
des Phares Lenticulaires. par L. Fresnel. Paris, 1836. The
Lighthouses, Floating Lights, and Beacons of the United
States in 1838 ; prepared by order of Stephen Pleasonton,
fifth auditor of the Treasury, and acting commissioner of the
revenue. Washington, 1838. Captain Leontey Spafarieff's
New Guide for the Navigation of the Gulf of Finland. St.
Petersburg, 1813. Coulier’s Guide des Marins. Paris,
1825. Stevenson’s Sketch of Civil Engineering in Ame¬
rica. London, 1838, p. 296. Report of Select Commit¬
tee of the House of Commons on Lighthouses. 1834. Re¬
port by a Committee of the Board to the Commissioners of
the Northern Lighthouses, on the Report of the Select
Committee. 1 836. Report to the Commissioners of the
Northern Lighthouses, on the Illumination of Lighthouses,
by Alan Stevenson, M. A. Edin. 1834. Report to the same
Board on the Inchkeith Dioptric Light, by Alan Steven¬
son. Edin. 1835. Report on the Isle of May dioptric Light,
by Alan Stevenson. 1836. Report on the Isle of May Light,
by a Committee of the Royal Society, (Professor Forbes,
reporter.) Edin. 1836.
(b.i.)
32
SEA
Sea-Plants Sea-Plants are those vegetables that grow in salt-water,
1! within the shores of the sea. The old botanists divided
Sea-Weed. ;nto t|iree classes. The first class, according to their
l— v arrangement, contained the alga:, the fuel, the sea-mosses
or confervas, and the different species of sponges. The
second contained substances of a hard texture, like stone
or horn, which seem to have been of the same nature with
what we call zoophyta, with this difference, that we refer
sponges to this class, and not to the first. The third class
is the same with our litliophyta, comprehending corals, mad-
repores, &c« It is now well known that the genera belong-
ing to the second and third of these classes, and even some
referred to the first, are not vegetables, but animals, or the
productions of animals. Sea-plants, then, properly speak¬
ing, belong to the class of cryptogamia, and the order of
algm ; and, according to Bomare, are all comprehended un¬
der the genus fucus. We may also add several species of
the ulva and conferva, and the sargazo. The fuci and ma¬
rine ulvae are immersed in the sea, are sessile, and without
root. The marine confervae are either sessile or floating.
The sargazo grows beyond soundings.
SEA-Serpent, a monstrous creature, said to inhabit the
northern seas, about Greenland and the coasts of Norway.
“In 1756,” says Guthrie, “one of them was shot by a
master of a ship. Its head resembled that of a horse ; the
mouth was large and black, as were the eyes, a white mane
hanging from its neck. It floated on the surface of the
water, and held its head at least two feet out of the sea.
Between the head and neck were seven or eight folds, which
were very thick; and the length of this snake was more
than a hundred yards, some say fathoms. They have a re¬
markable aversion to the smell of castor ; for which reason,
ship, boat, and bark masters provide themselves with quan¬
tities of that drug, to prevent being overset, the serpent’s
olfactory nerves being remarkably exquisite. The particu¬
larities related of this animal would be incredible, were they
not attested upon oath. Egede, a very reputable author,
says, that on the 6th of July 1734, a large and frightful
sea -monster raised itself so high out of the water, that its
head reached above the main-top-mast of the ship ; that it
had a long sharp snout, broad paws, and spouted water like
a whale ; that the body seemed to be covered with scales;
the skin was uneven and wrinkled, and the lower part was
formed like a snake. The body of this monster is said to
be as thick as a hogshead ; his skin is variegated like a tor¬
toise-shell ; and his excrement, which floats upon the sur¬
face of the water, is corrosive.” No man of sound judg¬
ment, however, would think these recitals sufficient to es¬
tablish the existence of such monsters.
SEA-Sickness, a disorder incident to most persons on their
first going to sea, and occasioned by the agitation of the
vessel. This disorder has not been much treated of, al¬
though it is very irksome and distressing to the patient
during its continuance- It appears to be a spasmodic af¬
fection of the stomach, occasioned by the alternate pres¬
sure and recession of its contents against its lower internal
surface, according as the rise and fall of the ship oppose the
action of gravity.
Many methods of preventing, or at least mitigating, this
disorder, have been recommended, of which the most effi¬
cacious appear to be the following: Not to go on board im¬
mediately after eating, and not to eat, when on board, any
large quantity at a time ; to lie down the moment the symp¬
toms are felt, and to remain in the horizontal position till
they are removed; to keep much upon deck, even when the
weather is stormy, as the sea-breeze is not so apt to affect the
stomach as the impure air of the cabin, rendered so for want
of proper circulation; and not to watch the motion of the
waves, particularly when strongly agitated with tempest.
Sea- Weed, or Alga marina, is commonly used as a ma¬
nure on the sea-coast, where it can be procured in abun-
S E A
dance. The best sort grows on rocks, and is that from which Seadowly
kelp is made. The next to this is called the peasy sea- ^
weed > and the worst is that with a long stalk. ' 
SEADOWLY, a port of Northern Hindustan, in the
territories of the Nepaul rajah district of Mocwanpoor.
To this port the British forces penetrated in 1 /67, and took
it; but were obliged to retreat, from the pestilential effects
of the climate.
SEAFORD, a town on the sea-shore, in the hundred ot
Flexborough and rape of Pewensey, in the county of Sus¬
sex, sixty-three miles from London. It was in former times
much more extensive than it is at present. It is now a mere
fishing and bathing place. It is a corporate town, with a
bailiff and twelve jurats, and returned two members to the
House of Commons till the year 1832. The population
amounted in 1821 to 104/, and in 1831 to 1098.
SEAL, a stone, piece of metal, or other matter, usually
either round or oval, on which are engraven the arms or
device of some prince, state, community, magistrate, or
private person, often with a legend or inscription.
The use of seals, as a mark of authenticity to letters and
other instruments in writing, is extremely ancient. We
read of it among the Jews and Persians in the earliest and
most sacred records of history; and in the book of Jere¬
miah there is a very remarkable instance, not only of at¬
testation by seal, but also of the other usual formalities at¬
tending a Jewish purchase. In the civil law, also, seals
were the evidences of truth, and were required, on the part
of the witnesses at least, at the attestation of every testa¬
ment. But in the times of our Saxon ancestors they were
not much in use in England; for though Sir Edward Coke
relies on an instance of King Edwyn’s making use of a
seal about a hundred years before the Conquest, yet it does
not follow that this was the usage among the whole nation ;
and perhaps the charter he mentions may be of doubtful
authority, from this very circumstance of its being sealed,
since we are assured by all our ancient historians that seal¬
ing was not then in common use. The method of the
Saxons was, for such as could write to subscribe their
names, and, whether they could write or not, to affix the
sign of the cross; which custom our illiterate vulgar for
the most part observe, by signing a cross for their mark
when unable to write their names. And indeed this ina¬
bility to write, and therefore making a cross in its stead, is
honestly avowed by Csedwalla, a Saxon king, at the end of
one of his charters. In like manner, and for the same in¬
surmountable reason, the Normans, a brave but illiterate
nation, at their first settlement in France used the practice
of sealing only, without writing their names; and this cus¬
tom continued when learning made its way among them,
though the reason for doing it had ceased; and hence the
charter of Edward the Confessor, to Westminster Abbey,
himself being brought up in Normandy, was witnessed only
by his seal, and is generally thought to be the oldest seal¬
ed charter of any authenticity in England. At the Con¬
quest the Norman lords brought over into this kingdom
their own fashions, and introduced waxen seals only, in¬
stead of the English method of writing their names, and
signing with the sign of the cross. The impressions of
these seals were sometimes a knight on horseback, some¬
times other devices; but coats of arms were not introdu¬
ced into seals, nor indeed used at all, till about the reign of
Richard I. who, it is said by some, brought them from the
crusade in the Holy Land, where they were first invented
and painted on the shields of the knights, to distinguish the
variety of persons of every Christian nation who resorted
thither.
This neglect of signing, and resting only upon the au¬
thenticity of seals, remained in Scotland till the year 1540,
when a statute was enacted ordering subscription for the
purpose of authenticating deeds and writs.
33
SEAMANSHIP.'
Seaman- By this word we express that noble art, or, more properly,
ship. the qualifications which enable a man to exercise the noble
^-^v^^'art of working a ship. A seaman, in the language of the
Definition, profession, is not merely a mariner or labourer on board a
ship, but a man who understands the structure of this won¬
derful machine, and every subordinate part of its mechanism,
so as to enable him to employ it to the best advantage for
pushing her forward in a particular direction, and for avoid¬
ing the numberless dangers to which she is exposed by the
violence of the winds and waves. He also knows what
courses can be held by the ship, according to the wind that
blows, and what cannot, and which of these is most condu¬
cive to her progress in her intended voyage; and he must
be able to perform every part of the necessary operation
with his own hands. As the seamen express it, he must be
able “ to hand, reef, and steer.”
Importance We are justified in calling it a noble art, not only by its
importance, which it is quite needless to amplify or embel-
art” C kut bY bs immense extent and difficulty, and the pro¬
digious number and variety of principles on wffiich it is found¬
ed, all of which must be possessed in such a manner that
they shall offer themselves without reflection in an instant,
otherwise the pretended seaman is but a lubber, and can¬
not be trusted on his watch.
The art is practised by persons without what we call edu¬
cation, and in the humbler w alks of life, and therefore it suf¬
fers in the estimation of the careless spectator. It is thought
little of, because little attention is paid to it. But if mul¬
tiplicity, variety, and intricacy of principles, and a systema¬
tic knowledge of these principles, entitle any art to the ap¬
pellation of scientific and liberal, seamanship claims these
epithets in an eminent degree. We are amused with the
pedantry of the seaman, which appears in his whole lan¬
guage. Indeed it is the only pedantry that amuses. A
scholar, a soldier, a lawyer, nay, even the elegant courtier,
would disgust us, were he to make the thousandth part of
the allusions to his profession that is well received from the
jolly seaman ; and w e do the seaman no more than justice.
His profession must engross his whole mind, otherwise he
can never learn it. He possesses a prodigious deal of
knowledge; but the honest tar cannot tell what he knows,
or rather what he feels, for his science is really at his
finger ends. We can say with confidence, that if a per¬
son of education, versed in mechanics, and acquainted
with the structure of a ship, were to observe w ith atten¬
tion the movements which are made on board a first or
second rate ship of war during a shifting storm, under the
direction of an intelligent officer, he would be rapt in ad¬
miration.
What a pity it is that an art so important, so difficult, and
so intimately connected with the invariable laws of mecha¬
nical nature, should be so held by its possessors, that it can¬
not improve, but must die with each individual. Having
no advantages of previous education, they cannot arrange
their thoughts; they can hardly be said to think. They
can far less express or communicate to others the intuitive
knowdedge which they possess; and their art, acquired by
habit alone, is little different from an instinct. We are as
little entitled to expect improvement here as in the archi¬
tecture of the bee or the beaver. The species (pardon the
the allusion, ye generous hearts of oak!) cannot improve.
Yet a ship is a machine. We know the forces which act
on it, and we know the results of its construction; all these
are as fixed as the laws of motion. What hinders this to be Seaman-
reduced to a set of practical maxims, as well founded and ship,
as logically deduced as the working of a steam-engine or
cotton mill. The stoker or the spinner acts only with his
hands, and may “ whistle as he works, for want of thought;”
but the mechanist, the engineer, thinks for him, improves
his machine, and directs him to a better practice. May not
the rough seaman look for the same assistance; and may
not the ingenious speculist in his closet unravel the intri¬
cate thread of mechanism which connects all the manual ope¬
rations wdth the unchangeable laws of nature, and both fur¬
nish the seaman with a better machine, and direct him to
a more dexterous use of it.
We cannot help thinking that much may be done; nay,which has
we may say that much has been done. We think highly been zeal-
of the progressive labours of Renaud, Pitot, Bouguer, Duously culti-
Hamel, Groignard, Bernoulli, Euler, Romme, and others ; vj*ted by
and are both surprised and sorry that Britain has contri- |)h®]o^encb
buted so little in these attempts. Gordon is the only onephei^0
of our countrymen who has given a professedly scientific
treatise on a small branch of the subject. The government
of France has always been strongly impressed with the no¬
tion of great improvements being attainable by systematic
study of this art; and we are indebted to the endeavours of
that ingenious nation for any thing of practical importance
that has been obtained. M. Bouguer was professor of hy¬
drology at one of the marine academies of France, and was
enjoined, as part of his duty, to compose dissertations both
on the construction and the working of ships. His Traite
da Navire, and his Manoeuvre des Vaisseaux, are undoubt¬
edly very valuable performances. So are those of Euler and
Bernoulli,considered as mathematical dissertations,and they
are wonderful works of genius, considered as the produc¬
tions of persons who hardly ever saw a ship, and were totally
unacquainted with the profession of a seaman. In this re¬
spect Bouguer had great superiority, having always lived
at a sea-port, and having made many very long voyages. His
treatises, therefore, are infinitely better accommodated to the
demands of the seaman, and more directly instructive; but
still the author is more a mathematician than an artist, and
his performance is intelligible only to mathematicians. It
is true, the academical education of the young gentlemen of
the French navy is such, that a great number of them may
acquire the preparatory knowledge that is necessary; and
we are well informed that, in this respect, the officers of the
British navy are greatly inferior to them.
But this very circumstance has furnished to many persons Argument
an argument against the utility of those performances. It is against the
said, that “ notwithstanding this superior mathematical edu- uti!.ity of
cation, and the possession of those boasted performances of !.heir per‘
M. Bouguer, the French are greatly inferior, in point ofiormances ;
seamanship, to our countrymen, who have not a page in
their language to instruct them, and who could not peruse
it it they had.” Nay, so little do the French themselves
seem sensible of the advantage of these publications, that
no person among them has attempted to make a familiar
abridgment of them, written in a way fitted to attract at¬
tention; and they still remain neglected in their original
abstruse and uninteresting form.
We wish that we could give a satisfactory answer to this
observation. It is just, and it is important. These very
ingenious and learned dissertations are by no means so use¬
ful as we should expect. They are large books, and appear
The references in this article are all made to articles written by Professor
VOL. XX.
Robison, and which are reprinted in the present edition.
K
34
SEAMANSHI P.
Seaman- to contain much; and as their plan is logical, it seems to
ship occupy the whole subject, and therefore to have done ai-
most all that can be done. But, alas I they have only open¬
ed the subject, and the study is yet in its infancy. I ne
whole science of the art must proceed on the knowledge of
the impulsions of the wind and water. These are the forces
which act on the machine; and its motions, which are the
ultimatum of our research, whether as an end to be obtain¬
ed or as a thing to be prevented, must depend on these
forces. Now it is with respect to this fundamental point
which are that we are as yet almost totally in the dark. And in the
confessedly performances of M. Bouguer, as also m those o ie ^
erroneous authors we have named, the theory of these forces, by w nc
in their the;r quantity and the direction of their action are ascer-
fundamen- ^ i is ait0„ether erroneous; and its results deviate so
IT"1- enormously from what is observed in the motions of a ship,
’ that the persons who should direct the operations on ship¬
board, in conformity to the maxims deducible from M. Bou-
o-uer’s propositions, would be baffled in most o his attemp s,
and be in danger of losing the ship. The whole proceeds
on the supposed truth of that theory which states the im¬
pulse of a fluid to be in the proportion of the square of the
sine of the angle of incidence; and that its action on any
small portion, such as a square foot of the sails or hull, is
the same as if that portion were detached from the rest, and
were exposed, single and alone, to the wind or water mthe
same angle. But we have shewn, in the article Resistance
of Feuids, both from theory and experience, that both ot
these principles are erroneous, and this to a very great de¬
gree, in cases which occur most frequently in practice, that
is, in the small angles of inclination. When the wind falls
nearly perpendicular on the sails, theory is not very erro¬
neous ; but in these cases, the circumstances ot the ship s
situation are generally such that the practice is easy, occur¬
ring almost without thought; and in this case too, even con¬
siderable deviations from the very best practice are of no
great moment. The interesting cases, where the intended
movement requires or depends upon very oblique actions ot
the wind on the sails, and its practicability or impractica¬
bility depends on a very small variation of this obliquity ; a
mistake of the force, either as to intensity or direction, pro¬
duces a mighty effect on the resulting motion. 1 his is the
case in sailing to windward, the most important ot all the
general problems of seamanship. The trim of the sails, and
the course of the ship, so as to gain most on the wind, are
very nice things; that is, they are confined within very nar¬
row limits, and a small mistake produces a very consider¬
able effect. The same thing obtains in many of the nice
problems of tacking, box-hauling, wearing after lying-to in
a storm, &c. . . , . . iM1 .
The error in the second assertion of thetheory is still great¬
er, and the action on one part of the sail or hull is so
oreatly modified by its action on another adjoining part,
that a stay-sail is often seen hanging like aloose rag, although
there is nothing between it and the wind ; and this merely
because a great sail in its neighbourhood sends off a lateral
stream of wind, which completely hinders the wind from
netting at it. Till the theory of the action ot fluids be
established, therefore, we cannot tell what are the forces
which are acting on every point of the sail and hull ;
therefore we cannot tell either the mean intensity or direc¬
tion of the whole force which acts on any particular sail,
nor the intensity and mean direction of the resistance to
the hull; circumstances absolutely necessary for enabling
us to say what will be their energy in producing a rotation
round any particular axis. In like manner, we cannot, by
such a computation, find the spontaneous axis of conversion,
(see Rotation), or the velocity of such conversion. In
short, we cannot pronounce with tolerable confidence ap-i-
ori what will be the motions in any case, or what disposi¬
tions of the sails will produce the movement we wish to
Tho oxnerienced seaman learns by habit the
Per °T ifL- of every disposition of the sails ; and though
fridge is far7om 'being accurate, it seldonr leads
him into any very blundering operation. I erhaps he sel-
] im into any y adjustment possible, but seldomer
do™, “l? deviate very lit from it 1 and in the most gene-
ral and Important problems, such as working to windward,
the result of much experience and many corrections has
settled a trim of the sails, which is certainly not far from
Ae truth but, it must be acknowledged, deviates w.dely
the tru ’ i ’ , the theories of the mathematician s
closet111 The honest tar, therefore, must be indulged in his
joke on the useless labours of the mathematician, who can
After^thi^ account0^!the1 theoretical performances in the
, c c„„man=hiD and what we have said in another place
on the small hopes we entertain of seeing a perfect theory
of the impulse of fluids, it will not be expected that we en¬
ter very minutely on the subject in this place ; nor is ,t our
intention. But let it be observed that the theory is uefect-
ivtfin one point only; and although this is a most import¬
ant point, and the errors in it destroy the conclusions ot
the chief propositions, the reasonings remain in full force,
and the modus operandi is precisely such as is stated in the
theory. The principles of the art are therefore to be fount
in these treatises ; but false inferences have been drawn,
by computing from erroneous quantities. 1 he rules an
the practice of the computation, however, are still beyon
controversy. Nay, since the process of investigation is le-
gitimatc, we may make use of it in order to discover the
very circumstance in which we are at present mistaken ,
for ^by converting the proposition, instead of finding
motions by means of the supposed forces, combined with
the known mechanism, we may discover the forces by
means of this mechanism and the observed motions. _
We shall therefore in this place give a very general view
of the movements of a ship under sail, showing how they
are produced and modified by the action of the wind on her
saflsWhe water on her rudder and on her bows. We shall
not attempt a precise determination of any ot these move¬
ments ; but we shall say enough to enable the curious lands¬
man to understand how this mighty machine is managed
amidst the fury of the winds and waves ; and, what is more
to our wish, we hope to enable the unmstructed but think¬
ing seaman, to generalise that knowledge which he pos¬
sesses; to class his ideas, and give thern a sort of ratio al
system ; and even to improve his practice, by making im
sensible of the immediate operation of every thing he does,
and in what manner it contributes to produce the move¬
ment which he has in view. .
A ship may be considered at present as a mass ot inert
matter in free space, at liberty to move in every direction,
according to the forces which impel or resist her; anti
when she is in actual motion, in the direction of her course,
we may still consider her as at rest in absolute space, but
exposed to the impulse of a current of water moving equally
fast in the opposite direction ; for in both cases the pres¬
sure of the water on her bows is the same ; and we know
that it is possible, and frequently happens in currents, that
the impulse of the wind on her sails, and that ot the water
on her bows, balance each other so precisely, that she not
only does not stir from the place, but also remains steadily
in the same position, with her head directed to the same
point of the compass. This state of things is easily con¬
ceived by any person accustomed to consider mechanical
subjects, and every seaman of experience has observed it.
It is of importance to consider it in this point of view, be¬
cause it gives us the most familiar notion of the manner in
which these forces of the wind and water are set in oppo¬
sition, and made to balance or not to balance each other by
the intervention of the ship, in the same manner as the
Seaman¬
ship.
though use
may be
made of
them.
Design of
this article
A ship
considered
as in free
space, im
pelled and
resisted b;
opposite
forces.
SEAMANSHIP.
35
Spaman- goods and the weights balance each other in the scales by
ship- the intervention of a beam or steelyard.
When a ship proceeds steadily in her course, without
Impulse of changing her rate of sailing, or varying the direction of her
the wind on heac|? vve must in the first place conceive the accumulated
th osite to impulses of the wind on all her sails as precisely equal and
ZZf the directly opposite to the impulse of the water on her bows,
water on In the next place, because the ship does not change the
the bows, direction of her keel, she resembles the balanced steelyard,
in which the energies of the two weights, which tend to
produce rotations in opposite directions, and thus to change
the position of the beam, mutually balance each other round
the fulcrum ; so the energies of the actions of the wind on
the different sails balance the energies of the water on the
different parts of the hull.
Skill of the The seaman has two principal tasks to perform. The
neaman dis-f]rst is to keep the ship steadily in that course which will
played in 13,.^ her farthest on in the line of her intended voyage,
shaping his frequently very different from that line, and the
course* ^‘,*'* . p * i
choice of the best course is sometimes a matter of consider¬
able difficulty. It is sometimes possible to shape the course
precisely along the line of the voyage ; and yet the intel¬
ligent seaman knows that he will arrive sooner, or with
greater safety, at his port, by taking a different course ;
because he will gain more by increasing his speed than he
loses by increasing the distance. Some principle must di¬
rect him in the selection of this course. This we must at¬
tempt to lay before the reader.
Having chosen such a course as he thinks most advan¬
tageous, he must set such a quantity of sail as the strength
of the wind will allow him to carry with safety and effect,
and must trim the sails properly, or so adjust their positions
to the direction of the wind, that they may have the great¬
est possible tendency to impel the ship in the line of her
course, and to keep her steadily in that direction.
His other task is to produce any deviations which he
sees proper from the present course of the ship ; and to
produce these in the most certain, the safest, and the most
expeditious manner. It is chiefly in this movement that
the mechanical nature of a ship comes into view, and it is
here that the superior address and resources of an expert
seaman is to be perceived.
Under the article Sailing, some notice has been taken
of the first task of the seaman, and it was there shown how
a ship, after having taken up her anchor and fitted her sails,
accelerates her motion, by degrees which continually di¬
minish, till the increasing resistance of the water becomes
precisely equal to the diminished impulse of the wind, and
then the motion continues uniformly the same, so long as
the wind continues to blow with the same force, and in the
same direction.
It is perfectly consonant to experience, that the impulse
of fluids is in the duplicate ratio of the relative velocity.
Let it be supposed that when water moves one foot per
second, its perpendicular pressure or impulse on a square
foot is vi pounds. Then, if it be moving with the velocity
V estimated in feet per second, its perpendicular impulse
on a surface S, containing any number of square feet, must
be m SV2.
In like manner, the impulse of air on the same surface
may be represented by n SV2; and the proportion of the
impulse of these two fluids will be that of m to n. We may
express this by the ratio of ^ to 1, making—
Impulse of M. Bouguer’s computations and tables are on the suppo-
the water sfijon tfiat tfie impulse of sea-water moving one foot per
second is twenty-three ounces on a square foot, and that
, n the the impulse of the wind is the same when it blows at the
tquare foot, rate of twenty-four feet per second. These measures are
all French. They by no means agree with the experiments
of others ; and what we have already said, when treating of
the Resistance of Fluids, is enough to show us that no- Seaman-
thing like precise measures can be expected. It was shown, ^'P-
as the result of a rational investigation, and confirmed byv^'V^^
the experiments of Buat and others, that the impulsions
and resistances at the same surface, with the same obli¬
quity of incidence, and the same velocity of motion, are
different according to the form and situation of the adjoin¬
ing parts. Thus the total resistance of a thin board is
greater than that of a long prism, having this board for its
front or bow, &c.
We are greatly at a loss what to give as absolute mea¬
sures of these impulsions.
1. With respect to water. The experiments of the
French academy on a prism two feet broad and deep, and
four feet long, indicate a resistance of 0973 pounds avoir¬
dupois to a square foot, moving with the velocity of one
foot per second at the surface of still water.
Mr. Boat’s experiments on a square foot wholly immersed
in a stream, were as follow:
A square foot as a thin plate 1*81 pounds
Ditto as the front of a box one foot long..1-42
Ditto as the front of a box three feet long.1-29
The resistance of sea water is about greateri
2. With respect to air the varieties are as great. The
resistance of a square foot to air moving with the velo¬
city of one foot per second, appears from Mr. Robins’s ex¬
periments on sixteen square inches to be, on a square
foot  000159G pounds.
Chevalier Borda’s on sixteen inches (H)01757
  on eighty-one inches 0,002042
Mr. Rouse’s on large surfaces  0,002291
Precise measures are not to be expected, nor are they ne¬
cessary in this inquiry. Here we are chiefly interested in
their proportions, as they may be varied by their mode of
action in the different circumstances of obliquity and velo-
city-
We begin by recurring to the fundamental proposition Direct im-
concerning the impulse of fluids, viz. that the absolute pres- pulse on
sure is always in a direction perpendicular to the impelled die sail per-
surface, whatever may be the direction of the stream aid
fluid. We must therefore illustrate the doctrine, by al- 0 e vai'
ways supposing a flat surface of sail stretched on a yard,
which can be braced about in any direction, and giving
this sail such a position and such an extent of surface, that
the impulse on it may be the same, both as to direction and
intensity, with that on the real sails. Thus the considera¬
tion is greatly simplified. The direction of the impulse is
therefore perpendicular to the yard. Its intensity depends
on the velocity w’ith which the wind meets the sail, and
the obliquity of its stroke. We shall adopt the construc¬
tions founded on the common doctrine, that the impulse is
as the square of the sine of the inclination, because they
are simple ; whereas, if we were to introduce the values ot
the oblique impulses, such as they have been observed in
the excellent experiments of the Academy of Paris, the
constructions would be complicated in the extreme, and w e
could hardly draw any consequences which would be in¬
telligible to any but expert mathematicians. The conclu¬
sions will be erroneous, not in kind but in quantity only ;
and we shall point out the necessary corrections, so that
the final results will be found not very different from real
observation.
If a ship were a round cylindrical body like a flat tub, a slop
floating on its bottom, and fitted with a mast and sail in compared
the centre, she would always sail in a direction perpendi- to an ob-
cular to the yard. This is evident. But she is an oblong lollS hox.
body, and may be compared to a chest, whose length greatly
exceeds its breadth. She is so shaped, that a moderate
force will push her through the water with the head or stern
foremost; but it requires a very great force to push her
sideways with the same velocity. A fine sailing ship ot
36
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- war will require about twelve times as much force to push
ship, hex- sideways as to push her head foremost. In this respect,
therefore, she will very much resemble a chest whose length
is twelve times its breadth ; and whatever be the proportion
of these resistances in different ships, we may always sub¬
stitute a box which shall have the same resistances head¬
ways and sideways. . _ ,
Let EFGH (fig. 1.) he the horizontal section ot such
a box, and AB its middle line, and C its centre. In what¬
ever direction this box
may chance to move, the
direction of the whole re¬
sistance on its two sides
will pass through C. For
as the whole stream has
one inclination to the side
EF, the equivalent of the
equal impulses on every ^
part will be in a line perpendicular to the middle ot FP. P or
the same reason, it will be in a line perpendicular to the mid¬
dle of FG. These perpendiculars must cross in C. Suppose
a mast erected at C, and \ C/y to be a yard hoisted on it
Makes lee carrying a sail. Let the yard be first conceived as braced
way When right athwart at right angles to the keel, as represented by Y y.
not sailing Then, whatever be the direction of the wind abaft this sail.
1-732
1-732=12 X tangent2#, and tangent2a’= -y^-, =0T4434,
Seaman.
ship.
directly be- will impel the vessel in the direction CB. But if the
fore the
wind
sail has the oblique position Yy, the impulse will he in the
direction CD perpendicular to CY, and will both push the
vessel ahead and sideways : For the impulse CD is equiva¬
lent to the two impulses CK and Cl (the sides of a rect¬
angle of which CD is the diagonal). The force Cl pushes
the vessel ahead, and CK pushes her sideways. She must
therefore take some intermediate direction ab, such that
the resistance of the water to the plane FG is to its resist¬
ance to the plane EF as Cl to CK.
The angle 6CB between the real course and the direction
of the head is called the leeway; and in the course of
this dissertation we shall express it by the symbol x. It
evidently depends on the shape of the vessel and on the
position of the yard. An accurate knowledge of the quan¬
tity of leeway, corresponding to different circumstances of
obliquity of impulse, extent of surface, &c. is of the ut¬
most importance in the practice of navigation ; and even an
approximation is valuable. The subject is so very difficult
that this must content us for the present.
Let V be the velocity of the ship in the direction Cb, and
let the surfaces FG and FE be called^A' and B'. Then
the resistance to the lateral motion is mY2 X B' x sineV>CB,
and that to the direct motion is mV2 X A' X sine2, 6CK, or
mY2 X A' x cos26CB. Therefore these resistances are in
the proportion of B' x sine2, x to A' X cos.2, x (representing
the angle of leeway iCB by the symbol x).
Therefore we have Cl : CK, or Cl : ID=A/*cos.2# : B'*
sine2#, =A' : =:A': B'> tangent2#,
cos. #
How to ^et the angle YCB, to which the yard is braced up, be
findHhe called the trim of the sails, and expressed by the symbol
quantity ofb. This is the complement of the angle DCI. Now Cl :
leeway ID=rad. : tan. DCI, =1 : tan. DCI, =l:cotan. b. There¬
fore we have finally 1 : cotan. b—A' : B'- tan.2#, and A' •
A'
cotan. b=.W • tangent2#, and tan.2#= — cot. b. This equa-
and tan. #=0-3799, and #=20° 48', very nearly two points
of leeway. .
This computation, or rather the equation which gives
room for it, supposes the resistances proportional to the
squares of the sines of incidence. The experiments of the
Academy of Paris, of which an abstract is given in the ar¬
ticle Resistance of Fluids, show that this supposition is
not far from the truth when the angle of incidence is great.
In the present case the angle of incidence on the front FG
is about 70°, and the experiments just now mentioned, show
that the real resistances exceed the theoretical ones only
i_. But the angle of incidence on EF is only 20° 48'.
Experiment shows that in this inclination the resistance is
almost quadruple of the theoretical resistances. Therefore
the lateral resistance is assumed much too small in the pre¬
sent instance. Therefore a much smaller leeway will suf¬
fice for producing a lateral resistance which will balance the
lateral impulse CK, arising from the obliquity of the sail,
viz. 30°. The matter of fact is, that a pretty good sailing
ship, with her sails braced to this angle at a medium, will
not make above five or six degrees leeway in smooth water
and easy weather; and yet in this situation the hull and
rigging present a very great surface to the wind, in the
most improper positions, so as to have a very great effect
in increasing her leeway. And if we compute the resist¬
ances for this leeway of six degrees by the actual experi¬
ments of the French Academy on the angle, we shall find the
result not far from the truth ; that is, the direct and lateral
resistances will be nearly in the proportion of Cl to ID.
It results from this view of the matter, that the leeway is
in general much smaller than what the usual theory assigns.
We also see, that according to whatever law the resist¬
ances change by a change of inclination, the leeway remains which de-
the same while the trim of the sails is the same. The lee-Pen<ls on
way depends only on the direction of the impulse of the 0 1 e
wind; and this depends solely on the position of the sails
with respect to the keel, whatever may be the direction ot
the wind. This is a very important observation, and will
be frequently referred to in the progress of the present in¬
vestigation. Note, however, that we are here considering
only the action on the sails, and on the same sails. We are
not considering the action of the wind on the hull and rig¬
ging. This may be vefy considerable; and it is always in
a lee direction, and augments the leeway ; and its influence
must be so much the more sensible, as it bears a greater pro¬
portion to the impulse on the sails. A ship under courses, or
close-reefed topsails and courses, must make more leeway
than when under all her canvass, trimmed to the same angle.
But to introduce this additional cause of deviation here, would
render the investigation too complicated to be of any use.
This doctrine will be considerably illustrated by attend- Illustration
ins to the manner in which a lighter is tracked along a ca- t^ls 00
9 . A ° trine by ex
nal, or swings to its periments
Big- 2. on model*
and on
tion evidently ascertains the mutual relation between the
trim of the sails and the leeway, in every case where we can
tell the proportion between the resistances to the direct and
broadside motions of the ship, and where this proportion
does not change by the obliquity of the course. Thus, sup¬
pose the yard braced up to an angle of 30° with the keel.
Then cotan. 30o=L732 very nearly. Suppose also that the
resistance sideways is twelve times greater than the resist¬
ance headways. This gives A =1 and B/=12. Therefore
anchor in a stream
The track-rope is
made fast to some
staple or bolt E on
the deck (fig. 2),
and is passed be¬
tween two of the
timber-heads of the
bow D, and laid
ships.
hold of at F on shore. The men or cattle walk along the
path FG, the rope keeps extended in the direction DF,
and the lighter arranges itself in an oblique position AB,
and is thus dragged along in the direction ab, parallel
to the side of the canal. Or, if the canal has a cur¬
rent in the opposite direction ba, the lighter may be kept
steady in its place by the rope DF made fast to a post at F.
In this case, it is always observed, that the lighter swings
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- in a position AB, which is oblique to the stream ab. Now,
shlP- the force which retains it in this position, and which pre-
cisely balances the action of the stream, is certainly exerted
in the direction DF; and the lighter would be held in the
same manner if the rope were made fast at C amidship,
without any dependence on the timberheads at D ; and it
would be held in the same position, if, instead of the single
rope CF, it were riding by two ropes CG and CH, of which
CH is in a direction right ahead, but oblique to the stream,
and the other CG is perpendicular to CH or AB. And,
drawing DI and DK perpendicular to AB and CG, the
strain on the rope CH is to that on the rope CG as Cl to
CK. The action of the rope in these cases is precisely an¬
alogous to that ot the sail yY ; and the obliquity of the keel
to the direction of the motion, or to the direction of the
stream, is analogous to the leeway. All this must be evi¬
dent to any person accustomed to mechanical disquisitions.
A most important use may be made of this illustration.
If an accurate model be made of a ship, and if it be placed in
a stream of water, and ridden in this manner by a rope made
fast at any point D of the bow, it will arrange itself in some
determined position AB. There will be a certain obliquity
to the stream, measured by the angle ¥>ob; and there will
be a corresponding obliquity of the rope, measured by the
angle FCB. Let yCY be perpendicular to CF. Then CY
will be the position of the yard, or trim of the sails corre¬
sponding to the leeway 6CB. Then, if we shift the rope
to a point of the bow distant from D by a small quantity,
we shall obtain a new position of the ship, both with respect
to the stream and rope; and in this way may be obtained
the relation between the position of the sails and the lee¬
way, independent of all theory, and susceptible of great ac¬
curacy ; and this may be done with a variety of models
suited to the most usual forms of ships.
In further thinking on this subject, we are persuaded that
these experiments, instead of being made on models, may
with equal ease be
made on a ship of any Fig. 3.
size. Let the ship
ride in a stream at a
mooring D (fig. 3), by
means of a short haw¬
ser BCD from her
bow, having a spring
AC on it carried out
from her quarter. She
will swing to her moor¬
ings, till she ranges
herself in a certain position AB with respect to the direc¬
tion ba of the stream ; and the direction of the hawser DC
will point to some point E of the line of the keel. Now, it
is plain to any person acquainted with mechanical disquisi¬
tions, that the deviation BE6 is precisely the leeway that the
ship will make when the average position of the sails is that
of the line GEH perpendicular to ED; at least this will give
the leeway which is produced by the sails alone. By heav¬
ing on the spring, the knot C may be brought into any other
position we please; and for every new position of the knot
the ship will take a new position with respect to the stream
and to the hawser. And we persist in saying, that more
37
information will be got by this train of experiments than Seaman-
from any mathematical theory: for all the theories of the ship,
impulses of fluids must proceed on physical postulates with
respect to the motions of the filaments, which are exceed¬
ingly conjectural.
And it must now be farther observed, that the substitution The com-
which we have made of an oblong parallelopiped for a ship, Pai 'son of
although well suited to give us clear notions of the subject,a shT t0
is of small use in practice ; for it is next to impossible (even
granting the theory of oblique impulsions) to make this sub- ly useful to
stitution. A ship is of a form which is not reducible to give clear
equations ; and therefore the action of the water on her bow notions on
or broadside can only be had by a most laborious and in-the subject-
tricate calculation for almost every square foot of its surface.'
And this must be different for every ship. But, which is more
unlucky, when we have got a parallelopiped which will have
the same proportion of direct and lateral resistance for a par¬
ticular angle of leeway, it will not answer for another lee¬
way of the same ship; for when the leeway changes, the
figure actually exposed to the action of the water changes
also. When the leeway is increased, more of the lee-quar¬
ter is acted on by the water, and a part of the weather-bow is
now removed from its action. Another parallelopiped must
therefore be discovered, whose resistances shall suit this new
position of the keel with respect to the real course of the ship.
We therefore beg leave to recommend this train of ex¬
periments to the notice of the Association for the Improve¬
ment of Naval Architecture, as a very promising method
for ascertaining this important point.2 * * And we proceed, in
the next place, to ascertain the relation between the velo¬
city of the ship and that of the wind, modified as they may
be by the trim of the sails and the obliquity of the impulse.
Let AB (figs. 4, 5, and 6), represent the horizontal sec- The rela¬
tion of a ship. In place of all the drawing sails, that is, the tion be-
sails which are really filled, we can always substitute one tween tbe
sail of equal extent, trimmed to the same angle with the v®l°cdy
keel. This being supposed attached to the yard DCD,(
let this yard be first of all at right angles to the keel, as ascertal'n-
Fig. 4.
represented in fig. 4. Let the ed.
wind blow in the direction
WC, and let CE (in the di¬
rection WC continued) re¬
present the velocity V of the
wind. Let CF be the velo¬
city v of the ship. It must
also be in the direction of the
ship’s motion, because when
the sail is at right angles to
the keel, the absolute impulse on the sail is in the direction
of the keel, and there is no lateral impulse, and consequent¬
ly no leeway. . Draw Eh, and complete the parallelogram
Ch Ee, producing eC through the centre of the yard to ic.
Then wC will be the relative or apparent direction of the
wind, and Ce or hE will be its apparent or relative velocity.
For if the line Ce be carried along CF, keeping always pa¬
rallel to its first position, and if a particle of air move uni¬
formly along CE (a fixed line in absolute space) in the same
time, this particle will always be found in that point of CE,
where it is intersected at that instant by the moving line
Ce; so that if Ce were a tube, the particle of air, which
1 Bezout’s Cours de Mathem. vol. v. p. 72, &c
boLIetrSo7erLrilinwS£Uted0n the !4th f°fAril 179,5 of the Photic and energetic endeavours of Mr. J. Sewell, a
thTs da ^ Eur°Pea" ^a7e’ the covers of which periodica? he had for a long time previous ’to
about one ^hundred and”fifty nbbll menAn ril, comm,un,cat'ons/or the improvement of naval architecture. The society consisted of
dom. His 1 ate Mfdestv Wasf ^hf7rpsiHpn0T77 a,nd "umberedramo"S members some of the most distinguished men in the king-
lase Warren, Sir Joseph Banks and sir rhaX^AE^l ftanhope’ Lelcester, and Uxbridge, Lords Radnor and Mulgrave, Sir John Bor-
tile examination of plans to the’neelppf nf tl, ^ 1 e on> we£e vice-presidents. Unfortunately its energies were expended in the fu-
Thp6consequence was That*d^ssatisfied7^he ab17 imPro~t of an infant science-the investigation of principles,
terest in them, and the society fell to nipre- ^ ° V?e[u resu'ts from their labours, the members gradually ceased to take an in-
Professor Robison and their enerm P j ’’ 1 ou ’ we bebevo> any formal dissolution. Had the members adopted the suggestions of
Robison, and their energies and resources been directed by his talents and experience, how different might have been fhe result!
38
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- really moves in the line CE, would always be found in the
ship- tube Ce. While CE is the real direction of the wind, Le
will be the position of the vane at the mast head, which
will therefore mark the apparent direction of the wind, or
its motion relative to the moving ship.
We may conceive this in another way. Suppose a can¬
non-shot fired in the direction CE at the passing ship, and
that it passes through the mast at C with the velocity of the
wind. It will not pass through the off-side of the ship at
P, in the line CE; for while the shot moves from C to P,
the point P has gone forward, and the point p is now in the
place where P was when the shot passed through the mast.
The shot will therefore pass through the ship’s side in the
point p, and a person on board seeing it pass through C an
p will say that its motion was in the line Cp.
When a Thus it happens, that when a ship is in motion the ap-
ship is in parent direction of the wind is always ahead of its real ui-
motion the recti0n. The line wC is always found within the angle
apparent g jg eagY t0 gee prom tiie construction, that the dif-
thp6wind 'is fcrence between the real and apparent directions °f the
always dif- wind is so much the more remarkable as the velocity of the
ferent from ship is greater. For the angle W(> or ECe depends on
the real di the magnitude of Ee or CF, in proportion to CE. Persons not
rection. much accustomed to attend to these matters are apt to
think all attention to this difference to be nothing but affec-
tation of nicety. They have no notion that the velocity o
a ship can have any sensible proportion to that of the wind.
« Swift as the wind,” is a proverbial expression ; yet the ve¬
locity of a ship always bears a very sensible proportion to
that of the wind, and even very frequently exceeds it. We
may form a pretty exact notion of the velocity of the wind
by observing the shadow's of the summer clouds flying along
the face of a country, and it may be very well measured by
this method. The motion of such clouds cannot be very
different from that of the air below ; and when the pressure
of the wind on a flat surface, while blowing with a velocity
measured in this way, is compared w ith its pressure when
its velocity is measured by more unexceptionable methods,
they are found to agree with all desirable accuracy. I\ow
observations of this kind frequently repeated, show that what
we call a pleasant brisk gale blows at the rate of about ten
miles an hour, or about fifteen feet in a second, and exerts
a pressure of half a pound on a square foot. Mr. Smeaton
has frequently observed the sails of a windmill, driven by
such a wind, moving faster, nay much faster, towards their
extremities, so that'the sail, instead of being pressed to the
frames on the arms, was taken aback, and fluttering on them.
Nay, we know that a good ship, with all her sails set, and
the wind on the beam, will in such a situation sail above ten
knots an hour in smooth wrater. There is an observation
made by every experienced seaman, which shows this dif¬
ference between the real and apparent directions of the wind
very distinctly. When a ship that is sailing briskly with
the wind on the beam tacks about, and then sails equally
well on the other tack, the wind always appears to have
shifted and come more ahead. This is familiar to all sea¬
men. The seaman judges of the direction of the wind by
the position of the ship’s vanes. Suppose the ship sailing
due west on the starboard tack, with the wind apparently
N.N.W., the vane pointing S.S.E. If the ship put about,
and stands due east on the larboard tack, the vane will be
found no longer to point S.S.E., but perhaps S.S.W., the
wind appearing N.N.E., and the ship must be nearly close-
hauled in order to make an east course. The wind appears
to have shifted four points. If the ship tacks again, the wind
returns to its old quarter. We have often observed a greater
Observa- difference than this. The celebrated astronomer Dr. Brad-
tion of Dr. ley, taking the amusement of sailing in a pinnace on the
Bradley on rjver Thames, observed this, and was surprised at it, ima-
this sub- gining that the change of the wind was owing to the ap-
•!ect' preaching to or retiring from the shore. The boatmen told
him that it always happened at sea, and explained it to him
in the best manner they were able. The explanation struck Seaman-
him, and set him a musing on an astronomical phenomenon P-
which he had been puzzled by for some years, and which he
called the aberration of the fixed stars. Every star changes
its place a small matter for half a year, and returns to it
at the completion of the year. He compared the streana
of light from the star to the wind, and the teiescope of
the astronomer to the ship’s vane, while the earth was like
the ship, moving in opposite directions when in the oppo¬
site point of its orbit. The telescope must always be pointed
ahead of the real direction of the star, in the same manner
as the vane is always in a direction ahead of the wind; and
thus he ascertained the progressive motion of light, and dis¬
covered the proportion of its velocity to the velocity of the
earth in its orbit, by observing the deviation which was
necessarily given to the telescope. Observing that the
light shifted its direction about 40", he concluded its velo¬
city to be about 11,000 times greater than that of the earth ;
just as the intelligent seaman would conclude from this ap¬
parent shifting of the wind, that the velocity of the wind is
about triple that of the ship. I his is indeed the best me¬
thod for discovering the velocity of the wind. Let the di¬
rection of the vane at the mast-head be very accurately
noticed on both tacks, and let the velocity ot the ship be
also accurately measured. The angle between the direc¬
tions of the ship’s head on these different tacks being halved,
will give the real direction of the w-ind, which must be com¬
pared with the position of the vane in order to determine
the angle contained between the real and apparent direc¬
tions of the wind or the angle ECe; or half of the observed
shifting of the wind will show the inclination of its true and
apparent directions. This being found, the proportion of
EC to FC (fig. 6), is easily measured.
We have been very particular on this point, because since
the mutual actions of bodies depend on their relative mo¬
tions only, we should make prodigious mistakes if we esti¬
mated the action of the wind by its real direction and veloci¬
ty, when they differ so much from the relative or apparent.
We now resume the investigation of the velocity ot the Veloc tyof
ship (fig. 4), having its sails at right angles to the keel, and a ship
the wind blowing in the direction and with the velocity CE, when its
   B .. . i. .• p _ i i '.u sal s are s
me winu uiuvvnig in me uiitv-Liwn .......  . ,
while the ship proceeds in the direction of the keel with the
velocity CF. Produce Ee, wfliich is parallel to bC, tin it ^ ^
meet the yard in g, and draw FG perpendicular to Er/. Let
a represent the angle WCD, contained between the sail and
the real direction of the wind, and let b be the angle of trim
DCB. CE, the velocity of the wind, was expressed by V,
and CF, the velocity of the ship, by v.
The absolute impulse on the sail is (by the usual theory)
proportional to the square of the relative velocity, and to
the square of the sine of the angle ot incidence ; that is, to
FE2 x sin.2wCD. Now the angle GFE=wCD, and EG
is equal to FE x sin. GFE ; and EG is equal to E^-—r^G.
But E^=EC x sin.ECgr, =:V x sin.a; and pG=CF, —v.
Therefore EGr=V X sin.a—v, and the impulse is propor¬
tional to (Y x sin. a—v)2. If S represent the surface of
the sail, the impulse, in pounds, will be «S(V xsm.a—v)2.
Let A be the surface which, when it meets the water per¬
pendicularly with the velocity », will sustain the same pres¬
sure or resistance which the bows of the ship actually meet
with. This impulse, in pounds, will be mAv2. Therefore,
because we are considering the ship’s motion as in a state ot
uniformity, the two pressures balance each other; and there¬
fore mAv2=znS(V x sin.a—v)2and—Av2=S(Y X sin.a-t')2;
n
therefore — J A'/s v= S X V X sin. a—vj S, and v =
n
J'-
X v X sin. a
V X sin. a V X sin. a
A+VS
I m A
'/^+1
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman¬
ship.
We see, in the first place, that the velocity of the ship
is, cceteris paribus, proportional to the velocity of the wind,
'and to the sine of its incidence on the sail jointly ; for while
the surface of the sail S and the equivalent surface for the
bow remains the same, v increases or diminishes at the same
rate with V’ sin. a. When the wind is right astern, the sine
V
of a is unity, and then the ship’s velocity is
ymh.
+ 1-
Note, that the denominator of this fraction is a common
number; for m and n are numbers and A and S being
ji
quantities of one kind, — is also a number.
It must also be carefully attended to, that S expresses a
quantity of sail actually receiving wind with the inclination
a. It will not always be true, therefore, that the velocity
will increase as the wind is more abaft, because some sails
will then becalm others. This observation is not, however,
of great importance; for it is very unusual to put a ship
in the situation considered hitherto; that is, with the yards
square, unless she be right before the wind.
If we should discover the relation between the velocity
and the quantity of sail in this simple case of the wind right
V
aft, observe that the equation v— —    gives us
J
mA.
wS
+
«s
v+v—Y, and
tf=V-
, mA 2 ,7 2
and —-q- v —v
MO
. MS
and —-
mA.
{Y—vf ’
stant quantities, S is proportional to
and because n and m and A are Con¬
or the sur-
Fig. 5.
89
Seaman¬
ship.
{Y-vY
face of sail is proportional to the square of the ship’s velo¬
city directly, and to the square of the relative velocity in¬
versely. Thus, if a ship be sailing with one-eighth of the
velocity of the wind, and we would have her sail with one-
fourth of it, we must quadruple the sail. This is more easi¬
ly seen in another way. The velocity of the ship is propor¬
tional to the velocity of the wind; and therefore the rela¬
tive velocity is also proportional to that of the wind, and
the impulse of the wind is as the square of the relative ve¬
locity. Therefore, in order to increase the relative velocity
by an increase of sail only, we must make this increase of
sail in the duplicate proportion of the increase of velocity.
Let us, in the next place, consider the motion of a ship
whose sails stand oblique to the keel.
Its velocity The construction for this purpose differs a little from the
when the former, because, when the sails are trimmed to any oblique
sails stand position DCB, (figs. 5 and 6), there must be a deviation from
thekeY° t^1e (^rect^on t*le or a ^eewaY ^^6. Call this a:. Let
CF be the velocity of the ship. Draw, as before, \Lg per¬
pendicular to the yard, and FG perpendicular to E^.; also,
draw FH perpendicular to the yard: then, as before, EG,
which is in the subdupli¬
cate ratio of the impulse
on the sail, is equal to E^
—Gg. Now Et? is, as be¬
fore, = V xsin.a, and Gg
is equal to FH, which is
= CF x sin. FCH, orx
sin. (ft -j- x). Therefore we
have the impulse z=mS(V*
sin. a—v • sin. (ft-j-a;))2.
This expression of the
impulse is perfectly simi¬
lar to that in the former
case, its only difference
consisting in the subduc-
tive part, which is here
v X sin. b + x instead of
v. But it expresses
the same thing as be¬
fore, viz. the diminu¬
tion of the impulse. The
impulse being reckon¬
ed solely in the direc¬
tion perpendicular to
the sail, it is diminished
solely by the sail with¬
drawing itself in that di¬
rection from the wind;
and as ^E may be con¬
sidered as the real impulsive motion of the wind, GE must
be considered as the relative and effective impulsive mo¬
tion. The impulse would have been the same had the ship
been at rest, and had the wind met it perpendicularly with
the velocity GE.
We must now show the connexion between this impulse
and the motion of the ship. The sail, and consequently the Connection
ship, is pressed by the wind in the direction Cl perpendi- between
cular to the sail or yard with the force which we have just1^16 imPa*se
now determined. This (in the state of uniform motion) must of
be equal and opposite to the action of the water. Draw IL
at right angles to the keel. The impvdse in the direction
Cl (which we may measure by Cl) is equivalent to the im¬
pulses CL and LI. By the first the ship is impelled right
forward, and by the second she is driven sideways. There¬
fore we must have a leeway, and a lateral as well as a direct
resistance. We suppose the form of the ship to be known,
and therefore the proportion is known, or discoverable, be¬
tween the direct and lateral resistances corresponding to
every angle x of leeway. Let A be the surface win se per¬
pendicular resistance is equal to the direct resistance of the
ship corresponding to the leeway x, that is, whose resistance
is equal to the resistance really felt by the ship’s bows in
the direction of the keel when she is sailing with this lee¬
way ; and let B in like manner be the surface whose per¬
pendicular resistance is equal to the actual resistance to the
ship’s motion in the direction LI, perpendicular to the keel.
(This is not equivalent to A' and B' adapted to the rec¬
tangular box, but to A'• cos. 2 a; and B'* sin.2 a;). We
CL. g
have therefore A : B=CL : LI, and LI= —-—. Also,
A
because GV—JCL2-f LI2, we have A : n/a2 + B2=CL :
„T j CL • VA' + B2 ^ • v.
LI, and CI=     . Ihe resistance m the di-
A
rection LC is properly measured by m A v1 as has been al¬
ready observed. Therefore the resistance in the direction
IC must be expressed by m?^/A2 + B2|v2; or (making C the
surface which is equal to>/A2 + B2, and which w ill there¬
fore have the same perpendicular resistance to the water
having the velocity v) it may be expressed by mCv2.
Therefore, because there is an equilibrium between the
impulse and resistance, we have »iCm2=:mS(V • sin. a—v *
sin. ft-{-a:)2, and— Cm2, oroCM2=S(V’ sin. a—sin.ft-fa:)2,
n
and n/5'a/Cm=/v/S(V'sin. a—m • sin. 6-|-a?).
*/S * V - sin. a
Therefore v —
sm. a
s/G
—Y
J q J G -\- J §
Sin. a
b x
V? — + sin.ft + a:
VC
Observe that the quantity which is the coefficient of Y
in this equation is a common number; for sin. a is a num¬
ber, being a decimal fraction of the radius i, sin. ft-j-a; is
also a number, for the same reason. And since m and n
40
SEAM A
ship. were numbers of pounds, — or ^ is a common number. And
■ _r- —^ - n
because C and S are surfaces, or quantities of one kind,
is also a common number.
This is the simplest expression that we can think of for
the velocity acquired by the ship, though it must be aknow-
ledged to be too complex to be of very prompt use. Its
complication arises from the necessity of introducing the
leeway x. This affects the whole of the denominator ; for
the surface C depends on it, because C is
and A and B are analogous to A' cos. 2x and B' sin 2x.
Important But we can deduce some important consequences from
ronsequen- this theorem.
ees deduc- While the surface S of the sail actually filled by the wind
*d from ^ie remains the same, and the angle DCB, which in future we
loregoing cajj t]ie trjm 0f tjie sapS) a]so remains the same, both
eorem. ]eeway x an(j t]ie substituted surface C remains the
same. The denominator is therefore constant; and the ve¬
locity of the ship is proportional to ^ S • V • sin. a ; that is,
directly as the velocity of the wind, directly as the absolute
inclination of the wind to the yard, and directly as the
square root of the surface of the sails.
We also learn from the construction of the figure, that
FG parallel to the yard cuts CE in a given ratio. For CF
is in a constant ratio to E^r, as has been just now demon¬
strated. And the angle DCF is constant. Therefore CF •
sin. b, or FH or Gg, is proportional to E^, and OC to EC,
or EC is cut in one proportion, whatever may be the angle
ECD, so long as the angle DCF is constant.
We also see that it is very possible for the velocity of the
ship on an oblique course to exceed that of the wind. This
sin. a
will be the case when the number —-r—zz  ex-
yc
Problem I.
To deter¬
mine the
best posi¬
tion of the
•ails for
standing
on a given
course,
when the
direction
and veloci¬
ty of the
wind and
its angle
with the
course are
given.
+ sin- &
ceeds unity, or when sin. a is greater than q~^ 4" sin.6-F<£»
Now this may easily be by sufficiently enlarging S and di¬
minishing b + x. It ist indeed frequently seen in fine sailers
with all their sails set and not hauled too near the wind.
We remarked above that the angle of leeway x affects
the whole denominator of the fraction which expresses the
velqcity. Let it be observed that the angle I CL is the com¬
plement of LCD, or of b. Therefore, CL : LI, or A :Brzi:
tan. ICL=i: cot. b, and B=A • cotan. 6. Now A is equi¬
valent to A' • cos. 2a?, and thus b becomes a function of x.
C is evidently so, being sjA2 + B2. Therefore before the
value of this fraction can be obtained, we must be able to
compute, by our knowledge of the form of the ship, the
value of A for every angle x of leeway. This can be done
only by resolving her bows into a great number of elemen¬
tary planes, and computing the impulses on each and add¬
ing them into one sum. The computation is of immense
labour, as may be seen by one example given by Bduguer.
When the leeway is but small, not exceeding ten degrees,
the substitution of the rectangular prism pf one determined
form is abundantly exact for all leeways contained within
this limit; and we shall soon see reason for being content¬
ed with this approximation. We may now make use of the
formula expressing the velocity for solving the chief prob¬
lems in this part of the seaman’s task.
And first let it be required to determine the best posi¬
tion of the sail for standing on a given course ab, when CE
the direction and velocity of the wind, and its angle with
the course WCF, are given. This problem has exercised
the talents of the mathematicians ever since the days of
Newton. In the article Pneumatics we gave the solution
N S H I P.
of one very nearly related to it, namely, to determine the Seaman-
position of the sail which would produce the greatest im-
pulse in the direction of the course. The solution was to^^^
place the yard CD in such a position that the tangent of
the angle FCD may be one half of the tangent of the angle
DCW. This will indeed be the best position of the sail
for beginning the motion j but as soon as the ship begins to
move in the direction CF, the effective impulse of the wind
is diminished, and also its inclination to the sail. The angle
j)C?c diminishes continually as the ship accelerates j for
CF is now accompanied by its equal eE, and by an angle
ECe, or WC«c. CF increases, and the impulse on the sail
diminishes, till an equilibrium obtains between the resist¬
ance of the water and the impulse of the wind. The im¬
pulse is now measured by CL x sin. eCD instead of CE
X sin. 2ECD, that is, by EG2 instead of E#2.
This introduction of the relative motion of the wind ren¬
ders the actual solution of the problem extremely difficult.
It is very easily expressed geometrically : Divide the angle
wCF in such a manner that the tangent of DCF may be
half of the tangent of DCre, and the problem may be con¬
structed geometrically as follows.
Let WCF (fig. 7.) be the angle between the sail and
course. Round the centre C describe the circle WDFY;
produce WC to Cl. so that CQ=1WC, and draw QY paral¬
lel to CF cutting the circle in Y; bisect the arch WY in
D, and draw DC. DC is the proper position of the yard.
Draw the cord WY, cutting CD in V and CF in T;
draw the tangent PD, cutting CF in S and CY in R.
It is evident that WY, PR, are both perpendicular to
CD, and are bisected in Y and D ; therefore (by reason of
the parallels GY, CF) 4 : 3=QW : CW,=YW : TW,
RP: SP. Therefore
PD : PS=2 : 3, and Fig. 7
PD:DS=2:1. Q.E.D.
But this division cannot
be made to the best ad¬
vantage till the ship has
attained its greatest
velocity, and the an¬
gle w CF has been pro¬
duced.
We must consider all
the three angles, a, b, and
x, as variable in the equa¬
tion which expresses the
value of v, and we must
make the fluxion of this
equationrrO; then, by
means of the equation B = A* contan. b, we must obtain the
value of b and of b in terms of x and x. With respect to a,
observe, that if we make the angle WCF=/>, we have
and p being a constant quantity, we have
a + b + x=^0. Substituting for a, b, a, and b, their values
in terms of x and x, in the fluxionary equation=0, we rea¬
dily obtain x, and then a and b, which solves the problem.
Let it be required, in the next place, to determine the
course and the trim of the sails most proper for plying to
windward.
In fig. 6, draw FP perpendicular to WC. CF is the Prob. II
motion of the ship ; but it is only by the motion PC that T° detar-
she gains to windward. Now CP is=CF X cosin. WCF, ^
or v cosin. (a-f Z>-f-a?). This must be rendered a maxi- ot tj,t
mum, as follows. saiis ir,0st
By means of the equation which expresses the value of proper for
v and the equation R—A* cotan. b, we exterminate the plying to
quantities v and b; we then take the fluxion of the quantity wind',' ;‘rd
into which the expression v • cos. (a-\-b-\-x') is changed by
this operation. Making this fluxion =r0, wre get the equa¬
tion which must solve the problem. This equation will
contain the two variable quantities a and x with their flux-
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman-
ship.
ions:
Prob. HI.
To deter¬
mine the
the
getting a-
way from
a given
line of
coast.
problems.
then make the coefficient of as equal to 0, also the co¬
efficient of a equal to 0. This will give two equations, which
will determine a and x, and from this we get b=p—a—x.
Should it be required, in the third place, to find the best
course and trim of the sails for getting away from a given
line of coast CM (fig- 6.), the process perfectly resembles
best coursefjjjg ]ast> which is in fact getting away from a line of coast
an^ sail'.'Voi' "hich makes a right angle with the wind. Therefore, in
place of the angle WCF, we must substitute the angle
WCM=±=WCF. Call this angle e. We must make trcos.
(ez±zaz±zb-=tzx) a maximum. The analytical process is
the same as the former, only e is here a constant quantity.
These are the three principal problems which can be
solved by means of the knowledge that we have obtained
^kse™a'he°f the motion of the ship when impelled by an oblique sail,
preceding anc^ therefore making leeway ; and they may be considered
as an abstract of this part of M. Bouguer’s work. We have
only pointed out the process for this solution, and have
even omitted some things taken notice of by M. Bezout
in his very elegant compendium. Our reasons will appear
as we go on. The learned reader will readily see the ex¬
treme difficulty of the subject, and the immense calculations
which are necessary even in the simplest cases, and will
grant that it is out of the power of any but an expert ana¬
lyst to derive any use from them; but the mathematician
can calculate tables for the use of the practical seaman
Thus he can calculate the best position of the sails for ad¬
vancing in a course 90° from the wind, and the velocity in
that course; then for 85°, 80°, 75°, &c. M. Bouguer has
guer’s table given a table of this kind ; but to avoid the immense diffi-
for finding culty of the process, he has adapted it to the apparent direc-
tbe best tjon 0f the wind. We have inserted a few of his numbers,
thesailstorsu^ec^ to suc*' cases as can service, namely, when all
advancing t^ie sa‘*s ^ravv’ or none stand in the way of others. Column
in any 1st is the apparent angle of the wind and course ; column
course. 2d is the corresponding angle of the sails and keel; and
column 3d is the apparent angle of the sails and wind.
M. Bou-
1
w CF
103°53'
99 13
94 25
89 28
84 23
79 06
73 39
68 —
2
DCB
42o30'
40 —
37 30
35 —
32 30
30 —
27 30
25 —
3
to CD
61 °23'
59 13
56 55
54 28
51 53
49 06
46 09
43 —
;(4
41
Seaman¬
ship.
In all these numbers we have the tangent of re CD
double of the tangent of DCF.
Inutility of But this is really doing but little for the seaman. The
these calcu-apparent direction of the wind is unknown to him till the
lations. ghjp ;s sai]ing with uniform velocity ; and he is still unin¬
formed as to the leeway. It is, however, of service to him
to know, for instance, that when the angle of the vanes and
yards is 56 degrees, the yard should be braced up to 37°
30', &c.
But here occurs a new difficulty. By the construction
of a square-rigged ship it is impossible to give the yards that
inclination to the keel which the calculation requires, ^ew
ships can have their yards braced up to 37° 30'; and yet
this is required in order to have an incidence of 56°, and
to hold a course 94° 25' from the apparent direction of the
wind, that is, with the wind apparently 4° 25' abaft the
beam. A good sailing ship in this position may acquire a
velocity even exceeding that of the wind. Let us suppose
it only one half of this velocity. We shall find that the
angle WC ic is in this case about 29°, and the ship is nearly
going 123° from the wind, with the wind almost perpendi¬
cular to the sail; therefore this utmost bracing up of the
sails is only giving them the position suited to a wind broad'
on the quarter. It is impossible, therefore, to comply with
the demand of the mathematician, and the seaman must be
contented to employ a less favourable disposition of his sails
in all cases where his course does not lie at least eleven
points from the wind.
Let us see whether this restriction, arising from necessi¬
ty, leaves any thing in our choice, and makes one course
preferable to another. We see that there are a prodigious
number of courses, and these the most usual and the most
important, which we must hold with one trim of the sails;
in particular, sailing with the wind on the beam, and all
cases of plying to windward, must be performed with this
unfavourable trim of the sails. We are certain that the
smaller we make the angle of incidence, real or apparent,
the smaller will be the velocity of the ship; but it may
happen that we shall gain more to windward, or get sooner
away from a lee-coast, or any object of danger, by sailing
slowly on one course than by sailing quickly on another.
We have seen that while the trim of the sails remains
the same, the leeway and the angle of the yard and course
remains the same, and that the velocity of the ship is as
the sine of the angle of real incidence, that is, as the sine
of the angle of the sail and the real direction of the wind.
Let the ship AB (fig. 8.) hold the course CF, with the
wind blowing in the direction WC, and having her yards
DCD braced up to the smallest angle BCD which the rig¬
ging can admit. Let CF be to CE as the velocity of the
ship to the velocity of the wind ; join FE and draw C w
parallel to EF; it is evident that FE is the relative motion
of the wind, and CD
is the relative inci¬
dence on the sail.
Draw FO parallel
to the yard DC, and
describe a circle
through the points
COF; then we say
that if the ship, with
the same wind and '
the same trim of the
same drawing sails,
be made to sail on
any other course Cf,
her velocity along
CF is to the velocity
along C/as CF is to
Cf; or, in other words,
the ship will employ
the same time in go¬
ing from C to any
point of the cireumi’erence CFO.
Join fO. Then, because the angles CFO, CfO are on
the same cord CO, they are equal, and fO is parallel to
dCd, the new position of the yard corresponding to the
new position of the keel ab, making the angle «/C5=DCB.
Also, by the nature of the circle, the line CF is to Cf as
the sine of the angle CFO to the sine of the angle COf,
that is (on account of the parallels CD, OF and Cd, Of),
as the sine of WCD to the sine of WC<i. But when the
trim of the sails remains the same, the velocity of the ship
is as the sine of the angle of the sail with the direction of
the wind; therefore CF is to Cf as the velocity on CF to
that on C/J and the proposition is demonstrated.
Let it now be required to determine the best course for To deter-
avoiding a rock It lying in the direction CR, or for with- mine the
drawing as fast as possible from a line of coast PQ. Drawbest course
CM through R, or parallel to PQ, and let m be the middle |ar
of the arch CmM. It is plain that m is the most remote 1"SH Ic<
1 There are few of the modern men-of-war which cannot have their yards braced up to 27°, instead of 37° 30'- We may assume that
most ships will admit of their yards being braced up to 30°; so that the angle of incidence would be 49° 06', and the course 79° 06'.
VOL. XX y
42
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- from CM of any point of the arch C mM, and therefore the
ship. ship will recede farther from the coast PQ. in any given
time, by holding the course C in than by any other course.
This course is easily determined; for the arch CmM
—360® (arch CO + arch OM), and the arch CO is the
measure of twice the angle CFO, or twice the angle DCB,
or twice b±x, and the arch OM measures twice the an-
gle ECM. ' ^
Tims, suppose the sharpest possible trim of the sails to
be 35°, and the observed angle ECM to be 70°; then
CO + OM is 70° 4-140° or 210°. This being taken from
360°, leaves 150°, of which the half M m is 75°, and the
angle MCm is 37° 30'. This added to ECM makes ECm
170° 30', leaving WCm=72° 30', and the ship must hold
a course making an angle of 72° 30'with the real direction
of the wind, and WCD will be 37° SO'.
This supposes no leeway. But if we know that under all
the sail which the ship can carry with safety and advantage
she makes 5 degrees of leeway, the angle DCm of the sail
and course, or b+x, is 40°. Then CO -j- OM=220°, which
being taken from 360°, leaves 140°, of which the halt is
70°, =Mm, and the angle MCm—35°, and ECm_ 1J350, and
WCm=75°, and the ship must lie with her head 70° from
the wind, making 5 degrees oi leeway, and the angle WC
is 35°.
The general rule for the position of the ship is, that the
line on shipboard ivhich bisects the angle b + x may also
bisect the angle WCM, or make the angle between the
course and the line, from which we wish to withdraw, equal
to the angle between the sail and the real direction of the
wind. . .
Corollaries- It is plain that this problem Includes that of plymg to
windward. We have only to suppose ECM to be (J0 ,
then, taking our example in the same ship, with the same
trim and the same leeway, we have 5 -f-a;=40o. T his taken
from 90° leaves 50°, and WCw=90—25=6o, and the ship s
head must lie 60° from the wind, and the yard must be 25°
from it. ■ , .....
It must be observed here, that it is not always eligible
to select the course which will remove the ship fastest from
the given line CM; it may be more prudent to remove from
it more securely though more slowly. In such cases the
procedure is very simple, viz., to shape the course as near
the wind as is possible.
The reader will also easily see that the propriety of these
practices is confined to those courses only where the prac¬
ticable trim of the sails is not sufficiently sharp. Whenever
the course lies so far from the wind that it is possible to
make the tangent of the apparent angle of the wind and sail
The adjust-double the tangent of the sail and course, it should be done,
ment of the These are the chief practical consequences which can be
sails sup- deduced from the theory. But we should consider how far
posed in the adjustment of the sails and course can be performed,
theory im- j here occur difficulties so great as to make it almost
practica e jjyjpj.ac6cable. We have always supposed the position of
the surface of the sail to be distinctly observable and mea¬
surable ; but this can be hardly affirmed even with respect
to a sail stretched on a yard. Here we supposed the sur¬
face of the sail to have the same inclination to the keel that
the yard has. This is by no means the case; the sail as¬
sumes a concave form, of which it is almost impossible to
assign the direction of the mean impulse. We believe that
this°is always considerably to leeward of a perpendicular to
the yard, lying between Cl and CE, (fig. 6). I his is of
some advantage, being equivalent to a sharper trim. We
cannot affirm this, however, with any confidence, because
it renders the impulse on the weather-leech of the sail so
exceedingly feeble as hardly to have any effect. In sailing
close to the wind, the ship is kept so near that the weather-
leech of the sail is almost ready to receive the wind edge¬
wise, and to flutter or shiver. The most effective or draw¬
ing sails with a side-wind, especially when plying to wind- Seaman
ward, are the staysails. We believe that it is impossible to
say, with anything approaching to precision, what is the
position of the general surface of a staysail, or to calculate
the intensity and direction of the general impulse; and we
affirm with confidence that no man can pronounce on these
points with any exactness. If we can guess within a third
or a fourth part of the truth, it is all we can pretend to;
and after all, it is but a guess. Add to this, the sails com-
ing in the way of each other, and either becalming them
or sendino- the wind upon them in a direction widely differ¬
ent from that of its free motion. All these points we think
beyond our power of calculation, and therefore that it is in
vain to give the seaman mathematical rules, or even tables
of adjustment ready calculated ; since he can neither pro¬
duce that medium position of his sails that is required, nor
tell what is the position which he employs.
This is one of the principal reasons why so little advan¬
tage has been derived from the very ingenious and promis¬
ing disquisitions of Bouguer and other mathematicians, and
has made us omit the actual solution of the chief problems,
contenting ourselves with pointing out the process to such
readers as have a relish for these analytical operations.
But there is another principal reason for the small pro- The theoni
otcss which has been made in the theory of seamanship, itself erro
This is the error of the theory itself, which supposes theneous,
impulsions of a fluid to be in the duplicate ratio of the sine
of incidence. The most careful comparison winch has been
made between the results of this theory and matter of fact,
is to be seen in the experiments made by the members of
the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, mentioned in the
article Resistance of Feuids. * We subjoin another ab¬
stract of them in the following table; where column 1st gives
the angle of incidence; column 2d gives the impulsions really
observed; column 3d the impulses, had they followed the du¬
plicate ratio of the sines ; and column 4th the impulses, if
they were in the simple ratio of the sines.
Angle of
incid.
90
84
78
72
66
60
54
48
42
36
30
24
18
12
6
Impulsion
observed.
1000
989
958
908
845
771
693
615
543
480
440
424
414
406
400
Impulse as
sine.4
1000
989
957
905
835
750
655
552
448
346
250
165
96
43
11
Impulse as
sine.
1000
995
978
951
914
866
809
743
669
587
500
407
309
208
105
Here we see an enormous difference in the great obliqui¬
ties. When the angle of incidence is only six degrees, the
observed impulse is forty times greater than the theoreti¬
cal impulse ; at 12° it is ten times greater ; at 18° it is more
than four times greater; and at 24° it is almost three times
greater
No wonder then that the deductions from this theory are and tfie de
so useless and so unlike what we familiarly observe. Weductions
took notice of this when we were considering tbe leeway of from k use
a rectangular box, and thus saw a reason for admitting an ess*
incomparably smaller leeway than what would result from
the laborious computations necessary by the theory. This
error in theory has as great an influence on the impulsions
of air when acting obliquely on a sad ; and the experiments
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- of Mr. Robins and of the Chevalier Borda, on the oblique
sl)iP impulsions of air, are perfectly conformable (as far as they
go) to those of tbe academicians on water. The oblique
impulsions of the wind are therefore much more efficacious
for pressing the ship in the direction of her course than the
theory allows us to suppose ; and the progress of a ship ply¬
ing to windward is much greater, both because the oblique
impulses of the wind are more effective, and because the
leeway is much smaller, than we suppose. Were not this
the case, it would be impossible for a square-rigged ship to
get to windward. The impulse on her sails, when close
hauled, would be so trifling, that she would not have a third
part of the velocity which we see her acquire: and this
trifling velocity would be wasted in leeway; for we have
seen that the diminution of the oblique impulses of the
water is accompanied by an increase of leeway. But we
see that in the great obliquities the impulsions continue to
be very considerable, and that even an incidence of six de¬
grees gives an impulse as great as the theory allows to an
incidence of 40°. We may therefore, on all occasions, keep
the yards more square ; and the loss which we sustain by
the diminution of the very oblique impulse will be more
than compensated by its more favourable direction with re¬
spect to the ship’s keel. Let us take an example of this.
Suppose the wind about two points before the beam, mak¬
ing an angle of 68° with the keel. The theory assigns 43°
for the inclination of the wind to the sail, and 15° for the
trim of the sail. The perpendicular impulse being suppos¬
ed 1000, the theoretical impulse for 45° is 465. This re¬
duced in the proportion of radius to the sine of 25°, gives
the impulse in the direction of the course only 197.
But if we ease off the lee-braces till the yard makes an
angle of 50° with the keel, and allows the wind an inci¬
dence of no more than 18°, we have the experimented im¬
pulse 414, which, when reduced in the proportion of radius
to the sine of 50°, gives an effective impulse 317. In like
manner, the trim 56°, with the incidence 12°, gives an ef¬
fective impulse 337; and the trim of 62°, with the incidence
only 6°, gives 353.
Hence it would at first sight appear that the angle DCB
of 62° and WCD of 6° would be better for holding a course
within six points of the wind than any more oblique posi¬
tion of the sails; but it will only give a greater initial im¬
pulse. As the ship accelerates, the wind apparently comes
ahead, and we must continue to brace up as a ship freshens
her way. It is not unusual for her to acquire half or two-
thirds of the velocity of the wind ; in which case the wind
comes apparently ahead more than two points, when the
yards must be braced up to 35°, and thus allows an impulse
no greater than about 7°. Now, this is very frequently ob¬
served in good ships, which, in a brisk gale and smooth
water, will go five or six knots close-hauled, the ship’s
head six points from the wind, and the sails no more than
just full, but ready to shiver by the smallest luff. All this
would be impossible by the usual theory; and in this re¬
spect these experiments of the French Academy give a fine
illustration of the seaman’s practice. They account for
what we should otherwise be much puzzled to explain;
and the great progress which is made by a ship close-haul¬
ed being perfectly agreeable to what we should expect
from the law of oblique impulsions, deducible from these
so often-mentioned experiments, while it is totally incom¬
patible with the common theory, should make us abandon
the theory without hesitation, and strenuously set about the
establishment of another, founded entirely on experiments.
Exprri- For this purpose the experiments should be made on the
merits pro- oblique impulsions of air, on as great a scale as possible,
per for es- and in as great a variety of circumstances, so as to furnish
another^ a se”es impulsions for all angles of obliquity. We have
but four or five experiments on this subject, viz., two by
Mr. Robins, and two or three by the Chevalier Borda.
43
Having thus gotten a series of impulsions, it is very prac- Seaman-
ticable to raise on this foundation a practical institute, and slllP-
to give a table of the velocities of a ship suited to every
angle of inclination and of trim ; for nothing is more cer¬
tain than the resolution of the impulse perpendicular to the
sail into aforce in the directionof the keel, and a lateral force.
We are also disposed to think that experiments might be
made on a model very nicely rigged with sails, and trimmed
in every different degree, which would point out the mean
direction of the impulse on the sails, and the comparative
force of these impulses on different directions of the wind.
The method would be very similar to that for examining
the impulse of the water on the hull. If this can also be as¬
certained experimentally, the intelligent reader will easily
see that the whole motion of a ship under sail may be de¬
termined for every case. Tables may then be constructed
by calculation, or by graphical operations, which will give
the velocities of a ship in every different course, and cor¬
responding to every trim of sail. And let it be here ob¬
served, that the trim of the sail is not to be estimated in
degrees of inclination of the yards; because, as we have al¬
ready remarked, we cannot observe nor adjust the lateen
sails in this way. But, in making the experiments for as¬
certaining the impulse, the exact position of the tacks and
sheets of the sails are to be noted ; and this combination of
adjustments is to pass by the name of a certain trim. Thus
that trim of all the sails may be called 40, whose direction
is experimentally found equivalent to a flat surface trimmed
to the obliquity 40°.
Having done this, we may construct a figure for each
trim similar to fig. 8, where, instead of a circle, we shall
have a curve COM'F', whose chords CF', c/7, &c. are
proportional to the velocities in these courses ; and by
means of this curve we can find the point m', which is most
remote from any line CM from which we wish to with¬
draw : and thus we may solve all the principal problems of
the art.
We hope that it will not be accounted presumption in us
to expect more improvement from a theory founded on ju¬
dicious experiments only, than from a theory of the im¬
pulse of fluids, which is found so inconsistent with obser¬
vation, and of whose fallacy all its authors, from Newton
to D’Alembert, entertained strong suspicions. Again, weRecom-
beg leave to recommend this view of the subject to the at- mended to
tention of the Society for the Improvement of Naval Ar-^ t^Cj^
chitecture. Should these patriotic gentlemen entertain a10 "
favourable opinion of the plan, and honour us with their^f ]\iavai
correspondence, we will cheerfully impart to them our no-Architec-
tions of the way in which both these trains of experiments ture.
may be prosecuted with success, and results obtained in
which we may confide ; and we content ourselves at pre¬
sent with offering to the public these hints, which are not
the speculations of a man of mere science, but of one who, •
with a competent knowledge of the laws of mechanical na¬
ture, has the experience of several years service in the royal
navy, where the art of working ships was a favourite ob¬
ject of his scientific attention.
With those observations we conclude our discussion of the
first part of the seaman’s task, and now proceed to consider
the means that are employed to prevent or to produce any
deviations from the uniform rectilineal course which has
been selected.
Here the ship is be considered as a body in free space,
convertible round her centre of inertia. For whatever may Means em-
be the point round which she turns, this motion may al-Pl°ye(l t0
ways be considered as compounded of a rotation round an ^
axis passing through her centre of gravity or inertia. She is yjatjonii
impelled by the wind and by the water acting on many sur- from a
faces differently inclined to each other, and the impulse on course,
each is perpendicular to the surface. In order therefore
that she may continue steadily in one course, it is not only
44
SEAMANSHIP.
Impulses
on a ship
ent from
those on
her when
sailing ob¬
liquely.
Seaman- necessary that the impelling forces, estimated in their mean
ship direction, be equal and opposite to the resisting forces esti¬
mated in their mean direction ; but also that these two di¬
rections may pass through one point, otherwise she will be
affected as a log of wood is when pushed in opposite direc¬
tions by two forces, which are equal indeed, but are applied
to different parts of the log. A ship must be considered as
a lever, acted on in different parts by forces in different di¬
rections, and the whole balancing each other round that
point or axis where the equivalent of all the resisting for¬
ces passes. This may be considered as a point supported
by this resisting force and as a sort of fulcrum: therefore,
in order that the ship may maintain her position, the ener¬
gies or momenta of all the impelling forces round this point
must balance each other.
When a ship sails right afore the wind, with her yards
square, it is evident that the impulses on each side ot the
keel are equal, as also their mechanical momenta round any
sailing right axis passing perpendicularly through the keel. So are the
before the actions of the water on her hows. But when she sails on
wind differ- an 0^pque course? with her yards braced on either side, she
sustains a pressure in the direction Cl (fig. 5,) perpendicu¬
lar to the sail. This, by giving her a lateral pressure LI,
as well as a pressure CL ahead, causes her to make leeway,
and to move in a line C6 inclined to CB. By this means
the balance of action on the two bows is destroyed; the
general impulse on the lee-bow is increased ; and that
on the weather-bow is diminished. The combined impulse
is therefore no longer in the direction BC, but (in the state
of uniform motion) in the direction IC.
Suppose that in an instant the whole sails are annihilated
and the impelling pressure Cl, which precisely balanced the
resisting pressure on her bows, removed. The ship tends,
by her inertia, to proceed in the direction C b. This ten¬
dency produces a continuation of the resistance in the op¬
posite direction IC, which is not directly opposed to the
tendency of the ship in the direction C6; therefore the
ship’s head would immediately come up to the wind. The
experienced seaman will recollect something like this when
the sails are suddenly lowered when coming to anchor. It
does not happen solely from the obliquity of the action on
the bows: It would happen to the parallelepiped of fig. 2,
which was sustaining a lateral impulsion B*sin.2*, and a
direct impulsion A’cos.2a\ These are continued fora mo¬
ment after the annihilation of the sail: but being no longer
opposed by a force in the direction CD, but by a force in
the direction C6, the force B’sin.2# must prevail, and the
body is not only retarded in its motion, but its head turns
towards the wind. But this effect of the leeway is greatly
increased by the curved form of the ship’s bows. This oc¬
casions the centre of effort of all the impulsions of the water
on the leeside of the ship to be very far forward, and this
so much the more remarkably as she is sharper afore. It is
in general not much abaft the foremast. Now' the centre
of the ship’s tendency to continue her motion is the same
with her centre of gravity, and this is generally but a little
before the mainmast. She is therefore in the same condi¬
tion nearly as if she were pushed at the mainmast in a di¬
rection parallel to C6, and at the foremast by a force par¬
allel to IC. The evident consequence of this is a tenden¬
cy to come up to the wind. This is independent of all si¬
tuation of the sails, provided only that they have been
trimmed obliquely.
This tendency of the ship’s head to windward is called
griping in the seaman’s language, and is greatest in ships
which are sharp forw ard, as we have said already. This
circumstance is easily understood. Whatever is the direc¬
tion of the ship’s motion, the absolute impulse on that part
of the bow immediately contiguous to B is perpendicular to
that very part of the surface. The more acute, therefore,
that the angle of the bow is, the more will the impulse on
Griping.
and the
sails.
that part be perpendicular to the keel, and the greater will Seaman-
be its energy to turn the head to windward. . .
Thus we are enabled to understand or to see the proprie-
ty of the disposition of the sails of a ship. We see her
crowded with sails forward, and even many sails extended i)0sition o"f
far before her bow, such as the spritsail, the bowsprit top- the saqs of
sail, the fore-topmast staysail, the jib, and flying jib. Thea ship,
sails abaft are comparatively smaller. The sails on the
mizenmast are much smaller than those on the foremast.
All the staysails hoisted on the mainmast may be consider¬
ed as headsails, because their centres of effort are consider¬
ably before the centre of gravity of the ship : and notwith¬
standing this disposition, it generally requires a small action
of the rudder to counteract the windward tendency of the
lee-bow. This is considered as a good quality when mode¬
rate ; because it enables the seaman to throw the sails
aback, and stop the ship’s way in a moment, if she be in
danger from any thing a-head; and the ship which does
not carry a little of a weather helm, is always a dull sailer.
In order to judge somewhat more accurately of the ac- Action of
tion of the water and sails, suppose the ship AB (fig. 9,) d'e water
to have its sails on the mizen¬
mast D, the mainmast E, and Fig. 9.
the foremast F, braced up or
trimmed alike, and the three
lines D i, Ee, Ff, perpendicu¬
lar to the sails, are in the pro¬
portion of the impulses on the
sails. The ship is driven
a-head and to leeward, and ^ ^
moves in the path aCb. This
path is so inclined to the line of the keel, that the medium
direction of the resistance of the water is parallel to the dL
rection of the impulse. A line Cl may be drawn parallel
to the lines F) i, E e, ¥f and equal to their sum: and it may
be drawn from such a point C, that the actions on all the
parts of the hull between C and B may balance the mo¬
menta of all the actions on the hull between C and A. This
point may justly be called the centre of effort, ov the centre Centre of
of resistance. We cannot determine this point for want of e^ort"
a proper theory of the resistance of fluids. Nay, although
experiments like those of the Parisian Academy should give
us the most perfect knowledge of the intensity of the ob¬
lique impulses on a square foot, we should hardly be bene-
fitted by them : for the action of the water on a square
foot of the hull at p, for instance, is so modified by the in¬
tervention of the stream of water which has struck the hull
about B, and glided along the bow B op, that the pressure
on p is totally different from what it would have been were
it a square foot or surface detached from the rest, and pre¬
sented in the same position to the water moving in the di¬
rection bC. For it is found, that the resistances given to
planes joined so as to form a wedge, or to curved surfaces,
are widely different from the accumulated resistances, cal¬
culated for their separate parts, agreeably to the experi¬
ments of the academy on single surfaces. We therefore do
not attempt to ascertain the point C by theory ; but it may
be accurately determined by the experiments which we
have so strongly recommended; and we offer this as an ad¬
ditional inducement for prosecuting them.
Draw through. C a line perpendicular to Cl, that is, par- To be de-
allel to the sails; and let the lines of impulse of the three term'med
sails cut in the points i, k, and m. This line i m may be by experi-
considered as a lever, moveable round C, and acted on atments-
the points i, k, and m, by three forces. The rotatory mo¬
mentum of the sails on the mizenmast is D i X « C ; that of
the sails on the mainmast is E e X ^ C; and the momen¬
tum of the sails on the foremast is Ff x m C. The two first
tend to press forward the arm C i, and then to turn the ship’s
head tow ards the wind. The action of the sails on the fore¬
mast tends to pull the arm C m forward, and produce a
if
)(
it'
ei
erf’
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- contrary rotation. If the ship under these three sails keeps
ship- steadily in her course, without the aid of the rudder, we
x**y~m**' must have Dz'x^C + Eex^CrrF/xmC. This is
bnum^pre- Very Possib,e’ and is often seen in a ship under her mizen-
served by toPsai1’ main topsail, and fore-topsail, all parallel to one
the poi- another, and their surfaces duly proportioned by reefing,
tion of the If more sails are set, we must always have a similar equili-
sails. brium. A certain number of them will have their efforts di¬
rected from the larboard arm of the lever m lying to leeward of
Cl, and a certain number will have their efforts directed from
the starboard arm lying to windward of CL The sum of the
products of each of the first set, by their distances from C, must
be equal to the sum of the similar products of the other set.
As this equilibrium is all that is necessary for preserving the
ship’s position, and the cessation of it is immediately follow¬
ed by a conversion; and as these states of the ship may be
had by means of the three square sails only, when their sur¬
faces are properly proportioned, it is plain that every move¬
ment may be executed and explained by their means. This
will greatly simplify our future discussions. We shall there¬
fore suppose in future that there are only the three topsails
set, and that their surfaces are so adjusted by reefing, that
their actions exactly balance each other round that point C
of the middle line AB, where the actions of the water on
the different parts of her bottom in like manner balance each
other. This point C may be differently situated in the ship
according to the leeway she makes, depending on the trim
of the sails ; and therefore although a certain proportion of
the three surfaces may balance each other in one state of
leeway, they may happen not to do so in another state. But
the equilibrium is evidently attainable in every case, and we
therefore shall always suppose it.
Conse- ^ must now be observed, that when this equilibrium is
quence of destroyed, as, for example, by turning the edge of the
destroying mizen-topsail to the wind, which the seamen call shivering
the mizen-topsail, and which may be considered as equiva¬
lent to the removing the mizen-topsail entirely, it does not
follow that the ship will turn round the point C, this point
remaining fixed. The ship must be considered as a free
body, still acted on by a number of forces, which no longer
balance each other; and she must therefore begin to turn
round a spontaneous axis of conversion, which must be de¬
termined in the way set forth in the article Rotation. It
is of importance to point out in general where this axis is
situated. Therefore let G
(fig. 10.) be the centre of
gravity of the ship. Draw
the line qG v parallel to the
yards, cutting D in <7, E e
in r, Cl in t, and F/’ in v.
While the three sails are set,
the line q v may be consider¬
ed as a lever acted on by
four forces, viz. T)d, impell¬
ing the lever forward per¬
pendicularly in the point q;
Ee, impelling it forward in the point r; F/ impelling it for¬
ward in the point v; and Cl, impelling it backward in the
point t. These forces balance each other both in respect
of progressive motion and of rotatory energy: for Cl was
taken equal to the sum of Del, Ee, and Ff; so that no ac¬
celeration or retardation of the ship’s progress in her course
is supposed.
But by taking away the mizen-topsail, both the equili¬
briums are destroyed. A part Dd of the accelerating force
is taken away ; and yet the ship, by her inertia or inherent
force, tends, for a moment, to proceed in the direction Cp
with her former velocity; and by this tendency exerts for
a moment the same pressure Cl on the water, and sustains
the same resistance IC. She must therefore be retarded in
her motion by the excess of the resistance IC over the re-
45
maining impelling forces Ee and F/ that is, by a force equal Sfamaft-
and opposite to Dd. She will therefore be retarded in the ship-
same manner as if the mizen-topsail were still set, and av'^“Y'"w
force equal and opposite to its action were applied to G, the
cen tre of gravity, and she would soon acquire a smaller ve¬
locity, which would again bring all things into equilibrium ;
and she would stand on in the same course, without chang- .
ing either her leeway or the position of her head.
But the equilibrium of the lever is also destroyed. It is
now acted on by three forces only, viz. Ee and Ff, impelling
it forward in the points r and v, and IC impelling it back^
ward in the point t. Make r ?>: r 0= Ee + Ff: Ff, and make
op parallel to Cl and equal to Ee+F/ Then we know,
from the common principles of mechanics, that the force 0p
acting at 0 will have the same momentum or energy to turn
the lever round any point whatever as the two forces Ee
and Ff applied at r and v; and now the lever is acted on by
two forces, viz. IC, urging it backwards in the point t, and
op urging it forwards in the point 0. It must therefore
turn round like a floating log, which gets two blows in op¬
posite directions. If we now make IC—op: op=.to: lx,
or 1C—op: lC=t o: ox, and apply to the point x a force
equal to IC—0 p in the direction IC ; we know by the com¬
mon principles of mechanics, that this force IC—op will
produce the same rotation round any point as the two forces
IC and 0p applied in their proper directions at t and 0. Let
us examine the situation of the point x.
The force IC—op is evidently =Drf, and op is=Ee-|-
Ff. Thereforeot:tx — Dd:op. But because, when all
the sails were filled, there was an equilibrium round C, and
therefore round t, and because the force op acting at o is
equivalent to E e and F f acting at r and v, we must still
have the equilibrium ; and therefore we have the momentum
D dX qt — opxo t. Therefore ot:tq=Dd: op, and* <7
=tx. Therefore the point x is the same with the point q.
Therefore, when we shiver the mizen-topsail, the rotation By shiver-
of the ship is the same as if the ship were at rest, and aing the
force equal and opposite to the action of the mizen-topsail mi.^n-top-
were applied at q or at D, or any point in the line Dq. sal'
This might have been shown in another and shorter way.
Suppose all sails filled, the ship is in equilibrio. This will
be disturbed by applying to D a force opposite to D d; and
if the force be also equal to Drf, it is evident that these two
forces destroy each other, and that this application of the
force dD is equivalent to the taking away of the mizen-top¬
sail. But we chose to give the whole mechanical investi¬
gation ; because it gave us an opportunity of pointing out
to the reader, in a case of very easy comprehension, the
precise manner in which the ship is acted on by the differ¬
ent sails and by the water, and what share each of them
has in the motion ultimately produced. We shall not re¬
peat this manner of procedure in other cases, because a little
reflection on the part of the reader will now enable him to
trace the modus operandi through all its steps.
We now see that, in respect both of progressive motion
and of conversion, the ship is affected by shivering the sail
D, in the same manner as if a force equal and opposite to
Dd were applied at D, or at any point in the line Dd. We
must now have recourse to the principles established under
the article Rotation.
Let p represent a particle of matter, r its radius vec¬
tor, or its distance pG from an axis passing through the
centre of gravity G, and let M represent the whole quanti¬
ty of matter of the ship. Then its momentum of inertia
P"?2, (see Rotation, No. 18.) The ship, impelled
in the point D by a force in the direction rfD, will begin
to turn round a spontaneous vertical axis, passing through
a point S of the line q G, which is drawn through the centre
of gravity G, perpendicular to the direction dD of the ex-
Fig. 10.
46
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- ternal force, and the distance GS of this axis from the centre
ship.
of gravity is — f    (see Rotation, No. 96.), and it is
5 * M*G<7V
Fig. 11.
taken on the opposite side of G from q, that is, S and q are
on opposite sides of G. 171
Let us express the external force by the symbol F. It
. is equivalent to a certain number of pounds, being the pres¬
sure of the wind moving with the velocity V and inclination
a on the surface of the sail D ; and may therefore be com¬
puted either by the theoretical or experimental law ol ob¬
lique impulses. Having obtained this, we can ascertain the
angular velocity of the rotation and the absolute velocity of
any given point of the ship by means of the theorems es¬
tablished in the article Rotation.
Action of But before we proceed to this investigation, we shall con-
the rudder, sider the action of the rudder, which operates precisely in
the same manner. Let the ship AB (fig. 11), have hei
rudder in the position AD,
the helm being hard a-
starboard, while the ship
sailing on the starboard
tack, and making leeway,
keeps on the course a b.
The lee surface of the rud¬
der meets the water ob¬
liquely. The very foot of
the rudder meets it in the direction DE parallel to a 6. 1 he
parts farther up meet it with various obliquities, and with
various velocities, as it glides round the bottom of the ship
and falls Into the wake. It is absolutely impossible to cal¬
culate the accumulated impulse. We shall not be far mis¬
taken in the deflection of each contiguous filament, as it
quits the bottom and glides along the rudder; but we nei¬
ther know the velocity of these filaments, nor the deflection
and velocity of the filaments gliding without them. We
therefore imagine that all computations on this subject are
in vain. But it is enough for our purpose that we know
the direction of the absolute pressure which they exert on
its surface. It is in the direction Dd, perpendicular to that
surface. We also may be confident that this pressure is
very considerable, in proportion to the action of the water
on the ship’s bows, or of the wind on the sails ; and we may
suppose it to be nearly in the proportion of the square ot
the velocity of the ship in her course; but we cannot affirm
it to be accurately in that proportion, for reasons that will
readily occur to “one who considers the way in which the
water falls in behind the ship.
Greatest in It is observed, however, that a fine sailer always steers
aline sailer, well,and that all movements by means of the rudder aie pei-
formed with great rapidity when the velocity of the ship is
great. We shall see by and by, that the speed with which
the ship performs the angular movements is in the propor¬
tion of her progressive velocity: For we shall see that the
squares of the times of performing the evolution are as the
impulses inversely, which are as the squares of the veloci¬
ties. There is perhaps no force which acts on a ship that
can be more accurately determined by experiment than this.
Let the ship ride in a. stream or tideway whose velocity is
accurately measured ; and let her ride from two moorings,
so that her bow may be a fixed point. Let a small tow line
be laid out from her stern or quarter at right angles to the
keel, and connected with some apparatus fitted up on shore
or on board another ship, by which the strain on it may be
accurately measured ; a person conversant with mechanics
Hew tn will see many ways in which this can be done. Perhaps
determine the following may be as good as any; let the end o t ic
it. tow-line be fixed to some point as high out of the water as
the point of the ship from which it is given out, and let this
be very hhdi. Let a block with a hook be on the rope, and
a considerable weight hung on this hook. Things being Seaman-
thus prepared, put down the helm to a certain angle, so as
to cause the ship to sheer off from the point to which the r
far end of the tow-line is attached. This will stretch the
rope, and raise the weight out of the water. Now heave
upon the rope, to bring the ship back again to her former
position, with her keel in the direction of the stream. When
this position is attained, note carefully the form of the rope,
that is, the angle which its two parts make with the horizon.
Call this angle a. Every person acquainted with these
subjects knows that the horizontal strain is equal to half the
weight multiplied by the cotangent of a, or that 2 is to the
cotangent of a as the weight to the horizontal strain. Now
it is this strain which balances and therefore measures the
action of the rudder, or Be in fig. 11. Therefore, to have
the absolute impulse Dd, we must increase Be in the pro¬
portion of radius to the secant of the angle b, which the
rudder makes with the keel. In a great ship sailing six
miles in an hour, the impulse on the rudder inclined 30° to
the keel is not less than 3000 pounds. The surface of the
rudder of such a ship contains near 80 square feet. It is not,
however, very necessary to know this absolute impulse Bd,
because it is its parts Be alone which measures the energy
of the rudder in producing a conversion. Such experi¬
ments, made with various positions of the rudder, will give
its energies corresponding to these positions, and will settle
that long disputed point, which is the best position for turn¬
ing a ship. On the hypothesis that the impulsions of fluids
are in the duplicate ratio of the sines of incidence, there can
be no doubt that it should make an angle of 54° 44' with
the keel. But the form of a large ship will not admit of
this, because a tiller of a length sufficient for managing the
rudder in sailing with great velocity has not room to deviate
above 30° from the direction of the keel -,1 and in this posi¬
tion of the rudder the mean obliquity of the filaments of w a¬
ter to its surface cannot exceed 40° or 45°. A greater angle
would not be of much service, for it is never for want of a
proper obliquity that the rudder fails of producing a con¬
version. f {G
A ship misses stays in rough weather for want ot a sutft- Why a si
cient progressive velocity, and because her bows are beat misses
off by the waves ; and there is seldom any difficulty in wear-stays,
ing the ship, if she has any progressive motion. It is, how¬
ever, always desirable to give the rudder as much influence
as possible. Its surface should be enlarged (especially be¬
low) as much as can be done consistently with its strength,
and with the power of the steersman to manage it; and it
should be put in the most favourable situation for the water
to get at it with great velocity ; and it should be placed as
far from the axis of the ship’s motion as possible, d hese
points are obtained by making the stern-post very upright,
as has alw ays been done in the French dockyards. I he
British ships have a much greater rake ; but our builders are
gradually adopting the French forms, experience having
taught us that their ships, when in our possession, are much
more obedient to the helm than our own.—In order to as¬
certain the motion produced by the action of the rudder,
draw' from the centre of gravity a line Gq perpendicular to
Dd, (Dd being drawn through the centre of effort of the
rudder). Then, as in the consideration of the action of the
sails, we may conceive the line qG as a lever connected wfith
the ship, and impelled by a force Bd acting perpendicularly
at q. The consequence of this will be, an incipient conver¬
sion of the ship about a vertical axis passing through some
point S in the line qG, lying on the other side of G from q;
1 jp. *.2 The acti
and we have, as in the former case, GS=
&c
of the n
der simil
to that 0
M*G?
Thus the action and effects of the sails and of the rudder^ gaijS)
are perfectly similar, and are to be considered in the same a„^ very
manner. We see that the action of the rudder, though of great.
1 liTmodern ships the improvements in the tillers will admit of the rudder’s being put over so as to make an angle of 543 44’ with the
keel—the angle of maximum advantage assigned to it by theory.
SEAMANSHIP.
47
Seaman- a small surface in comparison of the sails, must be very
ship. great: For the impulse of water is many hundred times
greater than that of the wind; and the arm qG of the lever,
by which it acts, is incomparably greater than that by which
any of the impulsions on the sails produces its effect; ac¬
cordingly the ship yields much more rapidly to its action
than she does to the lateral impulse of a sail.
Observe here, that if G were a fixed or supported axis,
it would be the same thing whether the absolute force Idd
of the rudder acts in the direction Y)d, or its transverse parts
De acts in the direction De, both would produce the same
rotation; but it is not so in a free body. The force Dd
both tends to retard the ship’s motion and to produce a ro¬
tation : It retards it as much as if the same force Dd had
been immediately applied to the centre. And thus the real
motion of the ship is compounded of a motion of the centre
in a direction parallel to Dd, and of a motion round the
centre. These two constitute the motion round S.
Employed As the effects of the action of the rudder are both more
as an exam- remarkable and somewhat more simple than those of the
pie of the sajis> we s]lap employ them as an example of the mechanism
motions of 0p motjons 0f conversion in general; and as we must
conveision. conjenj. ourselves, in a work like this, with what is very ge¬
neral, we shall simplify the investigation by attending only
to the motion of conversion. We can get an accurate no¬
tion of the whole motion, if wanted for any purpose, by com¬
bining the progressive or retrograde motion parallel to Dd
with the motion of rotation which we are about to deter¬
mine.
In this case, then, we observe, in the first place, that the
Angular
velocity.
angular velocity (see Rotation, No. 22.) is
Dh-qG ,
— g—5 and,
fpr
as was shewn in that article, this velocity Of rotation in¬
creases in the proportion of the time of the forces’ uniform
action, and the rotation would be uniformly accelerated if
the forces did really act uniformly. This, however, cannot
be the case, because, by the ship’s change of position and
change of progressive velocity, the direction and intensity
of the impelling force is continually changing. But if two
ships are performing similar evolutions, it is obvious that
the changes of force are similar in similar parts of the evo¬
lution. Therefore the consideration of the momentary evo¬
lution is sufficient for enabling us to compare the motions
of ships actuated by similar forces, which is all we have in
view at present. The velocity v, generated in any time t
by the continuance of an invariable momentary accelera¬
tion, (which is all that we mean by saying that it is pro¬
duced by the action of a constant accelerating force), is as
the acceleration and the time jointly. Now what we call
the angular velocity is nothing but this momentary accele¬
ration. Therefore the velocity v generated in the time t
F-oG
is =
jtr
The expression of the angular velocity is also the expres¬
sion of the velocity ?; of a point situated at the distance 1
from the axis G.
Let z be the space or arch of revolution described in
the time t by this point, whose distance from G is =1.
• • F • tfC1
Then z—vt— ———g- t t, and taking the fluent z —
F • qG
fpr*
fp
This arch measures the whole angle of rotation
accomplished in the time t. These are therefore as the
squares of the times from the beginning of the rotation.
Those evolutions are equal which are measured by equal
arches. Ihus two motions of 45 degrees each are equal.
Therefore because z is the same in both, the quantity
jr „ ,
j r is a constant quantity, and r is reciprocally pro-
F-'/G .
fp
F ’ qG r 2
portional to — 2 , or is proportional to Pr
JPr F • qG
, and ^ is pro¬
portional to -^L. That is to say, the times of the si-
V F • qG
Seaman¬
ship.
milar evolutions of two ships are as the square root of the
momentum of inertia directly, and as the square root of the
momentum of the rudder or sail inversely. This will enable
us to make the comparison easily. Let us suppose the ships
perfectly similar in form and rigging, and to differ only in
length L and /; fY>- II2 is to f pr* as L5 to P. For the
similar particles P and p contain quantities of matter which
are as the cubes of their lineal dimensions, that is, as L5 to
P. And because the particles are similarly situated, R2 is
to r2 as L2 to P. Therefore P • R* :p • r2=L5: P. Now F
is to/as L2 to /2. For the surfaces of the similar rudders
or sails are as the squares of their lineal dimensions, that is,
as L2 to P. And, lastly, Gq is to gq as L to /, and there¬
fore F • Gq :f-gq=.L3 : P, Therefore we have T2 : f—
fV-R\fp-r2
F * G<? f-gq
V P_
IA: 7^
=L2 : l2, and T : #=L : l.
Therefore the times of performing similar evolutions with Times of
similar ships are proportional to the lengths of the ships si'nilar evo-
when both are sailing equally fast; and since the evolutions 1“ti?nsvvith
are similar, and the forces vary similarly in theif different s!|Tlilar
parts, what is here demonstrated of the smallest incipient shlps‘
evolutions is true of the whole. They therefore not only
describe equal angles of revolution, but also similar curves.
A small ship, therefore, works in less time and in less
room than a great ship, and this in the proportion of its
length. This is a great advantage in all cases, particularly
in wearing, in order to sail on the other tack close-hauled.
In this case she will always be to windward and a-head of
the large ship, when both are got on the other tack. It would
appear at first sight that the large ship will have the advan¬
tage in tacking. Indeed the large ship is farther to wind¬
ward when again trimmed on the other tack than the small
ship when she is just trimmed on the other tack. But this
happened before the large ship had completed her evolution,
and the small ship, in the mean time, has been going for¬
ward on the other tack, and going to windward. She will
therefore be before the large ship’s beam, and perhaps as far
to windward.
We have seen that the velocity of rotation is proportional,
cateris paribus, to F X Gq. F means the absolute impulse
on the rudder or sail, imd is always perpendicular to its sur¬
face. This absolute impulse on a sail depends on the obli¬
quity of the wind to its surface. The usual theory says, that
it is as the square of the sine of incidence ; but we find this
not true. We must content ourselves with expressing it by
some as yet unknown function <p of the angle of incidence
a, and call it <pa; and if S be the surface of the sail, and V
the velocity of the wind, the absolute impulse is rcV2S X <pa.
This acts (in the case of the mizen-topsail, fig. 10.) by the
lever qG, which is equal to DG X cos. DGq, and DG? is
equal to the angle of the yard and keel; which angle we for¬
merly called b. 1 herefore its energy in producing a rota¬
tion is wV2S X <pa x GG X cos. b. Leaving out the constant
quantities n, V2, S, and DG, its energy is proportional to
<pa X cos. b. In order, therefore, that any sail may have the
greatest power to produce a rotation round G, it must be so
trimmed that (pa x cos. b may be a maximum. Thus, if we
would trim the sails on the foremast, so as to pay the ship
off from the wind right a-head with the greatest effect, and
48
SEAMANSHIP.
A nice
point of
seaman¬
ship.
Seaman- if we take the experiments of the French academicians as
ship. proper measures of the oblique impulses of the wind on the
sail, we will brace up the yard to an angle of 48 degrees
with the keel. The impulse corresponding to 48 is 615, and
the cosine of 48° is 669- These give a product of 411 435.
If we brace the sail to 54-44, the angle assigned by the
theory, the effective impulse is 405 274. If we make the
angle 45°, the impulse is 408 774. It appears then that
48° is preferable to either of the others. But the difference
is inconsiderable, as in all cases of maximum a small devia¬
tion from the best position is not very detrimental. But the
difference between the theory and this experimental measure
will be very great when the impulses of the wind are of ne¬
cessity very oblique. Thus, in tacking ship, as soon as the
headsails are taken aback, they serve to aid the evolution,
as is evident: But if we were now to adopt the maxim in¬
culcated by the theory, we should immediately round in the
weather-braces, so as to increase the impulse on the sail, be¬
cause it is then very small; and although we by this means
make the yard more square, and therefore diminish the ro¬
tatory momentum of this impulse, yet the impulse is more
increased (by the theory) than its vertical lever is diminish¬
ed Let us examine this a little more particularly, because
it is reckoned one of the nicest points of seamanship to aid
the ship’s coming round by means of the headsails ; and ex¬
perienced seamen differ in their practice in this manoeuvre.
Suppose the yard braced up to 40 °j which is as much as can
be usually done, and that the sail shivers, (the bowlines are
usually let go when the helm is put down), the sail imme¬
diately takes aback, and in a moment we may suppose an
incidence of 6 degrees. The impulse corresponding to this
is 400, (by experiment)^ and the cosine of 40° is 766- This
gives 306 400 for the effective impulse. To proceed ac¬
cording to the theory, we should brace the yard to 70°, which
would give the wind (now 34° on the weather-bow) an inci¬
dence of nearly 36°, and the sail an inclination of 20° to the
intended motion, which is perpendicular to the keel. For
the tangent of 20° is about ^ of the tangent of 36°. Let us
now see what effective impulse the experimental law of ob¬
lique impulsions will give for this adjustment of the sails.
The experimental impulse for 36° is 480 ; the cosine of 70°
is 342; the product is 164 160, not much exceeding the
half of the former. Nay, the impulse for 36°, calculated by
the theory, would have been only 346, and the effective im¬
pulse only 118 332. And it must be farther observed, that
this theoretical adjustment would tend greatly to check the
evolution, and in most cases would entirely mar it, by check¬
ing the ship’s motion a-head, and consequently the action of
the rudder, which is the most powerful agent in the evolu¬
tion ; for here would be a great impulse directed almost
astern.
We were justifiable, therefore, in saying, in the beginning
of this article, that a seaman would frequently find himself
baffled if he were to work a ship according to the rules de¬
duced from M. Bouguer’s work ; and we see by this instance
of what importance it is to have the oblique impulsions of
fluids ascertained experimentally. The practice of the most
experienced seamen is directly the opposite to this theore¬
tical maxim, and its success greatly confirms the usefulness
of these experiments of the academicians so often praised
by us.
We return again to the general consideration of the ro¬
tatory motion.
We found the velocity v= — . .
Jpr1
It is
therefore proportional, cceteris paribus, to qG. We have
seen in what manner qG depends on the position and situa¬
tion of the sail or rudder when the point G is fixed. But
it also depends on the position of G. With respect to the
action of the rudder, it is evident that it is so much the
more powerful, as it is more remote from G. The distance
from G may be increased either by moving the rudder far- Seaman,
ther aft or G farther forward. And as it is of the utmost shlP-
importance that a ship answer her helm with the greatest
promptitude, those circumstances have been attended to
which distinguished fine steering ships from such as had not
this quality ; and it is in a great measure to be ascribed to
this, that, in the gradual improvement of naval architecture,
the centre of gravity has been placed far forward. Perhaps
the notion of a centre of gravity did not come into the
thoughts of the rude builders in early times; but they ob¬
served that those boats and ships steered best which had
their extreme breadth before the middle point, and conse¬
quently the bows not so acute as the stern. This is so con¬
trary to what one would expect, that it attracted attention
more forcibly; and, being somewhat mysterious, it might
prompt to attempts of improvement, by exceeding in this
singular maxim. We believe that it has been carried as far
as fs compatible with other essential requisites in a ship.
We believe that this is the chief circumstance in what is Of impor
called the trim of a ship; and it were greatly to be wished ance to c
that the best place for the centre of gravity could be accu-
rately ascertained. A practice prevails, which is the oppo- for
site of what we are now advancing. It is usual to load a ship cemre o{
so that her keel is not horizontal, but lower abaft. This isgravity
found to improve her steerage. The reason of this is ob¬
vious. It increases the acting surface of the rudder, and
allows the water to come at it with much greater freedom
and regularity; and it generally diminishes the griping of
the ship forward, by removing a part of the bows out of the
water. It has not always this effect; for the form of the
harping aloft is frequently such, that the tendency to gripe
is diminished by immersing more of the bow in the water.
But waving these circumstances, and attending only to the
rotatory energy of the rudder, we see that it is of advantage
to carry the centre of gravity forward. The same advantage
is gained to the action of the after sails. But, on the other
hand, the action of the headsails is diminished by it; and
we may call every sail a headsail whose centre of gravity is
before the centre of gravity of the ship ; that is, all the sails
hoisted on the bowsprit and foremast, and the staysails hoist¬
ed on the mainmast; for the centre of gravity is seldom far
before the mainmast.
Suppose that when the rudder is put into the position
AD, (fig. 11), the centre of gravity could be shifted to g,
so as to increase qG, and that this is done without increas¬
ing the sum of the products pr2. It is obvious that the ve¬
locity of conversion will be increased in the proportion of
qG to qg. This is very possible, by bringing to that side
of the ship parts of her loading which were situated at a dis¬
tance from G on the other side. Nay, we can make this
change in such a manner that J'pr2 shall even be less than
it was before, by taking care that every thing which we shift
shall be nearer to g than it wTas formerly to G. Suppose it
all placed in one spot m, and that m is the quantity of mat¬
ter so shifted, while M is the quantity of matter in the whole
ship. It is only necessary that m ’ gG2 shall be less than
the sum of the products pr2, corresponding to the matter
which has been shifted. Now, although the matter which
is easily moveable is generally very small in comparison to
the whole matter of the ship, and therefore can make but a
small change in the place of the centre of gravity, it may
frequently be brought from places so remote that it may oc¬
casion a very sensible diminution of the quantity J pr1,
which expresses the whole momentum of inertia.
This explains a practice of the seamen in small wherries A practi
or skiffs, who, in putting about, are accustomed to place pf seame
themselves to leeward of the mast. They even find that'^P^^
they can aid the quick motions of these light boats by theVf1^
way in which they rest on their two feet, sometimes leaning
all on one foot, and sometimes on the other. And we have
SEAMANSHIP.
49
Seaman- often seen this evolution very sensibly accelerated in a ship
ship. 0f war, by the crew running suddenly, as the helm is put
down, to the lee-bow. And we heave heard it asserted by
very expert seamen, that after all attempts to wear ship (af¬
ter lying-to in a storm) have failed, they have succeeded
by the crew collecting themselves near the weather fore¬
shrouds the moment the helm was put down. It must be
agreeable to the reflecting seaman to see this practice sup¬
ported by undoubted mechanical principles.
The evolu- It will appear paradoxical to say that the evolution may
tion accele-be accelerated even by an addition of matter to the ship;
rated by ad-ancj though it is only a piece of curiosity, our readers may
J * 1 wish to be made sensible of it. Let m be the addition,
placed in some point m lying beyond G from q. Let S be
the spontaneous centre of conversion before the addition.
Let v be the velocity of rotation round that is, the velo¬
city of a paint whose distance from 9 is 1, and let g be the
radius vector, or distance of a particle from g. We have
didonal
matter
(Rotation, No. 22.) v.
<19
But we know
M + m
In like manner, M • Gg2 =.
, mM2
and m • am1—  ;
M-j-™)2
Mra2
-==—2z2. NowmM2+TO2M= M/ra xM-f Therefore
M • G<72 -f. m • gm2—
be =
2 Mmx(M-f-m) ,,
M -j- m)"
*2,=
Mm
M + m'
Let
M+mi’ then ^ ’ G<72-f m • gm2—Mnz2. Also Gg
1 • m
—nz, being — ^eca^e^c; then ^<7=0
Also let SG be called e.
We have now for the expression of the velocity v—
F(c-f-nz')   F c-\-nz
+ °r V~ MX fprr
But (Rotation,
M
■\-nz2
No. 30.)
/>
M
rp i p ii h' c "4— nz
zee. 1 herefore, Anally, vz=. — x —  r
M ce -j- nz2
Had there been no addition of matter made, we should have
F c
had v~ It remains to shew, that z may be so
taken that — may be less than -i—Now, if c be to
ce ce+nz2
Z' as ce to z2, that ;s, if z be taken equal to e, the two frac¬
tions will be equal. But if z be less than e, that is, if the
additional matter is placed anywhere between S and G, the
be found by treating the fraction
c-f-wz
ce -j- nz1
Seaman-
with z, consi- ship.
Jmg1
(Rotation, No. 23.) that fpr2-\-'M.'Gg2. There¬
fore v— -—2~- AT ,  5. Let us determine Gg
//w2 + M* G^2-ftm* mg2 *
and mg and qg.
Let mG be called z. Then, by the nature of the centre
M
of gravity, M -f- m: Gm : gm=.z: gm, and gm—
ol the mast, where it is cut by
complex fraction will be greater than the fraction —, and tlle line ^V >which marks the
ce mean place and direction of
the whole impulse of the water
on the bows. And he ob-
I    serves, that if the mean di-
namely, when z is made = — ( Jc2+nce—c), as will easily rection all the actions of
dered as the variable quantity, for a maximum. In what
we have been saying on this subject, we have considered
the rotation only in as much as it is performed round the
centre of gravity, although in every moment it is really per¬
formed round a spontaneous axis lying beyond that centre.
This was done because it afforded an easy investigation, and The rota-
any angular motion round the centre of gravity is equal to tion per-
the angular motion round any other point. Therefore theformed
extent and the time of the evolution are accurately defin-round a
ed. From observing that the energy of the force F is pro- 8p0I,tane’
portional to qG, an inattentive reader will be apt to conceive
the centre of gravity as the centre of motion, and the rota¬
tion as taking place, because the momenta of the sails and
rudder, on the opposite sides of the centre of gravity, do not
balance each other. But we must always keep in mind that
this is not the cause of the rotation. The cause is the w ant
of equilibrium round the point C, (fig. 10), where the ac¬
tions of the water balance each other. During the evolu¬
tion, which consists of a rotation combined with a progres¬
sive motion, this point C is continually shifting, and the un¬
balanced momenta which continue the rotation always re¬
spect the momentary situation of the point C. It is never¬
theless always true, that the energy of a force F is propor¬
tional, cceteris paribus, to qG, and the rotation is always
made in the same direction as if the point G were really the
centre of conversion. Therefore the mainsail acts always
(when oblique) by pushing the stern away from the wind,
although it should sometimes act on a point of the vertical
lever through C, which is a-head of C.
These observations on the effects of the sails and rudder
in producing a conversion, are sufficient for enabling us to
explain any case of their action which may occur? We
have not considered the effects w hich they tend to produce
by inclining the ship round a horizontal axis, viz. the mo¬
tions of rolling and pitching. (See Rolling and Pitching.)
To treat this subject properly would lead us into the whole
doctrine of the equilibrium of floating bodies, and it would
rather lead to maxims of construction than to maxims of
manoeuvre. M. Bouguer’s Traite du Navire and Euler’s
Scienha Navalis are excellent performances on this sub¬
ject, and we are not here obliged to have recourse to any
erroneous theory.
It is easy to see that the lateral pressure both of the wind Different
on the sails and of the w ater on the rudder tends to incline °Perat>ons
the ship to one side. The sails also tend to press the ship’s of tlie wa*
bows into the water, and, if she were kept from advancing,1?1. 0,1 t]ie
would press them down considerably. "But by the ship’s
motion, and the prominent form of her bows, the resistance “aiMia-
of the water to the fore part of the ship produces a force lance each
w hich is directed upwards. The sails also have a small other,
tendency to raise the ship, for they constitute a surface
which in general separates from the plumb-line below. This
is remarkably the case in the staysails, particularly the jib
and fore-topmast staysail. And this helps greatly to soften
the ship s bows into the head seas. The upward pressure
also of the water on her bow s, which we just now mention¬
ed, has a great effect in opposing the immersion of the bow s
which the sails produce by acting on the long levers fur¬
nished by the masts. M. Bouguer gives the name oi'point
veliqve to the point V (fig 12.)
Fig. 12.
the velocity of rotation will be increased. There is a par¬
ticular distance which will make it the greatest possible,
VOL. xx.
the wind on the sails be made to pass also through this
50
SEAMANSHIP.
Chief evo¬
lutions de¬
scribed.
Seaman- point, there will be a perfect equilibrium, and the ship will
have no tendency to plunge into the water or to rise out of
 v —' it; for the whole of the water on the bows, in the direc¬
tion CV, is equivalent to, and may be resolved into the ac¬
tion CE, by which the progressive motion is resisted, and
the vertical action CD, by which the ship is raised above
the water. The force CE must be opposed by an equal
force VD, exerted by the wind on the sails, and the force
CD is opposed by the weight of the ship. If the mean ef¬
fort. of the sails passes above the point V, the ship s bow
will be pressed into the water; and if it pass below V, her
stern will be pressed down. But, by the union of these
forces, she will rise and fall with the sea, keeping always
in a parallel position. We apprehend that it is of very
little moment to attend to the situation of this point. Ex¬
cept when the ship is right afore the wind, it is a thousand
chances to one that the line CV of mean resistance does
not pass through any mast; and the fact is, that the ship
cannot be in a state of uniform motion on any other condi¬
tion but the perfect union of the line of mean action of the
sails, and the line of mean action of the resistance. But
its place shifts by every change of leeway or of trim ; and
it is impossible to keep these lines in one constant point of
intersection for a moment, on account of the incessant
changes of the surface of the water on which she floats.
M. Bouguer’s observations on this point are, however, very
ingenious and original.
We conclude this dissertation by describing some of the
chief movements or evolutions. What we have said hither¬
to is intended for the instruction of the artist, by making
him sensible of the mechanical procedure. The descrip¬
tion is rather meant for the amusement of the landsman,
enabling him to understand operations that are familiar to
the seaman. The latter will perhaps smile at the awkward
account given of his business by one who cannot hand,
reef, or steer.
To tack Ship.
The ship must first be kept full, that is, with a very sen¬
sible angle of incidence on the sails, and by no means hug¬
ging the wind. For as the evolution is chiefly performed by
the rudder, it is necessary to give the ship a good velocity.
When the ship is observed to luff up of herself, that mo¬
ment is to be catched for beginning the evolution, because
she will by her inherent force continue this motion. The
helm is then put down. When the officer calls out helm’s
a-lee, the fore-sheet, fore-top bowline, jib, and stay-sail
sheets forward are let go. The jib is frequently hauled
down. Thus the obstacles to the ship’s head coming up to
the wind by the action of the rudder are removed. If the
mainsail is set, it is not unusual to clue up the weather side,
which may be considered as a headsail, because it is before
the centre of gravity. The mizen must be hauled out, and
even the sail braced to windward. Its power in paying off
the stern from the wind conspires with the action of the
rudder. It is really an aerial rudder. The sails are imme¬
diately taken aback. In this state the effect of the mizen-
topsail would be to obstruct the movement, by pressing the
stern the contrary way to what it did before. It is there¬
fore either immediately braced about sharp on the other
tack, or lowered. Bracing it about evidently tends to pay
round the stern from the wind, and thus assist in bringing
the head up to the wind. But in this position it checks the
progressive motion of the ship, on which the evolution
chiefly depends. For a rapid evolution, therefore, it is as
well to lower the mizen-topsail. Meantime, the headsails
are all aback, and the action of the wind on them tends
greatly to pay the ship round. To increase this effect, it is
not unusual to haul the fore-top bowline again. The sails
on the mainmast are now almost becalmed ; and therefore
when the wind is right a-head, or a little before, the main¬
sail is hauled round and braced up sharp on the other tack
with all expedition. The staysail sheets are now slutted
over to their places for the other tack. The ship is now
entirely under the power of the headsails and of the rudder,
and their actions conspire to promote the conversion. The
ship has acquired an angular motion, and will preserve it,
so that now the evolution is secured, and she falls off apace
from the wind on the other tack. The farther action of the
rudder is therefore unnecessary, and.would even be preju¬
dicial, by causing the ship to fall off too much from the
wind before the sails can be shifted and trimmed for sailing
on the other tack. It is therefore proper to right the helm
when the wind is right a-head, that is, to bring the rudder
into the direction of the keel. The ship continues her con¬
version by her inherent force and the action of the head-
When the ship has fallen off about four points from the
wind, the headsails are hauled round, and trimmed sharp on
the other tack with all expedition ; and although this oper¬
ation was begun with the wind four points on the bow, it
will be six before the sails are braced up, and therefore the
headsails will immediately fill. The after sails have filled
already, while the head sails were inactive, therefore im¬
mediately check the farther falling off from the wind.^ All
sails now draw, for the staysail sheets have been shifted over
while they were becalmed or shaking in the wind. The
ship now gathers way, and will obey the smallest motion of
the helm to bring her close to the wind.
We have here supposed, that during all this operation
the ship preserves her progressive motion. She must there¬
fore have described a curve line, advancing all the way to
windward. Fig. 13 is a pig. 13.
representation of this e- ^
volution when it is per¬
formed in the completest
manner. The ship stand¬
ing on the course E a,
with the wind blowing in
the direction WF, has her
helm put hard a-lee when
she is in the position A.
She immediately deviates
from her course, and de¬
scribing a curve, comes
to the position B, with
the wind blowing in the
direction WF of the yards, and the square-sails now shiver.
The mizen topsail is here represented braced sharp on the
other tack, by which its tendency to aid the angular motion
(while it checks the progressive motion) is distinctly seen.
The main and foresails are now shivering, and immediately
after are taken aback. The effect of this on the headsails
is distinctly seen to be favourable to the conversion, by
pushing the point F in the direction F i; but for the same
reason it continues to retard the progressive motion. When
the ship has attained to the position C, the mainsail is haul¬
ed round and trimmed for the other tack. The impulse in
the direction F« still aids the conversion and retards the
progressive motion. When the ship has attained a position
between C and D, such that the main and mizen topsail
yards are in the direction of the wind, there is nothing to
counteract the force of the headsails to pay the ship’s head
off from the wind. Nay, during the progress of the ship to
this intermediate position, if any wind gets at the main or
mizen topsails, it acts on their anterior surfaces, and impels
the after parts of the ship away from the curve abed, and
thus aids the revolution. We have therefore said, that when
once the sails are taken fully aback, and particularly when
the wind is brought right ahead, it is scarce possible for the
evolution to fail; as soon therefore as the main topsail
(trimmed for the other tack) shivers, we are certain that
Seaman¬
ship.
SEAMANSHIP.
51
Seaman- the headsails will be filled by the time they are hauled
ship- round and trimmed. The staysails are filled before this,
because their sheets have been shifted, and they stand much
sharper than the square-sailsand thus every thing tends
to check the falling off from the wind on the other tack,
and this no sooner than it should be done. The ship im¬
mediately gathers way, and holds on in her new course dG.
But it frequently happens, that in this conversion the ship
loses her whole progressive motion. This sometimes hap¬
pens while the sails are shivering before they are taken
fully aback. It is evident, that in this case there is little
hope of success, for the ship now lies like a log, and neither
sails nor rudder have any action. The ship drives to lee¬
ward like a log, and the water acting on the lee-side of the
rudder checks a little the driving of the stern. The head
therefore falls off' again, and by and by the sails fill, and
the ship continues on her former tack. This is called
missing stays, and it is generally owing to the ship’s having
too little velocity at the beginning of the evolution. Hence
the propriety of keeping the sails well filled for some little
time before. Rough weather, too, by raising a wave which
beats violently on the weather-bow, frequently checks the
first luffing of the ship, and beats her off again.
If the ship lose all her motion after the headsails have
been fully taken aback, and before we have brought the
wind right ahead, the evolution becomes uncertain, but by
no means desperate ; for the action of the wind on the head¬
sails will presently give her stern-way. Suppose this to
happen when the ship is in the position C. Bring the helm
over hard to windward, so that the rudder shall have the
position represented by the small dotted line of. It is evi¬
dent, that the resistance of the water to the stern-way of
the rudder acts in a favourable direction, pushing the stern
outward. In the mean time, the action of the wind on the
headsails pushes the head in the opposite direction. These
actions conspire therefore in promoting the evolution ; and
if the wind is right ahead, it cannot fail, but may even be
completed speedily, because the ship gathers stern-way, and
the action of the rudder becomes very powerful; and as
soon as the wind comes on the formerly lee-bow, the action
of the water on the now lee-quarter will greatly accelerate
the conversion. When the wind therefore has once been
brought nearly right ahead, there is no risk of being baffled.
But should the ship have lost all her headway consider¬
ably before this, the evolution is very uncertain ; for the
action of the water on the rudder may not be nearly equal
to its contrary action on the lee-quarter; in which case, the
action of the wund on the headsails may not be sufficient to
make up the difference. When this is observed, when the
ship goes astern without changing her position, we must
immediately throw the headsails completely aback, and put
the helm down again, which will pay off' the ship’s head
from the wind enough to enable us to till the sails again on
the same tack, to try our fortune again; or we must box-
haul the ship in the manner to be described by and by.
Such is the ordinary process of tacking ship; a process in
which all the different modes of action of the rudder and
sails are employed. To execute this evolution in the most
expeditious manner, and so as to gain as much on the wind
as possible, is considered as the test of an expert seaman.
We have described the process which is best calculated lor
ensuring the movement. But if the ship be sailing very
briskly in smooth water, so that there is no danger of miss¬
ing stays, we may gain more to windward considerably by
keeping fast the fore-top bowline and the jib and stay-sail
sheets till the square sails are all shivering. For these sails,
continuing to draw with considerable force, and balancing
each other tolerably fore and aft, keep up the ship’s velocity
very much, and thus maintain the power of the rudder. If
we now let all fly when the square sails are shivering, the
ship may be considered as without sails, but exposed to the
action of the water on the lee-bow*; from which arises a
strong pressure of the bow to windward, which conspires
with the action of the rudder to aid the conversion. It evi¬
dently leaves all that tendency of the bow to windward which
arises from leeway, and even what wras counteracted by the
formerly unbalanced action of these head-staysails. This
method lengthens the whole time of the evolution, but it
advances the ship to windward. Observe, too, that keeping
fast the foretop bowline till the sail shivers, and then letting
it go, insures the taking aback of that sail, and thus instantly
produces an action that is favourable to the evolution.
The most expert seamen, however, differ among them¬
selves with respect to these two methods, and the first is
the most generally practised in the British navy, because
the least liable to fail. The forces which oppose the con¬
version are sooner removed, and the production of a favour¬
able action by the backing of the foretop-sail is also sooner
obtained, by letting go the foretop bowline at the first.
Having entered so minutely into the description and ra¬
tionale of this evolution, we have sufficiently turned the
reader’s attention to the different actions which co-operate
in producing the motions of conversion. We shall therefore
be very brief in our description of the other evolutions.
Seaman¬
ship.
To wear Ship.
When the seaman sees that his ship will not go about
head to wind, but will miss stays, he must change his tack
the other way; that is, by turning her head away from the
wind, going a little way before the wind, and then hauling
the wind on the other tack. This is called wearing or veer¬
ing ship. It is most necessary in stormy weather with little
sail, or in very faint breezes, or in a disabled ship.
The process is exceedingly simple; and the mere narra¬
tion of the procedure is sufficient for showing the propriety
of every part of it.
Watch for the moment of the ship’s falling off, and then
haul up the mainsail and mizen, and shiver the mizen top¬
sail, and put the helm a-weather. When the ship falls off
sensibly (and not before), let go the bowlines. Ease away
the fore-sheet, raise the fore tack, and gather aft the wea¬
ther fore-sheet, as the lee-sheet is eased away. Round in
the weather-braces of the fore and main-masts, and keep
the yards nearly bisecting the angle of the wind and keel,
so that wrhen the ship is before the wind the yards may be
square. It may even be of advantage to round in the wea¬
ther-braces of the main-topsail more than those of the head¬
sails; for the mainmast is abaft the centre of gravity. All
this wdiile the mizen-top sail must be kept shivering, by
rounding in the weather-braces as the ship pays off from the
wind. Then the main-topsail will be braced up for the
other tack by the time that we have brought the wind on
the weather-quarter. After this it will be full, and will aid
the evolution. When the wind is right aft, shift the jib
and stay-sail sheets. The evolution now goes on with great
rapidity; therefore briskly haul on board the fore and main
tacks, and haul out the mizen, and set the mizen-staysail as
they w ill take the wind the right way. We must now check
the great rapidity with which the ship comes to the wind on
the other tack, by righting the helm before we bring the
wind on the beam; and all must be trimmed fore and aft by
this time, that the headsails may take and check the coming-
to. All being trimmed, stand on close by the wdnd.
We cannot help losing much ground in this movement.
Therefore, though it be very simple, it requires much at¬
tention and rapid execution to do it with as little loss of
ground as possible. One is apt to imagine at first that it
would be better to keep the headsails braced up on the
former tack, or at least not to round in the weather-braces
so much as is here directed. When the ship is right afore
the wind, we should expect assistance from the obliquity of
the head-sails; but the rudder being the principal agent in
1 The use of stay-sails has been almost entirely discontinued in the navy for some years. They are still supplied, however, and the
fashion of using them will probably return after a time.
SEAMANSHIP.
52
Seaman- the evolution, it is found that more is gained by increasing
sk’P' the ship’s velocity, than by a smaller impulse in the head-
sails more favourably directed. Experienced seamen differ,
however, in their practice in respect of this particular.
To box-haul a Ship.
This is a process performed only in critical situations, as
when a rock, a ship, or some danger, is suddenly seen right
a-head, or when a ship misses stays. It requires the most
rapid execution.
The ship being close- hauled on a wind, haul up the main¬
sail and mizen, and shiver the top-sails, and put the helm
hard a-lee altogether. Raise the fore-tack, let go the head
bowlines, and brace about the headsails sharp on the other
tack. The ship will quickly lose her way, get stern-way,^
and then fall oft', by the joint action ot the headsails and ot
the inverted rudder. When she has fallen oft eight points,
brace the aftersails square, which have hitherto been kept
shivering. This will at first increase the power of the rud¬
der, by increasing the stern-way; and at the same time it
makes no opposition to the conversion which is going on.
The continuation of her circular motion will presently cause
them to take the wind on their after surfaces. This will
check the stern-way, stop it, and give the ship a little head¬
way. Now shift the helm, so that the rudder may again act,
in conjunction with the headsails, in paying her off from the
wind. This is the critical part of the evolution, because the
ship has little or no way through the water, and wall frequent¬
ly remain long in this position. But as there are no coun¬
teracting forces the ship continues to fall off. Then the wea¬
ther-braces of the after sails may be gently rounded in, so
that the wind acting on their hinder surfaces may both push
the ship a little a-head and her stern laterally in conjunction
with the rudder. Thus the wind is brought upon the quar¬
ter, and the headsails shiver. By this time the ship has ac¬
quired some headway. A continuation of the rotation would
now fill the headsails, and their action would be contrary to
the intended evolution. They are therefore immediately
braced the other way, nearly square, and the evolution is
now completed in the same manner with wearing ship.
Some seamen brace all the sails aback the moment that
the helm is put hard a-lee, but the after-sails no more aback
than just to square the yards. This quickly gives the ship
stern-way, and brings the rudder into action in its inverted
direction ; and they think that the evolution is accelerated
by this method.
There is another problem of seamanship deserving of our
attention, which cannot properly be called an evolution. This
islying-to. This is done in general by laying some sails aback,
so as to stop the head-way produced by others. But there is
a considerable address necessary for doing this in such a way
that the ship shall lie easily, and under command, ready to
proceed in her course, and easily brought under weigh.
To bring-to with the fore or main topsail to the mast,
brace that sail sharp aback, haul out the mizen, and clap the
helm hard a-lee.
Suppose the fore topsail to be aback ; the other sails shoot
the ship a-head, and the lee-helm makes the ship come up
to the wind, which makes it come more perpendicularly on
the sail which is aback. Then its impulse soon exceeds
those on the other sails which are now shivering, or almost
shivering. The ship stands still awhile, and then falls off, Seaman-
so as to fill the after sails, which again shoot her a-head, and shlP-
the process is thus repeated. A ship lying-to in this way
goes a good deal a-head and also to leeward. If the main
topsail be aback, the ship shoots a-head, and comes up till
the diminished impulse of the drawing sails in the direction
of the keel is balanced by the increased impulse on the main-
topsail. She lies a long while in this position, driving slow¬
ly to leeward ; and she at last falls off' by the beating of the
water on her weather-bow. She falls off but little, and soon
comes up again.
Thus a ship lying-to is not like a mere log, but has a cer¬
tain motion which keeps her under command. To get un¬
der weigh again, we must watch the time of falling off; and
when this is just about to finish, brace about briskly, and fill
the sail which was aback. To aid this operation, the jib
and fore-topmast stay-sail may be hoisted, and the mizen
brailed up ; or, when the intended course is before the wind
or large, back the fore-topsail sharp, shiver the main and
mizen topsail, brail up the mizen, and hoist the jib and fore¬
topmast staysails altogether.
In a storm with a contrary wind, or on a lee shore, a ship
is obliged to lie-to under a very low sail. Some sail is ab¬
solutely necessary, in order to keep the ship steadily down,
otherwise she would kick about like a cork, and roll so deep
as to strain and work herself to pieces. Different ships be¬
have best under different sails. In a very violent gale, the
three lower stay-sails are in general well adapted for keeping
her steady, and distributing the strain. This mode seems
also well adapted for wearing, which may be done by haul¬
ing down the mizen-staysail. Under whatever sail the ship
is brought-to in a storm, it is always with a filled sail, and
never with one laid aback. The helm is lashed down hard
a-lee; and therefore the ship shoots a-head, and comes up till
the sea on her weather-bow beats her off again. Getting
under weigh is generally difficult; because the ship and
rigging are lofty abaft, and hinder her from falling off readi¬
ly when the helm is put hard a-weather. We must watch
the falling off, and assist the ship by some small headsail.
Sometimes the crew get up on the weather fore-shrouds in
a crowd, and thus present a surface to the wind.
These examples of the three chief evolutions will enable
those who are not seamen to understand the propriety ot the
different steps, and also to understand the other evolutions
as they are described by practical authors. We are not ac¬
quainted with any performance in our language, where the
whole are considered in a connected and systematic manner.
There is a book on this subject in French, called Le Ma-
nceuvrier, by M. Bourde de Ville-Huet, which is in great
reputation in France.
We offer this account of the subject with all proper re¬
spect and diffidence. We do no profess to teach ; but by
pointing out the defects of the celebrated work of M. Bou-
guer, and the course which may be taken to remove them,
while we preserve much valuable knowledge which they
contain, we may perhaps excite some persons to apply to
this subject, who, bv a combination of what is just in M.
Bouguer’s theory, with an experimental doctrine of the im¬
pulses of fluids, may produce a treatise of seamanship which
will not be confined to the libraries of mathematicians, but
become a manual for seamen by profession.1 (b.b.b.)
1 There are several good treatises on seamanship in English ; but we think the whole topic has become of sufficient importance to de¬
serve still more literary attention than it has yet received ; and we are persuaded that a well-digested, and well written marine dictionary,
scientific, practical, and popular, if sufficiently copious, and undertaken by a competent hand, would be considered a great boon, not only
to seamen, but to the society at large of this essentially maritime country. The most approved works on seamanship in English are the
following : Falconer’s Marine Dictionary ; Darcy Lever’s Seamanship; Theory and Practice of Seamanship, by Richard Hall Gower;
Griffith’s Practical Hints ; IS'icholson’s Seamanship ; Steel's Elements and Practice of Rigging. Seamanship, and Naval Tactics. The
most recent works on Seamanship with which we are acquainted, are the following: Captain Glascock’s Naval Officer’s Manual; Lieu¬
tenant Martelli's Naval Officer’s Guide, and Lieutenant Fordyce s Outlines of Naval Routine. Many useful practical hints may also
be derived from the perusal of James’s Naval History. The best foreign writers on Seamanship and Tactics, are Pere Hoste, Morogues,
Byland, Bourde, Lescallier, and Grenier.
S E A M A NS HIP.
53
Seaman- The foregoing article having been written by the cele-
slliP- brated Professor John Robison, it has been thought proper
-^V^'to reprint it exactly as it left his hands, with the addition of
one or two notes explanatory of circumstances which the
lapse of time has rendered obscure. This course has been
adopted chiefly out of deference to the high authority of
the author, which must render it a measure of questionable
propriety to retouch, or otherwise alter, or try to improve,
an essay which, at the time it was written, must have been
considered as complete. But the interests of the readers of
this Encyclopaedia have also, it is believed, been considered
in this matter, since any additions or interpolations made
in an article composed with the care which marks every
thing from the pen of Professor Robison, might so mate¬
rially have altered the texture of the fabric, as to divest
it of much of its beauty as well as utility. We have, indeed,
the means of knowing that the article, as it stands, has been
of extensive practical utility ; and every admirer of simple,
and at the same time vigorous writing, clear and straight to
the purpose, must be well pleased to know that no attempt
has been made to improve a style which is matchless.
At the same time it is manifest, upon a moment’s reflec¬
tion, that even the most general view of such an art as Sea¬
manship, written more than forty years ago, cannot possibly
include many things which it is material should be advert¬
ed to. This science, as it may now fairly be called, has
greatly advanced within that period. With the improve¬
ments which have been made in most other departments of
industry and knowledge, the public are more or less fami¬
liar, and great pains have been taken throughout this work
to extend that familiarity by such popular explanations as
shall not only be intelligible to general readers, but be use¬
ful to those whom pleasure or business inclines to go deep¬
er. But the art or science of Seamanship, call it which we
please, has certainly been too much kept out of sight of late
years ; and it is the purpose of this Appendix to supply, in
a brief space, the deficiency complained of by many per¬
sons, whose habits entirely unfit them for gaining the know¬
ledge for themselves, and yet, who are perfectly competent
to understand, as well as to appreciate, the value of such
information, when stated in clear language.
Most other sciences may be studied with effect in the
closet. An amateur astronomer, for example, or a chemist,
furnished with good instruments, and having confidence in
the skill and good faith of the leaders in the particular walk
of knowledge to which his taste inclines him, may, by adopt¬
ing their results, pursue the same paths with almost equal
profit, and perhaps with more pleasure than those who take
all the labour, and incur all the responsibility. But there is
no royal road of this sort, by which an amateur sailor can
investigate the results of seamanship, the mysteries of which,
to be fully understood, must be studied afloat, at sea, in all
weathers, and in every climate.
All the world, however, knows that the results of nau¬
tical skill and exertion are not the same as they used to
be. A voyage to India and back, in former times, occu¬
pied a couple of years, or more; it is now currently done in
nine months, even by ordinary merchant vessels, including
the time taken to unload and reload their cargoes. In for¬
mer days, the scurvy struck down half the crew of every
ship which made a long voyage, and was even fearfully pre¬
valent in the navy; now the disease is almost unknown.
The numbers of all kinds of ships afloat have enormously in¬
creased, and the war of the elements by which they were
formerly assailed is no less violent than it was; but assuredly
a far smaller proportion of vessels are now driven on shore than
were formerly wrecked. The comforts, too, of travelling by
sea, in the articles of provisions and water, are all essentially
improved; and, finally, the security, as well as the happiness
of all persons on board, whether passengers or crew, has
been marvellously augmented by the general establishment
of a better system of discipline than was known in bygone
days; whilst many old manipulations of seamanship are so
modified by new contrivances, that if old Benbow, or even
Kempenfelt, were to arise from the dead, he would scarcely
know how to handle his ship.
It may not be without use, and it certainly must be in¬
teresting, to those who have not studied such things person¬
ally, to see by an example how scientific seamanship is
made to triumph over that groping and blundering method
of navigating ships which is technically known by the name
of the “ rule of thumb.” If we take a globe, and trace on
it the shortest route, by sea, to India, and then fancy that
such must be the best course to follow, we shall be very
much mistaken. And yet this is very much what our an¬
cestors actually did, till time, and repeated trials, and mul¬
titudinous failures, gradually taught them where to seek for
winds, and how to profit by them when found. According
to the “ rule of thumb” sailing, a ship had only to steer
from England to Madeira, pass the Canaries and Cape de
Verds, and then to make a direct course to the Cape, and
thence to India. On trial, however, this experiment al¬
ways failed; for on getting near the equator, a series of
calms and squalls put a stop to this straight-line scheme,
and the mariners of old were then forced to toil along the
coast of Africa, or were driven towards that of the Brazils,
and very often they came back in utter hopelessness. Now-
a-days, the exact spot where the north-east trade wind,
which prevails in the northern Atlantic, ought to be parted
with; in what district the calms and variables are most
easily managed; over what degree of longitude on the equa¬
tor the ship should pass; and, finally, in what place the
south-east trade wind of the southern Atlantic is to be
found, and how it is to be made most use of when found ;
are all matters of such familiarity to the really qualified na¬
vigator, that they scarcely occupy his thoughts, but are act¬
ed upon as matters of course, and, unless some unforeseen
accident occurs, absolutely ensure the success of his voy¬
age. The line he follows, however, is by no means the
straight one which an ill-informed person would naturally
have chalked out for him to follow, ignorant of the impos¬
sibility of pursuing it.
The modern navigator, by not seeking to husband the
south-east trade wind too much, but by freely “ flanking”
through it, sweeps past the coast of Brazil, and by boldly
dashing down into pretty high south latitudes, is certain, or
almost certain, of finding there such a vein of westerly wind,
as amply compensates for the apparent roundabout he has
made in his course. In like manner, after passing the Cape,
which to the old navigators was truly a “ Cabo de tor-
mentos,” instead of vainly trying to reach India, by steer¬
ing straight through the Mozambique channel, the scienti¬
fic navigator, disregarding the increase of distance, main¬
tains his position in a high latitude, and sails resolutely along
a parallel of latitude, with the wind in his poop, till he has
obtained such a degree of easting, that, on hauling up to
the northward, and making for the south-east trade wind,
he enters that mysterious aerial current on such terms as
ensure his making it serve his purpose. If, however, he be
timid or impatient by nature, and not duly instructed by ex¬
perience, he will be very apt to haul up too soon to the
northward, from not liking to run, as itappears, so far past his
port. The consequence will be, that when he encounters
the south-east trade-wind, he will find, that instead of its
being fair, it is blowing in his teeth, and he will have to run
back again to the southward to borrow a little more easting
from the westerly breezes which prevail there.
Be it observed, however, that the above instructions would
lead a seaman into great error, were he to make the rule
absolute; for, at certain seasons of the year, that is, when
the sun is far to the north of the line, and the south-west
monsoon blowing in the Indian ocean, his course from the
Seaman¬
ship
54
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- Cape to India would lead him between Madagascar and
ship- the main land of Africa ; and so he would sail across the
* equator, and enter the Bay of Bengal with a flowing sheet.
At other seasons, so far from having a flowing sheet on
reaching India, he may have to beat up the bay, “ hank for
hank,” unless he has knowledge enough to know at which
side to enter it, and skill enough,—for it requires a good
deal,—to know how to profit by the land and sea breezes of
the coasts respectively of Coromandel and of Pegu.
In short, not to swell this example too far, the truly scien¬
tific navigator, possessed of the requisite nautical instru¬
ments, (the most important of which we propose to speak of
by and by), by which means he may at all times be certain
of his place, may almost command a fair wind at every stage
of his voyage, and thus secure his passage within a certain
number of days; though, in his way, he will have had to vary
his course a hundred times from that which, at first sight,
might have been thought the best, merely because, on the
map, it seemed the shortest. The old proverb, indeed,
which warns us that the longest way about is often the
shortest way home, has perhaps its amplest illustration in
the practice of modern seamanship; but, let it be always
borne in mind, that this is true only when all the varying cir¬
cumstances of time and place are duly taken into account,
and so appropriated as to give to the ship those advantages
of fair wind and moderate weather, without which no voyage
can be securely or speedily made. This branch of seaman¬
ship, therefore, more than any other, requires for its suc¬
cessful exercise a singular combination of the widest gene¬
ralizations in theory, with the most minute and specific dis¬
integrations of scientific research in practice. In the In¬
dian seas especially, the whole history of the winds, examin¬
ed without some theoretical clue, is a mass of confusion ;
and yet the profoundest meteorological science would inevi¬
tably prove not only useless, but absolutely dangerous to the
navigator who should trust to it alone, without the aid of
local information, and of the improvements of modern art.
These remarkable improvements are due to the spread of
knowledge over the sea, as well as over the land; and it
is proposed here, to examine a few of the causes which have
led to such valuable results in the practice of seamanship,
as they will all be found to fall readily under that great
head. For detailed practical information, of a kind which
might be useful to a sailor in the actual working of a ship,
we must of course refer to the precise heads which treat
professedly of these things, such as Anchors, Astronomy,
Cables, Capstan, Navigation, Rope, Ship-building,
Steam-Vessels, and so forth, the purpose of this Appendix
to the article Seamanship being merely to point out, in a very
general, but by no means superficial manner, the most im¬
portant improvements which have been introduced afloat
since the preceding article wras written.
It will not be expected that much should be said here of
the mighty revolution in nautical affairs brought about by
the introduction of steam ; for that subject demands, and
has received the fullest attention in its proper place. We
shall merely observe, that steam does not essentially inter¬
fere with seamanship proper, almost all the manipulations
of which remain as before; whilst steam navigation, in spite
of its boasted contempt of wind and tide, is still obliged to
borrow so much from seamanship to complete its success,
that without its aid it would often be useless, and even
dangerous in the highest degree. We shall take occasion
as wre go along, to point out some of the most remarkable
occasions in which the old system of seamanship proper is
essential to the method by steam; merely remarking at
present, that nearly all that branch of our subject which re¬
lates to navigation, that is, to the method by which a ship’s
place is determined at sea, the proper course shaped, and
the different ports of the world recognised and made use of,
remains the same. Latitudes and longitudes, and the va¬
riation of the compass, are evidently just as important to a
steam vessel as to a sailing one; and though winds and cui-
rents are not quite so essential, every one who has made a s‘
steam voyage of any length, is aw-are how materially its
celerity depends upon a knowledge of and due attention to
these particulars. It is one of the chief points of a seaman’s
duty to know wdiere to find a fair w ind, and where to fall in
with a favourable current; but the obligation, if not equally
binding on a steam navigator, is almost so, when his voyage
is a long one. The most remarkable occasions on which
steam has the advantage over sails are, in a calm, and
when the wind is directly ahead. In a calm, a sailing ship
is utterly helpless, and must stand stock still; with a wind
in her teeth, if it blow hard, she can do nothing, or does
worse than nothing, drifts away from her point. There is
another important occasion on which a steam vessel, if pro¬
perly handled, has a wonderful advantage over an ordinary
ship, and we advert to it, first, because we do not remem¬
ber to have seen it mentioned before; and, secondly, be¬
cause it involves some considerations of true seamanship,
which it is the business of this Appendix to dwell on.
We allude to the formidable danger of a lee shore, in a
gale of wind, when w’e shall suppose the weather to be such
that a ship and a steam vessel are both obliged to anchor,
and that from the anchor not holding, or the insufficient
strength of the cables, there is risk of their being forced on
the shore. In this predicament, wre have heard of a steam
vessel, by the mere agency of her steam, not exerted to any
great extent, either keeping her cable slack, or very material¬
ly relieving it from the strain produced by the wind. But
even supposing her stock of fuel expended, or that her ma¬
chinery had got out of order, she may still be looked upon
as a ship with her masts cut away, which, we may explain to
unprofessional readers, is the most favourable condition for a
shiptobein,under such dangerous circumstances. It maybe
asked, and with great reason, why, if this be so, should not
the ship when in danger of driving on the rocks, also get
rid of her masts, by cutting them away, and so place herself
in as favourable a position as the steamer, on the lee shore ?
To this we answrer, that the operation of cutting away
the masts is always a very serious one, and, like the ampu¬
tation of a limb to a labouring man, is not to be resorted
to till the last extremity. Besides, it is often a matter
of doubt, which is the last moment of safety, and the first
of extreme danger ; and as the commander of the ship may
not have had experience of such critical cases, he may,
and too often does, hesitate to dismember his vessel, till
the anchor comes so rapidly home, that cutting awray the
masts will not stop her headlong way amongst the breakers;
and then it is too late. The steam vessel, however, is al¬
ready, and at all times, in the best condition for anchoring
on a lee shore. We ought here to mention to our un-
Seaman-
nautical readers, in what consists the advantage of cutting
away the masts, when a ship is in this situation, and is in
danger, from the violence of the wind, of being drifted on
the rocks. It is well known that the mere hull of a ship,
placed •with the bow to the wind, offers but a small resist¬
ance to the wind, compared to what is presented by the masts,
yards, ropes, and sails ; for though the sails be furled, they
are generally, on such occasions, but clumsily handed, and
hold much wind. The form of a ship’s bow is equally
adapted, or nearly so, to passing through the air as through
the water, and the area offered by it to the wind is very
small, compared to that which the “ top hamper,” as it is
called, presents. Let any one in a gale of wind on board
ship take hold of the smallest rope, the signal haulyards, for
example, and he wall find it requires a considerable exer¬
tion of his strength to prevent its being blown out of his
grasp, and in proportion as the rope is large, so is the vio¬
lence of the wind upon it. And when the immense num¬
ber, and great length of the whole ropes of a ship are taken
S E A M A
Seaman- into account, to say nothing of the resistance of the lower
ship. rnasts and top-masts, and the yards, however sharply braced
to the wind, we shall be satisfied that the resistance aloft is
many fold greater than that which the hull alone offers to
the wind. Accordingly, the prodigious additional security
which is imparted to a ship on a lee shore by cutting away
the masts, is well known to practical seamen. This con¬
viction, resting on the ever energetic mind of Nelson, though
within a few minutes of his last breath, was the true source
of the last order he ever gave, “ Hardy, anchor the fleet.”
Whilst speaking of the comparative merits of steam ves¬
sels and ordinary ships under a stress of weather, it may be
mentioned, that as steamers are furnished with very reduced
masts and yards, they are in the most favourable position for
making sail in a gale of wind, should sailing then be possible.
In other words, a sea-going steamer, though comparatively
much undermasted, is enabled, in a storm, to spread quite as
much canvas as could be carried with advantage, in a sailing
ship of her size, at that particular moment. It must be
remembered, that the sailing vessel, in order to be able to
make way in fine weather, is obliged at all times to carry
with her, and to expose permanently aloft, an extent of masts
and yards which is very detrimental to her progress in bad
weather; whilst, on the other hand, the steamer stows away
her fine weather power under hatches in her coal boxes,
till the time returns when it can be used with advantage.
To return to the improvements introduced into the art of
seamanship by the skill and science of late years, we may
begin by adverting to the remarkable advantages which have
been gained by the extensive use of iron on board ship.
In the year 1808, Captain Brown of the navy proposed
the use of iron cables and rigging; but it was not till 1811
that the cables were fairly tried. They have since been
used universally, and no greater boon was ever bestowed
upon the sea service. The original cost of a chain cable is
not much more than that of a hempen one, whilst its dura¬
bility is greater, in a ratio which cannot be stated in figures.
The security afforded by it is vastly greater; for it is exposed
to none of the deteriorating causes which render a hempen
cable, after much use, comparatively so little trust-worthy.
The alternate wetting and drying, which saps the strength of
a hempen cable, has no effect on one of iron. The friction
against rocks, especially against coral, is often fatal to a hemp
cable in a few minutes ; but the same friction, after weeks of
hard use,only slightly polishes afewlinks of the chain. In tro¬
pical countries, therefore, the introduction of chain cables has
increased the security of ships at anchor tenfold; but in every
climate their advantage is immense. Nor does this advan¬
tage consist solely in their strength and durability, for they
are managed with much more facility, occupy far less space,
and are coiled away with little, or it may be said, no trouble
at all; for as they are hove in, they fall quietly into, and adjust
themselves, in a box or case near the hatchway, from which
they are drawn up when wanted with comparatively small
labour. To those who remember the toil and trouble of
“ forming a bend” in the cable tier, the wet and the dirt, and
the noise made by the numbers of men required to coil it
away, these advantages will not be considered as small ones.
Several adaptations have been found necessary in conse¬
quence of the use of chain cables. The hawse holes require
to be filled with strong cases, or tubes of iron ; and a most
ingenious and powerful stopper has been contrived by the
late great and good Sir Thomas Hardy, (the ablest seaman
we probably ever had in this country of seamen), by which
the cable can at any time be prevented from running out,
whatever be the strain upon it. This stopper consists
Oi a large swan-necked bar of tough iron, which embraces
the cable as it comes up the hatchway, having one of the
ends of the curve fixed to the beams of the lower deck,
by means of a powerful bolt, whilst to the other end is
attached a tackle, also worked on the lower deck, by which
N S H I P. 5f
this curved stopper can be drawn tight, and the chain press- Seaman¬
ed so firmly in its embrace, against the angle of the hatch- ship¬
way, that however quickly it may have been running out,
or whatever strain may be brought on it, the cable is ar¬
rested almost immediately.
Iron cables require a peculiar but easily-learned de¬
scription of management. They cannot, for example, be
used in deep water, without some modification; for their
weight, added to that of the anchor, is so great, that the la¬
bour of heaving up becomes prodigious. To remedy this
evil, and yet to profit by the security which belongs to ren¬
dering invulnerable that part of the cable most exposed to
friction by rocks, a device was suggested by admiral the
Honourable George Elliot, which having been found to
answer the purpose, is now generally adopted. An eye,
with a thimble in it, is formed at the end of a hempen cable,
and to this is shackled, in the usual way, one of the lengths
of the chain. The outer end of this length of chain being
then shackled to the anchor, the cable may be used in any
depth of water, with nearly as much security as if it were
made of iron from end to end, and with only the inconve¬
nience arising from the additional weight of one length of
chain. Another device has lately been introduced, which
many seamen prefer. This consists of three-tapered tails of
small chain, shackled to the main one, by which it can be
spliced with ease and security to the hempen cable, with
the strands of which it is “married” in the usual way.
One advantage of chain cables is, that a ship may often
lie at single anchor, without risk of fouling the anchor.
If the scope of chain be too short, the tides strong, and the
ground either of sand or of smooth and hard materials, there
will be nearly the same risk of fouling the anchor as with
a hempen cable ; but if the scope be long, the tides not very
impetuous, and, above all, if the ground consist of mud, there
is scarcely any chance of this troublesome and dangerous
accident happening. It may be proper to explain, that
“ fouling the anchor” means the entanglement of the cable
with its flukes, or other parts, by which its power of holding
the ground is destroyed, or so materially lessened, that when
a strain is brought on it, the anchor slides along the bottom,
and consequently the ship is no longer held firmly.
Any one who looks at an anchor will perceive that it con¬
sists of three principal parts, lying at right angles to one an¬
other. 1st, The arms or flukes, which form a sort of half¬
moon, from the crown or middle point of which springs ; 2d,
the shank, a long, straight, and very strong bar of iron,
firmly welded to the crown at one end; whilst the other is
passed through, and is firmly, grasped by the 3d part, viz.,
a stout beam of wood, called the stock. The end of the
shank, which projects several inches beyond the stock,
is fitted with a strong shackle, (formerly with a ring, when
hemp only was used), to which the chain is attached. As
long as the cable pulls the anchor by means of this shackle
at the end ot the shank, the anchor does its duty, and resists
the effort to move it along the ground ; and if the bottom
be soft, the strain of the cable has even the effect of mak¬
ing the bill, or point of the lower fluke bury itself more
and more deeply. The purpose of the stock, or long
wooden beam which crosses the shank, is to force the
anchor to assume its proper position, or that best adapt¬
ed to its digging one of its flukes into the ground. This
important purpose is effected by the tendency which the
stock has to lie flat, that is, horizontally on the ground; a
position, it will be observed, necessarily implying that one of
the flukes is up, and the other buried beneath the surface of
the bottom; so that if, by accident, the anchor, when first
let go from the ship’s bows, should rest on the ground with
one end of the stock sticking up, and the other down, which
would bring the flukes flat, or horizontally on the bottom,
a position in which they would have no hold whatever, a
slight strain on the cable puts all to rights, by tumbling the
56
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- anchor over, so as to bring the stock into its true position,
s^'P- namely, flat on the ground, and of course the flukes upright.
This tendency is the obvious consequence of the stock being
so much longer across than the flukes are, which naturally
causes the anchor to tumble over into its right position, when¬
ever the stock is not lying flat, as it ought always to do.
For many years after the introduction of chain cables,
hempen messengers were used to heave them in; now chains
are almost universally used, and a great expense saved. The
messenger is the endless rope which passes round the cap¬
stan, and being attached to the cable by what are well called
nippers, draws in the cable along with it as the capstan is
hove round. Iron nippers, too, must soon become universal.
Chain slings for the lower yards have long been in use,
and of late years chain topsail sheets, and chain ties, have
been introduced, as well as chain gammoning for the bow¬
sprit, and chain bobstays, which are great improvements.
Attempts are now making, and we feel convinced that
they will ere long succeed, to introduce iron wire rigging,
which we consider as stronger and better than chain, be¬
cause less dependent on the accidental quality, and careless
manufacture of a single part. And here we cannot help re¬
marking, how strange it is that the plan of making iron bridges
of wire, so successfully adopted in Switzerland, France, and
elsewhere abroad, should not yet have found such favour in
England as to be fairly tried. The noble bridge of Freyburg
in Switzerland, is several hundred feet wider than the Menai
bridge, and though it consists of but one span, it is equally
strong, if not stronger, and has cost not a fifth part of the
money. We do not think wire will answer for running rope;
but for standing rigging it may, we conceive, be most use¬
fully substituted for hemp.
The use of iron ballast, instead of dirty shingle* is also a
recent, but valuable improvement, and though the first cost
is greater, it very soon overpays itself. Iron ballast was first
officially established in the navy about the year 1796.
The next most important use of iron is in a department
of seamanship which is by no means to be lightly treated of,
we mean the watering and provisioning of ships. The in¬
troduction of iron tanks into the navy and merchant service
has in many ships doubled, and in all very greatly increased,
the quantity of water which can be carried to sea; whilst the
quality has been improved in a manner, of the extent and
blessing of which no one can form an idea, unless he car¬
ries in his recollection the filthy stuff which it was so often
the lot of seamen to drink in bygone days. The following
statement shews, in a rough way, the gain of stowage.
The cask called a butt occupies about 35 cubic feet of space
in a ship’s hold, and this space, if it were entirely filled with
water, would contain 217 gallons. A butt, however, actu¬
ally holds only 108 gallons, so that one half of the space is
lost by the thickness, and by the form of the cask, which is
the worst possible for stowage, so far as room is concerned.
An iron tank, of the largest kind at present made for ships
of war, is called a four-feet cube, though it measures about
an inch more in its external dimensions, and occupies 68
cubic feet of space. This area, if entirely filled with water,
would contain 424 gallons, but it actually holds 400, which
is only 24 gallons less than the space could possibly contain.
In other words, by using casks, you lose eight-seventeenths,
or nearly a half, of the stowage room, whilst by using tanks
you lose only one-seventeenth.
A farther increase in the stowage of water is gained by
having iron tanks made either of a wedge, or of a flat form,
to suit the curve of the ship’s hold, or to enter spaces too
low to receive cubical tanks.
A single example of the change which took place in a
line-of-battle ship, will shew the gain effected by employing
iron tanks instead of casks. The Melville, of 74 guns,
when fitted with casks, stowed, of water, 47,624 gallons, or
212^ tons. But when iron tanks were substituted, she stowed
88,232 gallons, or 394 tons, or about four-fifths more water. Seaman-
Thus, if the Melville, with a crew say of 600 men, at a gal- shlP
Ion of water each per day, could keep the sea for only 80
days, or not quite three months, if it were kept in casks,
she might carry, at full allowance, 147 days water, or very
nearlymonths, if it were stowed in iron tanks.
We have recently heard of some ships in which the bread,
and other dry provisions, were stowed in iron tanks, with great
advantage, not only in respect to stowage, but in preserving
the provisions from decay. In hot and damp climates this
becomes a primary consideration; and we know of a ship of
war which, during the long and arduous campaign against
the Burmese, by keeping her dry provisions in tanks, effec¬
tually excluded from the air, preserved the whole of her
bread, flour, pease, cocoa, and rice, in the most perfect con¬
dition; whilst in most of the other vessels a large proportion
of all the dry provisions were either decayed and rendered
useless, or were eaten up by weavels and cockroaches, in
spite of every care, greatly to the inconvenience of the
public service.
This recalls to our recollection the preserved meats, soups,
and vegetables, in cylindrical tin cases, first devised, we be¬
lieve, by M. Appert, a Frenchman, and now in general use
at sea. These meats are expensive, no doubt, but in the
long run they often prove not so costly as live stock, because
they eat and drink nothing. In all her Majesty’s ships,
these preserved meats have long been supplied to the sick;
and we are of opinion it would be sound economy to serve
them out once or twice a-week to the ship’s companies ge¬
nerally.
The next most material change for the better, to which
it is our duty to advert, in speaking of seamanship in the
most extensive sense of that word, relates to the manner in
which all ships are now navigated from port to port, and
to and from the most distant parts of the globe, not only
with far greater celerity, but with much greater safety than
formerly. This truly wonderful improvement which has of late
years been introduced into the art of seamanship, in short¬
ening voyages, and adding to their security, as well as
certainty, is due, mainly, first, to the superior knowledge of
the persons in charge of ships; secondly, to the improved
quality, lower cost, and greatly increased number of scien¬
tific instruments and astronomical tables, now in the hands
of every seamanlike officer; thirdly, to the numbers, accu¬
racy, and cheapness of the charts of almost all the navigable
regions of the globe ; and, lastly, to the more extensive and
correct knowledge of the phenomena of the winds, wreather,
currents, and tides of the ocean. To these vast helps,which
every sailor may now avail himself of, almost mechanically,
there may be added others which those only can profit by,
who, to long experience, add a taste for science, which not
only sharpens the observation, but enables an expert na¬
vigator to appropriate to the purposes of his voyage, the
thousand and one variations to which the elements are sub¬
ject, but which no books, no rules, nor even talents, can ef¬
fectually teach the mere seaman how to apply. Nothing,
indeed, is more difficult in the practice of this branch of
seamanship, than removing from the mind of an old sailor
erroneous impressions as to fact, even when substantial means
of correction are lying on his table. The truth is, the na¬
vigable world is so wide, the phenomena of nature so grand
and varied, that until we are schooled by actual experience,
we have not the means of grasping a sufficient number of
observations at once, to enable us to generalise them into
a practical shape, in the complicated art of seamanship.
In the first rank of modern instruments used at sea, stands
the Sextant, not the old wooden quadrant of our grandfa¬
thers, and even some of our fathers in the art, but the brass
sextant of Troughton, Dollond, or Cary, divided to ten se¬
conds, and capable of taking lunar distances with precision.
With such an instrument in his hands, and with such anau-
S E A M A N S H I P.
57
Seaman* tical almanac as onrs now is, there is no magician in fairy
s!l>P- tale, who could cope with a well-practised seaman in
the performance of miracles. What human feat, we will
ask, can exceed in wonder the exact determination of a
ship’s place in the midst of a boundless ocean, a thousand
miles from land ? This marvellous quality of exactness, or
rather, we should say, of infallibility, within certain appre¬
ciable limits, distinguishes the Sextant from all other nau¬
tical instruments. Its operations are connected with those
of the sun, moon, and stars, and, by the nature of its con¬
struction, partake of their certainty; whereas the Chrono¬
meter, which stands the next in order of importance, is es¬
sentially a fallible instrument, and, though eminently useful
in the navigation branch of seamanship, and much more nice
in its determinations, can never be depended on as the Sex¬
tant can. These turn instruments are admirable allies, but
neither is sufficient, if used without the other, to meet the
wants of modern navigation. A Chronometer may, and of¬
ten does, change its rate, and thus it may deceive, instead
of instructing, the mariner, without his having any suspi¬
cion of its misleading him, and though the chances of its do¬
ing so w ithout detection are much lessened, by adding two
or three more chronometers, still there never can be any
certainty in the results. On the other hand, the errors of a
Sextant lie all within the reach of detection and apprecia¬
tion. They cannot, it is true, theoretically speaking, be
fully corrected, yet they may be sufficiently compensated
for in practice, which is all the seaman need care about.
A single illustration will make this plain, even to those who
have not attended to such subjects.
The longitude is found by measuring with a Sextant
the angular distance between the moon and a star; and if
the instrument used were perfectly correct in all its ad¬
justments, true in its centering and its graduations, and
the distance were properly observed, the result would be
quite correct. But experience proves that every instru¬
ment, even after all the adjustments have been made as
carefully as possible, does, in fact, measure the angle ei¬
ther too great or too small; and, consequently, the longitude
which results from it will inevitably be too far east or too
far west. The manner in which this evil is got rid of, is as
follows. If the ship be in west longitude, and star ob¬
served lie to the eastward of the moon, and the sextant
measures the angular distance greater than the truth, the
resulting longitude will be less than the truth. If an¬
other star be now observed, lying to the westward of the
moon, and the same instrument is used, the distance will,
as before, be measured greater than the truth, but the
resulting longitude will in this case be just as much greater
than the truth, as the first result was less; but the mean
of the two will of course be near the true longitude. By
using a Sextant in this manner, and by taking a sufficient
number of observations on both sides of the moon, when
the distances are nearly the same, so close an approximation
may be made to the true longitude, that not only mav the
ship s place be found near enough to steer by, but the
errors in the rates of the Chronometers on board may be
ascertained, and a fresh departure be taken, with nearly as
much confidence as if a well-known headland had been seen.
For all short voyages, such as those between port and
port m the same country, Chronometers may be pretty con¬
fidently reckoned on, since the chances of their varying from
their previously ascertained rates, in the course of a few
days, are proportionally small. In like manner, the interme-
mate short runs made by the agency of the Chronometers,
between lunar and lunar taken at sea, may be relied upon
in practice. 1
Our neighbours the French, who are excellent navi¬
gators, use the reflecting and repeating circle much more
than we do; but we have no hesitation in recommend¬
ing the Sextant as much the superior instrument of the two
vol. xx.
for real work. Theoretically, no doubt, the circle is more Seaman-
perfect ; but it has disadvantages which, after very long slliP'
experience, we confidently affirm, render it less useful to
seaman than the sextant. In the first place, its weight, and
above all, the surface it offers to the wind, render it more
fatiguing to use, especially in bad weather. In the next
place, its radius being much shorter than that of a sextant,
the divisions on the limb are far less easily read off; a serious
objection to the use of a circle at night, when every prac¬
tised seaman knows that the best work in lunars is always
done. If Troughton’s circle with three verniers be used,
which implies six readings for every complete observation,
the labour is highly irksome; but even if the repeating cir¬
cle be used, the risk of error, by the nicety of the manipu¬
lations, and the uncertainty of the adjustments, are, w'e have
always found, an overmatch for the simplicity of the single
reading off at the end. In short, we are sure that under
the troublesome variety of circumstances which are to be
encountered at sea, a well practised navigator, with a sex¬
tant in his hand, will do twice as much good work in a
given time, as he could do with any description of circle
which we have had the good fortune to use. On shore, in¬
deed, the circle may often be used with greater effect; but
our present purpose is to treat of seamanship.
The next in order of importance in the list of nauti¬
cal instruments, after the Sextant, is the Chronometer; an
instrument to which modern seamanship is indebted for very
great service. We are old enough to remember when Chro¬
nometers were not only not in general use, but were rarely
employed except on voyages expressly scientific. It is dif¬
ficult to describe the degree of mortification, we may almost
call it grief and indignation, with which practical men, skill¬
ed in the use of such instruments as we have been describ¬
ing, and fully aware of their importance in adding to the se¬
curity of ships, and shortening voyages, witnessed the con¬
tempt, or at least the neglect with which they w'ere treated by
those most interested in their general adoption. They saw
vessels fitted up with every other description of costly equip¬
ments, with accommodations of the most showy description,
and stores of all kinds in profusion, while neither a Sextant
nor a solitary Chronometer ever formed, except accidentally,
a part of their provision. If the captain happened to know
any thing about such matters (for he w'as not required to
do so), and knowing how' advantageous they were to the
success of his voyage, asked to be supplied with them, he
was told “ that he might provide himself with these instru¬
ments if he liked it;” and if the poor man could not afford to
purchase them, the ship, however valuable, was actually al¬
lowed to sail away without the most important part of her
nautical equipment. Can any absurdity, or, we might almost
add, any crime, equal this? We could relate several in¬
stances, some of which have fallen under our own knowledge,
and others we know to be well authenticated, of ships, and all
their crews, passengers, and cargo, being lost, demonstrably
so, merely from the want of a Chronometer, which, by cost¬
ing the owners forty or fifty pounds, might have saved
them as many thousands. Some owners are influenced by a
petty spirit of economy, ill understood; but by far the greater
number are misguided by their ignorance. Happy should
w'e feel could we persuade the owners of ships, and those
who insure them, to see that their best interest lies in pro¬
viding the vessels, in the safety of which they are so deeply
interested, with proper scientific instruments, and, as a ne¬
cessary concomitant, securing the services of commanders
really competent to use these instruments in a seamanlike
manner. The importance of all such enlarged considera¬
tions has of late years been gradually making its way,
to the great improvement of seamanship ; for the owners of
ships have begun to find out, less from any scientific know¬
ledge of the matter, than from the mere instinct of gain,
that an attention to this branch of a ship’s outfit contributes
H
58
SEAMANSHIP.
Seaman- to their pecuniary profit, and that if it is really worth while
sbiP- to provide Sextants and Chronometers, it is not less so to
' place them in hands trained to their use. Thus the stand¬
ard of the characters of commanders of vessels is raised in
proportion as their scientific acquirements are advanced,
and, in the end, the whole community is benefited, by the
increased security, expedition, and profits of commercial
enterprise.
When enumerating the scientific instruments which have
been introduced into the art of seamanship, we must not
forget the Marine Barometer; an instrument, the principle
of which, so long well known on shore, has only very lately
been adapted to sea uses. This adaptation is accomplished
in the simplest way imaginable, by merely contracting the
throat of the tube which holds the mercury, at some con¬
venient point of its length, in such a degree, that the os¬
cillations of the fluid which the motions of the vessel would
otherwise cause, are so much checked, that the height of
the column can be observed, if not quite as accurately as
on land, at least with sufficient precision to give the sea¬
man indications of changes in the winds and weather.
We must repeat once more that it is not our purpose to
write a complete treatise on seamanship, but merely to give
a sketch of the most material advances which have been
made since the Encyclopaedia was first published, in this
thoroughly practical science. It will be enough, therefore,
to mention that the use of the barometer at sea consists in
giving the seaman information, before hand, of the changes
fikely to take place in the direction as well as force of the wind;
or, which is often fully as useful, to let him know that, in spite
of appearances to the contrary, there will be no change.
Cases intelligible to unprofessional persons may easily be fur¬
nished by any seaman’s memory. We remember once,
rounding the Cape of Good Hope, on a voyage from China,
in a crazy bark, short-handed and ill-found, but with a fair
wind, and the weather so moderate that every sail could be
carried with advantage. To all appearance, squally, and
perhaps stormy, weather was coming on ; so that, had
we not possessed a barometer, ordinary nautical prudence
would have induced us to shorten sail before night, and
thus we should have lost the charming fair wind which was
co-operating with the current to sweep us rapidly across the
bank of Lagulhas. But as the mercury indicated a conti¬
nuance of fine weather, we carried on, sent the people to
bed, rounded the Cape in safety, and reached the trade
winds in time to accomplish a successful voyage to St. Helena
and home. Nearly in the same region, and under circum¬
stances very similar, we were once grievously tempted to
trust rather to appearances than to the more substantial as¬
surances of the barometer, and on the approach of night to
make more sail instead of taking it in. As the darkness
began, however, the confidence and pride of personal expe¬
rience gave way to the warnings of the instrument. The
sails were reefed, and every thing made snug for a breeze,
greatly to the surprise of the sailors, who saw no cause for
these precautions. Towards midnight a gale came on,
which, had itnot been anticipated, would speedily have taken
in our sails for us, by blowing them from the yards ; and the
success of the voyage in this case also was chiefly due to
the barometer.
Without dwelling further on this tempting branch of the
subject of seamanship, we may venture to give one practical
recommendation, which may possibly prove useful both to
the owners and commanders of ships. It is, that as much re¬
sponsibility as possible should always be made to rest on
those instrumental parts of the equipment which science,
and an adequate experience of its application, show to be
really useful. Thus, we would have the owner of a ship,
free, and even generous, in his supply of sextants, chrono¬
meters, barometers, and charts, to his captain, sure that, if
he be chosen for his capacity, the paltry cost of such sup¬
ply will, in the end, be repaid fifty fold. On the other
hand, a commander so confided in, should study to use such
means of instruction, as not abusing them. The captain
should be possessed of a certain knowledge of their prin¬
ciples, in order to have that degree of faith in their ap¬
plication to practice, without which they may well prove
worse than none at all. We have known some ships totally
lost, and many voyages doubled in duration, merely by the
ignorant misapplication of a figure, or of an algebraic sign.
But if the captain knows the proper use of his instruments,
he should trust to them, as he is himself trusted by his
employers; and by resting upon them that responsibility
which they are far more able to bear than he can be, how¬
ever extensive his experience, he will make out his voyage
in safety, and learn, by degrees, not only to feel, but to
act on the belief of the uniformity of the laws of nature, m
the midst of the wildest apparent confusion.
We had almost forgotten to mention, amongst the mo¬
dern improvements in seamanship, the immense advantage
of correct charts. To any one accustomed to use such
charts as are now on board even the worst found ships, the
sight of an old “ sea map” is enough to make his hair stand
on end. In the first place, on looking at the dangers which
really exist, but which are omitted in the old charts, he
wonders how ships in those times ever escaped destruction ;
and in the next, he finds the sea so thickly covered with
rocks, and shoals, and those vague “ yigias,” now known to
have no existence, that his admiration is great of the boldness
of those mariners who could sail on at all during the night.
The government of most civilized countries having taken
up this matter in earnest, and sent their surveyors abroad,
like geographical missionaries, the world has been put in pos¬
session of charts of all those harbours, coasts, and seas
which are most frequented, and so accurate is the construc¬
tion of their maps, that ships duly provided with nautical in¬
struments need scarcely ever incur the danger of running
ashore, except by stress of weather, or experience any dif¬
ficulty in finding sale passages amongst the most complicat¬
ed sand banks, coral reefs, or any other description of sub¬
marine dangers, the terror and bane of old navigation.
It would lead us beyond our limits were we to go into
further detail, in order to point out the various minor im¬
provements which have been introduced into the practice of
navigation ; though we feel strongly tempted to describe
the scientific remedies, for example, which have been ap¬
plied to the steering compass by Professor Barlow, to cor¬
rect the local attraction caused by the great additional quan¬
tity of iron that has lately been put on board all ships. or a
similar reason, want of room, we must omit all mention of the
improved methods of constructing ships, stowing their holds,
making their masts, and, generally, the improved mode ot
rigging, fitting out, and working ships. These details being
all parts of the same course of improvement, would enter
naturally into an express treatise on seamanship, but are
much too voluminous for this place.
There are two topics, however, on which we must be al¬
lowed to touch for a moment, before bringing this Appen¬
dix to a close. One is, the improved discipline of the Bri¬
tish navy, and the consequent amelioration in the charac¬
ter of all the seamen of the country. The other is, the
change in the armament of the ships of war, and the im¬
provement in the training of our seamen to the duties re¬
quired by this change. Both of these points have so ma¬
terial an influence on the prosperity of the country, and have
become so completely part and parcel of the seamanship
upon which its glory as a nation depends, that on this oc¬
casion we cannot pass them over in silence.
There can be no good seamanship without discipline, for
it is as essential to the correct working of a ship that there
should be a well-understood subordination established on
board, as it is to the correct going of a clock that all its
Seaman-
ship.
SEAMANSHIP.
jeaman- wheels and pinions should be made to fit, and be so placed
shiP- as to work properly into one another. To carry on this il-
lustration, it may be said, that whilst the mainspring of na¬
val discipline is a sense of duty, even this strong motive
would not be enough to produce the desired results, with¬
out the intermediate agency of an organised system of dis¬
cipline, the object of which is, to assign to each person
on board a specific set of duties, all which shall contribute
to the main purpose; and, thus, as far as may be possible,
to arrange and condense the energies of the whole into one
course of uniform action, subject to the will of a supreme di¬
recting authority, who is responsible to the country at large.
In strictness, this well defined system of discipline be¬
longs only to the naval department of seamanship, but in a
great measure it also applies, by transmission, to the mer-
chant service, where it works by the joint agency of cus¬
tom, example, and the several interests of the parties con¬
cerned. So large a mass of the seamen of the country
are employed in the navy, and so many naval officers
are employed in the merchant service in peace; and as
seamen, by the very nature of their lives, are perpetual¬
ly changing from one service to another, a kind of amal¬
gamation insensibly takes place, and thus the discipline esta¬
blished on board our ships of war, under the sanction of of¬
ficial authority and long established usage, pervades, more or
less, the whole profession of the sea. In this view of the
matter, the improved discipline of the navy has an import¬
ant bearing on the well-being of the country, in all those
relations connected with our insular situation ; just as it
might, by no strained analogy, be said, that the education,
discipline, and fixed doctrines of the Established Church,
have a salutary influence on the religious interests of the
country, into whatever number of sects the population may
be nominally divided.
The details of this branch of our subject might, we think,
easily be made very interesting, but neither our space, nor
the purpose of this Appendix, will admit of its being done
here. We must content ourselves then, with saying that
of late years great pains have been taken to raise the moral
character of seamen by education, and by teaching them the
advantages of sober and orderly habits, to beget a feeling of
self-respect, which is at the root of all good discipline. Reli¬
gious instruction, gently applied, and without any of that high-
pressure cant, of which the sailor, of all mortals, has most
abhorrence, has been most beneficially introduced. Light
general reading has become general afloat, as well as ele¬
mentary instruction ; and there cannot be a doubt that the
seamen are in consequence more correct in their moral
conduct. The whole system of punishments, too, has been
much modified ; for in place of the lash which, at one time,
regulated everything, a desire to prevent crime, and to lead
the sailors to act from principle, have been substituted with
great effect. In fact, when such a spirit as we have just al¬
luded to, however engendered, pervades the captain, offi¬
cers, and petty officers, the sailors, forming the mass of the
crew, readily fall into the same current of duty, and all
goes on cheerfully. The power of using corporal punish¬
ment exists still, and that it ever must exist in the navy, is
the opinion of every person well-informed on the subject,
and who knows the character of seamen and the duties
which are required of them on board a man-of-war. There
are no persons more fully convinced of this necessity than the
sailors themselves, or who are more sensible that, under the
wise and benevolent modifications now officially established
in the navy, it is by far the most effective, and at the same
time the most gentle, method of preserving order amongst
those refractory subjects who unfortunately are to be found
in every ship. Without the power of occasional corporal
punishment, we conscientiously believe, it would be quite
impossible to restrain such persons within any bounds
ot decency, or to prevent them from becoming a curse to
59
those about them, whilst their lawless habits would unsettle Seaman-
the arrangements of the best regulated ship in the fleet, ship-
and, in the end, render her, instead of a bulwark to defend
the country, a source of national weakness and dishonour.
Since the peace of 1815, all the maritime nations of the
world have been gradually increasing the size of their ships
of war, and adding to their weight of metal. Recently,
too, the use of shells has been introduced afloat; a measure
of questionable policy on the part of that nation which com¬
menced it, but which we, and others, are of course obliged
to adopt. The shells are not, as heretofore, fired from
mortars only, but are thrown from the long guns used in
ordinary warfare in projecting solid shot. How far this
new weapon may modify the seamanship of naval engage¬
ments we are not prepared to say. In the mean time, great
pains have been taken to train a large body of seamen gun¬
ners, including of course a proportion of highly-educated
officers of all ranks; whilst guns of the most approved calibre
for shell practice, have been placed on board every ship in
the navy. The establishment of this new system of exer¬
cise, through the agency of an express gunnery department
of instruction, and the manner in which it has been enforc¬
ed in all our ships, have produced a marked effect on the
habits and character of the seamen throughout the fleet.
Before closing it maybe expected that we should say some¬
thing of the probable influence ol steam navigation on naval
warfare; and we do not shrink from committing ourselves by
an opinion on this point, though it be one much disputed
amongst professional men. Ournotion is, that the introduction
of steam will make no difference whatever in the result of any
contest in which we shall be engaged, however the means may
be modified thereby. The battle must still be fought, as it al¬
ways has been, and ever must be fought, by large bodies of
disciplined men, properly led, and properly armed ; and the
victory, as formerly, will be decided in favour of those who
have the best national spirit to urge them on, or who, being
equal in this respect, bring the greatest number into the
field. Line-of- battle ships, in this view of the subject, are
merely convenient vehicles in which warriors are brought,
hand to hand, to settle their differences by hard fighting.
Steam will enable them either to come together more quick¬
ly, or to avoid coming together at all, as the case may be;
but neither steam, nor any other mechanical agency, wrill ever
dispense with the moral agency of trained men, by whose
conduct and courage alone the issue of all wars must be de¬
termined. We have heard it suggested, and we think with
not less probability than ingenuity, that steamers in war
will take the same place in fleets that cavalry have long
done in armies. It is a very important place, no doubt, but
it is not one which decides the eventual fate of the war;
that is always the work of the infantry. The cavalry pro¬
tect the flanks, and otherwise help the infantry to get into
action with that of the enemy opposed to them, and when
these are broken, they cut in upon them and do much exe¬
cution. In like manner, armed steamers will guard the
edges of fleets, tow three-deckers into action, and, when the
enemy is discomfitted, will come in with desperate effect to
reap the iron harvest. Still we contend, that the great
battle which decides the fate of empires, must ever be
fought by men, that is, by numerous bodies of disciplined
men acting together, duly led, and fighting under the in¬
fluence of national sentiment. It is impossible to impart
this sentiment to machinery; and though wre do not deny
that, occasionally, a steamer, armed w ith guns of enormous
calibre, may grievously annoy a line-of-battle ship in a calm,
or under some other untoward circumstances, we are fully sa¬
tisfied that by proper arrangements, every sailing ship may
be so armed and worked, that the moral and physical agents
on board other will prove an overmatch for that power which
relies, for its superiority, on its mechanical machinery alone.
We have no doubt, too, that ere long steam engines will
60
S E B
Search- find a place on board all large ships of war (high-pressure
Warrant engines of course); for the absurd and totally unsubstantial
R preiudice against this modification oi steam power will, in
Sebasuan, of a war> if not long before, give way to the pro-
v _ digious convenience in the way of stowage, and other ad¬
vantages, which point out the expediency of its use in all
SEC
sea-go in" vessels without exception. 1 o what extent ships
of w ar may require to be fitted with steam power, is a ques¬
tion which must depend on circumstances that cannot be,
foreseen ; but that, eventually, they must have, within them¬
selves, some such means of locomotion, besides what they may
borrow from tug boats, we hold to be quite certain, (n t.)
Sebese
II
Secant.
SEARCH-Warrant, in Law, a kind of general warrant
issued by justices of peace or by magistrates of towns, for
searching all suspected places for stolen goods. In Scot¬
land this was often done formerly ; and in some English law¬
books there are precedents requiring the constable to search
all such suspected places as he and the party complaining
shall think convenient; but such practice is condemned
by Lord Hale, Mr Hawkins, and the best authorities both
among the English and the Scotch lawyers. However, in
case of a complaint, and oath made of goods stolen, and that
the party suspects that those "cods are in a particular hou&e,
and shows the cause of such suspicion, the justice may grant
a warrant to search not only that house, but other suspected
places, and to attach the goods, and the party in whose
custody they are found, and bring them before him or some
other justice, to give an account how he came by them,
and to abide such order as to law shall appertain. ibis
warrant should be directed to the constable or other pub¬
lic officer, who may enter a suspected house and make
search. , „
SEATON, a town in the hundred of Colyton, in the
county of Devon, 150 miles from London. It consists chiefly
of one street, and stands on the sea-shore, in a veiy plea¬
sant but secluded situation. It is much resorted to as a
sea-bathing place during the summer months; and there is
a considerable fishery carried on from hence. It has a pa¬
rish church and an Independent chapel. The population
amounted in 1821 to 1745, and in 1831 to 1803, taken at
a period of the year when there is no occasional residence.
Seaton-Carew, a township in the parish of Stranton, in
the county of Durham, in the w7ard of Stockton, two miles
from Hartlepool, seven from Stockton, and 256 horn L°n'
don. It stands close to the sea-shore, near the influx of
the river Tees into the sea. It is well adapted for sea¬
bathing, which has caused an increase in the number ol
the houses. The chief occupation of the inhabitants is that
of fishing. Their number amounted in 1821 to /04, and
in 1831 to 736; but it has much increased in the last seven
^ eSEB ACIC Acid, so called because it is procured from fat.
SEBASTIANO, called Del Piombo, from an office in
the lead-mines given him by Pope Clement VII., was an
eminent Venetian painter, born in the year 1485. He was
first a disciple of old Giovanni Bellino ; continued his stu¬
dies under Giorgione; and having attained an excellent
manner of colouring, went to Rome, where he insinuated
himself into the favour of Michel Angelo. He has the re¬
putation of being the first who invented the art of preparing
plaster-walls for oil-painting; but he was so slow and la,zy
in his work, that other hands were often employed to finish
what he had begun. He died in 1547.
SEBASTIAN, St, a considerable and strongly fortified
city of Spain, the capital of the province of Guipuscoa. It
is built on a tongue of land projecting into the sea. The
north point of the mountain Orgullo, being the high land of
St Sebastian, is about three miles to the west of Port Pas¬
sage, on which is built the castle of Mota, which serves as
a guide on one side, as the light-house does on the other en¬
trance to the bay, which is a very narrow strait, not admit-
tin" through it more than two vessels at a time ; but the
bay, when entered, is secure for vessels furnished with good
ground-tackle, which sunken rocks make very necessary.
For the protection of vessels trading with the town, there
are piers, within which ships of 300 tons may enter at lovv
water; but when the tide is out they lie dry on a hard
b°The city is defended by strong works on the land side,
and has only two gates. St Sebastian is better built than
most Spanish towns, the streets being wide, straight, and
well paved. The houses, also, are large and well built. 1 he
town contains, besides warehouses, about 700 houses, three
parish churches, five monasteries, a hospital, and about
12,000 or 13,000 inhabitants. The plaza, or square, is a
very fine object. . .
This place was the seat of the Guipuscoa Society, one of
the largest trading associations in Spain, which formed a junc¬
tion with the Manilla Company ; and these had almost a mo¬
nopoly of the trade with Caraccas in the western colonies
of Spain, and with the Philippine Islands in the East In¬
dies. It was then a port of vast commercial importance,
having, besides those branches, a considerable share of the
export trade of wool. At that period there were large es¬
tablishments for making ropes and cables, many anchor-
smiths and nail-smiths, and such other occupations as are
connected with the equipment of ships; but political cir¬
cumstances have changed and much diminished the com¬
merce of this place.
The important position of this place has drawn upon it
much of the calamity of war. In former times it had been
frequently besieged and occupied by opposing parties. It
was treacherously seized by the trench in 1808, and was
occupied by them till 1813. When the battle of \ ittoria
had been gained by the Duke of Wellington on the 21st of
June, a way was opened for the British army to attack this
city, into which the French had thrown a powerful garri¬
son, who defended it with great bravery and skill. The
British army invested the place, and attempted to storm it
on the 25th July ; but having been repulsed, they besieged
it in regular form, and with the loss of many lives it was
stormed and carried on the 31st of August. During the
assault the town was set on fire and nearly destroyed; and
a scene of misery was exhibited to the unfortunate people,
in the rage of the storming soldiery, as well as in the pro¬
gress of the flames, which will long be recollected with horror
by the wretched sufferers. The city w7as, however, speedily
rebuilt, and commerce gradually returned. The civil war
in some measure centred here, it being the chief point by
which the queen’s party received their supply of warlike
stores from England. Its trade has, however, received a
most disastrous check. The castle of Mota is in lat. 43.
19. N., and long. 1. 59. W.
SEBESE, or Pulo Bicie, a small island in the Straits
of Sunda. Long. 105. 27. E. Lat. 5. 50. S.
SEES VAR, a town of Khorassan, in Persia, 180 miles
north-west of Herat. It was taken in 1381 by Timur, who
made a cruel example of the inhabitants who revolted from
his yoke, burying alive ten thousand of their number.
SEBURAI, Seburjei, a name which the Jews give to
such of their rabbin or doctors as lived and taught some
time after the finishing of the Talmud.
SECALE, Rye. See Agriculture.
SECANT, in Geometry, a line that cuts another, or di¬
vides it into parts.
SECANT, in Trigonometry, denotes a right line drawn
from the centre of a circle, which, cutting the circumfe¬
rence, proceeds till it meets with a tangent to the same circle.
S E C E D £ R S.
Seceders. SECEDERS, a numerous body of Presbyterians, who
' have withdrawn from the communion of the Established
Church in Scotland.
In order that the causes from which the Secession origi¬
nated may be clearly understood, we shall introduce an
account of that important event by a brief sketch of the
previous history of the Scottish church.
James I. after his accession to the English throne, enter¬
tained an ardent desire to form the Church of Scotland as
much as possible upon the model of that in England ; and
his son Charles, with the assistance of Archbishop Laud,
endeavoured to carry the design into execution, by esta¬
blishing canons for ecclesiastical discipline, and introducing
a liturgy into the public service of the church. Great num¬
bers of the clergy and laity of all ranks took the alarm at
what they justly considered as a bold and dangerous inno¬
vation ; and after frequent applications to the throne, they
at last obtained the royal proclamation for a free parliament
and General Assembly. The Assembly met in 16S8, and
began their labours with a repeal of all the acts of the six
preceding parliaments, which had favoured the introduction
of Episcopacy. They condemned the liturgy, together with
every branch of the hierarchy. They cited all the Scottish
bishops to their bar, and after having excommunicated nine
of them, and deposed five from their episcopal office, they
restored kirk-sessions, presbyteries, and synods, provincial
as well as national. These proceedings were ratified by the
parliament which met in 1640. The law of patronage, how¬
ever, was in full force for several years after this period; but
great care was taken that no minister should be obtruded
on the people contrary to their inclination ; and in 1649 pa¬
tronage was abolished altogether, as an oppressive grievance.
The restoration of Charles II. in 1660, produced a total
change in the state of ecclesiastical affairs in Scotland. All
that the General Assembly had done from 1638 to 1650
was rendered null and void; the covenants were pronounced
to be unlawful, Episcopacy was restored, and the king was
declared to be the supreme head of the church in all matters
civil and ecclesiastical. During this period, under the sway
of Lauderdale and his associates, the Presbyterians were not
only subjected to fines, imprisonment, and exile, but num¬
bers of them were publicly executed, for their adherence
to their political and religious principles.
At the memorable era of the Revolution, the affairs of the
church underwent a complete change. The first parlia¬
ment which met after that event abolished prelacy and the
king’s supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs. They ratified the
Westminster Confession of Faith, together with the Pres¬
byterian form of church government and discipline, “ as
agreeable to the word of God, and most conducive to the
advancement of true piety and godliness, and the establish¬
ment of peace and tranquillity within these realms.” That
same parliament abolished patronage, and vested the elec¬
tion of ministers in the heritors and elders, with the con¬
sent of the congregation.
At the first General Assembly held after the Revolution,
a most conciliatory spirit was manifested, and a wide door
of admission into the national church was opened to the
episcopal ministers, on the most lenient terms. Great mul¬
titudes of the conforming clergy were thus induced, for the
sake of the benefice, to transfer their respect and obedience
from the bishop to the presbytery, and were received into
ministerial communion on merely acknowledging “ that
the church government, as now settled by law, is the only
government of this church.” The admission of these time¬
servers into the church laid the foundation of those mea¬
sures which ultimately led to the secession.1
In the reign of Queen Anne, the true Protestant religion
was ratified and established, together with the Presbyterian
form of church government and discipline ; and the unalter- Seceders.
able continuance of both was declared to be an essential
condition of the union of the two kingdoms in all time com¬
ing. In 1712, the law respecting patronage was revived,
in resentment, it has been said, of that warm attachment
which the Church of Scotland discovered to the family of
Hanover; and about the same period the imposition by the
government, of the oath of abjuration, was a fertile source
of discord and strife, both among ministers and people. This
oath was regarded with great jealousy, and was peculiarly
obnoxious to the Presbyterian clergy, both because its
avowed design was the security of the Church of England,
and because it seemed to imply an approbation of dio¬
cesan Episcopacy, with the ceremonies of that church, and
a recognition of the queen’s supremacy in matters of reli¬
gion. About a third part of the clergy, including the foun¬
ders of the Secession Church, positively refused to swear
this offensive oath; though they were enjoined to do so on
pain of ejection from their churches, and of paying an exor¬
bitant fine. A train of events which followed in rapid suc¬
cession soon made it manifest that the dominant party in
the Scottish church were, if not hostile, at least indifferent,
to the most important doctrines of religion, and ready to
sacrifice the liberties of the people at the shrine of civil au¬
thority. This charge was proved beyond the possibility of
contradiction, by their conduct towards the presbytery of
Auchterarder in the year 1717, with regard to what has
since been denominated the Auchterarder Creed, by their
vindictive proceedings against the twelve minsters known
by the name of “ Marrow Men,” who endeavoured to check
the progress of error by the diffusion of sound doctrine,
along with their condemnation of the doctrines of the book
entitled the Marrow of Modern Divinity, in the years
1720-21, and especially by the leniency of their dealings
with Professor Simpson of Glasgow, who, though found
guilty of teaching a system of deism rather than Christian
theology, in his prelections to the students of divinity, re¬
ceived no higher censure than simple suspension.
For some time alter the revival of patronage in 1712, the
severity of the law was greatly mitigated by the general dis¬
inclination, on the part both of ministers and patrons, to avail
themselves of its provisions in opposition to the feelings of
the people; but this state of things was speedily changed.
After the lapse of a few years, patrons no longer hesitated
to avail themselves of their legal rights, and ministers were
no longer disinclined to accept of presentations when given
contrary to the wishes of the congregation. But on the
part of the people acts of resistance became more frequent
and more obstinate, though they were almost uniformly
unsuccessful; for the ruling party among the clergy were
firm in their resolution that the law of patronage should be
carried into effect. They found themselves, however, placed
in circumstances of peculiar difficulty ; for not only were the
people loud in their remonstrances against violent settle¬
ments, but a considerable party of the ministers themselves
espoused the popular side, and not only strenuously, op¬
posed the intrusion of ministers upon congregations, but
obstinately refused to carry into effect the decisions of the
Assembly. To obviate this difficulty, in 1729 they ap¬
pointed a committee of their own number to meet and or¬
dain the obnoxious presentee ; and for a period of twenty
years this expedient was resorted to in cases where the
presbytery proved refractory. The excitement of the people,
and their resistance to the yoke of patronage, continued
to increase; violent settlements prevailed in every part of
the country; and in some cases the popular feeling was so
strong, that it was deemed necessary to employ an armed
force to carry into effect the decisions of the church-courts.
At the meeting of the Assembly in 1730, there were no
1 For a description of their character, see Burnet, vol. i* p. 158, folio edition.
62
SECEDERS.
Sereders. fewer than twelve cases of appeals on the part of congrega-
tions against the intrusion of obnoxious ministers ; but the
dominant party were so determined to crush all opposition
to their enactments, that they not only dismissed these ap¬
peals, but solemnly enacted, at this meeting of the Assembly,
that henceforward no reasons of dissent “against the deter¬
mination of church judicatures” should be entered on the
record. The Assembly of 1731 followed closely in the foot¬
steps of its predecessor. By the law of patronage it was
provided, that if the patron suffered six months to elapse
without exercising his right of presentation, the presbyteiy
to which the vacant parish belonged was empowered to take
steps for its settlement. The presbyteries in these cases
frequently gave the people the right of choosing their mi¬
nisters ; and with the view of destroying this last remnant of
popular election, an overture was laid before the Assembly
of 1731, proposing, that when the right of appointment de¬
volved upon presbyteries, the power of election in vacant
parishes should belong only to the elders and Protestant
heritors, and, in royal burghs, to the elders, magistrates, and
town-council. This overture was transmitted to the dif¬
ferent presbyteries, that, according to the regulations of the
barrier act, their opinion respecting it might be given at
next meeting of the Assembly ; and though a great majority
of those presbyteries from whom reports were received, ex¬
pressed disapprobation of the measure, the supporters of the
overture obtained a majority of the Assembly of 1732 in its
Among the opponents of the measures of the Assembly
in 1732, Mr Ebenezer Erskine, minister at Stirling, held a
prominent place. His talents and learning, his faithfulness
in the discharge of his ministerial duties, and his intrepidi¬
ty and zeal in the popular cause, had secured to him the
respect and esteem of his brethren, as well as extensive in¬
fluence among the people. In the various important ques¬
tions which had been agitated after his entrance into the
ministry, the abjuration oath, the controversy respecting
the Marrow of Divinity, and the process carried on against
Professor Simpson, he had shown himself an active and
fearless opponent of the measures pursued by the ruling
party in the church. He was not only one of those who
signed the representation of grievances laid before the As¬
sembly in 1732, but being a member of Assembly that
year, he spoke and protested against its rejection. Being
at that time moderator of the synod of Perth and Stirling,
he opened the meeting at Perth, on the 10th of October
following, with a sermon from Psalm cxviii. 22, in the
course of which he remonstrated against the act of the pre¬
ceding Assembly with regard to the settlement of ministers,
alleging that it was contrary to the word of God and the
established constitution of the church. These statements
gave great offence to several members of synod, and after
the court was constituted, and a new moderator chosen, a
formal complaint was lodged against him, for uttering seve¬
ral offensive expressions in his sermon.2 Many of the mem¬
bers declared that they heard him utter nothing but sound
and seasonable doctrine ; but his accusers insisting on their
complaint, obtained the appointment of a committee of sy¬
nod, to collect what were called the offensive expressions,
and to lay them before the next diet in writing. This was
done accordingly, and Mr Erskine having been heard in re¬
ply to the charges made against him, a keen debate of three
days ensued, and at last the synod, by a majority of six
votes, found Mr Erskine censurable for some expressions
in his sermon, “ tending to disquiet the peace of the church, ^
and impugning several acts of Assembly, and proceedings
of church judicatories.” Against this sentence Mr Erskine
protested and appealed to the General Assembly. But in
spite of his protest and appeal, the synod proceeded in the
cause, and agreed to “ rebuke Mr Erskine, and admonish
him to behave orderly for the future and they at the same
time appointed the “ presbytery of Stirling to inquire anent
his after behaviour at their privy censures, and report to the
next synod.” Mr Erskine not appearing when called upon,
the synod resolved that he should be rebuked at theii next
meeting in April. All attempts at accommodation proving
fruitless, the Assembly which met in May 1733 affirmed
the sentence of the synod, and appointed Mr Erskine t0 oe
rebuked and admonished at the bar of the Assembly.^ Mr
Erskine, however, declared that he could not submit in si¬
lence to the rebuke and admonition, and presented a writ¬
ten protest, to the effect, that as the Assembly had found
him censurable, and had rebuked him for doing what he
conceived to be agreeable to the word of God and the
standards of the church, he should be at liberty to teach
the same truths, and to testify against the same or similar
evils, on every proper occasion. To this protest Messrs
William Wilson, minister at Perth, Alexander Moncrieff,
minister at Abernethy, and James Fisher, minister at Kin-
claven, gave in a written adherence, under the form of in¬
strument. The Assembly having refused to permit the pro¬
test to be read, the four protesters left the paper on the
table and withdrew, intending to return to their respective
charges, and act agreeably to their protest, as circumstances
might require. Here the matter would in all probability
have terminated, as at this period none of the four enter¬
tained any intention of a formal separation from the na¬
tional church. But an overruling Providence had order¬
ed it otherwise. The court had proceeded to a different
business, when the protest, which had fallen from the table,
was accidentally picked up by a minister, who, perusing
the contents of it, rose with great indignation, and call¬
ed the attention of the Assembly to the insult which had
been offered to their authority.3 The protest being read, a
great uproar ensued, and the Assembly ordered their offi¬
cer to summon the four brethren to appear at the bar
of the court next day. They obeyed the citation, and a
committee was appointed to retire with them in order to
persuade them to withdraw their paper. The committee
having reported that their persuasions had produced no ef¬
fect on the minds of the brethren, the Assembly ordered
them to appear before the Commission in August follow¬
ing, and retract their protest; and it they should not com¬
ply, and testify their sorrow for their conduct, the Commis¬
sion was empowered to suspend them from the exercise of
their ministry, and in case of their acting contrary to the
sentence of suspension, the Commission should proceed to
a higher censure.
The Commission met in August accordingly, and the four
ministers still adhering to their protest, were suspended from
the exercise of their office. At the meeting in November,
addresses were received from a number of presbyteries and
synods, recommending lenity and forbearance towards the
suspended ministers, and many members of the Commission
strenuously supported the same view. The question, how¬
ever, was put, “ Proceed immediately to inflict a higher
censure,” or “ Delay the same till March;” and the votes
being equal on both sides, Mr John Gowdie, the modera-
Seceders.
• A ninp nrpshvferies • six approved of the overture without alteration, twelve on condition that cer¬
tain importan^ameinlments were inUoduced, while thirty-one gave it their unqualified condemnation. Eighteen presbyteries gave in no
report. , j fnr i„vp«+ip-ation were Messrs Adam Ferguson, minister at Logierait; James Mercer, mi-
* The persons who > £* the I.,M of Gle Joig, ruling elder
,tat"i'll?Mr Ad'un Gibb! that the person who picked up Mr Brskine's protest was Mr James Nasmith, minister at Dalmeny.
SECEDERS.
Seceders. tor, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, gave his casting
vote to proceed to a higher censure. At this stage of the
proceedings the Commission proposed certain terms of ac¬
commodation, which the suspended ministers, after mature
deliberation, declared they could not conscientiously accept.
The Commission, therefore, on the 16th of November 1733,
passed sentence upon them ; loosing their relation to their
respective charges, declaring their churches vacant, and
prohibiting all ministers of the Church of Scotland from em¬
ploying them in any ministerial function.
The sentence being intimated to them, they protested
that their ministerial office and relation to their respective
charges should be held as valid as if no such sentence had
passed ; that they were now obliged to make a secession
from the prevailing party in the ecclesiastical courts; and
that it should be lawful for them to preach the gospel, and
discharge all the duties of the pastoral office, according to
the word of God, and the principles and constitution of the
Church of Scotland.
The Secession properly commenced at this date. Ac¬
cordingly the ejected ministers declared in their protest,
that they were laid under the disagreeable necessity of
seceding, not from the principles and constitution of the
Church of Scotland, to which they expressed their steadfast
adherence, but from the present church-courts, which had
thrown them out from ministerial communion. In the new
and trying circumstances in which they were placed, they
conducted themselves with great caution and prudence. A
few weeks after their expulsion from the national church,
they met, according to previous appointment, at Gairney
Bridge, a small village in the neighbourhood of Kinross, on
the 5th of December 1733. Having spent the whole of that
and the greater part of the succeeding day in prayer and
pious conference, they finally resolved to constitute them¬
selves into a presbytery, under the designation of the Asso¬
ciate Presbytery. This presbytery, at its first formation, con¬
sisted only of the four ejected ministers; for though Messrs
Ralph Erskine and Thomas Mair were present at this in¬
teresting meeting, they were merely spectators. Anxious,
however, to avoid every thing like rashness or precipitancy,
and cherishing a solemn impression of the responsibility
attached to their conduct, in the remarkable circumstances
in which they were placed, the seceding ministers resolved
to hold their meetings chiefly for prayer and religious con¬
ference, and to defer proceeding to any judicial acts till they
should see whether the ecclesiastical courts would retrace
their steps. They considered it necessary, however, to pub¬
lish a Testimony to the doctrine, worship, and government
of the Church of Scotland, and a statement of the grounds of
their secession from the national church. This has been
since known by the name of the Extrajudicial Testimony.
In the Assembly which met in May 1734, a conciliatory
spirit was manifested by the ruling party ; the agitated
state of popular feeling, and the knowledge that the Se¬
ceders had many friends among the clergy themselves, dis¬
posed them to make some concessions to prevent the spread
of disaffection. When the commission-book was examined,
there were some reservations made in the approval of its
proceedings; the act of 1730, forbidding church-courts to
record dissents and protests, and the act of 1732, respecting
the settlement of vacant parishes, were repealed ; the Com¬
mission was appointed to petition his majesty and the par¬
liament for the repeal of the patronage act; and they au¬
thorized the Synod of Perth and Stirling to receive the
ejected ministers into the communion of the church, and
restore them to their respective charges, but with this ex-
63
press direction, that the “ synod should not take upon them Seceders.
to judge of the legality or formality of the former procedure """'v-—'
of the church judicatories in relation to this affair, or either
approve or censure the same.” But as the appearances of
reformation which had been exhibited were, in the opinion
of the four seceding brethren, dictated merely by a calcu¬
lating worldly policy, and by no real regard for the cause
of truth, after solemn and repeated deliberation, they were
unanimously of opinion that, in existing circumstances, it
was their duty to remain in a state of separation, till they
should see unequivocal and decided evidence that the cause
of defection wras in reality abandoned. Having prepared a
statement of the reasons of their refusal, and the terms
upon which they were willing to return to the Established
Church, they published it some time before the meeting
of Assembly 1735. The proceedings of the Assemblies of
1735 and 1736 seemed to the seceding ministers fully to
justify the opinion which they had formed respecting the
measures proposed in the preceding Assembly, and to dis¬
pel, for the time at least, all hopes of a re-union with the
Established Church ; and they now considered it “ full time
to proceed to the exercise of the powers with which they
were intrusted by the Head of the church, for the vindica¬
tion of His truths and ordinances, and for the relief of the
Christian people, by supplying them with sermon.”1 They
now prepared what they termed an Act, Declaration, and
Testimony to the doctrine, worship, government, and dis¬
cipline of the Church of Scotland, and condemning the
numerous instances of defection from these, both in former
and in the present times. Some time after this, having re¬
ceived the accession of Messrs Ralph Erskine of Dunferm¬
line, Thomas Mair of Orwell, Thomas Nairn of Abbotshall,
and James Thomson of Burntisland, the Associate Presby¬
tery now consisted of eight members. Numerous applica¬
tions for sermon having been received from all parts of the
country,2 and the seceding ministers having now renounced
all hopes of a re-union with the church, resolved to adopt
measures for extending and perpetuating the benefits of
the Secession; and accordingly Mr Wilson of Perth, a per¬
son of great ability and learning, was chosen professor of
divinity, and intrusted with the education of candidates for
the ministry.3 These measures necessarily produced a com¬
plete separation between them and the Established Church.
The Assembly of 1739 declared the refractory ministers wor¬
thy of deposition; but, from motives of expediency, delayed
giving sentence against them till next year, when they were
all deposed, and ordered to be ejected from their churches.
In some places, such as Stirling and Perth, the seceding
ministers were forcibly excluded from their usual places of
worship the first Sabbath after the decision of the Assem¬
bly, while in others, such as Dunfermline and Burntisland,
they continued to occupy their pulpits for at least two
years after sentence of deposition was pronounced against
them. All of them, however, continued to discharge the
duties of the ministry in their respective congregations, who
still adhered to them, erected places of worship for them,
and provided for their support. Meanwhile cases of violent
settlements of ministers increased throughout the country,
and the opposition was frequently so formidable, and po¬
pular excitement so great, as to render the attendance of a
guard of soldiers necessary at ordinations. These contests
had of course a powerful influence in increasing the adhe¬
rents of the seceding ministers. New accessions were made
to them from all quarters. Some even of the probationers
of the Established Church placed themselves under their
superintendence, and their theological hall was in such a
1 Testimony of the United Associate Synod, p. 52.
s PTUrln? years 1737-38, upwards of seventy petitions for sermon were laid on the table of the presbytery.
Mr “W ilson devoted the months of March, April, and May, to his course of theological tuition. He not only read his lectures, but
conducted the whole business of the class, in the Latin language.
64
S E C E D E R S.
Seceders. flourishing condition that, in the year 1741, it was attended
" v'"’’*''' by a greater number of students than any ot the Scottish
universities except Edinburgh.1
The numbers of the seceding ministers continuing ra¬
pidly to increase, a new arrangement was adopted on the
11th of October 1744, by which they were formed into
three presbyteries, under one synod. The first meeting of
the Associate Synod was held at Stirling on the first Tues¬
day of March 1745, at which period it had under its inspec¬
tion about thirty settled congregations and sixteen vacan¬
cies in Scotland, besides several congregations in Ireland.
The Seceders, in common with the great body of the reli¬
gious Presbyterians in Scotland, both clergy and laity, enter¬
tained great veneration for the national covenants ; and as
the practice of public covenanting had, for a considerable
period, been neglected in Scotland, they expected that the
revival of it would have a powerful effect in advancing the
work of reformation. An overture to this purpose had been
deliberately prepared by a committee of presbytery, which,
after various amendments and enlargements, was finally
adopted by the presbytery at Stirling, on the 23d of De¬
cember 1743. And on the 28th of the same month, which
was observed as a day of solemn fasting and humiliation,
the confession of sins was read, and the engagement to
duties subscribed by fifteen ministers, in the presence of
a numerous assembly. And when the presbytery met at
Edinburgh, on the 14th of February 1744, they enacted
that the renewing of the covenant should be the term of
ministerial and Christian communion. An unhappy con¬
troversy now, however, arose respecting the religious clause
of some burgess-oaths, which, it was alleged, was utterly
inconsistent with the oath of the covenants and with the
Secession Testimony.2 One party insisted that no Seceder
should be allowed to swear this oath, while the other urged
the exercise of mutual forbearance. So sharp was the con¬
tention between them, that at the meeting of synod in April
1747, after several long and stormy discussions, an entire se¬
paration took place between the contending parties. Never,
perhaps, was the truth of father Paul’s remark more strik¬
ingly verified, “ In verbal contentions, the smallness of the
difference often nourishes the obstinacy of the parties.”
Those who condemned the swearing of the burgess oath
as sinful, and inconsistent with the Secession Testimony,
were called “ Antiburghers,” and the other party, who con¬
tended that it should be declared not to be a term of com¬
munion, were designated “ Burghers.” The latter made
various attempts to bring about a reconciliation with the
opposing party, by proposing a meeting for prayer and
friendly conference, but without success. And the “ An¬
tiburghers” not only refused to agree to the proposal, but,
after several previous steps, went the length of passing
sentence of deposition and excommunication, with all due
formality, on Messrs Ebenezer and Ralph Erskine, James
Fisher, and the other ministers who had adopted the op¬
posite views respecting the swearing of the burgess oath.
Each party claimed to itself the name and lawful constitu¬
tion of the Associate Synod; but, for the sake of distinc¬
tion. the Burghers were termed the Associate, and the An¬
tiburghers the General Associate Synod. A furious con¬
troversy raged between them for a number of years, and,
both from the pulpit and the press, the one party indulged
in invectives against the other. In the course of time, how¬
ever, this hostility subsided; a feeling of cordiality gra¬
dually gained ground; and, after a separation of nearly eighty
years, the two bodies were again united into one.
These divisions among the Seceders afforded an excel- Seceders.
lent opportunity to the dominant party in the national' " ^
church to have regained their lost influence with the
people; but, instead of availing themselves of it to check
the progress of the Secession, they only became more re¬
solute in enforcing the law of patronage. The doctrine
which they taught at this time in their pulpits, it has been
said, “ could neither be called Christian nor heathen, but
was’ a compound of both;” and all petitions for the re¬
dress of grievances, and all resistance to their arbitrary de¬
crees, were silenced by the strong arm of power. “ The
language of the majority in Assemblies at this time,” says
the late Sir Henry Moncrieff,3 “ universally was, that the
secession from the church, instead of increasing, was on
the decline, and that the superior character and talents of
the established clergy were gradually weakening its re¬
sources, and would ultimately exhaust them. Experience
has not verified these sanguine expectations. At the dis¬
tance of a few years after Dr Robertson retired, the
people, disgusted with unsuccessful processes before the
Assembly, relinquished the plan of their predecessors, and
came seldom to the Assembly with appeals from the sen¬
tences of the inferior courts appointing the settlement of
presentees whom they resisted. But they began to do
more quietly, or with less observation than formerly, what
was not less unfriendly to the establishment. In ordinary
cases, they now leave the church-courts to execute their
sentences without opposition, and set themselves imme¬
diately to rear a meeting-house, which very frequently
carries off a large portion of the inhabitants of the parish.”
This state of comparative quiescence was not, however,
produced without long and severe struggles ; and for many
years the disputes in the church-courts respecting the set¬
tlements of ministers were incessant. In the year 1751, an
unpopular minister having been presented to the church
and parish of Inverkeithing, the presbytery of Dunferm¬
line refused to proceed with his settlement, and the synod
of Fife, who were next appointed to ordain him, proved
equally refractory. The affair was brought before the As¬
sembly of 1752, and they peremptorily enjoined the presby¬
tery of Dunfermline to proceed with the ordination of the
presentee, and ordered all the members of presbytery to
attend on that occasion. Six ministers who absented them¬
selves from conscientious scruples were brought to the bar
of the Assembly. One of their number, Mr Thomas Gil¬
lespie, minister of Carnock, was immediately deposed, and
three others were afterwards suspended. Mr Gillespie,
notwithstanding this sentence, continued to discharge his
ministerial duties, and a few years afterwards he and Mr
Thomas Boston of Oxnam and Mr Collier formed them¬
selves into a presbytery, and became the founders of that
numerous and respectable body of dissenters entitled the
Synod of Relief.
When such proceedings were systematically carried on
in the courts of the Established Church, it is not to be
wondered at that the spirit of disaffection should continue
to spread among its members, and that the numbers of the
Seceders rapidly increased, in spite of the strife that pre¬
vailed among themselves at this period. Not only did the
Associate Synods steadily extend their influence in Scot¬
land by the accessions which they were constantly making
to the number of their adherents, but they sent preachers
to England, to Ireland, and even to America, and erected a
considerable number of Secession congregations in these
countries. The controversy respecting the burgess-oath
1 Letter from Mr R. Erskine to Mr Whitefield, dated the 10th of April 1741. , ,, ,
* The following is the clause referred to : “ I protest before God and your Lordships, that I profess and aflow with my heart the trtie
religion presently- professed within this realm, and authorized by the laws thereof; and I shall abide thereat, and defend the same, to my
life’s end, renouncing the Roman religion called papistry.
3 Appendix to Life of Dr Erskine, by Sir H. Moncrieff Wellwood, Bart., p. 404.
S E C E D E R S. 65
■Seceders. gradually exhausted itself; but towards the close of the
 eighteenth century, both synods were disturbed by an
angry discussion respecting the power of the magistrate in
matters of religion, and the obligation of the national co¬
venant upon posterity. In 1796 the synod commenced
their revision of the Testimony, a business of no small
importance and difficulty, as this document “ consisted of
two hundred octavo pages, and included all the controver¬
sial points in divinity and church-government which had
been discussed in this country for successive generations.”
During the progress of this laborious work, which lasted
for a period of nearly eight years, considerable dissatisfac¬
tion was expressed by a small minority ; and when at
length the revision was brought to a close in May 1804,
and the Introduction, Narrative, and Testimony, as correct¬
ed and enlarged, were adopted by the synod as the term of
admission for those who shall apply for joining in commu¬
nion with them, five ministers, Messrs Whytock, Aitken,
Chalmers, Hog, and M£Crie, protested against the decision,
and, after various ineffectual attempts at accommodation,
left the body, and formed themselves into a distinct pres¬
bytery.
Nearly about this period a fierce controversy was carried
on in the Associate or Burgher Synod respecting the same
subject, which was under consideration for a considerable
time, and various controversial publications issued from the
press respecting it. At length, in April 1797, the synod
by a majority agreed to the following motion. “ That
whereas some parts of the standard books of this synod
have been interpreted as favouring compulsory measures
in religion, the synod hereby declare that they do not re¬
quire an approbation of any such principle from any candi¬
date for license or ordination; and whereas a controversy
has arisen among us respecting the nature and kind of the
obligation of our solemn covenants on posterity, whether it
be entirely of the same kind upon us as upon our ancestors
who swore them, the synod hereby declare, that while they
hold the obligation of our covenants upon posterity, they
do not interfere with that controversy which has arisen re¬
specting it, and recommend it to all their members to sup¬
press that controversy, as tending to gender strife, rather
than godly edifying.” Notwithstanding this decision, the
ferment which had been excited by the discussion on this
subject rather increased than abated, and the question was
again brought under the notice of the synod in September
1799. After a lengthened discussion, it was decided by a
large majority, that “ the synod adjourn the further discussion
of this question till a future meeting, and in the mean time
appoint a committee to draw up a synodical address to the
people of their charge, expressive of their adherence to the
doctrine, worship, discipline, and government of the Church
of Scotland.” Against this decision several members pro¬
tested, and two of them, Messrs Willis and Hyslop, declared
in their protest, that as the synod had refused to reverse their
former act, they would no longer acknowledge their autho¬
rity. In consequence of this declaration their names were
erased from the roll, and shortly afterwards they, along with
Mr Watson, minister of Kilpatrick, constituted themselves
into a distinct presbytery, and became the founders of that
body which is ordinarily known by the appellation of the
Original Burgher Synod. An attempt was made by these
separatists to obtain possession of the property belonging to
the synod, by alleging that they had abandoned the prin¬
ciples which their predecessors in the Secession had always
maintained. An appeal to the courts of law was made on
this point, in the case of the Associate congregation in
Perth. Mr Jervie, one of the ministers of this congrega¬
tion, joined the Original Burgher Synod, while his colleague
Mr Aikman continued in connection with the Associate
Synod. The congregation were also divided in sentiment,
and each party claimed the exclusive possession of the
VOL. xx.
manse and place of worship. After a long and expensive Seceders.
litigation, in the course of which the process was carried ■*
from the inferior courts to the House of Lords, and thence
remitted back to the Court of Session, it was ultimately de¬
cided that the defenders had not departed from the original
standards and principles of the association, and that the pur¬
suers had separated from the congregation to which they
belonged, without any assignable cause, and without any
fault on the part of the Associate Synod. They had, therefore,
no right to disturb the defenders in the possession of their
property. The question was one of great importance, and
the principle laid dowm in this instance as the ground of
judgment, has been since regarded as the settled law of the
country in all similar cases.
No other event of much importance occurred in the his¬
tory of the Secession Church, till the period when the two
great branches of which it was composed were again hap¬
pily united into one. A junction had previously taken
place between the Burgher and Antiburgher ministers in
America, Nova Scotia, and Ireland. For a number of years
an amicable feeling had gradually gained ground among
the ministers and people connected with both branches of
the Secession, and their intercourse in bible, missionary, and
other religious societies tended powerfully to strengthen
the feeling of mutual regard. From the moment that the
proposal of a junction was made, both synods entered on
the matter wdth cordiality and zeal. The religious public
generally took considerable interest in the movement. The
town councils of Glasgow and Paisley abolished the religi¬
ous clause of the oath which had occasioned the strife, and
the Convention of Royal Burghs unanimously recommend¬
ed its entire abolition, for the express purpose of removing
any obstacles that might obstruct the progress of this de¬
sirable event. At length the articles of union having been
agreed upon and sanctioned by both synods, and all the
necessary preliminaries settled, the union was completed
on the 8th of September 1820, in Bristo Street church,
Edinburgh, the spot where, seventy-three years before, the
separation had taken place.
All the ministers of the Associate Synod became mem¬
bers of the United Synod ; but Professor Paxton, and other
nine ministers of the General Associate or Antiburgher
Synod, refused to concur in the union, and soon after form¬
ed a junction with Professor Bruce, Dr M‘Crie, and other
members of the Constitutional Associate Presbytery, who
withdrew from the Antiburgher body in 1806.
Since the period of the union the Secession Church has
continued rapidly to increase in numbers and strength, and
the extraordinary controversy which is at present agitating
the whole country has brought the Seceders much more
prominently into view than during any preceding era of
their church. The question respecting the power of the
magistrate in religious affairs had frequently been discussed
among Seceders themselves, but of late years it has become
a matter of national interest. The founders of the Seces¬
sion Church doubtless approved of the interference of the
civil magistrate in matters of religion ; but they appear to
have changed their opinions on this subject at no distant
period after their secession from the Established Church, as
appears from the language of the Associate presbytery as
early as 1743, in their answers to Mr Nairn: “ If true reli¬
gion became a part of the civil constitution, it inevitably
follows that the church became a part of the state, which
doctrine, as it is absurd in itself, lays a plain foundation for
Erastianism, overturning the distinction betwixt the king¬
dom of our Lord Jesus Christ and the kingdoms of this
world.” The same sentiments were expressed by the Reve¬
rend Adam Gibb in his Display of the Secession Testimony,
published in 1774, and by the Antiburgher Synod in the
revision of their Testimony. This explicit condemnation
of the connection between church and state was one of the
66
SECEDERS.
Seceders. principal grounds of the separation of Professor Bruce and
v'—“"v-——' Dr M‘Crie from the Antiburgher Synod ; and the refusal of
the Burgher Synod to reverse the act which made this sub¬
ject a matter of forbearance, was the sole reason why Messrs
Willis, Hyslop, and others, renounced their connection with
that body. The controversy slumbered during a period of
about thirty years from this date ; but about the year 1S29
it was again resumed, and since that time has increased to
such a degree, that the harmony between churchmen and
dissenters has been broken up, and the hopes which were
formerly cherished of a re-union between the Secession and
the Establishment have, for the present at least, been com¬
pletely extinguished. Proposals were made in 1834, for a
union between the Secession and tne Synod of Relief, and
the measure is still under the consideration of both churches.
In the mean time the most friendly intercourse is maintained
between them, and, from the harmonious feeling manifested
on the subject, in all probability the union will ere long be
consummated.
The exposition of ecclesiastical polity, which is given un¬
der the article Presbyterian, applies to the constitution
of the United Associate Synod. They have lay-elders, kirk-
sessions, and presbyteries ; but instead of a General Assem¬
bly, they meet in synod once a year, the synod being their
supreme court. They have the same standards and the same
confession as the Established Church. They believe that the
Hoiv Scriptures are the sole criterion of truth, and the only
rule of faith and manners ; and that “ the Supreme Judge
by which all controversies of religion are to be determined,
and all the decrees of councils, opinions of ancient writers,
doctrines of men and private spirits, are to be examined,
and in whose sentence we are to rest, can be no other than
the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scriptures.” They are fully
persuaded, however, that the standards of the Church of
Scotland exhibit a just and consistent view of the meaning
and design of the Holy Scriptures with regard to doctrine,
worship, government, and discipline. 1 hey therefore hold
the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Larger and Shorter
Catechisms, as expressive of the sense in which they under¬
stand the Scriptures; and they so far differ from the dis¬
senters in England, that they hold these standards to be
not only articles of peace, and a test of orthodoxy, but as a
bond of union and fellowship. They consider a simple de¬
claration of adherence to the Scriptures as too equivocal a
proof of unity in sentiment, because Arians, Socinians, and
Arminians make such a confession of their faith, while they
retain sentiments which, they (the Seceders) apprehend, are
subversive of the great doctrines of the gospel. They be¬
lieve that Jesus Christ is the only King and Head of the
Church, which is his body ; that it is his sole prerogative
to enact laws for the government of his kingdom, which is
not of this world ; and that the church is not possessed of a
legislative, but only of an executive power, to be exercised
in explaining and applying to their proper objects and ends
those laws which Christ has published in the Sciiptures.
Those doctrines which they teach relative to faith and prac¬
tice are exhibited at great length in an explanation of the
Westminster Assembly’s Shorter Catechism, by way of
question and answer, composed chiefly by the late Mr Fisher
of Glasgow, and published by desire of the synod. Ihey
catechise their hearers publicly, and visit them from house
to house once every year.
In many of their congregations they celebrate the Lord s
Supper four times, in the remainder twice in the year ; and
they examine their young people strictly concerning their
knowledge of the principles of religion previously to their
admission to that sacrament. They will permit none to
partake of the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper who are ig¬
norant of the principles of the gospel, or who are scanda¬
lous and immoral in their lives. They condemn private
baptism, nor will they admit those who are grossly ignorant
and profane to be sponsors for their children. They never Seceders.
accept a sum of money as a commutation for any offence;
and those of the delinquents who do not submit to adequate
censure are publicly declared to be fugitives from disci¬
pline, and are expelled the society. They condemn all
clandestine and irregular marriages, nor will they marry any
person unless the banns of mairiage have been regularly
proclaimed in the parish church.
Believing that the people have a natural right to choose
their own pastors, the settlement of their ministers always
proceeds upon a popular election, and the candidate who is
elected by the majority of the communicants is ordained
among them. Convinced that a charge of souls is a trust
of the greatest importance, they carefully watch over the
morals of their students, and direct them to such a course
of reading and study as they judge most proper to qua¬
lify them for the profitable discharge of the pastoral duties.
At the ordination of their ministers, they use a formula
nearly of the same kind with that of the Established Church,
which their ministers are bound to subscribe when called
to it; and if any of them teach doctrines contrary to the
Scriptures or the Westminster Confession of Faith, they
are sure to be expelled from their communion. It must
be noticed, however, that they are not required to approve
of anv thing in the standards of the church which teaches
compulsory or persecuting and intolerant principles in re-
ligion.
The education of candidates for the ministry has always
been reckoned a matter of the greatest importance by the
Secession Church. The course of study is very nearly the
same as that adopted by the Establishment. Students,
before being admitted to the Theological Hall, must attend
at least three years at one of the universities; and the
course of preparatory study required of them includes
Latin, Greek, Logic, Moral Philosophy, and Mathematics ;
a knowledge of Hebrew is also required, so that they may
be enabled to enter on the critical study of the Old Testa¬
ment Scriptures as soon as they commence their course of
theology. The study of natural philosophy may be defer¬
red till after commencing the study of divinity ; but students
must produce the certificate of the professor of that science,
and be examined as to their proficiency in it, either before
admission to the Divinity Hall, or immediately after theii
first session in it. And it is strongly recommended to them
to attend also such classes as they may have access to for
the study of geology, chemistry, and other branches of phy¬
sical science. Students who have a view to the Christian
ministry are examined by the presbyteries at the close of
each session, that their proficiency may be ascertained, and
that they may be prevented from advancing to the higher
branches of study till they have acquired a competent
knowledge of those which precede them. During the whole
course of the student’s education, his improvement in per¬
sonal religion is kept steadily in view. Before he is en¬
couraged to prosecute preparatory studies, strict inquiry is
made into his piety, as well as his talents and capability of
acquirement; his progress in personal religion as. well as in
literature is constantly watched over; and he cannot be ad¬
mitted into the Divinity Hall till he is a member in full com¬
munion with the Secession Church.
The Secession has four professors of divinity, each giving
instruction in one great department of theological science,
or explanatory of the duties of the Christian ministry. 1.
The professor of biblical literature, whose duty it is to give
a course of lectures on the history, evidence, and interpre¬
tation of the sacred books ; to direct the reading of the stu¬
dents, and to examine them on these subjects; to read to
them portions of the original Scriptures critically, and to
require from them explicatory and critical exercises. 2.
The professor of exegetical theology, who gives lectures and
conducts examinations on one or more of the books of the
SECEDERS.
67
ssecders. Old Testament, the gospel history, the Acts of the Apos-
——v—ties, and one or more of the doctrinal epistles; and who also
gives a view of the divine dispensations, as these are detailed
in the Holy Scriptures. The course of the present profes¬
sor embraces a critical exposition of the principal prophe¬
cies of the Messiah, the doctrines of Jesus Christ, and the
Epistles to the Romans, Galatians, and Hebrews. 3. The
professor of systematic theology. 4. The professor of pas¬
toral theology and ecclesiastical history, whose duty it is to
explain the qualifications of the ministerial character, and
the duties of the pastoral office ; and to give instruction in
all the services which, as teachers or rulers in the church,
ministers are called upon to perform, such as conducting the
public devotions of the church, the composition and deli¬
very of pulpit discourses, ministerial visitation of families,
public catechising, visitation of the sick, the government
and discipline of the church, giving also an abstract of ec¬
clesiastical history. The term of study is five years, and
the duration of the annual session two months; and it is
rendered imperative on students to attend the whole time.
They are usually from five to six hours a day in the class¬
room. For the first and second sessions of their attendance
at the hall, they are committed to the care of the professor
of biblical literature and exegetical theology, and the pro¬
fessors of systematic and pastoral theology during the last
three years of their course. During the vacation the stu¬
dents are under the superintendence of their respective
presbyteries, who meet and converse with them as to their
progress in their studies, and hear and criticise their trial
discourses. The examinations and exercises prescribed on
trials for license and ordination are much the same as in
the Established Church.
The Secession has produced a respectable proportion of
authors distinguished in various departments of literary pur¬
suit. To say nothing of living authors, the works of Dr
Jamieson, the profound and ingenious author of the Scot¬
tish Dictionary, and of several learned defences of some of
the fundamental principles of religion, entitle him to a place
among the distinguished men of his age and country ; and
the writings of the founders of the Secession, and of Law-
son, Dick, Belfrage, Pollock, and others, are well known and
highly esteemed in religious and literary circles.
The United Associate Synod now comprehends twenty-
two presbyteries, composed of 361 congregations, exclusive
of missionary stations both at home and abroad. The fol¬
lowing statement will show the regular and steady progress
which it has made during the period of one hundred and
six years which has elapsed since its origin.
“ When the Associate Presbytery was first constituted
by the fathers of the Secession, on the 6th of December
1733, the number of the brethren who took this important
step amounted only to four.
“ When the General Assembly pronounced sentence of
deposition on the members of the Associate Presbytery on
the 15th of May 1740, their number had increased to eight.
“ Five years after this, when the Associate Presbytery
constituted itself into a synod, on the first Tuesday of March
1745, the number of ministers amounted to twenty-six.
“ When the division occasioned by the burgess oath con¬
troversy took place, on the 9th of Aprd 1747, the number
had increased to thirty-two.
“ When the re-union was accomplished, on the 5th of
September 1820, the number of ministers belonging to the
two synods that were united on that occasion amounted to
two hundred and sixty two.
“ Since that event took place a period of nineteen years
has elapsed, and the number of ordained ministers who are
members of the United Associate Synod amounts at the
present period to three hundred and fifty-seven, being an Secedes
in crease, since the re-union, of nearly one hundred ministers.”
From accurate returns made by the different congrega¬
tions, it has been ascertained that the population connected
with the Secession Church, including young and old, amounts
to 261,345 ; the number of communicants is 126,070; the
sabbath-schools and classes, 716; the number of scholars,
37,612. The average number of persons connected with
each congregation is 730, the average number of commu¬
nicants is 349. The stipends of the ministers vary from
L.70 to L.450. The average paid to each minister, ex¬
clusive of sacramental expenses, is L.131. In the country,
in addition to the stipend, the minister is generally furnish¬
ed with a dwelling-house. None of the ministers have or
ever had a legal bond securing their incomes.
Annual amount of stipends in Secession Church..L.47,S15
Annual allowance for the poor  4,011
Collected for missions by congregational associations 11,042
Annual allowance for sacramental expenses  3,610
Annual collection for synod fund    760
Total amount collected annually by the Secession
Church   66,72s1
A considerable number of missionaries and catechists are
maintained in Canada, Jamaica, and other places, either by
the synod or by individual congregations in connection with
the Secession Church ; and many congregations, particular¬
ly in the larger towns, support one or more local mission¬
aries at their own expense.
The Presbyterian Synod of Ireland in connection with
the United Associate Synod comprehends nine presbyte¬
ries and 134 congregations. Proposals are at present mak¬
ing for a union between this body and the Synod of Ulster.
The Synod of Nova Scotia contains five presbyteries and
twenty-four congregations.
Associate Synod of Original Seceders. This body sepa¬
rated from the Antiburgher Synod in 1806, and formed
themselves into a distinct presbytery, called at first The
Constitutional Associate Presbytery ; but after their junction
with the few ministers who refused to accede to the union
of the Burghers and Antiburghers in 1820, they assumed
the name of The Associate Synod of Original Seceders.
This body now extends to four presbyteries, comprehending
thirty-six congregations. They have a professor of divinity
of their own, and, with the exception of their opinion re¬
specting the interference of the magistrate in religious mat¬
ters, they are identical in their leading principles with the
United Associate Synod. The late Dr IVPCrie, the able and
learned biographer of Knox and Melville, was a minister of
this body.
Original Burgher Associate Synod. In our history of
the Secession Church we gave a brief statement of the con¬
troversy which led to the separation of this body from her
communion. They extended latterly to four presbyteries,
including forty-two congregations. A short time ago, how¬
ever, they made a formal application to be received into
the communion of the Established Church. The proposal
met with a favourable reception from the General Assembly,
and at the meeting of the Burgher Synod in 1839 a majo¬
rity of the members agreed to accept of the terms offered
by the Assembly, and have accordingly returned into the
bosom of the national church. The minority seem as yet not
to have determined as to the course which they will pursue.
(Mackerrow’s History of the Secession Church ; Brown’s
History of the Secession Church ; Testimony of the United
Associate Synod ; Fraser’s Lives of Ebenezer and Ralph
Erskine; Fender’s Memoirs of the Rev. W. Wilson; Mon-
crieff’s Life of Dr Erskine.) (b. q.)
1 These, and a variety of other interesting details, will he found in Mackerrow’s valuable History of the Secession Church.
68
Sechelles
il
' Seeker.
SEC
SEC
SECHELLES, a cluster of high, rocky, and, generally
speaking, barren islands, in the Indian Ocean, only three of
which are inhabited. Cotton is the only product. There
are twelve smaller islands, and as many islets or rocks, be¬
sides the larger ones. They abound in turtle, oysters, and
particularly cocoa-nuts, which are imported by the inhabi¬
tants of the Mauritius. There are six decked vessels which
belong to the inhabitants. Lat. 4. to 5. S.
SECKENDORF, Guv Louis de, a very learned Ger¬
man, descended from an ancient and noble family, was born
at Aurach, in Franconia, in 1626. He was a good linguist,
learned in law, history, and divinity, and is said to have been
a tolerable painter and engraver. He was honourably em¬
ployed by several of the German princes; and died counsel¬
lor of state to Frederick HI., elector of Brandenbuig, and
chancellor of the university of Halle, in 1692. He wrote
many books, particularly a history and defence of the Lutheran
religion, in Latin, in two volumes folio, Frankfort, 1602.
SECKER, Thomas, a learned and respectable prelate of
the Church of England, was born in 1693, at a village call¬
ed Sibthorn, in the vale of Belvoir, in Nottinghamshire.
His father was a Protestant dissenter, a pious, virtuous, and
sensible man, who, having a small paternal fortune, follow-
ed no profession. His mother was the daughter oi 1 i
Brough, a substantial gentleman farmer of Shelton, in the
same county. He received his education at several private
schools and academies in the country, being obliged, by va¬
rious accidents, to change frequently his masters.
Notwithstanding this disadvantage, he had at the age ot
nineteen not only made considerable progress in Greek and
Latin, and read the best writers in both languages, but hail
acquired a knowledge of French, Hebrew, dial dale, and
Syriac, had learned geography, logic, algebra, geometry,
conic sections, and gone through a course of lectmes on
Jewish antiquities and other points, preparatory to the cri¬
tical study of the Bible. He had been destined by his la¬
ther for orders amongst the dissenters. With this view,
during the latter years of his education, his studies weie
chiefly turned towards divinity, in which he had made such
advances, that by the time he was twenty-three he had care¬
fully read a great part of the Scriptures, particularly the
New Testament, in the original, and the best comments
upon it: Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History, the Apostolical
Fathers, Whiston’s Primitive Christianity, and the princi¬
pal writers for and against ministerial and lay conformity.
But though the result of these inquiries was a well-ground¬
ed belief of the Christian revelation, yet not being at that
time able to decide on some abstruse speculative doctrines,
nor to determine absolutely what communion he should
embrace, he resolved, like a wise and honest man, to pui¬
sne some profession, which should leave him at liberty to
weigh those things more maturely in his thoughts, and not
oblige him to declare or teach publicly opinions which were
not yet thoroughly settled in his own mind.
In 1716, therefore, he applied himself to the study of
physic, and after gaining all the medical knowledge he could,
bv reading the usual preparatory books, and attending the
best lectures during that and the following winter m London,
in order to improve himself farther, he went to Paris m Ja¬
nuary 1719- There he lodged in the same house with the
celebrated anatomist Mr Winslow, whose lectures he at¬
tended as he did those of the materia medica, chemistry,
and botany, at the King’s Gardens. He saw the operations
of surgery at the Hotel Dieu, and attended also for some
time M Gregoire the accoucheur, but without any design
of ever’practising that or any other branch of surgery.
Here he became acquainted with Mr Martin Benson, aftei-
wards bishop of Gloucester, one of the most agreeable and
virtuous men of his time, with whom he quickly became
connected, and not many years afterwards was united by
the strictest bonds of affinity as well as affection.
During the whole of Mr Seeker’s continuance at Pans,
he kept up a constant correspondence with Mr Joseph But¬
ler, afterwards bishop of Durham, with whom he became ac¬
quainted at the academy of Mr Jones, which was kept first at
Gloucester, and afterwards at Tewkesbury. Mr Butler hav¬
ing been appointed preacher at the Rolls on the recommen¬
dation of Dr Clarke, and of Mr Edward 1 albot, son of Bishop
Talbot, he now took occasion to mention his friend Mr
Seeker, without Seeker’s knowledge, to Mr Talbot, who
promised, in case he chose to take orders in the Church of
England, to engage the bishop his father to provide for
him. This was communicated to Mr Seeker in a letter
from Mr Butler about the beginning of May 1720. He
had not at that time come to any resolution ot quitting the
study of physic; but he began to foresee many obstacles
to his pursuing that profession ; and having never discon¬
tinued his application to theology, his former difficulties
with regard to conformity and some other doubtful points
had gradually lessened, as his judgment became stronger
and his reading and knowledge more extensive. It appears
also from two of his letters still extant, written from Pans
to a friend in England, both of them prior to the date of
Mr Butler’s letter above mentioned, that he was greatly dis¬
satisfied with the divisions and disturbances which at that
particular period prevailed among the dissenters.
In this state of mind Mr Butler’s unexpected proposal
found him ; and he was therefore very well disposed to take
it into consideration. After deliberating on the subject ot
such a change for upwards of two months, he resolved at
length to embrace the offer, and for that purpose quitted
France about the beginning of August 1720.
On his arrival in England, he was introduced to Mr 1 al¬
bot, with whom he cultivated a close acquaintance ; but it
was unfortunately of very short duration ; for in the month
of December that gentleman died of the small-pox. I ms
was a great shock to all his friends, who had justly conceiv¬
ed the highest expectations of him, but especially to an
amiable lady whom he had lately married, and who was
very near sinking under so sudden and grievous a stroke.
Mr Seeker, besides sharing largely in the common grief,
had peculiar reason to lament an accident that seemed to
put an end to all his hopes; but he had taken his resolution,
and he determined to persevere. It was some encourage¬
ment to him to find that Mr Talbot had, on his death-bed,
recommended him, together with Mr Benson and Mr But¬
ler, to his father’s notice. Thus did that excellent young
man, for he was but twenty-nine when he died, by his nice
discernment of character and his considerate gooc nature,
provide most effectually for the welfare of that church from
which‘he himself was so prematurely snatched away ; and
at the same time raised up, when he least thought of it, the
truest friend and protector to his wife and unborn daughter,
who afterwards found in Mr Seeker all that tender care and
assistance which they could have hoped for from the near¬
est relation. , , .. , . . ,
It being judged necessary by Mr Seeker s friends that he
should have a degree at Oxford, and having been informed,
that if he should previously take the degree of doctor ot
physic at Leyden, it would probably help him in obtaining
the other, he went and took his degree there in March
1721; and, as part of his exercise for it, he composed and
printed a dissertation De Medicina Statica, which is stu ex¬
tant, and is thought by the gentlemen of that profession to
be a sensible and learned performance. In April the same
year, he entered himself a gentleman commoner of Exeter
College, Oxford; after which he obtained the degree ot
bachelor of arts, in consequence of the chancellor’s recom¬
mendatory letter to the convocation.
He now spent a considerable part of his time in London,
where he quickly gained the esteem of some of the most
learned and ingenious men of those days, particularly of Dr
Seeker.
SEC
Seeker. Clarke, rector of St James’s, and the celebrated Dean Berke-
^ ley, afterwards bishop of Cloyne, with whom he every day
became more delighted and more closely connected. He
paid frequent visits of gratitude and friendship to Mrs Tal
hot, widow of Mr Edward Talbot, by whom she had a daugh¬
ter five months after his decease. With her lived Mrs Ca¬
tharine Benson, sister of Bishop Benson, whom in many
respects she greatly resembled. She had been for several
years Mrs Talbot’s inseparable companion, and was of un¬
speakable service to her at the time of her husband’s death,
by exerting all her courage, activity, and good sense, of
which she possessed a large share, to support her friend under
so great an affliction, and by afterwards attending her sickly
infant with the utmost care and tenderness.
Bishop Talbot being in 1721 appointed to the see of
Durham, Mr Seeker was in 1722 ordained deacon by him
in St James’s church, and not long afterwards priest in the
same place, where he preached his first sermon on 28th ot
March 1723. The bishop’s domestic chaplain was at that
time Dr Bundle, a man of warm fancy and very brilliant con¬
versation, but apt sometimes to be carried, by the vivacity
of his wit, into indiscreet and ludicrous expressions, which
created him enemies, and, upon one occasion, produced dis¬
agreeable consequences. With him Mr Seeker was soon
afterwards associated in the bishop’s family, and both were
taken down by his lordship to Durham in July 1723.
In the following year the bishop gave Mr Seeker the
rectory of Houghton-le-Spring. This preferment putting
it in his power to fix himself in the world in a manner
agreeable to his inclinations, he soon afterwards made a
proposal of marriage to Mrs Benson, which being accepted,
they were married by Bishop Talbot in 1725. At the ear¬
nest request of both, Mrs Talbot and her daughter consent¬
ed to live with them, and the two families from that time
became one.
About this time Bishop Talbot also gave preferments to
Mr Butler and Mr Benson, whose rise and progress in the
church are here interwoven with the history of Mr Seeker.
In the winter of 1725-26, Mr Butler first published his in¬
comparable sermons ; of which, as Dr Beilby Porteous and
Dr Stinton inform us, Mr Seeker took pains to render the
style more familiar, and the author’s meaning more obvious;
yet they were by many called obscure. Mr Seeker gave his
friend the same assistance in that noble work the Analogy
of Religion Natural and Revealed.
He now gave up all the time he possibly could to his re¬
sidence at Houghton, applying himself with alacrity to all
the duties of a country clergyman, and supporting an use¬
ful and respectable character throughout. Here he would
have been content to live and die; here, as he has often
been heard to declare, he spent some of the happiest hours
of his life ; and it was no thought or choice of his own that
removed him to a higher and more conspicuous situation.
But Mrs Seeker’s health, which now began to decline, and
was thought to be injured by the dampness of the situation,
obliged him to think of exchanging it for a more healthy
one. Accordingly, an exchange was made through the
friendly interposition of Mr Benson, with Dr Finney, pre¬
bendary of Durham, and rector of Ryton ; and Mr Seeker
was instituted to Ryton and the prebend on the 3d of June
1727. For the two following years he lived chiefly at Dur¬
ham, going every week to officiate at Ryton, and spending
there two or three months together in the summer.
In July 1732 he was appointed chaplain to the king ; for
which favour he was indebted to Dr Sherlock, who having
heard him preach at Bath, had conceived the highest opi¬
nion of his abilities, and had thought them well worthy of
being brought forward into public notice. From that time
an intimacy commenced between them, and he received
from that great prelate many solid proofs of esteem and
friendship.
SEC 69
His month of waiting at St James’s happened to be Au- Seeker,
gust, and on Sunday the 27th of that month he preached —v-'-''
before the queen, the king being then abroad. A few days
afterwards, her majesty sent for him into her closet, and
held a long conversation with him, in the course of which
he took an opportunity of mentioning to her his friend Mr
Butler. He also, not long after this, on Mr Talbot’s being
made lord chancellor, found means to have Mr Butler ef¬
fectually recommended to him for his chaplain. The queen
likewise appointed him clerk of her closet; and from this
situation he rose, as his talents became more known, to those
high dignities which he afterwards attained.
Mr Seeker now began to have a public character, and to
stand high in the estimation of those who were allowed to
be the best judges of merit. He had already given proofs
of abilities that plainly indicated the eminence to which he
must one day rise as a preacher and a divine ; and it was
not long before an opportunity offered of placing him in an
advantageous point of view. Dr Tyrrwhit, who succeeded
Dr Clarke as rector of St James’s in 1729, found that
preaching in so large a church endangered his health. Bi¬
shop Gibson, his father-in-law, therefore proposed to the
crown that he should be made residentiary of St Paul’s, and
that Mr Seeker should succeed him in the rectory. This
arrangement was so acceptable to those in power, that it
was entered into without any difficulty. Mr Seeker was in¬
stituted rector on the 18th of May 1733; and in the be¬
ginning of July went to Oxford to take his degree of doc¬
tor of laws, not being of sufficient standing for that of divi¬
nity. On this occasion it was that he preached his cele¬
brated Act Sermon, on the advantages and duties of aca¬
demical education, which was universally allowed to be a
masterpiece of sound reasoning and just composition. It
was printed at the desire of the heads of houses, quickly
passed through several editions, and is now to be found in
the second collection of Occasional Sermons, published by
himself in 1766.
It was thought that the reputation he acquired by this
sermon contributed not a little towards that promotion
which very soon followed its publication. For in Decem¬
ber 1734, he received a very unexpected notice from Bi¬
shop Gibson, that the king had fixed on him for the see of
Bristol. Dr Benson was about the same time appointed to
the see of Gloucester, as was Dr Fleming to that of Car¬
lisle ; and the three new bishops were all consecrated to¬
gether in Lambeth chapel, on the 19th of January 1734-
1735, the consecration sermon being preached by Dr Tho¬
mas, afterwards bishop of Winchester.
The honours to which Dr Seeker was thus raised in the
prime of life did not in the least abate his diligence and at¬
tention. He drew up, for the use of his parishioners, an
admirable course of Lectures on the Church Catechism,
and not only read them once every week on the usual days,
but also every Sunday evening, either at the church or one
of the chapels belonging to it.
The sermons which he, at the same time, composed,
were truly excellent and original. His faculties were now
in their full vigour, and he had an audience to speak be¬
fore which rendered the utmost exertion of them neces¬
sary. In 1737, he succeeded to the see of Oxford, on the
promotion of Dr Potter to that of Canterbury, then va¬
cant by the death of Archbishop Wake. In 1750, he was
installed dean of St Paul’s, for which he gave in exchange
the rectory of St James’s and his prebend of Durham.
Having now more leisure both to prosecute his own studies
and to encourage those of others, he gave Dr Church con¬
siderable assistance in his First and Second Vindication of
the Miraculous Powers, against Mr Middleton ; and he was
of equal use to him in his Analysis of Lord Bolingbroke’s
Works. About the same time began Archdeacon Sharp’s
controversy with the followers of Mr Hutchinson, which
TO
SEC
Second was carried on to the end of the year 1755. Bishop Seeker,
li we are told, read over all Dr Sharp’s papers, amounting to
Second tliree volumes octavo, and corrected and improved them
‘ 'T , throughout. But the ease which this change of situation
gave him was soon disturbed by a heavy and unexpected
stroke, namely, the loss of his three friends, Bishops Butler,
Benson, and Berkeley, who were all cut off within the space
of one year.
On the death of Archbishop Hutton, he was promoted to
the see of Canterbury, and was confirmed at Bow-churcb,
on the 21st of April 1758. He had never once throughout
his whole life asked preferment for himself, nor shown any
unbecoming eagerness for it; and the use he made of his
newly-acquired dignity very clearly showed, that rank, and
wealth, and power, had no other charms for him, than as
they enlarged the sphere of his active and industrious bene¬
volence.
For more than ten years, during which Dr Seeker en¬
joyed the see of Canterbury, he resided constantly at his
archiepiscopal house at Lambeth. A few months before
his death, the dreadful pains he felt had compelled him to
think of trying the Bath waters ; but that design was stopped
by the fatal accident which put an end to his life. His
Grace had been for many years subject to the gout, which,
in the latter part of his life, returned wdth more frequency
and violence, and did not go off in a regular manner, but
left the parts affected for a long time very weak, and was
succeeded by pains in different parts of the body. About
a year and a half before he died, after a fit of the gout, he
was attacked with a pain in the arm, near the shoulder,
and having continued about twelve months, a similar pain
seized the upper and outer part of the opposite thigh, and
the arm soon became easier.
On Saturday the 30th of July 1768, he was seized, as he
sat at dinner, with a sickness at his stomach. He recovered
before night; but the next evening, while his physicians
were attending, and his servants raising him on his couch,
he suddenly cried out that his thigh-bone was broken. The
shock was so violent, that the servants perceived the couch
to shake under him, and the pain so acute and unexpected,
that it overcame the firmness he so remarkably possessed.
He lay for some time in great agony; but when the sur¬
geons arrived, and discovered with certainty that the bone
was broken, he was perfectly resigned, and never afterwards
asked a question about the event. A fever soon ensued.
On Tuesday he became lethargic, and continued so until
about five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, when lie ex¬
pired with great calmness, in the seventy-fifth year of his
age. On examination, the thigh-bone was found to be ca¬
rious about four inches in length, and at nearly the same
distance from its head. The disease took its rise from the
internal part of the bone, and had so entirely destroyed its
substance, that nothing remained at the part where it was
broken but a portion of its outward integument; and even
this had many perforations, one of which was large enough
to admit two fingers, and was filled vyith a fungous sub¬
stance arising from within the bone. 1 here was no appear¬
ance of matter about the caries, and the surrounding parts
were in a sound state. It was apparent that the torture
which he underwent during the gradual corrosion of this
bone must have been inexpressibly great.
SECOND, in Geometry, Chronology., and other sciences,
the sixtieth part of a prime or minute, whether of a degree
or of an hour.
Second, in Ulusic^ one of the musical intervals, being
only the difference between any sound and the next nearest
sound, whether above or below it.
SECOND SIGHT, in Gaelic called Taisch, is a mode
of seeing superadded to that which nature generally bestows.
This gift or faculty, which is neither voluntary nor con¬
stant, fs in general rather troublesome than agreeable to the
S E C
possessors of it, who are chiefly to be found among the inha- Second
bitants of the Highlands of Scotland, those of the Western ^ ^
Isles, of the Isle of Man, and of Ireland. It is an impres- '
sion made either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye
upon the mind, by which things distant or future are per¬
ceived, and seen as if they were present. A man on a
journey far from home falls from his horse ; another', who is
perhaps at work about the house, sees him bleeding on the
ground, commonly with a landscape of the place where the
accident befalls him. Another seer, driving home his cattle,
or wandering in idleness, or musing in the sunshine, is sud¬
denly surprised by the appearance of a bridal ceremony, or
funeral procession, and counts the attendants or mourners,
of whom, if he knows them, he relates the names, but if he
knows them not, he can describe the dresses. Ihings dis¬
tant are seen at the instant they happen.
Of things future, Johnson says that he knows no rme pre¬
tended to for determining the time between the sight and
the event; but we are informed by Mr Grose, that in gene¬
ral the time of accomplishment bears some relation to the
time of the day in which the impressions are received.
Thus visions seen early in the morning, which seldom hap¬
pens, will be much sooner accomplished than those appear¬
ing at noon ; and those seen at noon will take place in a
much shorter time than those happening at night. Some¬
times the accomplishment of the latter does not fall out
within a year or more.
These visions are not confined to solemn or important
events, nor is it true, as is commonly reported, that to the
second sight nothing is presented but phantoms of evil.
The future visit of a mountebank or a piper, a plentiful
draught of fish, the arrival of common travellers, or, if
possible, still more trifling matters than these, are foreseen
by the seers. A gentleman told Dr Johnson, that when he
had once gone far from his own island, one of his labouring
servants predicted his return, and described the livery of
his attendant, which he had never worn at home, and which
had been, without any previous design, occasionally given
him.
Dr Beattie of Aberdeen gives the following account of
this imaginary gift. The Highlands of Scotland are a pic¬
turesque but a melancholy country. Long tracts of moun¬
tainous desert, covered with dark heath, and often obscured
by misty weather; narrow valleys, thinly inhabited, and
bounded by precipices resounding with the fall of torrents;
a soil so rugged, and a climate so dreary, as in many parts
to admit neither the amusements of pasturage nor the la¬
bours of agriculture ; the mournful dashing of waves along
the friths and lakes that intersect the country ; the porten¬
tous noises which every change of the wind and every in¬
crease or diminution of the waters is apt to raise in a lonely
region full of echoes and rocks and caverns; the grotesque
and ghastly appearance of such a landscape by the light of
the moon ; objects like these diffuse a gloom over the fancy,
which may be compatible enough with occasional and so¬
cial merriment, but cannot fail to tincture the thoughts of
a native in the hour of silence and solitude. If these people,
notwithstanding their reformation in religion, and more fre¬
quent intercourse with strangers, do still retain many of
their old superstitions, we need not doubt but in former
times they must have been much more enslaved to the hor¬
rors of imagination, when beset with the bugbears of Popery
and Paganism. Most of their superstitions are of a melan¬
choly cast. That of Second Sight, by wdnch some are still
supposed to be haunted, is considered by themselves as a
misfortune, on account of the many dreadful images it is
said to obtrude upon the fancy. It is said that some of the
Alpine regions do likewise lay claim to a sort of second
sight. Nor is it wonderful, that persons of a lively imagi¬
nation, immured in deep solitude, and surrounded with the
stupendous scenery of clouds, precipices, and torrents, should
SEC
SEC
Second
Sight.
dream, even when they think themselves awake, of those
few striking ideas with which their lonely lives are diversi¬
fied ; of corpses, funeral processions, and other subjects of
terror; or of marriages, the arrival of strangers, and such
like matters of more agreeable curiosity.
Let it be observed, also, that the ancient Highlanders of
Scotland had hardly any other way of supporting themselves
than by hunting, fishing, or war, professions which are con¬
tinually exposed to fatal accidents; and hence, no doubt,
additional horrors would often haunt their solitude, and a
deeper gloom overshadow the imagination even of the har¬
diest native.
A treatise on this subject was published in the year 1762,
in which many tales were told of persons whom the author
believed to have been favoured, or haunted, with these il¬
luminations; but most of the tales were trifling and ridicu¬
lous, and the whole work betrayed, on the part of the com¬
piler, the most extreme credulity.
That any of these visionaries are apt to be swayed in
their declarations by sinister views, w'e will not say ; but
this may be alleged with confidence, that none but igno¬
rant people pretend to be gifted in this way ; and in them
it may be nothing more, perhaps, than short fits of sudden
sleep or drowsiness, attended with lively dreams, and arising
from some bodily disorder, the effect of idleness, low spirits,
or a gloomy imagination. For it is admitted, even by the
most credulous Highlanders, that as knowledge and indus¬
try are propagated in their country, the second sight dis¬
appears in proportion ; and nobody ever laid claim to the
faculty w'ho was much employed in the intercourse of so¬
cial life.1 Nor is it at all extraordinary that one should
have the appearance of being awake, and should even think
one’s self so, during those fits of dozing ; that they should
come on suddenly, and while one is engaged in some busi¬
ness. The same thing happens in persons much fatigued,
or long kept awake, who frequently fall asleep for a mo¬
ment, or for a long space, while they are standing, or walk¬
ing, or riding on horseback. Add but a lively dream to
this slumber, and take away the consciousness of having
been asleep, and a superstitious man may easily mistake
his dream for a waking vision ; which, however, is soon
forgotten when no subsequent occurrence recalls it to his
memory, but which, if it shall be thought to resemble any
future event, exalts the poor dreamer into a Highland pro¬
phet. This conceit makes him more recluse and more
melancholy than ever, and so feeds his disease, and mul¬
tiplies his visions, which, if they are not dissipated by busi¬
ness or society, may continue to haunt him as long as he
lives, and which, in their progress through the neighbour¬
hood, receive some new tinctures of the marvellous from
every mouth that promotes their circulation. As to the
prophetical nature of this second sight, it cannot be ad¬
mitted at all. That the Deity should work a miracle in
order to give intimation of the frivolous things of which these
tales are composed, the arrival of a stranger, the nailing
of a coffin, or the colour of a suit of clothes; and that these
intimations should be given for no end, and to those per¬
sons only wrho are idle and solitary, wrho speak Gaelic, or
who live among mountains and deserts; is like nothing in
nature or providence that we are acquainted with, and
must therefore, unless it were confirmed by satisfactory
proof, be rejected as absurd and incredible.
To these objections Dr Johnson replies, that by pre¬
suming to determine what is fit and what is beneficial, they
presuppose more knowledge of the universal system than
man has attained, and therefore depend upon principles too
complicated and extensive for our comprehension ; that
there can be no security in the consequence when the pre¬
mises are not understood; that the second sight is only
wonderful because it is rare, for, considered in itself, it in- ^
volves no greater difficulty than dreams, or perhaps than
the regular exercise of the cogitative faculty; that a gene¬
ral opinion of communicative impulses, or visionary repre¬
sentations, has prevailed in all ages and among all nations;
that particular instances have been given, with such evi¬
dence as neither Bacon nor Bayle has been able to resist;
that sudden impressions, which the event has verified, have
been felt by more than own or publish them; that the second
sight of the Hebrides implies only the local frequency of a
power which is nowhere totally unknown ; and that where
we are unable to decide by antecedent reason, we must be
content to yield to the force of testimony. By the preten¬
sion to second sight, no profit was ever sought or gained.
It is an involuntary affection, in which neither hope nor
fear are known to have any part. Those who profess to
feel it do not boast of it as a privilege, nor are considered
by others as advantageously distinguished. They have no
temptation to feign, and their hearers have no motive to
encourage the imposture.
SECT, a collective term, comprehending all those who
follow the doctrines and opinions of some famous divine,
philosopher, or other person.
SECTION, in general, denotes a part of a divided thing,
or the division itself. Such, particularly, are the subdivisions
of a chapter, called also paragraphs and articles. The mark
of a section is §.
Section, in Geometry, denotes a side or surface of a
body or figure cut off* by another, or the place where lines,
planes, and the like, cut each other.
SECTOR, in Geometry, is a part of a circle comprehend¬
ed between two radii and an arc of the circle.
Sector is also a mathematical instrument, of use in find¬
ing the proportion between quantities of the same kind; as
between lines and lines, surfaces and surfaces, &c. whence
the French call it the compass of proportion. The great ad¬
vantage of the sector above the common scales is, that it is
made so as to fit all radii and all scales. By the lines of
chords, sines, &c. upon the sector, we have lines of chords,
sines, &c. to any radius between the length and breadth of
the sector when open.
The sector is supposed to have been invented by Guido
Baldo, or Ubaldo, about the year 1568. The first printed
account of it was in 1584, by Gaspar Mordente, at Antwerp,
who says that his brother, Fabricius Mordente, invented it
in 1554. Treatises on its use have been written by Daniel
Specie at Strasburg in 1589; also by Thomas Hood at
London in 1598, and by Lewin Hulse at Frankfort-on-the-
Maine in 1603, who says that it was invented long before
by Justus Byrgius. But the honour of the invention was
claimed by Galileo, who wrote on its use in 1607, and by
Balthasar Capra of Milan. There are also treatises on it
by our countrymen Gunter, Forster, and others.
Before the invention of logarithms, practical men were
more easily contented with approximate solutions than they
are at present. Now, however, any question that can be
resolved by the sector can be about as readily answered by
the smallest table of logarithms, and with perfect certainty,
as far as the table extends. Hence it is that the sector is
not much used, although it is commonly reckoned one of a
complete set of mathematical instruments.
For treatises on its use, see Bion on Mathematical Instru¬
ments, translated by Stone; Robertson’s Treatise on Ma¬
thematical Instruments; and Adams’s Geometrical Essays.
Any one possessing a sector will easily understand its
Sec
Sect
1 This, however, is denied by Johnson, who affirms that the islanders of all degrees, whether of rank or understanding, universally
admit it; except the ministers, who, according to him, reject it, in consequence of a system, against conviction. He affirms, too,
that in 1773, there was in the Hebrides a second-sighted gentleman, who complained of the terrors to which he was exposed.
72
SEC
Secular, theory and use from the 14th problem of the fifth section
v'-—'' of our treatise on Geometry, where it is taught how to find
a fourth proportional to three given lines.
Sector of a Sphere is the solid generated by the revo¬
lution of the sector of a circle about one of its radii; the
other radius describing the surface of a cone, and the circu¬
lar arc a circular portion of the surface of the sphere of the
same radius. Hence the spherical sector consists of a right
cone, and of a segment of the sphere having the same com¬
mon base with the cone. The solid content will therefore
be found by multiplying the base or spherical surface by
the radius of the sphere, and taking one third of the pro¬
duct.
Sector of an Ellipse or Hyperbola, is the space con¬
tained by any two semidiameters, and the arc of the curve
between them.
Astronomical Sector, or Equatorial Sector, an instru¬
ment for taking the difference of right ascensions and de¬
clinations of such stars as, on account of their great dif¬
ference of declinations, will not pass through a fixed tele¬
scope. There is an instrument of this kind in the observa¬
tory at Greenwich, and it is described in Vince’s Practical
Astronomy.
Zenith Sector, an instrument employed in extensive
trigonometrical surveys. Its use is to determine with great
accuracy the zenith distances of stars whose declinations
differ but little from the latitude of an observer. A very
fine instrument of this kind, constructed by llamsden, is now
using in the trigonometrical survey of Britain, and is fully
described and figured in the Transactions of the Royal So¬
ciety of London for 1803.
SECULAR, that which relates to affairs of the present
world, in which sense the word stands opposed to spiritual
and ecclesiastical.
Secular is more peculiarly used for a person who lives
at liberty in the world, not shut up in a monastery, nor
bound by vows, or subjected to the particular rules of any
religious community ; in which sense it stands opposed to
regular. The Catholic clergy are divided into secular and
regular; of which the latter are bound by monastic rules,
the former not.
Secular Games, in Antiquity, solemn games held among
the Romans once in an age.
These games lasted three days and as many nights, during
which time sacrifices were performed, and theatrical shows
exhibited, with combats and sports in the circus. The occa¬
sion of these games, according to Valerius Maximus, was
to stop the progress of a plague. Valerius Publicola was
the first who celebrated them at Rome, in the year of the
city 245. The whole world was invited by a herald to a
feast which they had never seen before, nor ever should see
again. Some days before the games began, the quindecem-
viri, in the Capitol and in the Palatine temple, distributed to
the people purifying compositions of various kinds. Thence
the populace passed to Diana’s temple on the Aventine
Mount, with wheat, barley, and oats, as an offering. After
this whole nights were spent in devotion to the Destinies.
When the time of the games was fully come, the people
assembled in the Campus Martius, and sacrificed to Jupiter,
Juno, Apollo, Latona, Diana, the Parcse, Ceres, Pluto, and
Proserpine. On the first night of the feast, the emperor,
with the quindecemviri, caused three altars to be erected
on the banks of the Tiber, which were sprinkled with the
blood of three lambs, and then proceeded to regular sacri¬
fice. A space was next marked out for a theatre, which
was illuminated with innumerable flambeaux and fires. Here
they sung hymns, and celebrated all kinds of sports. On the
day afterwards, having offered victims at the Capitol, they
went to the Campus Martius, and celebrated sports in
honour of Apollo and Diana. These lasted until next day,
when the noble matrons, at the hour appointed by the oracle,
SEC
went to the Capitol to sing hymns to Jupiter. On the Seculariza.
third day, which concluded the solemnity, twenty-seven
boys, and as many girls, sung, in the temple of Palatine secilndus
Apollo, hymns and verses in Greek and Latin, to recom-
mend the city to the protection of those deities whom they
designed particularly to honour by their sacrifices. The
inimitable Carmen Seculare of Horace was composed for
this last day, in the Secular Games celebrated by Augustus.
It has been much disputed whether these games were
held every hundred or every hundred and ten years. Va¬
lerius Antius, Varro, and Livy, are quoted in support of
the former opinion. In favour of the latter may be pro¬
duced the quindecemviral registers, the edicts of Augustus,
and the words of Horace in the secular poem, “ Certus un-
denos decies per annos.”
It was a general belief, that the girls who bore a part in
the song should be soonest married ; and that the children
who did not dance and sing at the coming of Apollo should
die unmarried, and at an early period of life.
SECULARIZATION, the act of converting a regular
person, place, or benefice, into a secular one. Almost all
the cathedral churches were anciently regular, that is, the
canons were religious; but they have been since secularized.
For the secularization of a regular church, there is required
the authority of the pope, that of the prince, the bishop of
the place, the patron, and even the consent of the people.
Religious that want to be released from their vow, obtain
briefs of secularization from the pope.
SECUNDRA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Agra, and district of Furrukabad, forty-four miles north-east
from Agra. Long. 78. 21. E. Lat. 27. 45. N. It is also a
town of Delhi, in the district of Merat, twenty-eight miles
south-east from the city of Delhi. Long. 77. 34. E. Lat.
28. 38. N. Likewise a town in the province of Agra, dis¬
trict of Etaweh, on the Jumna, forty-seven miles from the
town of Etaweh. Long. 79. 35. E. Lat. 26. 23. N.
SECUNDUS, Joannes Nicolaius, an elegant writer of
Latin poetry, was born at the Hague in the year 1511. His
descent was from an ancient and honourable family in the
Netherlands; and his father Nicolaus Everardus, who was
born in the neighbourhood of Middleburg, seems to have
been high in the favour of the Emperor Charles V., as he
was employed by that monarch in several stations of con¬
siderable importance. We find him first a member of the
grand parliament or council of Mechelen, afterwards presi¬
dent of the states of Holland and Zealand at the Hague,
and lastly holding a similar office at Mechelen, where he
died on the 5th of August 1532, aged seventy.
These various employments did not occupy the whole of
Everardus’s time. Notwithstanding the multiplicity of his
business, he found leisure to cultivate letters with great suc¬
cess, and even to act as preceptor to his own children, who
were five sons and three daughters. They all took the
name of Nicolaii from their father ; but on what account
our author was called Secundus is not known. It could not
be from the order of his birth, for he was the youngest son.
Perhaps the name was not given him till he became emi¬
nent ; and then, according to the fashion of the age, it
might have arisen from some pun, such as his being Poeta-
rum nemini Secundus. Poetry, however, w7as by no means
the profession which his father wished him to follow. He
intended him for the law, and, when he could no longer di¬
rect his studies himself, placed him under the care ol Jaco¬
bus Valeardus. This man is said to have been every way
well qualified to discharge the important trust which was
committed to him; and he certainly gained the affection of
his pupil, who, in one of his poems, mentions the death ol
Valeardus with every appearance of unfeigned sorrow7. An¬
other tutor was soon provided ; but it does not appear that
Secundus devoted much of his time to legal pursuits. Poetry,
and the sister arts of painting and sculpture, had engaged
S- E C
iecuudas. his mind at a vsnry early period; and tlie imagiiiation, on
 which these lay hold, can with difficulty submit to the dry
study of musty civilians. Secundus is said to have written
verses when but ten years old; and from the vast quantity
which he left behind him, we have reason to conclude that
such writing constituted his principal employment. He found
time, however, to carve figures of all his own family, of his
mistresses, of the Emperor Charles "V., of several eminent
personages of those times, and of many of his intimate
friends; and in the last edition of his works, published by
Scriverius, at Leyden, 1631, there is a print of one of his
mistresses with this inscription around it: Vatis amatoris
Julia sculpta manu.
Secundus having nearly attained the age of twenty-one,
and being determined, as it would seem, to comply as far
as possible with the wishes of his father, quitted Mechelen,
and went to France, where, at Bourges, a city in the Or-
leannois, he studied the civil law under the celebrated An¬
dreas Alciatus. Alciatus was one of the most learned ci¬
vilians of that age; but that which undoubtedly endeared
him much more to our author, was his general acquaintance
with polite literature, and more particularly his taste in
poetry. Having studied a year under this eminent pro¬
fessor, and taken his degrees, Secundus returned to Me¬
chelen, where he remained only a very few months. In
1533 he went into Spain with warm recommendations to
the Count of Nassau and other persons of high rank; and
soon afterwards he became secretary to the cardinal archbi¬
shop of Toledo, in a department of business which required
no other qualifications than what he possessed in a very emi¬
nent degree, a facility in writing with elegance the Latin
language. It was during his residence with this cardinal
that he wrote his Basia, a series of wanton poems, of which
the fifth, seventh, and ninth carmina of Catullus seem to
have given the hint. Secundus was not, however, a servile
imitator of Catullus. His expressions seem to be borrow¬
ed rather from Tibullus and Propertius; and in the warmth
of his descriptions he surpasses every thing that has been
written on similar subjects by Catullus, Tibullus, Proper¬
tius, C. Gallus, Ovid, or Horace.
In 1535 he accompanied the Emperor Charles V. to the
siege of Tunis, but gained few laurels as a soldier. The
hardships which were endured at that memorable siege
were but little suited to the soft disposition of a votary of
Venus and the muses; and upon an enterprise which might
have furnished ample matter for an epic poem, it is remark¬
able that Secundus wrote nothing which has been deemed
worthy of preservation. Having returned from his martial
expedition, he was sent by the cardinal to Rome to con¬
gratulate the pope upon the success of the emperor’s arms,
but was taken so ill on the road, that he was not able to
complete his journey. He was advised to seek, without
a moment’s delay, the benefit of his native air; and that
happily recovered him.
Having now quitted the service of the archbishop of To¬
ledo, Secundus was employed in the same office of secre¬
tary by the bishop of Utrecht; and so much had he hither¬
to distinguished himself by the classical elegance of his com¬
positions, that he was soon called upon to fill the important
post of private Latin secretary to the emperor, who was
then in Italy. This was the most honourable office to
which our author was ever appointed ; but before he could
enter upon it, death put a stop to his career of glory. Hav¬
ing arrived at Saint Amand, in the district of Tournay, in
order to meet, upon business, with the bishop of Utrecht,
he was, upon the 8th of October 1536, cut off by a violent
fever, in the very flower of his age, not having quite com¬
pleted his twenty-fifth year. He was interred in the church
of the Benedictines, of which his patron the bishop was
abbot; and his near relations erected to his memory a marble
monument, with a plain Latin inscription.
VOL. XX.
S E D 73
The works of Secundus have gone through several edi- Secutores
tions, of which the best and most copious is that of Seri- I! .
verius already mentioned. It consists of, 1. Julia, eleg. / e ^
lib. i.; 2. Amores, eleg. lib. ii.; 3. Ad Diversos, eleg. v
lib. iii.; 4. Basia, styled by the editor incomparabilis et
divinus prorsus liber; 5. Epigrammata; 6. Odarum liber
unus; 7. Epistolarum liber unus ; 8. Epistolarum liber alter,
heroico carmine scriptus; 9. Funerum liber unus; 10. Syl-
vae et Carminum fragmenta; 11. Poemata nonnulla fra-
trum; 12. Itineraria Secundi tria ; 13. Epistolae totidem,
soluta oratione. Of these works it would be superfluous
in us to give any character, after the ample testimonies pre¬
fixed to them by Lelius Greg. Gyraldus, the elder Scali-
ger, Theodore Beza, and others equally celebrated in the re¬
public of letters, who all speak of them as excellent.
SECUTORES, a species of gladiators among the Ro¬
mans, whose arms were a helmet, a shield, and a sword or
a leaden bullet. They were armed in this manner, because
they had to contend with the retiarii, who were dressed in
a short tunic, and bore a three-pointed lance in their left
hand, and a net in their right. The retiarius attempted to
cast his net over the head of the secutor; and it he suc¬
ceeded, he drew it together and slew him with his trident;
but if he missed his aim, he immediately betook himselt to
flight, till he could find a second opportunity of entangling
his adversary with his net. He was pursued by the secu¬
tor, who endeavoured to despatch him in his flight.
Secutores was also a name given to such gladiators as
took the place of those that were killed in the combat, or
who engaged the conqueror. This post was usually taken
by lot.
SEDAN, an arrondissement of the department of the
Ardennes, in France, extending over 278 square miles, di¬
vided into four cantons and eighty-two communes, with,
in the year 1836, 63,233 inhabitants. The capital is the
fortified city of the same name, situated on the river Meuse.
It is celebrated for its cloth manufactures, especially those
of black; and it has also some considei’able establishments
for making cannon, muskets, and other arms, as w-ell as
other kinds of hardware, and china. In the same yfear its
population amounted to 13,719. It was the birthplace ot
the celebrated Turenne. Long. 4. 52. 31. E. Lat. 49.
22. 29. N.
SEDAN-CHAIR is a covered vehicle for carrying a
single person, being suspended by two poles, and borne by
two men, who are hence denominated chairmen. They
were first introduced into London in 1634, when Sir Sanders
Duncomb obtained the sole privilege to use, let, and hire a
number of the said covered chairs for fourteen years.
SEDASIER, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Mysore, and district of Coorg. In 1799 the troops of 1 ip-
poo Sultan were here defeated by the British. It is seven
miles north-west of Periapatam.
SEDBERGH, a town in the w'apentake of Staincliff and
Ewcross, in the west riding of the county of York, 271 miles
from London. It is situated on the borders of Westmore¬
land, at the foot of the Houghill Fells. It has a market, which
is held on Thursday. The population amounted in 1821 to
4483, and in 1831 to 4711.
SEDHOUT, a district in the Balaghaut ceded territo¬
ries, situated principally between the fourteenth and fif¬
teenth degrees of north latitude. It lies immediately with¬
in the Eastern Ghauts. It is a rocky and mountainous re¬
gion, indifferently cultivated, but interspersed with fertile
valleys. The chief river is the Pennar, and the principal
town is Odegherry. The fortress of Sedhout, the capital ot
the above district, was taken by Meer Jumla about the year
1650. At this period Sedhout and the adjoining district
were celebrated for their diamond mines, which, however,
are no longer worked.
SEDITION, among civilians, is used for a factious com-
74 S E D
Sfdatives motion of the people, or an assembly of a number of ci-
tizens without lawful authority, tending to disturb the peace
e<^and order of society. This offence is of different kinds.
Some seditions more immediately threaten the supreme
> power, and the subversion of the present constitution of
the state ; others tend only towards the redress of private
grievances. Among the Romans, therefore, it was various¬
ly punished, according as its end and tendency threatened
greater mischief. (See lib. i. Cod. de Seditiosis, and Mat.
de Crimin. lib. ii. n. 5, De Ixesa Majestated) In the pu¬
nishment, the authors and ringleaders were justly distin¬
guished from those who, with less wicked intention, joined
and made part of the multitude.
The same distinction holds in the law of England and in
that of Scotland. Some kinds of sedition in England amount
to high treason, and come within the statute 25 Edward III.
as levying war against the king. And several seditions are
mentioned in the Scotch acts of parliament as treasonable
(Bayne’s Grim. Law of Scotland, p. 33, 34). The law of
Scotland makes riotous and tumultuous assemblies a species
of sedition. But the law there, as well as in England, is
now chiefly regulated by tbe riot act, made 1 Geo. I.; only
it is to be observed, that the proper officers in Scotland to
make the proclamation thereby enacted are sheriffs, stew¬
ards, and bailies of regalities, or their deputies; magistrates
of royal boroughs, and all other inferior judges and magis¬
trates ; high and petty constables, or other officers of the
peace, in any county, stewartry, city, or town. In that
part of the island, the punishment of the offence is any thing
short of death which the judges, in their discretion, may ap¬
point.
SEDATIVES, in Medicine, a general name for such me¬
dicines as weaken the powers of nature, such as blood-let¬
ting, cooling salts, purgatives, and the like.
SE-DEFENDENDO, in Law, is a plea used for him who
is charged with the death of another, by alleging that he
was under a necessity of doing what he did in his own de¬
fence ; as that the other assaulted him in such a manner,
that if he had not done what he did, he must have been in
hazard of his own life.
SEDLEY, Sin Charles, an English poet and wit, the
son of Sir John Sedley of Aylesford in Kent, was born about
the year 1639. At the restoration he came to London to
join the general jubilee, and commenced wit, courtier, poet,
and gallant. He was so much admired, that he became a
kind of oracle among the poets; which made King Charles
tell him, that nature had given him a patent to be Apollo’s
viceroy. The productions of his pen were some plays, and
several delicately tender amorous poems, in which the soft¬
ness of the verses was so exquisite, as to be called by the
Duke of Buckingham Sedley’s witchcraft. Less pleasing
opinions, however, have been expressed by others. “ There
were no marks of genius or true poetry to be descried,”
say the authors of the Biographia Britannica ; “ the art
wholly consisted in raising loose thoughts and lewd desires,
without giving any alarm ; and so the poison worked gently
and irresistibly. Our author, we may be sure, did not es¬
cape the infection of his own art, or rather was first tainted
himself before he spread the infection to others.” A very
ingenious writer, however, speaks much more favourably
of Sir Charles Sedley’s writings. “ He studied human
nature,” says Langhorn in his Effusions, “ and was dis¬
tinguished for the art of making himself agreeable, par¬
ticularly to the ladies; for the verses of Lord Rochester,
beginning with, Sedley has that prevailing gentle art, so
often quoted, allude not to his writings, but to his per¬
sonal address.” But whilst he thus grew in reputation for
wit and in favour with the king, he became poor and de¬
bauched ; his estate was impaired, and his morals were cor¬
rupted. One of his frolics, however, being followed by an
indictment and a heavy fine, Sir Charles took a more se-
S E D
rious turn, applied himself to business, and became a mem- Sedre Pa? 5>
ber of parliament, in which he was a frequent speaker. We saSe
find him in the House of Commons in the reign of James §e(juct;0J
II., whose attempts upon the constitution he vigorously
withstood; and he was very active in bringing about the Re¬
volution. This was thought more extraordinary, as he had
received favours from James. But that prince had taken
a fancy to Sir Charles’s daughter, though it seems she was
not very handsome, and, in consequence of his intrigues
with her, he created Miss Sedley countess of Dorchester.
This honour, so far from pleasing, greatly shocked Sir
Charles. However libertine he himself had been, yet he
could not bear the thoughts of his daughter’s dishonour;
and with regard to her exaltation, he only considered it as
rendering her more conspicuously infamous. He therefore
conceived a hatred for the king, and from this, as well as
other motives, readily joined to dispossess him of the throne.
A witty saying of Sedley’s, on this occasion, is recorded.
“ I hate ingratitude,” said Sir Charles; “ and therefore, as
the king has made my daughter a countess, I will endea¬
vour to make his daughter a queen ;” meaning the Princess
Mary, married to the Prince of Orange, who dispossessed
James of the throne at the Revolution. He lived till the
beginning of Queen Anne’s reign, and his works were print¬
ed in two vols. 8vo, 1719.
SEDRE Passage, a narrow channel of the Eastern Seas,
on the north coast of Sumatra, between Pulo Nancy and
King’s Point.
SEDUCTION is the act of tempting and drawing aside
from the right path, and comprehends every endeavour to
corrupt any individual of the human race. This is the im¬
port of the word in its largest and most general sense ; but
it is commonly employed to express the act of tempting a
virtuous woman to part with her chastity.
The seducer of female innocence practises the same stra¬
tagems of fraud to get possession of a woman’s person, that
the swindler employs to get possession of his neighbour’s
goods or money ; yet the law of honour, which pretends to
abhor deceit, and which impels its votaries to murder every
man who presumes, however justly, to suspect them of fraud,
or to question their veracity, applauds the address of a suc¬
cessful intrigue, though it be well known that the seducer
could not have obtained his end without swearing to the
truth of a thousand falsehoods, and calling upon God to
witness promises which he never meant to fulfil.
The law of honour is indeed a very capricious rule, which
accommodates itself to the pleasures and conveniences of
higher life ; but the law of the land, which is enacted for
the equal protection of high and low, may be supposed to
view the guilt of seduction with a more impartial eye. Yet
for this offence, even the laws of this kingdom have pro¬
vided no other punishment than a pecuniary satisfaction to
the"injured family; which, in England, can be obtained
only by one of the quaintest fictions in the world, by the
father’s bringing his action against the seducer for the loss
of his daughter’s service during her pregnancy and nurtur¬
ing. (See Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book iii. part iii.
chap. 3.)
The moralist, however, who estimates the merit or de¬
merit of actions, not by laws of human appointment, but by
their general consequences as established by the laws of na¬
ture, must consider the seducer as a criminal of the deep¬
est guilt. In every civilized country, and in many coun¬
tries where civilization has made but small progress, the
virtue of women is collected as it were into a single point,
which they are to guard above all things, as that on which
their happiness and reputation wholly depend. At first
sight this may appear a capricious regulation ; but a mo¬
ment’s reflection will convince us of the contrary. In the
married state so much confidence is necessarily reposed in
the fidelity of women to the beds of their husbands, and
S E D
Seduction, evils so great result from the violation of that fidelity, that
 whatever contributes in any degree to its preservation, must
be agreeable to Him who, in establishing the laws of nature,
intended them to be subservient to the real happiness of all
his creatures. But nothing contributes so much to pre¬
serve the fidelity of wives to their husbands, as the impress¬
ing upon the minds of women the highest veneration for
the virtue of chastity. She who, when unmarried, has been
accustomed to grant favours to different men, will not find
it easy, if indeed possible, to resist afterwards the allure¬
ments of variety. It is therefore a wise institution, and
agreeable to the will of Him who made us, to train up wo¬
men so that they may look upon the loss of their chastity
as the most disgraceful of all crimes ; as that which sinks
them in the order of society, and robs them of all their va¬
lue. In this light virtuous women actually look upon the
loss of chastity. The importance of that virtue has been
so deeply impressed upon their minds, and is so closely as¬
sociated with the principle of honour, that they cannot think
but with abhorrence upon the very deed by which it is lost.
He therefore who by fraud and falsehood persuades the un¬
suspecting girl to deviate in one instance from the honour
of the sex, weakens in a great degree her moral principle ;
and if he reconcile her to a repetition of the crime, he
destroys that principle entirely, as she has been taught to
consider all other virtues as inferior to that of chastity.
Hence it is that the hearts of prostitutes are generally
steeled against the miseries of their fellow-creatures; that
they lend their aid to the seducer in his practices upon
other girls ; that they lie, and swear, and steal without com¬
punction ; and that too many of them hesitate not to com¬
mit murder, if it can serve any selfish purpose of their own.
The loss of virtue, though the greatest that man or wo¬
man can sustain, is not the only injury which the seducer
brings upon the girl whom he deceives. She cannot at
once reconcile herself to prostitution, or even to the loss of
character, and whilst a sense of shame remains in her mind,
the misery which she suffers must be exquisite. She knows
that she has forfeited what in the female character is most
valued by both sexes; and she must be under the perpe¬
tual dread of a discovery. She cannot even confide in the
honour of her seducer, who may reveal her secret in a fit
of drunkenness, and thus rob her of her fame as well as of
her virtue ; and whilst she is in this state of anxious uncer¬
tainty, the agony of her mind must be insupportable. That
it is so in fact, the many instances of child-murder by un¬
married women of every rank leave us no room to doubt.
The affection of a mother to her new-born child is one of
the strongest and most unequivocal instincts in human na¬
ture ; and nothing short of the extremity of distress can
prompt any one so far to oppose nature as to embrue her
hands in the blood of her imploring infant.
Even this deed of horror seldom prevents a detection of
the mother’s frailty, which is indeed commonly discovered,
though no child has been the consequence of her intrigue.
He who can seduce is base enough to betray ; and assuredly
no woman can part with her honour and yet retain any w^ell-
grounded hope that her amour shall be kept secret. The
villain to whom she surrendered will glory in his victory, if
it was with difficulty obtained; and if she surrendered at
discretion, her own behaviour will reveal her secret. Her
reputation is then irretrievably lost, and no future circum¬
spection will be of the smallest avail to recover it. She
will be shunned by the virtuous part of her own sex, and
treated as a mere instrument of pleasure by the other. In
such circumstances she cannot expect to be married with
advantage. She may perhaps be able to captivate the heart
of a heedless youth, and prevail upon him to unite his
fate to hers, before the delirium of his passion shall give
him time for reflection; she may be addressed by a man
who is a stranger to her story, and married while he has no
SEE 75
suspicion of her secret; or she may be solicited by one of See Amol
a station inferior to her own, who, though acquainted with „ ,
every thing that has befallen her, can barter the delicacy v ee )a ^ .
of wedded love for some pecuniary advantage. But from
none of these marriages can she look for happiness. The
delirium which prompted the first will soon vanish, and
leave the husband to the bitterness of his own reflections,
which can hardly fail to produce cruelty to the wife. Of
the secret to which, in the second case, the lover was a
stranger, the husband will soon make a discovery, or at
least find room for harbouring strong suspicions; and sus¬
picions of having been deceived in a point so delicate have
hitherto been uniformly the parents of misery. In the
third case, the man married her merely for her money, of
which having got the possession, he has no further induce¬
ment to treat her wdth respect. Such are some of the con¬
sequences of seduction, even when the person seduced has
the good fortune afterwards to get a husband. But this
is a fortune which few in her circumstances can reasonably
expect. By far the greater part of those who have been
defrauded of their virtue by the arts of the seducer sink
deeper and deeper into guilt, till they become at last com¬
mon prostitutes. The public is then deprived of their ser¬
vices as wives and parents ; and instead of contributing to
the population of the state, and to the sum of domestic fe¬
licity, these outcasts of society become seducers in their
turn, corrupting the morals of every young man whose ap¬
petites they can inflame, and of every young woman whom
they can entice to their own practices.
All this complication of evil is produced at first by arts
which, if employed to deprive a man of his property, would
subject the offender to the execration of his fellow-subjects,
and to an ignominious death. But while the forger of a
bill is pursued w'ith relentless rigour by the ministers of
justice, and the swindler loaded with universal reproach, the
man w ho by fraud and forgery has enticed an innocent girl
to gratify his desires at the expense of her virtue, and thus
introduced her into a path which must infallibly lead to
her own ruin, as well as to repeated injuries to the public
at large, is not despised by his own sex, and is too often
caressed even by the virtuous part of the other. Yet the
loss of property may be easily repaired ; whilst the loss of
honour is irreparable. It is vain to plead in alleviation
of this guilt, that women should be on their guard against
the arts of the seducer. Most unquestionably they should ;
but arts have been used which hardly any degree of caution
would have been sufficient to counteract. It may as well
be said that the trader should be on his guard against the
arts of the forger, and accept of no bill without previously con¬
sulting him in whose name it is written. Cases, indeed,
occur in trade, in which this caution would be impossible.
But he must be little acquainted with the workings of the
human heart, who does not know that situations likewise
occur in life, in wdiich it is equally impossible for a girl of
tenderness and virtue to resist the arts of the man who has
completely gained her affections.
SEE Amol, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near the
east coast of Borneo. Long. 118. 48. E. Lat. 5. 27. N.
See Bangog, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near
the east coast of Borneo. Long. 118. 24. E. Lat. 4. 18. N.
See Beeroo Isle, an island that lies off the west coast
of Sumatra, and is situated principally between the first and
second degrees of south latitude, and the ninety-eighth and
ninety-ninth of east longitude. It is seventy miles in length
by ten in average breadth, and contains a volcano, which
renders it conspicuous at a distance.
SEEASSEE Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
one of the Sooloo archipelago. It is a woody island, well
supplied with w'ater, and yields many cowries and small baat,
named Seeassee.
SEEBAH, a town and district in the Sikh territories, in
76
Seebgunge
, !l
Seeta-
coond.
SEE
S E G
the province of Lahore, between the thirty-first and thirty-
second degrees of north latitude. The district is hilly, and
covered with wood ; and the town is fortified, being situated
a hundred miles east by south from the city ol Lahore.
Long. 75. 34. E. Lat. 31. 39. N.
SEEBGUNGE, a town of Bengal, in the district of Di-
nagepoor, eighty-four miles north-north-east from Moor-
shedabad. Long. 89. 12. E. Lat. 25. 3. N.
SEEDGHUli, a celebrated fortress of Hindustan, in the
province of Bejapore, taken, with scarcely any loss, from the
Mahrattas in 1818.
SEEDLINGS, among gardeners, denote such roots ot
gillifiowers and others as come from seed sown ; also the
young and tender shoots of any plants that are newly sown.
SEEKS, or Sikhs, a religious sect settled at Patna, and
so called from a word contained in one of the command¬
ments of their founder, which signifies learn thou. In books
giving an account of the oriental sects and oriental customs,
we find mention made both of the Seeks and the Sikhs ;
and we are strongly inclined to think that the same tribe is
meant to be denominated by both words. If so, however,
different authors write very differently of their principles
and manners. (See Mr W ilkins’s account of them in the
Asiatic Researches.)
SEENGHOO, a town of the Birman empire, situated
on the banks of the Irrawaddy.
SEEOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta territories,
and province of Malwah, twenty-two miles west by south
from Bopal, situated on the small river Rootah Seein. It
lias a considerable manufactory of striped and chequered
muslins.
SEEPARRAN, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near
the east coast of Borneo. Long. 118. 23. E. Lat. 4. 8. N.
SEER, a principality of Arabia, in the province of Qm-
mon, extending from Cape Mussendoon, along the shores of
the Persian Gulf. This country not long since acknow¬
ledged the sovereign authority of the Imam; but the
scheich has shaken off this dependence, and is often at war
with his former master. His navy is one of the most con¬
siderable in the Persian Gulf; his subjects are much em¬
ployed in navigation, and carry on an extensive trade.
SEERDHUNA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Delhi, and district of Herat. This place was formerly the
residence of Somroo Begum, and the capital of a small prin¬
cipality under her government, about twenty miles in length
by twelve in breadth, which, with the town, were assigned
to Somroo, who was originally a German, his real name be¬
ing Walter Reinihard, who went to Bengal and entered the
French service, and afterwards that of Gregory, an Arme¬
nian, who was high in favour with Cossim Ali,to whom he re¬
commended Somroo. It was this adventurer who massacred
the English prisoners at Patna in 1763. He died in 1776,
leaving a favourite concubine, who resided at Delhi, under
the protection of the British government, in 1807, and in¬
vested her property in the East India Company’s lands at
Calcutta. The district is fertile, producing all kinds of
grain, sugar, and cotton. Long, of the town 77. 28. E.
Lat. 29. 11. N.
SEERPOOR, a town in the province of Bengal, and dis¬
trict of Raujeshy, seventy-four miles north-east from Moor-
shedahad. Long. 89. 20. E. Lat. 24. 38. N.
SEES, a city of France, in the department of the Orne,
and arrondissement of Alenyon. It stands in a fruitful plain
on the river Orne, near its source, is the seat of a bishop, and
contains 900 houses, with 5860 inhabitants, who are em¬
ployed in making black lace, hosiery, and cotton goods.
Long. 6. 4. 44. E. Lat. 48. 36. 21. N.
SEETACOOND, a town of Bengal, in the district of
Chittagong, remarkable for a warm spring, from which is¬
sues a flame, which is considered by the ignorant Hindus
as an emanation from the deity, and consequently worthy of
Segovia.
beine worshipped. It is seventeen miles north from Isla-Segment 0|
mabad. Loig. 91. 36. E. Lat. 22. 37. N. * ^
SEGALIEN. See Saghalien.
SEGMENT of a Circle, in Geometry, is that part of _
the circle which is contained between a chord and an arc
of the same circle.
SEGMENTS, Line of, two particular lines on Gunter s
sector They lie between the lines of sines and superficies,
and are numbered 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. They represent the
diameter of a circle, so divided into 100 parts, that a right
line drawn through these parts, and perpendicular to the
diameter, shall cut the circle into two segments, the greater
of which shall have the same proportion to the whole circle
as the parts cut oft' have to 100.
SEGO. See Bambarra.
SEGORBE, a city of Spain, upon the Palancia, in the
province of Valencia, and in the neighbourhood of the Mar-
mor Marsh, with 5000 inhabitants, whose trade consists of a
few potteries, and the distillation of brandy.
SEGOVIA, one of the four provinces into which Old
Castille, in Spain, is divided. It is generally an open and
arid district, with scanty water, and little to merit descrip¬
tion, except its capital, and the royal residences of Ildefon-
so and the Escurial, each of which is described under its
appropriate article. The extent of the province is 290
square leagues, and its population amounts to 221,379 souls.
The greater part of the province is destined to teed merino
flocks^ and the largest portion, particularly those with the
finest wool, are shorn within it, as the weather is sufficiently
warm to enable the sheep to bear that operation without
feeling any inconvenience. Though it grows wine, oil, and
corn, the harvests are by no means adequate to the consump¬
tion, and their wants must be supplied from other lands
than their own. It is watered by the Ebro, the Gresma, the
Xarama, and the Duraton ; and it possesses mineral springs
at Cinchon, Caballar, and Bartariejo. It belongs to the cap¬
tain-generalship of Zamora.
Segovia, a city of Spain, and capital of the province of
the same name, in Old Castille. It is situated on the right
bank of the river Duero, not far from its source, and near to
the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Numantia. Around
it are most excellent pastures for sheep, and the wool of the
best of the merinos takes its name from this city. The usual
quantity of fine wool annually sent from this city is about
2,250,000 lbs., and the management of such extensive
concerns necessarily creates considerable trade. I here is
in this city a manufactory of fine cloths, cassimeres, and
other articles composed of the native wool, which is carried
on by the government.
The remains of antiquity in this city are, however, the
most interesting attractions to all travellers. The aque¬
duct, of very ancient construction, is yet in perfect preser¬
vation, and still conveys the water to the city. It is car¬
ried over one of the suburbs or arches, some of which are
a hundred and four feet in height; the arches are in double
rows, one above the other, and on the uppermost a chan¬
nel is made, covered with large flag-stones, through which
the water runs. It is a wonderful relic ot antiquity, on ac¬
count of the excellence of the masonry, which has with¬
stood the ravages of time for so many centuries. 1 he period
of its erection is doubtful. The Spaniards, who delight in
tracing every ancient monument to the highest antiquity,
ascribe it to Hercules ; it is, however, evidently ot Roman
construction, and none give it a later date than the reign
of Trajan. It discovers as yet no marks of decay, and as
the city to which it conveys water is on the top ot a rock,
if it were demolished the inhabitants would be greatly dis¬
tressed for that necessary of life.
The ancient castle, or alcazar, is another of the curiosi¬
ties of Segovia. It stands on a rude mass of rocks over¬
looking the surrounding country, whose base is washed by
S E G
S E I
Segovia
II
Segura.
a rapid and limpid stream, whilst the houses of the city
stretch themselves from it in both directions, and terminate
in woody declivities. It is an astonishing pile of building,
and contains some apartments of stupendous extent. The
foundation and the lower part of the walls are obviously of
Roman origin, whilst the upper part, and what may be
called the keep, are as plainly the execution of the Moors,
whose contrivances for shooting their arrows at the heads of
assailants, without being themselves subject to annoyance,
are in the most perfect preservation. Within this castle is
a state-prison, which is well described by Le Sage in his
Adventures of Gil Bias. A part of the building is used by
the artillery department of government. The mint is be¬
low the castle, and furnished with all the machinery requi¬
site for coining money, which is principally set in motion
by water.
The cathedral of Segovia is one of the most complete
specimens of the later Gothic style of architecture of any
religious edifice in Spain. Excepting the antiquities of
this celebrated city, the rest deserves little notice. The
streets are crooked and narrow. Many of the houses are
of wood, and most of them very dirty ; and in spite of the
great trade carried on in wool by some individuals, an air
of poverty pervades the mass of the inhabitants.
Segovia, a town of America, in Terra Firma, and in the
province of Venezuela, situated on a river, near a very high
mountain, where there are mines of gold. Long. 65. 30. W.
Lat. 8. 20. N.
Segovia, a town of Asia, in the island of Manilla, and
one of the largest of the Philippines, situated at the north
end of the island, 240 miles north of Manilla, and subject
to Spain. Long. 120. 50. E. Lat. 18. 36. N.
Segovia, New, a town of North America, in New Spain,
and in the audiencia of Guatimala, situated on the river
Yare, on the confines of the province of Honduras. Long.
84. 30. W. Lat. 13. 25. N.
SEGRE, an arrondissement of the department of the
Maine and Loire, in France, extending over 408| square
miles. It is divided into six cantons, and these into seven¬
ty-seven communes, and in 1836 contained 58,109 inhabi¬
tants. The capital is a small town of the same name, with
some trade in linen goods. Its population in 1836 amount¬
ed to 2130.
SEGREANT is the herald’s word for a griffin when
drawn in a leaping position, and displaying his wings as if
ready to fly.
SEGUE, in Italian music, is often found before aria,
allelvja, amen, and some others, to show that those portions
or parts are to be sung immediately after the last note of
that part over which it is written ; but if these words si ‘pla¬
cet, or ad libitum, are joined with it, it signifies that the
portions may be sung or not at pleasure.
SEGUIDILLA, the Spanish name of a quick and ani-
mated melody in ^ time, much used in Spain in singing and
in dancing.
SEGURA, a city of Spain, the capital of a department
of the same name, lying between La Mancha and Granada,
in the province of Murcia. Near to it rises the river Se¬
gura, which traverses the whole province, and falls into the
Mediterranean Sea about sixteen miles to the south-west
ot Alicant. The town is surrounded with walls, and is an
episcopal see. It contains 820 houses, and 4000 inhabi¬
tants, who are mostly occupied in agriculture, producing wine,
fruit, especially figs, and oil. Another town bears the same
name in the province of Zaragoza, and department of Da-
roca. It stands on the river Xiloca, and contains 1800 inha¬
bitants. There is also a Segura in the province of Guipus-
coa, and department of St Sebastian, on the banks of the
river Oria. It was once fortified, but its works have gone
to decay.
SEGWIN, a small territory in Northern Hindustan, si- Segwin
tuated between Nepaul and Bootan, about the 28th degree Jl
of north latitude, and extending along the banks of the j
river Teesta, which bounds it to the west. In 1792, when i
the Chinese invaded Nepaul, the rajah of Segwin submitted
to become a subject of China; and here accordingly the
Chinese established a military post immediately adjoining
the dominions of the East India Company in Bengal.
SEIGNIOR, or Signior, is, in its general signification,
the same with lord, but is particularly used for the lord of the
fee or of a manor, as seigneur among the feudists is he who
grants a fee or benefit out of the land to another; and the
reason is, because, having granted away the use and profit of
the land, the property or dominion he still retains in himself.
SEIGNIORAGE is a royalty or prerogative of the king,
by which he claims an allowance of gold and silver brought
in the mass to be exchanged for coin. See Coinage.
SEIGNIORY is borrowed from the ‘French seigneurie,
which means dominatus, imperium, principatus, and signi¬
fies with us a manor or lordship, seigniory de sokemans.
Seigniory in gross seems to be the title of him who is not
lord by means of any manor, but immediately in his own
person ; as tenure in capite, by which one holds of the king,
as of his crown, is seigniory in gross.
SEINE, one of the departments of the north-eastern part of
France, taking its name from the river which passes through
it, and containing Paris, the capital of that mighty king¬
dom. As that city is the most important portion of the
department, the account of it in this work comprehends
what is most remarkable. It is on every side surrounded
by the department of the Seine and Oise, and extends over
47,548 French hectai’es, equal to 167-1- square miles, or
106,983 English acres. It is generally a level district, but
intersected with some hills of inconsiderable height. The
river Seine receives within the department the navigable
river Marne, and the smaller streams of the Ourcq and the
Erould. The Canal of St Denis unites the Seine with the
Oise ; and the Canal of Ourcq, which terminates in a reser¬
voir between La Vilette and La Chapelle, supplies Paris
with water, and being navigable, serves to maintain an in¬
tercourse between that city and the north of France. The
canal is supplied with water from the small streams of the
Grisette, the Mai, the Therouanne, and the Beuvronne. The
soil is for the most part by nature poor and sandy, but
brought to a highly productive state by the vast quantities
of manure furnished by the capital, and by the high state
of the cultivation, which is mostly garden husbandry, whose
products find advantageous markets in the metropolis.
There are still some woods preserved, but mostly lor the
purpose of ornament, and to serve for the recreation of the
inhabitants of Paris. The woods of Boulogne and of Vin¬
cennes occupy together about six thousand English acres.
It is divided into three arrondissements, eight cantons, and
eighty-one communes. The population, which includes
Paris, amounted in 1821 to 822,171, in 1831 to 935,108,
and in 1836 to 1,106,891, of which 909,126 were within
the city.
Seine, Lower, a department of the north-west of France,
formed out of those northern parts of Upper Normandy
which were in ancient times distinguished as the Roumais,
Bezin-Normandy, Caux, and Bray. It is bounded on the
north by the sea, on the east by the departments of the
Somme and of the Oise, on the south by Eure and Calva¬
dos, and on the west by the Channel. It is 2144^ square
miles in extent, and comprehends five arrondissements, fifty
cantons, and 757 communes. The population amounted in
1836 to 720,525 persons, who mostly adhere to the Roman
Catholic church ; but among them are 55,000 Protestants,
having two consistorial and 113 other churches.
The surface is generally level, but intersected by some
hills of moderate height, mostly composed of chalk. To-
'78
S E I
Seine wards the east the valleys are widest, and run from east to
and Mann. Along the whole coast are chalky cliffs from 150 to
' 700 feet in height, but interrupted in places by the bays
and harbours. The soil is on the whole the most fertile in
France, though there are portions of it very unproductive
of corn, and generally covered with vrood, which woods
comprehend one seventh of the whole department. 1 he
agriculture is tolerably conducted, but the greater part of it
is on the ancient system of a fallow succeeded by two crops
of grain. About 340,000 acres are sown with wheat, and
about 250,000 with oats, which is a large portion out of
the 1,372,302 acres ; yet it appears that the corn produced
is scarcely equal to the consumption. The best lands are
the meadows in the valleys through which the Seine and
the other rivers run, and these afford nourishment for nu¬
merous herds of cows, which supply both meat and the pro¬
ducts of the dairy. It is, however, in the interior of the
department that the best breed of cows are to be seen,
which are a mixture of the Flanders race, whereas on the
coast they are commonly of a much smaller size.
The breed of the ancient Norman horses is now nearly
extinct. Those now bred are of a mixed race, and more re¬
markable for their strength than for their beauty, and are
well adapted for the plough, for which they are almost ex¬
clusively used. The sheep are numerous, and those of the
fine woolled kind have of late years been rapidly on the in¬
crease. In the valleys of Arques and of Pouville the mut¬
ton is highly valued. In the more woody portions of the
department are kept very great numbers of swine, in which
the acorns are found of great benefit. Most kinds of fruit
are abundant, with the exception of vines; but the defi¬
ciency of them is counterbalanced by the great quantity of
apples, which are converted into cider, and form a good
substitute for wine. The fishery on the sea-coast affords
considerable occupation, and a great additional supply of
food. The herring-fishery is extensively practised from
Dieppe and Fecamp; and from other places on the shore
enormous quantities of mackerel are taken, whilst the oys¬
ter-fishery employs many hands. The manufacturing in¬
dustry is very active, especially in the arrondissement of
Rouen. Woollen and cotton goods of every kind are made,
and the best kinds of machinery are in full exercise. Large
establishments exist which provide paper, glass, pottery,
and china ware; and on the coast much linen is spun and
woven. There are many ship and boat builders ; and the
cordage and equipments contribute their share to furnish
occupation to labourers. There is much internal trade, es¬
pecially with Paris, by the river Seine. The principal
places within the department are Rouen, Havre de Grace,
Dieppe, Fecamp, and Yvetot.
Seine and Marne, a department of the north of France.
It has been formed out of parts of the ancient provinces of
the Isle of France and of Champagne, called French Ga-
tinois, and the Upper and Lower Brie. It is bounded on
the north by the department of the Oise, on the east by
the Aisne and the Marne and Aube, on the south by the
Yonne and Loiret, and on the west by the Seine and Oise.
It extends over 1981 square miles, is divided into five ar-
rondissements, twenty-nine cantons, and 556 communes,
and in 1836 contained 325,881 inhabitants. The capital
of the department is the city of Melun, with a population
of 6846 inhabitants in 1836. Besides the two rivers from
which it is named, it is watered by the Great and Little
Morin, the Bouzie, the Yonne, the Essonne, the Yres, the
Therouanne, the Beuvronne, and the Otrin, all of whose
waters reach the sea through the Seine. 1 he surface is a
plain, but intersected by some hills of very moderate height.
The soil is fruitful, especially near the principal rivers; and
though woods cover more than one tenth of the depart¬
ment, it is the chief granary from whence the capital draws
its supply of corn, flour, garden-fruits, and fattened cattle.
S E I
The rivers abound with fish, and the woods with game. Seine and
The meadows are of great fertility, yielding abundance of uJse
hay and other fodder, and supporting numerous cows, whose
dairies supply Paris with the greater part of its milx, butter, s ^
and veal, whilst the cheese of Brie has attained great cele¬
brity. It yields some wine, but its quality is only moderate,
and does not equal the consumption. There is much manu¬
facturing industry applied to the making of glass, of paper
of the best kind, of leather, of steel articles, of hosiery,
of linen goods, and of various smaller articles. The chief
towns are Coulommiers, Meaux, Fontainebleau, and Provins.
Seine and Oise, a department in the north of France.
It is bounded on the north by the Eure and the Oise, on
the east by the Seine-Marne, on the south by the Loiret,
and on the west by the Eure and Loire. It extends over
1970 square miles, is divided into six arrondissements, thir¬
ty-six cantons, and 687 communes, and in 1836 contained
449,582 inhabitants, who elect four deputies to the legisla¬
tive chamber. The chief river is the Seine, with which the
Oise is united, and then it receives the waters of the Marne,
the Essonne, the Juine, the Ept, and the Maudre, and of the
various tributary streams which empty themselves into these
rivers. It is generally a level district, with a few ranges of
hills of moderate height. The soil is not naturally fertile,
but has been rendered productive by careful cultivation,
and the abundance of manure, arising from its vicinity to
the metropolis. It surrounds the department of the Seine
on every side, has easy water-communication with Paris,
and, besides, contains within it the city of Versailles and
some other populous places. There is much fruit raised,
and some wine, not of the best quality. It breeds many
sheep ; and of late years the race of the merinos and other
fine-woolled sheep has prodigiously increased. There are
in many parts manufactures of linen, woollen, and cotton
goods, and they are on the increase.
SEISIN, in Law, signifies possession. In this sense we
say, premier seisin, for the first possession. Seisin is di¬
vided into that in deed or in fact, and that in law\ A
seisin in deed is where a possession is actually taken; but
a seisin in law is where lands descend, and the party has
not entered thereon; or it is where a person has a right to
lands, and is by wrong disseised of them. A seisin in law
is held to be sufficient to avow on, though to the bringing
of an assize, actual seisin is required; and where seisin is
alleged, the person pleading it must show of what estate he
is seised.
Livery of Seisin, in Law, an essential ceremony in the
conveyance of landed property, being no other than the
pure feudal investiture, or delivery of corporal possession,
of the land or tenement. This was held absolutely neces¬
sary to complete the donation, Nam feudam sine investi-
tura nullo modo constitui potuit; and an estate was then
only perfect when, as Fleta expresses it in our law, jit juris
et seisince conjunctio.
Investitures, in their original rise, were probably intend¬
ed to demonstrate in conquered countries the actual pos¬
session of the lord ; and that he did not grant a bare liti¬
gious right, w’hich the soldier was ill qualified to prosecute,
but a peaceable and firm possession. And, at a time when
writing was seldom practised, a mere oral gift, at a dis¬
tance from the spot that was given, was unlikely to be
either long or accurately retained in the memory of by¬
standers, who were very little interested in the grant.
Afterwards they were retained as a public and notorious
act, that the country might take notice of and testify the
transfer of the estate, and that such as claimed title by
other means might know against whom to bring their ac-
tions.
In all wrell-governed nations, some notoriety of this kind
has ever been held requisite, in order to acquire and as¬
certain the property of lands. In the Roman law, plenur
S E I
Seisin, dominium was not said to subsist unless where a man had
both the right and the corporal possession ; which posses¬
sion could not be acquired without both an actual inten¬
tion to possess, and an actual seisin or entry into the pre¬
mises, or part of them in the name of the whole. And
even in ecclesiastical promotions, where the freehold passes
to the person promoted, corporal possession is required at
this day to vest the property completely in the new pro¬
prietor, who, according to the distinction of the canonist,
acquires the jus ad rem, or inchoate and imperfect right,
by nomination and institution, but not the jus in re, or
the complete and full right, unless by corporal possession.
Therefore in dignities possession is given by instalment,
and in rectories and vicarages by induction, without which
no temporal rights accrue to the minister, though every
ecclesiastical power is vested in him by institution. So
also by our law, even in descents of lands, which are cast
on the heir by act of the law itself, the heir has not plenum
dominium, or full and complete ownership, till he has made
an actual corporal entry into the lands; for if he dies be¬
fore entry made, his heir shall not be entitled to take the
possession, but the heir of the person who was last actually
seised. It is not therefore a mere right to enter, but the
actual entry, that makes a man complete owner, so as to
transmit the inheritance to his own heirs : Non jus, sed set-
sina, facit stipitem.
Yet the corporal tradition of lands being sometimes in¬
convenient, a symbolical delivery of possession was in many
cases anciently allowed, by transferring something near at
hand, in the presence of credible witnesses, which by agree¬
ment should serve to represent the very thing designed to
be conveyed ; and an occupancy of this sign or symbol was
permitted as equivalent to an occupancy of the land itself.
Among the Jews, we find the evidence of a purchase thus
defined in the book of Ruth: “ Now this was the manner
in former time in Israel, concerning redeeming and con¬
cerning changing, for to confirm all things; a man plucked
off his shoe, and gave it to his neighbour, and this was a
testimony in Israel.” Among the ancient Goths and Swedes,
contracts for the sale of lands were made in the presence
of witnesses, who extended the cloak of the buyer, while
the seller cast a clod of the land into it, in order to give
possession ; and a staff or wand was also delivered from the
vender to the vendee, which passed through the hands of
the witnesses. With our Saxon ancestors the delivery of
a turf was a necessary solemnity in the conveyance of lands ;
and, to this day, the conveyance of our copyhold estates
is usually made from the seller to the lord or his steward
by delivery of a rod or verge, and then from the lord to the
purchaser by redelivery of the same in the presence of a
jury of tenants.
Conveyances in writing were the last and most refined
improvement. The mere delivery of possession, either
actual or symbolical, depending upon the ocular testimony
and remembrance of the witnesses, was liable to be for¬
gotten or misrepresented, and became frequently incap¬
able of proof. Besides, the new occasions and necessities
introduced by the advancement of commerce required
means to be devised of charging and encumbering estates,
and of making them liable to a multitude of conditions and
minute designations, for the purposes of raising money,
without an absolute sale of the land; and sometimes simi¬
lar proceedings were found useful in order to make a de¬
cent and competent provision for the numerous branches
of a family, and for other domestic views ; none of which
could be effected by a mere simple corporal transfer of the
soil from one man to another, which was principally calcu¬
lated for conveying an absolute and unlimited dominion.
Written deeds were therefore introduced, in order to specify
and perpetuate the peculiar purposes of the party who con¬
veyed. Yet still, for a very long series of years, they were
S E I 79
never made use of, but in company with the more ancient Seistan.
and notorious method of transfer by delivery of corporal
possession.
SEISTAN, or Segestan, an extensive country or pro¬
vince, formerly called Nimrose, situated to the east of Per¬
sia, betwen Candahar and Khorassan. It is bounded on the
north and north-west by Khorassan, on the east by Can¬
dahar, and on the south and south-west by Mekran and
Kerman. This country, although now reduced to a de¬
plorable condition, once rivalled in prosperity the most
flourishing provinces of the empire. It was the country
of Jamsheed and Rustum, the heroes of the Shah Nameh,
and of Jacob Ben Leth, the conqueror of the caliph of
Bagdad. The greater part of the country is flat, sandy,
and uninhabited. This is partly occasioned by the wind,
which blows during the hot months with such violence as
to overwhelm with clouds of sand, houses, gardens, and
fields. Captain Christie, who passed through the heart of
Seistan in 1810, in his route from Kelat, in Beloochistan,
to Herat, says, that from Nooshky to the banks of the Heer-
mund, the country through which he travelled was little
better than a desert, intersected by sand-hills. But he
travelled at no time twenty-five miles without meeting
water. He did not see a single town, or even a village,
in the way; and the only inhabitants of this solitary wild
that he saw were,a few Belooche and Patan shepherds, who
lived in tents pitched in the vicinity of the springs. The
country through which he passed was covered with an as¬
tonishing number of ruined towns, villages, and forts, and
at one of these, Kulcauput, was a noble palace, in a toler¬
able state of preservation; also the ruined remains of a city,
which he describes as of great extent. He also met with
the ruins of another large city; and a few miles beyond it,
the remains of a third. Everywhere he thus saw the traces
of ruin and desolation, the fatal consequences of commo¬
tion and war. The only remnants of fertility that he met
with were near the banks of the noble river Heermund, the
ancient Etymander, which flows through the centre of the
country, from the mountains of Huzara, beyond Caubul, to
the Lake of Zerreh, which is said to be thirty furlongs in
length and six in breadth. This river flows through a val¬
ley varying in breadth from one to two miles, the desert on
one side rising in perpendicular cliffs; the valley, water¬
ed by the river, is covered with verdure and brushwood.
The capital of the country is Dooshak, where the prince of
Seistan resides. It is about eight or nine miles from the
Heermund or Helmund. The modern city is small and
compact, but the ruins cover a vast extent of ground. It
is populous, has a good bazaar, and the inhabitants, who are
dressed in the Persian manner, had a more civilized ap¬
pearance than the other natives of Seistan, who are either
Patan or Belooche shepherds, that lead a wandering life,
and pitch their tents amidst the ruins of ancient palaces.
The country in the vicinity of the capital is open, well cul¬
tivated, and produces wheat and barley in sufficient quan¬
tities to be exported to Herat. The pasturage is also good
and abundant. Colonel Kinneir supposes Dooshak to be
no other than the Zaranga of Ptolemy, and that the old
name has been lost in the constant revolutions to which the
country has been exposed for more than a century, and to
which its present desolate state may in a great measure be
attributed. Between this city and Ferrah, Captain Christie,
to whom we owe the knowledge that we possess of this re¬
gion, found the country in general desert, except in the im¬
mediate neighbourhood of the towns and villages through
which he passed. Seistan is at present divided into a num¬
ber of small independent states, governed by chiefs, who
live in fortified villages, situated principally on the banks
of the Heermund. The country to the west of this river
consists of an arid waste, intersected by one or two ranges
of mountains, in the midst of which, about ten days’journey
S E L
from Dooshak, lies the city of Kubbees, about fifteen days’
march from Kerman and sixteen from Yezd. Couriers tra¬
vel this desert from Kerman to Herat in eighteen days; but
the risk of perishing is so great, that a courier demanded
two hundred rupees from Mr Pottinger to carry a letter to
Captain Christie. Seistan is now entirely independent of
Persia, and is ruled by one of its own chiefs, who cannot
raise a revenue of above 80,000 rupees, nor bring more than
3000 troops into the field.
SEIZE, in nautical language, is to make fast or bind, par¬
ticularly to fasten two ropes together with rope-yarn. I he
seizing of a boat is a rope tied to a ring or little chain in the
fore-ship of the boat, by which means it is fastened to the
side of the ship.
SEIZURE, in commerce, an arrest of some merchandise,
moveable, or other matter, either in consequence of some
law, or some express order of the sovereign. Contraband
goods, those fraudulently entered, or landed without enter¬
ing at all, or at wrong places, are subject to seizure.
SEJANT, a term used in heraldry, when a lion or other
beast is drawn in an escutcheon sitting like a cat with his
fore-feet str&i^ht.
SEJANUS, fEuus, a native of Vulsinum, in Tuscany,
who distinguished himself in the court of Tiberius, against
whom he formed a conspiracy, and was by the senate con¬
demned to death, and strangled.
SEJUR, a small river of Syida, which rises a little to the
north of Antakia, and, after a course of about thirty miles,
loses itself in the ground. It is also the name of a small
town in Syria, fifteen miles south of Antakia.
SEE A ME, a cluster of small islands near the coast of
Arabia, of which Selame is the chief, at the entrance of
the Persian Gulf, near Cape Mussendoon.
SELANG, an island in the Eastern Seas, of inconsiderable
size, flat and low. It lies off the southern coast of the island
of Batchian, one of the Moluccas. The straits which it
forms with this island are narrow, and not five feet in depth.
The island forms two harbours with the mainland. Long.
124. 10. E. Lat. 0. 50. S.
SELBISTAN, a town of Persia, in the eastern part of
the province of Pars, in a well-peopled and cultivated coun¬
try, bordering on Kerman.
SELBY, a town of the wapentake of Barton Ash, in the
west riding of the county of York, 178 miles from Lon¬
don. It is situated in a level country on the banks of the
Ouse, and having a canal which unites that river with the
Aire and Calder, has a considerable trade carried on by in¬
land navigation. It has a fine bridge over the Ouse, con¬
structed so as not to impede the vessels. There are some
establishments for building large trading ships. The church
is a conventual edifice, formerly belonging to the Bene¬
dictine monks. There is a good market, which is held on
Wednesdays. The population in 1821 amounted to 4097,
and in 1831 to 4600.
SELDEN, John, called by Grotius “ the glory of Eng¬
land,’- was born at Salvington, in Sussex, in the year 1584.
He was educated at the free school at Chichester, whence
he was sent to Hart Hall, in the university of Oxford, where
lie staid four years. In 1612, he entered himself at Clif¬
ford’s Inn, in order to study the lawr; and about two years
afterwards removed to the Inner Temple, where he soon
acquired great reputation by his learning. He had already
published several of his works; and this year he wrote verses
in Latin, in Greek, and in English. In 1614, he published
his Titles of Honour; and in 1616 his Notes on Sir John
Fortescue’s book, De Laudibus Legum Avgiice. In 1618,
he published his History of Tythes, which gave great offence
to the clergy, and was animadverted upon by several writers;
and for this book he was called before the High Commis¬
sion Court, and obliged to make a public acknowledgment
of his sorrow for having published it. In 1621, being sent
S E L
for by the parliament, though he was not then a member of Sdden.
that house, and giving his opinion very strongly in favour
of their privileges, in opposition to the court, he wras com¬
mitted to the custody of the sheriff of London, but was set
at liberty after five weeks’ confinement. In 1623, he was
chosen burgess for Lancaster ; but amidst all the divisions
of the nation, he kept himself neutral, prosecuting his stu¬
dies with such application, that though he was the next jeai
chosen reader of Lyon’s Inn, he refused to perform that
office. In 1625, he was chosen burgess for Great Bedwin,
in Wiltshire, to serve in the first parliament of Charles I.,
in which he declared himself warmly against the Duke of
Buckingham ; and on his Grace’s being impeached by the
House of Commons, he was appointed one of the managers
of the articles against him. In 1627 and 1628, he opposed
the court party with great vigour. The parliament being
prorogued to the 20th of January 1629, Mr Selden retired
to the'Earl of Kent's house at Wrest, in Bedfordshire, where
he finished his Marmora Arundeliana. The parliament
being met, he, among others, again distinguished himself
by his zeal against the court; when the king dissolving the
parliament, ordered several of the members to be brought
before the King’s Bench bar, and committed to the Tower.
Among these was Mr Selden, who insisting on the benefit
of the lawrs, and refusing to make his submission, was re¬
moved to the King’s Bench prison. Being here in danger
of his life on account of the plague then raging in South¬
wark, he petitioned the lord high treasurer, at the end of
Trinity term, to intercede with his majesty that he might
be removed to the Gate-house, Westminster, which was
granted. But in Michaelmas term following, the judges ob¬
jecting to the lord treasurer’s warrant, by which he had been
removed to the Gate-house, an order was made for convey¬
ing him back to the King’s Bench, whence he w^as released
in^the latter end of the same year ; but fifteen years after¬
wards the parliament ordered him five thousand pounds for
the losses he had sustained on this occasion. He wras after¬
wards committed, with several other gentlemen, for dispers¬
ing a libel ; but the author, who wTas abroad, being disco¬
vered, they7 wrere at length set at liberty. In 1634, a dis¬
pute having arisen between the English and Dutch concern¬
ing the herring-fishery on the British coast, he was prevailed
upon by Archbishop Laud to draw up his Mare Clausum,
in answer to Grotius’s Mare Liberum ; which greatly re¬
commended him to the favour of the court. In 1640, lie
was chosen member for the university of Oxford ; when lie
again opposed the court, though he might, by compliance,
have raised himself to very considerable posts. In 1643,
he was appointed one of the lay members to sit in tne as¬
sembly7 of divines at Westminster, and was the same year
appointed keeper of the records in the I ow7er. W hilst he
attended his duty in the assembly, a warm debate arose re¬
specting the distance of Jericho from J erusalem. I he party7
which contended for the shortest distance urged, as a proof
of their opinion being well founded, that fishes were car¬
ried from the one city to the other, and sold in the market.
Their adversaries were ready to yield to the force of this
conclusive argument, wdien Selden, w7ho despised both par¬
ties, as well as the frivolousness of their dispute, exclaimed,
“ Perhaps the fishes wTere salted.” This unexpected remark
left the victory doubtful, and renewed the debate ; and our
author, who was sick of such trifling, soon found employment
more suited to his genius ; for, in the year 1645, he was made
one of the commissioners of the admiralty. Ihe same year
he was unanimously elected master of Trinity College, Cam¬
bridge, but declined accepting. He died in 1654, and w as
interred in the Temple-church, where a monument is erect¬
ed to his memory. Dr WTlkes observes, that he was a man
of uncommon gravity and greatness of soul, averse to flat¬
tery, liberal to scholars, charitable to the poor ; and though
he had great latitude in his principles yvith regard to eccle-
S E L
Selefkeh siastical power, yet he had a sincere regard for the Church
II of England. He wrote many learned works besides those
Seleiiciclae. a]rea(jy mentioned, the principal of which are, 1. De Jure
Natural! et Gentium, juxta Disciplinam Hebraeorum; 2.
De Nuptiis et Divorciis ; 3. De Anno Civili veterum He¬
braeorum ; 4. De Nummis; 5. De Diis Syris; 6. Uxor
Hebraica ; 7. Jani Anglorum Facies altera. All his works
were printed together in 1726, in three vols. folio.
SELEFKEH, the ancient Calicadnus, in Asia Minor, in
the province of Caramania, situated near the mouth of a river
called Ghiuk Sooyoo. The modern town is merely an assem¬
blage of mud and wooden huts ; it is, however, the residence
of an aga under the governor of Cyprus. It is on the site of
the ancient Seleucia, the remains of which are still to be seen
scattered over a large extent of ground on the western side
of the river. Here are found the remains of a theatre, with
porticos in front, and other large buildings. Farther on is
a temple which had been converted into a Christian church,
and several large Corinthian columns about four feet in dia¬
meter, a few of which are still standing. A little farther
to the south ward, near a marble quarry, which seems to have
supplied materials for the town, is seen an extensive ceme¬
tery, containing sarcophagi of coarse workmanship ; and also
catacombs, which have been all opened and emptied. On
all these remains are inscriptions denoting their origin and
object. Near the catacombs is an enormous reservoir hewn
out of the soft stone, one hundred and fifty feet by seventy-
five, and thirty-five feet in depth. To the west of the town
are seen the remains of a citadel. Long. 33. 35. E. Lat.
36. 20. N.
SELENGA, a large river of Siberia, in the southern part
of the government of Irkoutsk, which rises beyond the fron¬
tier, in the country of the Mongols, where its stream is in¬
creased by the accession of the Kharatale and the Iga. It
becomes navigable as it approaches the frontiers of the em¬
pire, and, flowing from south-east to north-west, it falls by
three mouths into Lake Baikal. On its banks are several
considerable Russian towns, namely, Yerschnei, Oudinsk,
Selenginsk, and Kiachta, the great point of commercial in¬
tercourse with China.
SELENGINSK, a town of Asiatic Russia, in the govern¬
ment of Irkoutsk, situated on the right bank of the Selenga,
in a country consisting chiefly of naked and sandy moun¬
tains ; and it is ten miles farther down the river before any
lands are found fit for the purposes of agriculture. In 1566
a wooden fort or ostrog was built on this spot, which was
afterwards converted into a regular fortress, and gave rise
to the town, which now contains three churches and a hun¬
dred and fifty houses. It is supported, notwithstanding its
dreary situation, by being the great thoroughfare of the
China trade through Kiachta. Rhubarb is imported in large
quantities from the adiacent country of Mongolia. Long.
107. 3. E. Lat. 51. 6. N.
SELENOGRAPHY, a branch of cosmography, which
describes the moon, and all the parts and appearances there¬
of, as geography does those of the earth.
SELEUCIA, in Ancient Geography, surnamed Babylo¬
nia, because situated on its confines, at the confluence of
the Euphrates and the Tigris. Ptolemy places it in Meso¬
potamia. It is called also Seleucia ad Tigrim, being washed
on the south by the Euphrates, and on the east by the Ti¬
gris. It is generally believed to have been built or enlarged
by Seleucus Nicanor, master of the east after Alexander
by means of which Babylon came to be deserted. It is said
to have been originally called Coche, though others, as Ar¬
rian, distinguish it, as a village, from Seleucia ; and, accord¬
ing to Zosimus, the ancient name of Seleucia was Zocha-
sia. It is now called Bagdad. Long. 44. 21. E. Lat. 33.
10. N. There were many other cities of the same name, all
built by Seleucus Nicanor.
SELEUCIDfE, in Chronology. The era of the Seleu-
VOL. XX.
S E L 8).
cidae, or the Syro-Macedonian era, is a computation of time, Self-De-
commencing from the establishment of the Seleucidae, a fence-
race of Greek kings, who reigned as successors of Alex-
ander the Great in Syria, as the Ptolemies did in Egypt.
This era we find expressed in the books of the Maccabees,
and on a great number of Greek medals struck by the cities
of Syria. The Rabbin call it the era of contracts, and the
Arabs therik dilkarnain, or the era of the two horns. Ac¬
cording to the best accounts, the first year of this era falls
in the year 311 before Christ, being twelve years after Alex¬
ander’s death.
SELF-DEFENCE implies not only the preservation of
one’s life, but also the protection of one’s property, because
without property life cannot be preserved in a civilized na¬
tion. The extent of property essential to life is indeed small
and this consideration may enable us to decide a questioi
which some moralists have made intricate. By what means
it has been asked, may a man protect his property ? Maj
he kill the person who attacks it, if he cannot otherwise re¬
pel the attack ?
That a man, in a state of nature, may kill the person who
makes an attack on his life, if he cannot otherwise repel the
attack, is a truth which has never been controverted ; and
he may do the same in civil society, if his danger be so im¬
minent that it cannot be averted by the interposition of the
protection provided for individuals by the state. In all
possible situations, except the three following, whatever is
absolutely necessary to the preservation of life may be law¬
fully performed; for the law of self-preservation is the first
and most sacred of those laws which are impressed on every
mind by the Author of nature.
The three excepted situations are those of a soldier in
the day of battle, of a criminal about to suffer by the laws
of his country, and of a man called upon to renounce his
religion. The soldier hazards his life in the most honour¬
able of all causes, and cannot betray his trust, or play the
coward, without incurring a high degree of moral turpitude.
He knows that the very profession in which he is engaged
necessarily subjects him to danger ; and he voluntarily in¬
curs that danger for the good of his country, which, with
great propriety, annexes to his profession peculiar privi¬
leges and much glory. The criminal under sentence of
death cannot, without adding to his guilt, resist the execu¬
tion of that sentence; for the power of inflicting punish¬
ment is essential to society, and society is the ordinance of
God. The man who is called upon to renounce his religion
ought to submit to the most cruel death rather than comply
with that request, since religion is his only security for
future and permanent happiness. But in every other situa¬
tion, that which is absolutely necessary to the preservation
of life is undoubtedly lawful. Hence it is that a person sink¬
ing in water is never thought to be guilty of any crime, though
he drag his neighbour after him by his endeavours to save
himself; and hence, too, a man in danger of perishing by
shipwreck may drive another from a plank which cannot
carry both of them, for since one of two lives must be lost,
no law, human or divine, calls upon either of them to prefer
his neighbour’s life to his own.
But though the rights of self-defence authorize us to repel
every attack made upon our life, and in case of extremity
to save ourselves at the expense of the life of our innocent
neighbour, it is not so evident that, rather than give to an
unjust demand a few shillings or pounds, we may lawfully
deprive a fellow-creature of life, and the public of a citizen.
A few pounds lost may be easily regained; but life when
lost can never be recovered. If these pounds, indeed, be
the whole of a man’s property ; if they include his clothes,
his food, and the house where he shelters his head; there
cannot be a doubt that, rather than part with them, he may
lawfully kill the aggressor, for no man can exist without
shelter, and food, and raiment. But it is seldom that an
L
82
S E L
Self-Love, attempt is made, or is indeed practicable, to rob a man at
^ once of all that he possesses. The question, then, of any im¬
portance is, may a man put a robber to death rather than
part with a small portion of his properly ? Paley doubts
whether he could innocently do so in a state of nature,
“ because it cannot be contended to be for the augmenta¬
tion of human happiness, that one should lose his life or limb,
rather than another a pennyworth of his property.” He
allows, that in civil society the life of the aggressor may
always be taken away by the person aggrieved, or meant
to be aggrieved, when the crime attempted is such as
would subject its perpetrator to death by the laws of his
country.
To us, however, he seems to lose sight of his own p™"
ciples. No legislature can have a right to take away i e
in civil society, but in such cases as individuals have the
same right in a state of nature. If therefore a man in the
state of nature have not a right to protect his property by
killing the aggressor, when it cannot be otherwise protect¬
ed, it appears to us self-evident that no legislature can have
a right to inflict the punishment of death upon such of¬
fences ; but if the laws inflicting death upon the crime of
robbery be morally evil, it is certain that an individual cannot
be innocent when he prevents robbery by the death of the
robber, merely because he knows that the laws of his coun¬
try have decreed that punishment against those convicted
of the crime. But we think that the protection of property
by the death of the aggressor may be completely vindicated
upon much more general principles. It is necessary in every
state, that property be protected, or mankind could not
subsist; but in a state of nature every man must be the
defender of his own property, which in that state must ne¬
cessarily be small; and if he be not allowed to defend it
by every means in his power, he will not long be able to
protect it at all. By giving him such liberty, a few indivi¬
duals may, indeed, occasionally lose their lives and limbs
for the preservation of a very small portion of private pro¬
perty ; but we believe that the sum of human happiness
will be more augmented by cutting off such worthless
wretches than by exposing property to perpetual depreda¬
tion ; and therefore, if general utility be the criterion of
moral good, we must be of opinion that a man may in every
case lawfully kill a robber rather than comply with his un¬
just demand.
But if a man may without guilt preserve his property by
the death of the aggressor, when it cannot be preserved
by any other means, much more may a woman have re¬
course to the last extremity to protect her chastity from
forcible violation. This, indeed, is admitted by I aley him-
self, and will be controverted by no man who reflects on
the importance of the female character, and the probable
consequences of the smallest deviation from the established
laws of female honour. .
Self-Love is that instinctive principle which impels
every animal, rational and irrational, to preserve its life and
promote its own happiness. It is very generally confound¬
ed with selfishness ; but we think that the one propensity
is distinct from the other. Every man loves himself, but
every man is not selfish. The selfish man grasps at all im¬
mediate advantages, regardless of the consequences which
his conduct may have upon his neighbour. Self-love only
prompts him who is actuated by it to procure to himself
the greatest possible sum of happiness during the whole of
his existence. In this pursuit the rational self-lover will
often forego a present enjoyment to obtain a greater and
more permanent one in reversion; and he will as often
submit to a present pain to avoid a greater one hereafter.
Self-love, as distinguished from selfishness, always compre¬
hends the whole of a man’s existence, and in that extended
sense of the phrase, we hesitate not to say that every man
is a self-lover ; for, with eternity in his view, it is surely
SEE
not possible for the most disinterested of the human race Self-Lov-g,
not to prefer himself to all other men, if their future and
everlasting interests could come into competition. I his
indeed they can never do ; for though the introduction of
evil into the world, and the different ranks which it makes
necessary in society, put it in the power of a man to raise
himself, in the present state, by the depression of his neigh¬
bour or by the practice of injustice, yet in the pursuit of
a prize which is to be gained only by soberness, righteous¬
ness, and piety, there can be no rivalship among the dif¬
ferent competitors. The success of one is no injury to
another ; and, therefore, in this sense of the phrase, self-
love is not only lawful, but absolutely unavoidable. It has
been a question in morals, whether it be not likewise the
incentive to every action, however virtuous or apparently
disinterested ? ,.
Those who maintain the affirmative side of this question
say, that the prospect of immediate pleasure, or the dread
of immediate pain, is the only apparent motive to action in
the minds of infants, and indeed of all who look not before
them, and infer the future from the past. They own, that
when a boy has had some experience, and is capable of
making comparisons, he will often decline an immediate
enjoyment which he has formerly found productive of fu¬
ture evil more than equivalent to all its good ; but in doing
so they think, and justly, that he is still actuated by the
principle of self-love, pursuing the greatest good of which
he knows himself to be capable. After experiencing
that truth, equity, and benevolence in all his dealings is
the readiest, and indeed the only certain method of se¬
curing to himself the kindness and good offices of his fe -
low-creatures, and much more when he has learned that
they will recommend him to the Supreme Being, upon
whom depend his existence and all his enjoyments, they
admit that he will practise truth, equity, and benevolence,
but still, from the same principle, pursuing his own ulti¬
mate happiness as the object which he has always in view.
The prospect of this great object will make him feel an
exquisite pleasure in the performance of the actions which
he conceives as necessary to its attainment, until at last,
without attending in each instance to their consequences,
he will, by the great associating principle which has been
elsewhere explained, feel a refined enjoyment injh6 actions
themselves, and perform them, as occasions offer, without
deliberation or reflection. Such, they think, is the origin
of benevolence itself, and indeed of every virtue.
Those who take the other side of the question can hardly
deny that self-love thus modified may prompt to virtuous
and apparently disinterested conduct; but they think it de¬
grading the dignity of a man to suppose him actuated solely
by motives which can be traced back to a desire of his own
happiness. They observe, that the Author of our nature
has not left the preservation of the individual, or the con¬
tinuance of the species, to the deductions of our icason,
computing the sum of happiness which the actions neces¬
sary to these ends produce to ourselves. On the contrary,
he has taken care of both, by the surer impulse of instinct
planted in us for these very purposes. And is it conceiv¬
able, say they, that he would leave the care of our fellou -
creatures a matter of indifference, until each man should
be able to discover or be taught that by loving his neigh¬
bour, and doing him all the good in his power, he would
be most effectually promoting his own happiness ? It is dis¬
honouring virtue, they continue, to make it proceed in any
instance from a prospect of happiness or a dread of misery ;
and they appeal from theory to fact, as exhibited in the
conduct of savage tribes, who deliberate little on the conse¬
quences of their actions.
Their antagonists reply, that the conduct of savage tribes
is to be considered as that of children in civilized nations,
regulated entirely by the examples which they have before
83
S E L
■fligen-
Sltiilti
II
lelkirk.
them ; that their actions cannot be the offspring of innate
instincts, otherwise savage virtues would, under similar cir¬
cumstances, be everywhere the same, which is contrary to
,fact; that virtue proceeds from an interested motive on
either supposition ; and that the motive which the instinc¬
tive scheme holds up is the more selfish of the two. The
other theory supposes, that the governing motive is the
hope of future happiness and the dread of future misery ;
the instinctive scheme supplies a present motive in the self-
complacency arising in the heart from a consciousness of
right conduct. The former is a rational motive ; the latter
has nothing more to do with reason than the enjoyment
arising from eating or drinking, or from the intercourse be¬
tween the sexes. See Metaphysics and Moral Philo¬
sophy.
SELIGENSTADT, a city of the grand duchy of Hesse-
Darmstadt, in Germany, in the province of Starkenburg,
and the capital of a bailiwick of the same name. It stands on
the river Maine, is surrounded with walls, and contains an
ancient monastery, 420 houses, and 2640 inhabitants.
SEEING, a town of the island of Candia, in the Levant.
It is the capital of a circle of its own name, situated at the
south-west point of that island, with good anchorage in the
road, which is defended by a fort.
SELINGAN, a small island in the Sooloo Archipelago.
Long. 118. 15. E. Lat. 6. 4. N.
SELINTY, a bold and romantic headland in Caramania,
situated on the ruins of the ancient Trajanopolis. On the
highest point are the ruins of a castle, which commands the
ascent of the hills in every direction.
SELKIRK, Alexander, whose adventures gave rise to
Defoe’s well-known historical romance of Robinson Cru¬
soe, was born at Largo, in Fifeshire, Scotland, about the
year 1676. He was bred a seaman, and went from Eng¬
land in 1703, in the capacity of sailing-master of a small
vessel called the Cinque-Ports galley, Charles Pickering
captain. In September the same year he sailed from Cork,
in company with another ship called the St George, com¬
manded by the celebrated navigator William Dampier,
intended to cruise against the Spaniards in the South Sea.
On the coast of Brazil, Pickering died, and was succeeded
in the command by his lieutenant Thomas Stradling. They
proceeded on their voyage round Cape Horn to the island
of Juan Fernandez, whence they were driven by the ap¬
pearance of two French ships of thirty-six guns each, and
left five of Stradling’s men there on shore, who were taken
off by the French. From this they sailed to the coast of
America, where Dampier and Stradling quarrelled, and se¬
parated by agreement, on the 19th of May 1704. In Sep¬
tember following, Stradling came again to the island of
Juan Fernandez, where Selkirk and his captain had a dif¬
ference, which, with the circumstance of the ship’s being
very leaky, and in bad condition, induced him to determine
upon staying there alone ; but when his companions were
about to depart, his resolution was shaken, and he desired
to be taken on board again. The captain, however, re¬
fused to admit him, and he was obliged to remain, having
nothing but his clothes, bedding, a gun, and a small quan¬
tity of powder and ball; a hatchet, a knife, and a kettle ; with
his books, and mathematical and nautical instruments. He
kept up his spirits tolerably till he saw the vessel put off,
when, as he afterwards related, his heart yearned within
him, and melted at parting at once with his comrades and
all human society.
Thus left sole monarch of the island, with plenty of the
necessaries of life, he found himself in a situation which was
hardly supportable. He had fish, goats’ flesh, turnips and
other vegetables ; yet he grew dejected, languid, and melan¬
choly, to such a degree, as to be scarcely able to refrain from
doing violence to himself. Eighteen months passed before
he could, by reasoning, reading his Bible, and study, be
SEE
thoroughly reconciled to his condition. At length he grew Selkirk,
happy, employing himself in decorating his huts, chasing ^
the goats, whom he equalled in speed, and scarcely ever
failed in catching. He also tamed young kids, laming them
to prevent their becoming wild; and he kept a guard of
tame cats about him, to defend him when asleep from the
rats, that were very troublesome. When his clothes were
worn out, he made' others of goat-skins, but could not suc¬
ceed in making shoes, with the use of which, however, habit,
in time, enabled him to dispense. His only liquor was
water. He computed that during his abode in the island he
had caught a thousand goats, of which he had let go five
hundred, after marking them by slitting their ears. Com¬
modore Anson’s people, who were there about thirty years
afterwards, found the first goat which they shot upon land¬
ing was thus marked, and, as it appeared to be very old,
concluded that it had been under the power of Selkirk.
But it appears by Captain Carteret’s account of his voyage
in the Swallow sloop, that other persons practised this mode
of marking, as he found a goat with his ears thus slit on the
neighbouring island of Mas-a-fuera, where Selkirk never
was. He made companions of his tame goats and cats,
often dancing and singing with them. Although he con¬
stantly performed his devotions at stated hours, and read
aloud, yet, when he was taken off the island, his language,
from disuse of conversation, had become scarcely intelli¬
gible. In this solitude he continued four years and four
months, during which time only two incidents happened
which he thought worth relating, the occurrences of every
day being in his circumstances nearly similar. 1 he one
was, that, pursuing a goat eagerly, he caught it just on the
edge of a precipice, which was covered with bushes, so that
he did not perceive it; and he fell to the bottom, where
he lay, according to Captain Rogers’s account, twenty-four
hours senseless; but, as he related to Sir Richard Steele,
he computed, by the alteration of the moon, that he had
lain three days. When he came to himself, he found the
goat lying under him dead. It was with great difficulty
that he could crawl to his habitation, whence he was unable
to stir for ten days, and did not recover of his bruises for a
long time. The other event was the arrival of a ship, which
he at first supposed to be French. And such is the natural
love of society in the human mind, that he was eager to
abandon his solitary felicity, and surrender himself to them,
although enemies; but upon their landing he found them
to be Spaniards, of whom he had too great a dread to trust
himself in their hands. They were by this time so^ near
that it required all his agility to escape, which he effected
by climbing into a thick tree, being shot at several times
as he ran off. Fortunately the Spaniards did not discover
him, though they stayed some time under the tree where he
was hidden, and killed some goats just by. In this solitude
Selkirk remained until the 2d of February 1709, when he
saw two ships come into the bay, and knew them to be
English. He immediately lighted a fire as a signal; and
on their coming on shore, found they w ere the Duke, Cap¬
tain Rogers, and the Duchess, Captain Courtney, being two
privateers from Bristol. He gave them the best entertain¬
ment he could afford; and as they had been a long time at
sea without fresh provisions, the goats which he caught
were highly acceptable. His habitation, consisting of two
huts, one to sleep in, and the other for dressing his food, was
so obscurely situated, and so difficult of access, that only one
of the ship’s officers would accompany him to it. Dampier,
who was pilot on board the Duke, and knew Selkirk very
well, told Captain Rogers that, when on board the Cinque-
Ports, he was the best seaman in the vessel, upon which
Captain Rogers appointed him master’s mate of the Duke.
After a fortnight’s stay at Juan Fernandez, the ships pro¬
ceeded on their cruize against the Spaniards; plundered a
town on the coast of Peru ; took a Manilla ship off Califor-
81
S E L
Selkirk.
nia ; and returned by way of the East Indies to England,
where they arrived on the 1st of October 1711; Selkirk
having been absent, on the day of his arrival in London, eight
years one month and three days, more than half of which
time he had spent alone on the island. The public curiosity
being excited respecting him, he was induced to put his
papers into the hands of Defoe, to arrange and form them
into a regular narrative. These papers must have been
drawn up after he left Juan Fernandez, as he had no means
of recording his transactions there. Captain Cooke re¬
marks, as an extraordinary circumstance, that he had con¬
trived to keep an account of the days of the week and the
month ; but this might be done, as Defoe makes Robinson
Crusoe do, by cutting notches in a post, or many other me¬
thods. From this account of Selkirk, Defoe adopted the
notion of writing a more extensive work, the romance of
Robinson Crusoe, and very dishonestly defrauded the ori¬
ginal proprietor of his share of the profits. After his return
to England he waited in London till he got his effects rea¬
lized, and then proceeded, in the spring of 1712, to his na¬
tive village Largo. For a few days he enjoyed the society
of his relatives and friends; but, from long habit, he soon
felt averse to society, and was most happy in being alone.
In the upper part of the garden attached to his father’s
house, he formed a kind of cave or grotto, which command¬
ed an extensive and delightful view of the bay of Largo,
and the shores of the Forth. In musing here, or wander¬
ing through a secluded and solitary valley called Keii’s
Den, and fishing in the bay, he spent the greater part of
his time. How long he remained here cannot be ascer¬
tained, but he eloped some time afterwards with a girl of
the neighbourhood, named Sophia Bruce, and proceeded
with her to London. He never returned to Largo, and but
little is known of him during the latter part of his life.
Sophia Bruce appears to have died between 1717 and 1720 ;
for in the latter year he again married Frances Candis, who
survived him. Selkirk died lieutenant on board his majes¬
ty’s ship Weymouth, some time in the year 1723 ; and it is
believed that he had no children by either of his wives.1
Selkirk, an ancient royal burgh, and chief town of the
county of Selkirk, in Scotland. It is situated on an elevation
overlooking the valley of the river Ettrick, and commands
an extensive view. It consists chiefly of one street, which
expands at the market-place into an open space; and in it
is the ancient tolbooth. In addition to this main street,
there are a few small streets that diverge from it. The
town has not increased in size or in importance for centu¬
ries; but it has been much improved of late years, and
now contains many good houses, with a town-hall, having
an elegant spire 110 feet in height, and in which there are
apartments for the burgh and sheriff courts. There are
two places of worship, one belonging to the established
church, and the other to the United Associate Synod. A
new prison has been erected at the north side of the town ;
and it also possesses several excellent schools, in which the
classics, French, Italian, and the more usual branches, are
taught.
Selkirk was formerly famed for the manufacture of shoes,
in which it had an extensive trade ; but it has now no ma¬
nufactures of any consequence, the restrictions on trade, and
the jealousy of the burghers or freemen, preventing young
men of small capital from pushing business, and forcing them
to repair to places more open to enterprise. The property of
the burgh extends to 1784 acres, and its yearly income
amounts to nearly L.1100. In 183:3, its debts amounted to
L. 16,088. It is governed by a provost, two bailies, a trea¬
surer, and twenty-nine councillors ; and it votes with the
county in returning a member to parliament. I he popula¬
tion of the burgh and parish in 1821 amounted to 2728,
SEE
and in 1831 to 2833. The population of the burgh alone
in the latter year was 1880. v
During the wars between England and Scotland the
citizens of Selkirk were famed for their courage. A party
of them, amounting to between eighty and a hundred, un¬
der the command of the town-clerk, William Brydone, pro¬
ceeded to the battle of Flodden, and fought with such gal¬
lantry that only a few returned. Brydone was afterwards
knighted for his conduct; and the town received from
James V. a grant of a thousand acres, as a recompense for
the courage of the burghers, and for the town being totally
burned by the English, in revenge for the bravery displayed
by them at that battle. Brydone’s sword is still in the
possession of his lineal descendants; and a pennon, taken,
it is believed, from the Percys, by a person of the name of
Fletcher, is still kept by the successive deacons of the
weavers, and displayed on all civic occasions by that cor¬
poration. A mile north from the town is Philiphaugh,
where the celebrated Marquis of Montrose was defeated
by the covenanters under General Leslie.
* SELKIRKSHIRE, a county of Scotland, situated be¬
tween 55° 21'and 55° 42' north latitude, and between 2°
48' and 3° 20' west longitude from Greenwich. It has
Mid-Lothian, or the county of Edinburgh, on the north ;
Roxburghshire on the east and south-east; Dumfriesshire
on the south ; and Peeblesshire, or Tweeddale, on the
Selkirk¬
shire.
west; the line which separates it from these counties be¬
ing on all sides, but especially the south, exceedingly irre¬
gular. Its area has been computed very differently ; but,
according to the latest authorities, it appears that its ex¬
treme length is thirty miles, its extreme breadth twenty,
and it is calculated to contain 264£ square miles, nearly
equal to 169,280 English acres. It includes only two entire
parishes, Yarrow and Ettrick; the parishes of Selkirk and
Galashiels being partly in Roxburghshire. These may be
said to form the county, although small parts of the pa¬
rishes of Ashkirk, Inverleithen, Peebles, Roberton, and
Stow, are also included in it.
This is almost entirely a pastoral district, and in many
respects bears a resemblance to the higher parts of the
contiguous county of Roxburgh. Like the latter county,
the general declivity of the mountain range is from west-
south-west to east-north-east, and all its streams discharge
themselves into the Tweed. The rocks are of the transi¬
tion series, and are chiefly graywacke, graywacke-slate, and
clay-slate. On the borders of Peeblesshire extensive lay¬
ers of porphyry, alternating with thin strata of slate and
granite, are to be found. The hills are generally ridge¬
shaped, and rounded on the tops, with acclivities of from 10°
to 30°. The secondary valleys are small, being caused by
the Ettrick and Yarrow running nearly parallel, and at no
very great distance from each other ; but where the Yarrow
and Tweed diverge, the valleys increase in magnitude, as
they are then drained by larger streams. Several of the hills
are above 2300 feet in height, such as Windlestraw Law,
at the northern extremity of the county, on the coniines
of Mid-Lothian ; Blackhouse Heights (2370); Minchmoor
(2280), on the borders of Peeblesshire; and Ettrick-pen
(2200), on the south-west boundary. The lower hills are
tor the most part green, and afford good pasturage for
sheep ; but heath prevails on many of the higher grounds,
especially towards the south-west. The lowest land is 280
feet, and the sites of many of the houses are from 600 to
1000 feet and upwards, above the level of the sea.
The rivers are, the Tweed, which crosses the north side
of the county in its course from Peeblesshire on the west
to Roxburghshire on the east; the Gala, which for some
distance forms the boundary with Roxburghshire on the
north-east, and falls into the Tweed, from the north, a little
1 Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk, by John Howell, Edinburgh.
S E L
SEE
85
Selkirk¬
shire.
below Galashiels ; the Cador, a very beautiful stream, which
also joins the Tweed from the north ; the Ettrick and
Yarrow, which have their sources on the confines of the
county of Dumfries, and, flowing north-east almost pa¬
rallel to each other, join their streams above Selkirk, and
afterwards, under the name of Ettrick, passing to the west
of that town, and for a short distance along the boundary
with Roxburghshire, enter the Tweed, in which their name
is lost, and which then becomes the boundary with that
county; the Ale, which rises in the north-east,and soon after
passes into Roxburghshire ; and also the Borthwick, which
washes the north-eastern boundary. Next to the Tweed,
the most considerable waters are the Ettrick and the Yar¬
row, which receive, in the first instance, nearly all the other
streams that traverse this district. Both have been cele¬
brated in song, and have given their names to some plaintive
melodies of great beauty and feeling. The scenery on the
Yarrow is exceedingly romantic and delightful. Soon after
its rise, it passes through two lakes, the Loch of the Lows,
and St Mary’s Loch ; the latter, which is separated from
the former only by a narrow neck of level ground, and is
three miles long, having its banks partly covered with cop¬
pice-wood, is the finest piece of water in the south of Scot¬
land. From thence the Yarrow flows for eight or nine
miles, through sheep-walks, without wood or cultivation;
but afterwards the sides of the lofty hills in its course are
covered with wood to a considerable height, and its valley
is embellished with a variety of bushes and wild flowers.
Ettrick, the larger stream, has a wider and more cultivated
valley; and a little before it receives the Yarrow, natural
wood begins to appear on its banks. It afterwards flows
for four miles through a rich tract, sheltered by plantations
on the hills, till it loses its name in the Tweed. From this
river the whole district has been sometimes called Ettrick
Forest; but the name of Forest here, as elsewhere, has long
since ceased to denote the existence of extensive woodlands,
of which, whatever may have been the case formerly, scarce¬
ly any traces now remain. Besides the two lakes we have
mentioned, a great many smaller ones are scattered over
the east and soutlveast quarters, of which the more consi¬
derable are Loch Alemoor, the principal source of the Ale,
and Loch Oakermoor, noted for the vast quantity of marl
which it contains.
This county is deficient in coal, limestone, and sandstone,
and it lies under the same disadvantages as Roxburghshire,
from the great distance at which it lies from markets where
coal and lime are to be had. It is fortunate, however, that
in the lakes and mosses there is a great deal of marl, which
serves as excellent manure for the arable land in their vicinity.
The arable land lies on an elevation of from 280 to 800 feet,
and does not much exceed one twentieth of the whole
county. It is light, dry, and easily cultivated; and it pro¬
duces wheat, oats, barley or bear, turnips, and potatoes.
Wheat is regularly grown in the lower parts of the county,
and even in the higher it has been raised at the height of
700 feet, yielding a good return ; and it may be said that
agriculture is as well understood and followed out in this
as in any other of the Scotch counties. The rotation in
crops is generally on the five-shift system of husbandry;
although, near the towns, where land is high and manure
can be easily had, the four-shift is too often followed. This
has increased the disease of the turnip crop, called fingers-
and-toes, and has proved very injurious to the red clover.
The average rent of land is, on the arable farms, from
one pound four shillings to three pounds an acre; and on the
pastoral farms from two shillings and sixpence to five shil¬
lings and sixpence an acre. The grazing of an ox or cow'
throughout the year is about five pounds. In Ettrick it is
from two pounds to two pounds five shillings ; and that of a
sheep is from four shillings and sixpence to six shillings and
sixpence. The wages paid to farm-servants and shepherds
are nearly the same as in Roxburghshire. The follow ing Selkirk-
summary of the produce and value of the parishes of Selkirk, shire.
Galashiels, Yarrow, and Ettrick, as stated in the New Statis- ' "
tical Account of Scotland, will more fully explain the value
of the county.
Selkirk 
Galashiels.
Yarrow 
Ettrick 
£< s
a *
10
15
111
68
3000
3000
2740
217
2,300
6,000
67,800
43,086
204 | 8957 jl 19,186
Cm
o
o
260
163
423
.S |
c 1
= .9
1000
500
610
270
Total yearly Value
of Raw Produce
raised.
£10,681 18 0
10,869 10 6
28,606 0 0
12,745 0 0
2380 £62,902 8 6
The leases of the farms on the Buccleuch estates are for
nine years; but this is almost no drawback, as the occu¬
piers are rarely removed. On other estates the leases run
generally for nineteen years.
The rest of the county is almost exclusively occupied by
sheep, which are now, for the most part, of the Cheviot
breed, though not often pure, and scarcely in any instance
equal to those of Roxburghshire. The black-faced or fo¬
rest breed are better adapted for the greater part of the
pasturage than the Cheviots; but their wool is coarse, and
not well adapted for manufacture. Yet it is generally al¬
lowed, that if proper care were taken to cross the ewes with
Cheviot rams, and never allow them to recross, a stock of
sheep suitable to the range of pasture, and with improved
wool, would soon increase, and take the place of the present
breed. The number of sheep usually in pasture amounts to
55,000, of which 3000 or 4000 are of the black-faced, 4000
Leicesters, and the remainder Cheviots. The cow's are
mostly of the short-horned, or of the Ayrshire breeds. Small
farmers and feuars prefer the latter, as being more easily
brought up, and affording more milk. Highland stots have
been introduced, within these few years, to pasture among
the sheep, as it has been found that from the complete drain¬
ing of the district, the overflow of succulent grasses is such,
that without a mixture of cattle with the sheep, the grasps
totally lost. The greater number of cattle a farmer keeps
on his pasture, according to its extent, from May to the mid¬
dle of August, the more sheep he is able to feed during win¬
ter. The valued rent of the county is L.80,307. 15s. 6d.
Scotch, and the real rent of the lands and houses in 1812
was L.41,162. 10s. sterling. The annual value of real pro¬
perty, as assessed in April 1815, was L.43,584. Two fifths
of the whole property are held under entail. The principal
proprietors are the Duke of Buccleuch, who possesses about
one half of the extent, and about one third of the rental;
the Eajrl of Traquair, Lords Elibank and Napier, Johnston
of Alva, with fifteen other proprietors, whose lands stand
valued in the cess-books from L.1000 to L.2000 Scotch.
Selkirk, the county town, and the town of Galashiels,
contain nearly all that part of the population which is not
employed in agriculture. A considerable portion of the
wool of the county finds a ready market at Galashiels. An
inkle-work and some tanneries are the only other branches
carried on for sale out of the county; so that its exports con¬
sist chiefly of raw produce, of which its sheep and wool are
by far the most considerable articles.
(See Douglas’ Survey of Selkirkshire ; the New Statistical
Account of Scotland, No. 1; and the Quarterly Journal of
Agriculture, No. 18.)
Selkirkshire returns a member to parliament. The po¬
pulation in 1811, 1821, and 1831, are shown in the follow ¬
ing table.
S E M
S E M
Population of Selkirkshire.
Sementinae
Feiije
1811
1821
1831
HOUSES.
1080
1081
1094
1258
1372
1391
OCCUPATIONS.
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
41
36
62
500
421
474
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
and Handi¬
craft.
All other
Families
not com¬
prised in
the two
preceding
classes.
363
409
450
395
542
467
PERSONS.
Males.
2750
3205
3394
Females.
3139
3432
3439
Total of
Persons.
5889
6637
6833
SELLA, a town of Spain, in what is called the kingdom
of Valentia, in the province of Alcoy. It is situated on the
banks of the river Alcoy, and near to ^ entrance into
the Mediterranean Sea. It contains about 2000 inhabitants,
who are chiefly employed in making cordage and hshmg-
nets from esparto, which grows abundantly in the neigh¬
bourhood. . r a k-
SELMAST, a town of Persia, in the province ot AzerDi-
ian, containing about 2000 inhabitants, principally Nestorian
Christians. It is famed for its lofty poplars and delightful
gardens. It is seventy-five miles west-south-west ot la-
SELTERS, or Seltzers, a village of the principality of
Nassau, in Germany, about ten miles from Coblentz. The
name of the mineral spring here is celebrated in every part
of Europe. Seltzer water is brought to this country in stone
bottles, which are closely corked and sealed, and contain
about three pints each; and when they are well secured, it
keeps unchanged for a considerable time. Seltzer water,
according to the analysis of Bergman, contains, in an English
wine pint, „ .
1 Grains.
Carbonate of lime  ^
Ditto of magnesia  5
Ditto of soda 
Muriate of soda I
29-5
The same Quantity of water also yields seventeen cubic
inches of a gaseous substance, which is found to be almost
entirely pure carbonic acid gas. i his water has been l°nS
in high repute on account of its medicinal virtues, and we
have no doubt that it may be used with considerable benefit
in many of those complaints which arise from a deranged
state of the stomach and bowels. The usual dose of this
water is from half a pint to a pint; but in most cases it
may be drunk freely. From its agreeable taste, and its ex¬
hilarating effects on the spirits, it is extensively employed
at table as a common drink in Germany and Holland. In
this country also both the real and the artificial Seltzer wa¬
ter is largely used for the same purpose. Seltzer water may
be artificially imitated, by adding the ingredients discover¬
able by analysis, and in the same proportion.
SEMAO, an island in the Eastern Seas, about twenty-
four miles in length from north to south, and from six to ten
in breadth. A strait, called the Strait of Semao, separates it
from the south-west end of the island of Timor. This strait,
which has a good depth of water, affords secure shelter to
ships during the strength of the westerly monsoons. Long.
123. 45. E. ’Eat. 10. 15. S.
SEMENDRA, a city in the north-west ot lurkey in
Europe, the capital of a province of the same name in the
ancient Servia. It is built on the western branch ot the
river Morava, where it falls into the Danube. It is forti¬
fied and defended by an ancient castle, and contains the
cathedral of a Greek bishop, several mosques, and about
8000 inhabitants, who subsist by trading and fishing on the
rivers. Long. 21. 23. E. Lat. 44. 37. N.
SEMENTIN^E Ferine, in Antiquity, were feasts held an¬
nually among the Romans, to obtain of the gods a plentiful
harvest. They were celebrated in the temple of Tellus,
where solemn sacrifices were offered to Tellus and Ceres.
These feasts were held about seed-time, usually in the
month of January; for, as Macrobius observes, they were
moveable feasts.
SEMI, a word borrowed from the Latin, signifying half,
but only used in composition with other words.
SEMI-ARIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, a branch of
the ancient Arians, consisting, according to Epiphanius, of
such as, in appearance, condemned the errors of that heresi-
arch, but yet acquiesced in some of his principles, only palli¬
ating and hiding them under softer and more moderate terms.
Though they separated from the Arian faction, they could
never be brought to acknowledge that the Son was “ ho-
moousios,” that is, consubstantial, or of the same substance
with the Father; they wmuld only allow him to be “ ho-
moiousios,” that is, of a like substance with the Father, or
similar to the Father in his essence, not by nature, but by
a peculiar privilege.
The Semi-Arianism of the moderns consists in their main¬
taining that the Son was from all eternity begotten by the
will of the Father, contrary to the doctrine of the orthodox,
who seem to teach that eternal generation is necessary.
Such, at least, are the respective opinions of Dr Clarke and
Bishop Bull.
SEMICIRCLE ineometry, is half a circle, or that figure
which is comprehended between the diameter of the circle
and half its circumference.
SEMICOLON, in Grammar, one of the points or stops
used to distinguish the several members of a sentence from
each other.
The mark or character of a semicolon is (;), and it has
its name from being of somewhat less effect than a colon,
or as demanding a shorter pause.
The proper use of the semicolon is to distinguish the con¬
junct members of a sentence. Now, by a conjunct mem¬
ber of a sentence is meant such a one as contains at least
two simple members. Whenever, then, a sentence can be
divided into several members of the same degree, which are
again divisible into other simple members, the former are
to be separated by a semicolon. For instance, “ If fortune
bear a great sway over him, who has nicely stated and con¬
certed every circumstance of an affair; we must not com¬
mit every thing, without reserve, to fortune, lest she should
have too great a hold of us.”
SEMIDIAMETER, half the diameter, or a right line
drawn from the centre of a circle to its circumference;
beino- the same with what is otherwise called the radius.
SEMIPALATNOI, a fortress of Asiatic Russia, in the
southern part of the government of Tomsk, erected for the
S E M
•mipela- purpose of protecting the trade carried on with the Cal-
gians. uiucks and Bucharians. It was first built in the year 1718 ;
but, owing to the inundations of the river, it was swept away,
and had to be removed successively from one spot to ano¬
ther. The principal fortress forms a square composed ot
wooden ramparts, and surrounded by a ditch. There are
two villages, the one above and the other below, both pali¬
saded, like the fort, and containing above two hundred
houses. The trade carried on by the Russians with the
Kirghises consists of an exchange of toys and trifles for
horses and cattle. It is also frequented by traders from
Little Bucharia, who bring chiefly cotton goods of inferior
quality. Long. 80. 10. E. Lat. 50. 20. N.
SEMIPELAGIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, a name
given to such as retain some tincture of Pelagianism. See
Pelagians.
The doctrines of this sect, as well as those of their pre¬
decessors the Pelagians, have their common source in Pe-
lagius, a native of Britain, of whom we have already taken
notice. He is said to have been but a simple monk, and
not in orders. Having gone to Rome about the end of
the fourth century, he lived there for some years with re¬
putation, and was considered as both pious and virtuous.
Rufinus, a priest of Aquileia, having come to Rome in the
year 397, is affirmed by some to have been the person who
suggested to Pelagius his peculiar doctrines.
In the year 400 Pelagius began to teach his opinions at
Rome, both by speech and by writing. He was not the
only person who taught these doctrines, of which we have
elsewhere enumerated the heads. His friend and compa¬
nion Celestius, an abler man than himself, likewise main¬
tained them, and with much more address and subtilty.
After having promulgated them in Rome, they went into
Sicily, where they lived for some time; and thence, in the
year 411, they passed over into Africa. Pelagius soon
afterwards went into Palestine, while Celestius remained at
Carthage, and wras preparing himself to take the order of
priesthood; but it being soon discovered that he taught a
new doctrine,1 he was accused by the deacon Paulinus in a
synod held at Carthage in 412, at which Aurelius the bishop
presided. Celestius, on being charged by Paulinus wuth
denying original sin, made answer, “ that in truth he doubt¬
ed whether the sin of Adam was transmitted to his poste¬
rity.” He did not, however, own that children had no need
of baptism, although this was one of the Pelagian tenets.
On the contrary, he wrote a little discourse, in which he
acknowledged that children had need of redemption, and
that they could not obtain it without baptism. The bishops
at the council of Carthage condemned the doctrines of Ce¬
lestius, and excommunicated him. From this sentence he
appealed to the bishop of Rome ; but he neglected to pur¬
sue his appeal, and went to Ephesus, where he endeavour¬
ed to get himself ordained priest. In the mean time, Pe¬
lagius having retired into Palestine, wras kindly received by
St Jerome’s enemy, John of Jerusalem. With him he en¬
tered into an engagement to attack the reputation of that
author. St Jerome defended himself from their assault,
attacking the doctrines of Pelagius,2 and in this under¬
taking he was soon assisted by St Augustin. About this
time Orosius having gone from Spain into Africa, and thence
into Palestine, published there the proceedings against Ce¬
lestius at Carthage, and was prevailed upon by the bishop
of Jerusalem to enter into a conference with Pelagius in his
presence; but the bishop having shown too much partia¬
lity for Pelagius, Orosius would not acknowledge him as a
judge, but demanded that the decision of that affair, which
was among the Latins, might be referred to judges who un-
S E M 87
derstood the language. This happened in the year 415, at Semipela-
which time there were in Palestine two French prelates, gians-
who, being driven from their dioceses, fled into that coun- —"v——'
try, and having been apprised of the opinions of Pelagius
and Celestius, drew up an abridgment from their own books,
of the errors imputed to them.3 To this they joined the
articles condemned in the synod of Carthage, and some
others, which were sent from Sicily by Hilarius to St Au¬
gustin, and then presented the abridgment to the bishop of
Caesarea. The matter was referred to a council of fourteen
bishops, at which, when the memoir was read, Pelagius ex¬
plained himself upon some articles, and denied that he was
the author of jothers. He also disowned the propositions
condemned at Carthage, and some others ascribed to Celes¬
tius. He did not even hesitate to condemn them ; upon
which the bishops decided, that since Pelagius approved
the doctrines of the church, and rejected and condemned
what was contrary to its belief, they acknowledged him to
be of the ecclesiastical and catholic communion.
Orosius, on his return to Africa, took with him the.me¬
moir against Pelagius, and presented it to a meeting ot
bishops held at Carthage in 416/ Having read over what
had been done at a former meeting against Celestius, they
declared that both he and Pelagius ought to be anathema¬
tized if they did not publicly renounce and condemn the
errors imputed to them. The bishops of this meeting, and
those of Numidia, assembled the same year at Milivetum,
wrote upon the subject to Pope Innocent, who approved
of the judgment of the African prelates, and declared Pe¬
lagius, Celestius, and their followers excommunicated.5
Innocent gave an account of this judgment to the bishops
of the East, and the matter seemed altogether at an end,
when he died; but Celestius having been made priest at
Ephesus, and having gone to Constantinople, whence he
was driven by Atticus, bishop of that city, who also wrote
against him to Asia and Africa, he came to Rome in the
beginning of the pontificate of Zozimus, and undertook to
pursue the appeal which he had formerly made from the
judgment of the synod of Carthage. Having cited his ac¬
cuser Paulinus, and offered to justify himself, he presented
a confession of faith, in which he acknowleged that chil¬
dren ought to be baptized, in order to inherit the kingdom
of heaven ; but he denied that the sin of Adam was trans¬
mitted to his children. He appeared before the bishops
and clergymen assembled by the pope, and declared that
he condemned all the errors with which he had been
charged. The pope delayed his judgment for two months,
and in the mean time received a letter and a confession of
faith from Pelagius, which were very artfully drawn up.
When the time for judgment arrived, Zozimus held a synod,
and said that he thought the declarations of Pelagius and
Celestius sufficient for their justification. He was dis¬
pleased at the two French bishops for not appearing against
them, and wrote two letters on that head, one to the bishops
of Africa, and another in particular to Aurelius, bishop of
Carthage. The African bishops, to the number of 214,
without regarding the judgment passed at Rome, assembled
at Carthage, and, having confirmed their former decisions,
condemned the doctrines of the Pelagians. They wrote
to the bishop of Rome to acquaint him that he had been
deceived by Celestius, and discovered to him the equivo¬
cations of his letter and the confession of faith of Pelagius,
sending him a memoir of the errors of which he should re¬
quire a distinct and precise revocation from the two he¬
retics. The pope made answer, that although his autho¬
rity was so great that none durst dissent from his judg¬
ment, still that he was willing to communicate the matter
1 Augustinus, lib. li. De Gratia.
3 St Augustin on Original Sin, and against the Pelagians.
2 St Jerome’s Works, and the Apology of Orosius.
The Epistles of St Augustin. 6 Marius Mercator’s Commentary-
88
S E M
Semipela- to them, and would let it remain in the same state, until a
gians. new deliberation could take place. This letter was pre-
J sented to a council held at Carthage in 418, at which eight
canons were drawn up against the Pelagian heresy. The
bishop of Home, in the mean time, was inclined to examine
again the affair of Celestius, and to endeavour to draw fiom
him distinct and precise answers according to the plan sug¬
gested by the African bishops in their memoir; but Ce¬
lestius would not come forward, and accordingly withdrew
from Rome. From his flight the pope conchided that he had
formerly imposed upon him, and that he held the new doc¬
trines ; and, accordingly, changing his opinion with respect
to him, he approved of the decrees of the African prelates,
and renewed the condemnations of his predecessor, Pope
Innocent, against him and Pelagius.1 This judgment he
published in a letter which was sent to all the bishops.
About the same time an edict was published by the Em¬
peror Honorius against Pelagius and Celestius, ordering
that they should be banished from Rome, and that all their
followers should be sent into exile.
In the following year Honorius published another edict,
by which it was ordered, that the bishops who would not
sign the pope’s letter should be deprived of their churches.
Accordingly, Julian the bishop of Eclana, who was after¬
wards head of the party, and seventeen other bishops, were
cashiered; upon which they wrote a letter to Rufus, bi¬
shop of Thessalonica, and demanded a universal council
from the emperor, which was refused. Celestius returned
again to Rome, but w as again expelled from the city ; whilst
his followers, being expelled from Italy, retired to different
countries. Some of them came over into Britain, and
others went into the East. Atticus banished them from
Constantinople, and they were also banished from Ephesus.
Theodotus, bishop of Antioch, condemned them in a synod
held at Diospolis, and banished Pelagius and his followers
out of Palestine, whither they had returned. Julian, the
bishop, was condemned in a provincial synod of Cilicia,
whither he had retired to Theodorus, bishop of Mopsuesta,
who wras obliged to anathematize him. What became of
Pelagius is unknown, as history gives no further account
of him; but Celestius having returned to Rome, and being
driven from thence by Pope Celestin, went with Julian and
some other bishops of their party to Constantinople, where
they endeavoured to prevail upon the Emperor Theodo¬
sius to assemble a council, instead of which he ordered
them to leave the city. After this they joined with the
Nestorians,2 and were condemned together with them in a
general council held at Ephesus in 431; and there now
remained but a small number of Pelagians dispersed in the
West. Julian, after having endeavoured several times to
get himself reinstated in his bishopric, was at last obliged
to retire into Sicily, where he died.
To the Pelagians succeeded the Semipelagians, who re¬
jected the doctrines of the former with respect to original sin
and the power of free will to do any good.3 They owned
that man had need of the grace of God to persevere in
welldoing; but they believed that the beginning of good
will and faith did not necessarily depend upon grace ; for
that man, by the mere force of nature, might desire to do
good, and that God seconded that good will by his assist¬
ance, which depended upon liberty, and was given to all
men. Besides these, they maintained some other peculiar
tenets. The origin of some of their opinions is founded in
this, that some of the books which were written by St Au¬
gustin in his last years, with respect to the controversies
which arose in the monastery ot Adrumetum, relative to
correction, grace, and predestination, having been carried
S E M
into Gaul, happened to give offence to several persons, and
trv mnnks of Eei'ins. who considered his
particularly to the monks of Lerins, who considered his
doctrines as hostile to that of free will. This led them to
think and to maintain, that, in order to be saved, it vvas
necessary to leave to man the power of knowing and de¬
siring good by the force of nature, so that the beginning
might come from man. Several considerable persons in
Gaul, and even some bishops, but particularly the priests,
were of this opinion. Cassian, deacon of Constantinople,
and afterwards priest of Marseilles, authorized it m his
conferences; and Faustus, bishop of Riez, supported it
very strenuously. From its very first appearance, St u-
gustin stood up to oppose this doctrine, and was supported
by Prosper and Hilarius. Pope Celestin complained to
the bishops of Gaul, that they suffered their priests to speak
ill of the doctrines of St Augustin ; Popes Gelasius and
Hormisdas condemned the books of Faustus ; and, last ot
all, the council of Orange, held in 529, condemned parti¬
cularly the principal tenets of the Semipelagians, and put
an end at that time to the controversy, about a hundred
years after the death of St Augustin.
The Semipelagians were very numerous; and their doc¬
trines, though variously explained, were received in many
of the monastic schools in Gaul, whence they spread them¬
selves far and wide throughout Europe. With respect to
the Greeks and other Christians of the East, we may remain,
that they had adopted the Semipelagian tenets, even befoie
they were promulgated in Gaul by Cassian and Faustus.
After the period, however, at which the Semipelagian
doctrines were condemned in the council of Orange, vre
find but little notice taken of this sect by historians. Al¬
though its tenets were maintained by a few in the succeed¬
ing centuries, the sect could boast of no eminent leaders,
and sunk into obscurity. In the beginning, indeed, of the
Reformation, some of the Pelagian tenets were again brought
into circulation. Every one is acquainted with the hosti¬
lity of Luther to the doctrine of free will, who vent so far
into the opposite extreme as to entitle one of his works
against the celebrated Erasmus on this subject, Be Servo
Arbitrio. But notwithstanding that Luther was their leader,
this doctrine of his was not adopted by some of the most
eminent of the reformers. His learned friend, the mild
and worthy Melancthon. although he at first, either fiom.
not having sufficiently considered the subject, or because
this doctrine was so unpalatable to the great body of the
reformers on account of the authority of Luther, joined w ith
Luther in his hostility to the doctrine of free will so far as
to say that free will could have no effect under the influ¬
ence of grace, shortly afterwards changed his opinion so as
to run into the opposite extreme. For although Luther at
his outset had affirmed, that the prescience of God annihi¬
lated free will in all his creatures, he was so softened down
into moderation at the time of the drawing up of the fa¬
mous Confession of Augsburg, as to allow Melancthon, who
composed it, to insert these words, <£ that it was necessary
to allow free will to all who possessed the use of reason,
not however in such things as regarded God, which they
could not commence, or at least which they could not com¬
plete, without his assistance and grace, but in the affairs or
works of the present life solely, and in order to perform
their duty towards society.”1 In this passage two truths
are clearly admitted: First, that there is free will in man ;
and, secondly, that of itself it has no efficacy in such works
as are purely Christian or religious. But although this be
evident, and although it wrould seem as if he attributed the
efficacy of religious works solely to the grace of God, yet
the restricting words “ at least,” show that he was of opi-
See the Letters of St Augustin.
2 Prosper in his Chronicle.
See the 18th article, and Melancthon’s Apology.
3 Hilary’s Letters to Augustin.
S E M
(iemipela- nion that free will, by its own natural force and efficacy,
gians. though it could not complete, could at least commence,
Christian or religious works, without the assistance of grace.
To such of our readers as are acquainted with ecclesias¬
tical history, it is unnecessary to remark, that this was one
of the leading tenets of the Semipelagians. But Melanc-
thon did not stop here. It is true, that, in order to keep
well with the reformers, he was obliged, in those public in¬
struments which he drew up, to insinuate rather than avow
his partiality for the doctrine of free will, the exercise of
which, we see, he confined, in the Confession of Augsburg,
to such actions merely as regarded civil life and our duties
to society. In the Saxon Confession of Faith, however, he
proceeds a step farther, and says, “ that the will is free;
that God neither wishes for, nor approves, nor co-operates
in the production of sin; but that the free will of man and
of the devils is the true cause of their sin and of their fall.”
Many, no doubt, will be of opinion, that Melancthon merits
praise for having thus corrected Luther, and for having
more clearly expressed his own opinion, than he had done
in the Confession of Augsburg. He even proceeds farther,
and extends the exercise of free will to religious or Chris¬
tian works. For after having explained in the Saxon Con¬
fession of Faith the nature of free will, and the manner in
which it makes a choice, and having also shown that it is
not of itself sufficient in those works, or actions, which re¬
gard a future life, he affirms twice “ that the will, even after
having received the influence of the Holy Spirit, does not
remain idlethat is to say, it is not merely passive under
the influence of grace, but can reject it, or co-operate with
it, at pleasure. Necessity, it is true, obliged him to ex¬
press his opinion rather obscurely. But what he insinuates
only in these last-quoted words, is clearly and fully express¬
ed in one of his letters to Calvin. “ I had,” says he, “ a
friend who, in reasoning upon predestination, believed
equally the two following things; namely, that every thing
happens among men as it is ordained by Providence, but that
there is, nevertheless, a contingency in actions or in events.
He confessed, however, that he was unable to reconcile
these two things. For my part,” continues Melancthon,
“ who am of opinion that God neither wishes for nor is
the cause of sin, I acknowledge this contingency in the
feebleness of our judgment, in order that the ignorant may
confess that David fell of himself, and voluntarily, into sin;
that he had it in his power to preserve the grace of the
Holy Spirit which he had within him; and that in this com¬
bat or trial it is necessary to acknowledge some exercise
or action of the will.”1 This opinion he confirms and illus¬
trates by a passage from St Basil, where he says, “ Have
but the will or the inclination, and God is with you.” By
these words Melancthon seems to insinuate, that the will is
not only active in the works of religion, but even begins
them without grace. This, however, was not the meaning
of St Basil, as is evident from several other parts of his
writings; but that it was the opinion of Melancthon, ap¬
pears fully from this passage, as well as from that which we
have cited from the Confession of Augsburg, in which he
insinuates that the error is not in saying that the will can
of itself commence, but in thinking that it can, without
grace, finish or complete religious or Christian works. Thus
it appears, that he considered the will as capable of reject¬
ing the influence of grace, since he declares, that David
could preserve the Holy Spirit when he lost it, as well as
he could lose it when he kept it within him. But although
this was his decided opinion, he durst not avow it fully in
the Saxon Confession of Faith, but was obliged to content
himself with insinuating it gently in these words : “ The
will, even after receiving the grace of the Holy Spirit, is
S E M 89
not idle or without action.” All this precaution, however, Scmiramis.
was insufficient to save Melancthon from censure. Fran- v-"—''
cowitz, better known by the name of Illyricus, being jea¬
lous of him, and his enemy, by his influence with his party
procured the condemnation of these words of the Saxon
Confession, and of the passage from St Basil, at two synods
held by the reformers. At the same time that one party
of the Lutherans were unwilling to adopt Melancthon’s opi¬
nion, “ that the will is not passive when under the influence
of grace,” we are at a loss to think how they could deny it,
since they almost unanimously confess, that a person under
the influence of grace may reject and lose it. This opinion
is avowed in the Confession of Augsburg and in Melanc¬
thon’s Apology. It was even, long after that, decided upon
anew, inculcated strongly in their book of Concord, and
brought frequently against them by their opponents as a
proof of inconsistency and contradiction.
These are not the only instances in which the Luthe¬
rans were charged with Semipelagian principles. One of
the ablest and the most learned of their opponents, we can¬
not help thinking, had in more than one instance made
good the charge against them. To prove this we need
only refer to the remarks that have been made on the
eight celebrated propositions in the third book of Concord,
relative to the co-operation of the will with grace. Accord¬
ing to the first seven of these propositions, an attentive lis¬
tening to the preaching of the word of God produces grace;
and according to the fifth, any man, even a libertine or an
infidel, is free, or has it in his power, to listen attentively
to the preaching of the word of God. He has it then in
his power to give to himself that which to him is produc¬
tive of grace, and may thus be the sole author of his own
conversion or regeneration. In the eighth proposition it is
affirmed, that we are not permitted to doubt that the grace
of the Holy Spirit, even though it may not be felt, does ac¬
company an attentive hearing of the word of God; and, to
do away every doubt about the species of attention which
they mean, we must observe, that they speak of attention
inasmuch as it precedes the grace of the Holy Spirit, and
of that attention which, in consequence of its dependence
on free will, we have it in our power to bestow upon the
word or not, just as we please. It is the exercise of this
free attention which they say operates grace. But here it
would seem that they were in extremes; for, as they said,
upon the one hand, that when the Holy Spirit begins to
move us we act not at all, so they maintained, on the other,
that this operation of the Holy Spirit, which converts us
without any co-operation on our part, is necessarily attend¬
ant upon an act of our wills, in which the Holy Spirit has
no share, and in which our liberty acts purely by its natural
force or powrer. Such of our readers as are anxious to ex¬
amine the progress of the Pelagian and Semipelagian prin¬
ciples after the dawn of the Reformation, we must refer to
the works of the principal reformers and to those of their
adversaries, as well as to the different writers upon eccle¬
siastical history.
SEMIRAMIS, queen of Assyria, reigned about five ge¬
nerations before Nitocris, and constructed some wonderful
works to restrain the waters of the Euphrates within its
banks. Diodorus gives a more detailed account of her,
which is copied principally from Ctesias. Omitting the fa¬
bulous statements respecting her youth, we there find that
she had a son, Ninyas, from Ninus; and that after her hus¬
band’s death she thought herself capable of governing the
empire. She founded the city of Babylon, which she sur¬
rounded by walls of immense strength, and adorned by
very wonderful buildings. On the top of the temple of
Belus she placed three statues of massive gold, and from
VOL. xx.
1 See Calvin’s Letters.
M
90
Semlin
II
Senate.
SEN
the middle of the temple rose a tower higher than the high¬
est pyramid of Egypt. Some have thought that tins was
the tower of Babel. She made warlike expeditions against
' the Medes, Persians, Libyans, and ^Ethiopians. She is said
to have executed many wonderful works in different parts ot
her kingdom; changing mountains into plains, and construct¬
ing canals and palaces. Hearing of the riches and power
of India, she determined to make war on that kingdom, and
prepared an immense army ; but she was in a great m6a"
sure unsuccessful, and returned with the loss of nearly her
whole army. When she reached Babylon, her son laid
snares for her; and as it had been predicted by the oracle of
Jupiter Ammon that she would disappear from the woild
when this took place, the prediction was fulfilled, bemi-
ramis was no more seen, having died in the sixty-second
year of her age, and the forty-second of her reign.
SEMITONE. See Music.
SEMLIN, a city of the Austrian dominions, on the
frontier towards Turkey. It stands in that district which
forms a part of the military colonies of Austria, distinguish¬
ed by the name of the Sclavonian boundary. It is situated
on a point of land where the river Brave falls into the Da¬
nube ; and it is strongly fortified, and tolerably well built.
The Catholics have one church and four chapels; the Greeks
have two churches, over which a propapa presides. I here
are a convent of Franciscans, a German normal school, a
hospital, a Jews’ synagogue, and 1250 dwelling-houses, with
about 8700 inhabitants. At this place is the lazaretto, where
all persons arriving from Turkey must exhibit bills of health,
and perform quarantine. In a meadow between this place
and Belgrade a daily market is held, where two rows of pa¬
lisades separate the dealers, and where sentinels are con¬
tinually on the watch, to see that no hazardous communi¬
cation takes place; and all goods bought from the lur-s
must be exposed to the air and fumigated. It is a place of
considerable traffic with Turkey. The communication by
steam-vessels between Vienna and Constantinople has given
a stimulus to its commerce, and is likely to occasion a muc i
greater increase. There are now more than 120 mercan¬
tile houses established here, some of which are Greek,
others Turkish, and a part Austrian. There are 380 per¬
sons employed in manufactures, and more than 100 hotels
or taverns. The colonists regimented here form the Pe¬
ter warden branch of the army. Long. 20. 19. 39. E. Lat.
44. 51. 22. N. „ , , .
SEMUR, an arrondissement of the department ot Cote
d’Or in France, which extends over 598 square miles. It
is divided into six cantons, and these into 145 communes,
witli a population, in 1836, of 70,505 inhabitants. The ca¬
pital is the city of the same name, standing on a rock wash¬
ed on three sides by the river Armancon. It contains a
fine collegiate church, built in 1065, a public library with
12 000 volumes, and 920 houses, with 4035 inhabitants, who
make some woollen goods, and trade largely in wine, cattle,
corn, and hemp. Long. 3. 30. E. Lat. 47. 18. N.
SEMYLE, a fortress of Hindustan, in the province ot
Assam, situated on the banks of the Brahmapootra river,
which it commands. It was taken by the Mahommedans
in the year 1662. „ , . , •
SENAN-FOU, a city of China, of the first rank, in the
province of Koeitchoo, situated on a fine river, in an ex¬
tensive plain, surrounded on all sides by mountains, among
which dwell a barbarous race, who have little intercourse
with the Chinese. Long. 107. E. Lat. 27. 56. N.
ith tne unmese. ^ ., /,
SENATE, in general, is an assembly or council ot se¬
nators, that is, of the principal inhabitants of a state, who
have a share in the government.
The senate of ancient Rome is of all others the most ce¬
lebrated. It exercised no contentious jurisdiction, but ap¬
pointed judges, either from among the senators or knights,
to determine processes. It also appointed governors of pro-
S E N
vinces, and disposed of the revenues of the commonwealth. JS*
Yet the whole sovereign power did not reside m t
nate, since it could not elect magistrates, make Jaws, or
decide of war and peace ; for, in all these cases, the sen e
was obliged to consult the people. . , ,
The senate, when first instituted by Romulus, consisted
of a hundred members ; to whom he afterwards added t «
same number when the Sabmes had migrated to Rom .
Tarquin the ancient made the senate consist of three hun¬
dred, and this number remained fixed for a long time, but
afterwards it fluctuated greatly, and was increased first t
seven hundred, and afterwards to nine hundred, by Julius
Caesar, who filled the senate with men of everyrankand
order. Under Augustus the senators amounted to a thou¬
sand- but this number was reduced, and fixed at six hun¬
dred.’ The place of senator was always bestowed upon
merit. The monarchs had the privilege of choosing the
members ; and after the expulsion of the Tarqums, it w as
one of the rights of the consuls, until the election of the
censors, whoSfrom their office seemed most capable of naak-
ing choice of men whose character was irreproachable, whose
morals were pure, and whose relations were honourable.
Only particular families were admitted into the senate ; an
when the plebeians were permitted to share the honours of
the state, it was then required that they should be born o
free citizens. It was also required that the candidates
should be knights before their admission into the senate.
They were to be above the age of twenty-five, and to a
previously passed through the inferior offices of quaestor,
tribune of the people, edile, praetor, and consu .
The senate always met on the first of January for the in¬
auguration of the new consuls; and in all months, univer¬
sally, there were three days, the kalends, nones, and ides,
on which it regularly met. But it always met on extraor¬
dinary occasions, when called together by consul, tribune,
or dictator. , ... . •
To render their decrees valid and authentic, a certain
number of members was requisite, and such as vvere absent
without some proper cause were always fined. In the reign
of Augustus, four hundred senators were requisite to make
a senate. Nothing was transacted before sunrise or after
sunset. In their office the senators were the guardians of
religion; they disposed of the provinces as they pleased;
they prorogued the assemblies of the people; they appointee
thanksgivings, nominated their ambassadors, and distributee!
the public money; and, in short, they had the management
of every thing political or civil in the republic, except the
creating of magistrates, the enacting of laws, and the decla¬
ration of war or peace, which were confined to the assem¬
blies of the people.
SENATOR, in general, denotes a member of some se-
The dignity of a Roman senator could not be supported
without the possession of eighty thousand sesterces, oi a out
L.7000 English money; and therefore such as squandere
away their money, and reduced their fortune below this
sum, were generally struck out of the list of senators. 1 his
regulation was not made in the first ages of the republic,
when the Romans boasted of their poverty. The senators
were not permitted to be of any trade or profession. 1 hey
were distinguished from the rest of the people y ien
dress. They wore the laticlave, half-boots of a black colour,
with a crescent or silver buckle in the form of a L, ut
this last honour was confined only to the descendants o
those hundred senators who had been elected by Romulus,
as the letter C seems to imply.
Among us, senator is a member of parliament. In tne
laws of Edward the Confessor, we are told that the Britons
called those senators whom the Saxons called afterwau »
aldermen and borough-masters, though not on account ot
their age, but their wisdom ; for some of them were }oung
SEN
lenatus men, but very well skilled in the laws. Kenulpli king ot
j nisultum t]ie Mercians granted a charter, which ran thus . Consiho
II et consensu episcoporum et senatorum gentis suce largttus
Ueneca. dicto monasterio, &c. In Scotland the lords of session
'are called senators of the college of justice.
SENATUS Consultum, a part of the Roman law.
When any public matter was introduced into the senate,
which was always called referre ad senatum, any senator
whose opinion was asked was permitted to speak upon it
as long as he pleased; and on that account it was often
usual for the senators to protract their speeches until it
was too late to determine. When the question was put,
they passed to the side of that speaker whose opinion they
approved, and a majority of votes was easily collected, with¬
out the trouble of counting the numbers. When the ma¬
jority was known, the matter was determined, and a sena-
‘tus consultum was immediately written by the clerks of the
house, at the feet of the chief magistrates, and it was signed
by all the principal members ot the house. When there
was not a sufficient number of members to make a senate,
the decision was called senatus auctoritas; but it was ot no
force if it did not afterwards pass into a senatus consultum.
The senatus consulta were at first left in the custody of
the kings, and afterwards of the consuls, who could suppress
or preserve them; but about the year of Rome 304) they
were always deposited in the temple of Ceres, and after¬
wards in the treasury by the ediles of the people.
SEND WAH, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta ter¬
ritories, and province of Khandesh, eighty-two miles from
Boorhanpoor. Long. 75. 8. E. Lat. 21. 48. N.
SENECA, Lucius Annaeus, a Stoical philosopher, was
born at Cordoba, in Spain, about the beginning of the
Christian era, of an equestrian family, which had probably
been transplanted thither in a colony from Rome. He
was the second son of Marcus Annmus Seneca, commonly
called the Rhetorician, whose remains are printed under the
title of Suasorice et Controversice, cum Declamationum Ex-
cerptis; and his youngest brother Annaeus Mela, for there
were three of them, had the honour of being lather to the
poet Lucan. He was removed to Rome, together with his
father and the rest of his family, while he was yet in his in¬
fancy. There he was educated in the most liberal manner,
and under the best masters. He learned eloquence from
his father; but his genius rather leading him to philosophy,
he put himself under the stoics Attalus, Sotion, and Papi-
rius Fabianus, men famous in their way, and of whom he
has made honourable mention in his writings. It is pro¬
bable, too, that he travelled when he was young, since we
find him, in several parts of his works, particularly in his
Qucestiones Naturales, making very exact and curious ob¬
servations upon Egypt and the Nile. But this, though en¬
tirely agreeable to his own humour, did not at all corre¬
spond with that plan of life which his father had drawn out
for him ; and therefore he forced him to the bar, and put
him upon soliciting for public employments, so that he af¬
terwards became quaestor, praetor, and, as Lipsius will have
it, even consul.
In the first year of the reign of Claudius, when Julia
the daughter of Germanicus was accused of adultery by
Messalina, and banished, Seneca was also banished, being
charged as one of the adulterers. Corsica was the seat ot
his exile, where he lived eight years, “ happy in the midst
of those things which usually make other people miser¬
able” {inter eas res beatus quce solent miseros facere); and
he wrote his books of consolation, addressed to his mother
Helvia, and to his friend Polybius, and perhaps some of
those tragedies which go under his name. Agrippina being
married to Claudius upon the death of Messalina, she pre¬
vailed with the emperor to recall Seneca from banishment,
and afterwards procured his appointment as tutor to her son
Nero, whom she designed for the empire. Africanus Bur-
S E N 91
rhus, a praetorian praefect, was joined with him in this im- Seneca,
portant charge; and these two preceptors, who were in- ' '
trusted with equal authority, had each his respective de¬
partment. By the bounty and generosity of his royal pu¬
pil, Seneca acquired that prodigious wealth which rendered
him in a manner equal to kings. His houses and walks
were the most magnificent in Rome. His villas were in¬
numerable ; and he had immense sums of money placed
out at interest in almost every part of the world. The his¬
torian Dio reports him to have had L.250,000 sterling at
interest in Britain alone, and reckons his calling it in all at
once as one of the causes of a war with that nation.
All this wealth, however, together with the luxury and
effeminacy of the court, does not appear to have had any
ill effect upon the temper and disposition of Seneca. He
continued abstemious, exact in his manners, and, above all,
free from the vices so commonly prevalent in such places,
flattery and ambition. “ I had rather,” said he to Nero,
“ offend you by speaking the truth, than please you by ly¬
ing and flattery” {maluerim veris offendere, quam placere
adulando). How well he acquitted himself in quality of
preceptor to his prince, may be known from the first five
years of Nero’s reign, which have always been considered
as a perfect pattern of good government; and if that em¬
peror had but been as observant of his master through the
whole course of it as he was at the beginning, he would
have been the delight, and not, as he afterwards proved,
the curse and detestation, of mankind. But when Poppaea
and Tigellinushad got the command of his humour, and hur¬
ried him into the most extravagant and abominable vices,
he soon grew weary of his master, whose life must indeed
have been a constant rebuke to him. Seneca, perceiving
that his favour declined at court, and that he had many ac¬
cusers about the prince, who were perpetually whispering
in his ear the great riches of Seneca, his magnificent houses,
and fine gardens, and what a favourite, through the means of
these, he was grown with the people, made an offer of them
all to Nero. Nero refused to accept them. This, how¬
ever, did not hinder Seneca from changing his way of life;
for, as Tacitus relates, he “ kept no more levees, declined
the usual civilities which had been paid to him, and, under
pretence of indisposition, or some engagement^ or other,
avoided as much as possible appearing in public.”
In the mean time Nero, who, as it is supposed, had de¬
spatched Burrhus by poison, could not be easy till he had
also rid himself of Seneca; for Burrhus was the manager ot
his military concerns, and Seneca conducted his civil affairs.
Accordingly, he attempted, by means of Cleonicus, a freed-
man of Seneca, to take him off by poison ; but as this did not
succeed, he ordered him to be put to death, upon an infor¬
mation that he was privy to Piso’s conspiracy against his
person. Not that he had any real proof of Seneca’s being
concerned in this plot, but only that he was glad to lay hold
of any pretence for destroying him. He left Seneca, how¬
ever, at liberty to choose his manner of dying; and the latter
caused his veins to be opened immediately. His wife Pau¬
lina, who was very young in comparison of himself, had yet
the resolution and affection to bear him company, and there¬
fore ordered her veins to be at the same time opened; but
as Nero was not willing to make his cruelty more odious and
insupportable than there seemed occasion for, he gave or¬
ders to have her death prevented. Her wounds were there¬
fore bound up, and the blood stopped, just in time enough
to save her ; though, as Tacitus says, she looked so miser¬
ably pale and wan all her life afterwards, that it was easy
to read the loss of her blood and spirits in her countenance.
In the mean time, Seneca, finding his death slow and linger¬
ing, desired Statius Annaeus, his physician, to give him a dose
of poison, which had been prepared some time before in
case it should be wanted; but this not having had its usual
effect, he was carried to a hot bath, where he was at length
92
SEN
SEN
Senegal, stifled with the steam. He died, as Lipsius conjectures, in
the sixty-third or sixty-fourth year of his age, and in about
the tenth or eleventh of Nero’s reign, lacitus, on men¬
tioning his death, observes, that, as he entered the bath, he
took of the water, and with it sprinkled some of his nearest
domestics, saying, “ that he offered these libations to Jupi¬
ter the Deliverer.” These words are an evident proof that
Seneca was not a Christian, as some have imagined him to
have been; and that the thirteen epistles from Seneca to
St Paul, and from St Paul to Seneca, are supposititious pieces.
The writings of Seneca, excepting his books of Physical
Questions, are chiefly of a moral kind. They consist of a
hundred and twenty-four epistles, and distinct treatises on
Anger, Consolation, Providence, Tranquillity of Mind, Con¬
stancy, Clemency, The Shortness of Life, Happiness, Re¬
tirement, and Benefits. A number of tragedies are extant
under the name of Seneca, and written in a vicious style;
but it is uncertain whether the whole or any part of them
were his. The first good edition of his acknowledged works
was published by Justus Lipsius, which was succeeded by
the Variorum, 1672, three vols. 8vo, and others. Of the
tragedies, the best are that of Scriverius, 1621, the Variorum,
1651, and Schrceder’s, 1728, 4to.
SENEGAL, a great river of Western Africa, which,
like the Gambia and Rio Grande, has its source in a group
of mountains situated a short distance to the north-west of
Temboo, in Foota Jallon. Mollien places the source of
the Ba Fing, the middle branch of the Senegal, in latitude
10° 10' north, longitude 11° 18’ west; and that of the Fa-
leme, the western branch, in latitude 10° 20' north, and lon¬
gitude 11° vvest. This traveller thus describes the spot
whence the former mighty stream issues. “ Ascending the
stream, I perceived two basins, one above the other, from
which the water gushed forth; and still higher a third,
which was only humid, as well as the channel that led to
the basin immediately below it. The negroes consider
the upper basin as the principal source of the river. These
three springs were situated about the middle of the side of
the mountain. In the rainy season, two ponds, at equal
distances above the upper source, supply it with water by
two deep channels. The Senegal, called Baleo (Black
River) in the Poula language, and Bating in Mandingo,
which has the same signification, or Foura, which means
simply the river, runs at first from north to south, then
passes at a little distance to the south of Teembo, and after¬
wards pursues a western direction,” which, we may add, it
maintains till its embouchure in the Atlantic Ocean. e
are indebted chiefly to the enterprises of the French for
our knowledge of the Senegal, of which river they were
long the sole masters as high as the cataract of Feloo, and
at the mouth of which they fixed the capital of the facto¬
ries they possessed from Arguin to Sierra Leone. Amongst
the copious descriptions of this great river, we avail our¬
selves of that of M. Golberry. The course of the Senegal,
from its mouth to the rock of Feloo, the boundary of French
navigation, is nearly 280 leagues, although the distance in
a direct line is not "more than 160 leagues. This ca.tara.ct,
which is situated sixty miles above Galam, is the principal
one on the river ; forty miles above it is that of Govinea.
The windings of the Senegal are remarkably tortuous and
circuitous. As far as the rock of Feloo, the country through
which it flows is a level, having so small an inclination that
a very slight interruption is sufficient to divert the course
of the stream, so that it frequently seems on the point of
returning to its source. It is only navigable during the
rainy season; but Adanson informs us that he found the
river, at its greatest ebb, from twenty to thirty feet deep at
Podor, sixty leagues up, where, however, the influence of
the tide reaches. The greatest rise of the tide at the mouth
of the river is two feet and a half. Here there is a bar,
which prevents the entrance of all vessels drawing ten feet
of water, although immediately within it there is suffi- Senegam.
cient depth for ships of any size. The entrance of the bar '0ia-
has shifted from time to time, owing to the influence of
opposing currents. Sand-banks and rocks embarrass the
navigation; enormous trees and portions of the bank are
continually borne down by the current; frequent hurri¬
canes and storms are encountered, followed by dead calms;
and the burning atmosphere, when not violently agitated,
becomes extremely oppressive, so that the voyage into the
interior has alw ays proved highly detrimental to Europeans.
Were it not for these perils, it would be particularly inte¬
resting to the naturalist, as the extremely picturesque banks
present a rich variety of the noblest productions of the ve¬
getable kingdom, whilst the extensive forests abound with
all kinds of wild animals. Amongst others, elephants are
seen in large troops. In the shallow parts of the river are
a vast number of hippopotami, and caymans of prodigious
size. The whole length of the river is estimated at 800
miles, its embouchure taking place in latitude 16° 5' north.
About eight leagues below Galam, at the village of Tafa-
lisga, the Senegal receives the Faleme, which may be na¬
vigated during the rainy season by vessels of sixty tons.
The easterly and inferior arm of the Senegal, called the
Kokora, is formed of a number of streams which rise be¬
tween 5° and 7° of west longitude, and 12° and 13° of north
latitude. The Ba Fing and the Kokora unite a short dis¬
tance above Feloo, and the combined streams then take the
name of the Senegal.
Isle of Senegal, sometimes called Saint Louis, is a small
island in the mouth of the river Senegal, and, according to
Maskelyne’s tables, is situated in long. 16.31. W. and lat.
15. 53. N.
SENEGAMBIA, a large country of Africa, on the At¬
lantic Ocean, lying between the rivers Senegal and Gambia,
from the mouth of the Nunez to Portendik, with several ad¬
joining districts, and extending from 8° to 18° 2(y of north
latitude, and from about 5° to 17° 30' 30" of west longitude.
It is bounded on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, on the
south by Guinea, on the east by Nigritiaor Soudan, and on
the north by the great desert of Sahara. This fine terri¬
tory lies upon the western and northern declivities of the
mountains of Kong, which here stretch from east to west
in some degree parallel w ith the Gulf of Guinea, and is se¬
parated by the great valley of the Quorra or Niger from
that part of the northern table or terrace land in w'hich the
elevated portion of Africa sinks into Soudan. The interior
of this extensive tract of high land, called High Soudan,
whose southern limit towards the Gulf of Guinea more es¬
pecially bears the name of the Kong Mountains, is wholly
unknown to us ; but its general height is not more than two
thousand feet above the level of the sea. It appears to be
fine pasture-land, to have an excellent climate, and to sup¬
port avast number of African tribes. Surrounding it on
the west and north, are those table-lands called the Wilder¬
nesses of Jallonkadu, which are only inhabited by wild beasts
and reptiles, and through which Mungo Park travelled five
days without seeing the face of man. But beyond these to
the north and west extends a fertile country, rich in streams,
which descend to the coast in a westerly or north-westerly
direction. Immediately north from Sierra Leone the fruit¬
ful part of the coast is narrow, but enlarges as we proceed
in the same direction, especially where the mountains on
the middle of the Gambia fall back to the east; and on the
Senegal it expands into broad plains, w'hich reach to the
foot of the highlands already mentioned. The principal
capes upon the coast are called Verga, Roxo, St Mary, and
Verd. The low parts of this tract of country are reckoned
amongst the hottest on the globe, the average temperature
throughout the year being 63° Fahrenheit; but the heat is
of course moderated on the mountainous districts and high
table-lands. From November till the end of March is the
S E N
megam- dry and healthy season, during which the nights are cool,
bia. and the east and north-east winds prevail. Between the
dry and the wet season a period intervenes when those
terrific visitations, the tornadoes, prevail, and which are in
general accompanied by violent thunder-storms. During
the rainy season the heat is suffocating and the air loaded
with humidity. Bad fevers are then common, and multi¬
tudes of insects and crawling vermin swarm in the air and
on the ground, the torment and terror of man. Towards
the end of the rainy season the harmatta begins to blow
from the Sahara, which, although troublesome in itself, dries
up the soaked ground, and purifies the air from its perni¬
cious miasmata.
The mountains of Kong are more rich in water than any
other part of Africa. Great numbers of rivers of various
sizes descend its declivities, and after traversing large tracts
of country, find their embouchure in the Atlantic Ocean.
The most important are, the Rio Grande, the Gambia, and
the Senegal, each of which is described under its own head ;
the Rio Nunez, which originates in the high table-lands in
the interior, and, without having a very long course, is abun¬
dant in water; the Katherine and the Domingo, or the Up¬
per and Lower Geba, originating in the table-land of Man-
dingo, and forming during its course a large lake, whence a
considerable river flows to the sea, where it has deposited
an extensive delta. From this point to the embouchure of
the Gambia, numerous rivers or arms of the sea intersect
the flat coast like net-work, so that between 10° and 14° of
north latitude it appears as if partitioned into numberless
islands. In front of this maritime tract extends a long bank
of sand, out of which the islands called the Bissagos have
been formed.
The inhabitants consist of Moors and Negroes, which
races present a remarkable contrast in respect to their phy¬
siognomy, hair, colour, manners and customs, and the like.
To the last-named people belong the Jallofs, situated be¬
tween the Senegal and the Gambia. They are a fine speci¬
men of the negro. Their colour is of a deep glossy black,
of which they are very proud, and also of their ancient ori¬
gin. The Mandingoes, who are partly Mahommedans, are
situated on the Gambia; but, on account of their trade,
they have colonies scattered over the interior of Africa.
The Soosoos lie between the sources of the Gambia and
the Senegal. The Feloops are scattered along the banks
of the Lower Gambia, in Casamansa, and St Domingo.
The Serawoollies occupy the kingdoms of Galam and Se¬
negal. The Serreres, or Seraires, are distributed in little
republics on the borders of the kingdom of Kayor; and
the Pappels are situated on the south side of the St Do¬
mingo, and on the Bissagos islands. The Foulahs, on the
Senegal, the same race which in Soudan is called the Fel-
latahs, are not true negroes; they have silken hair, and a
reddish or olive complexion. Amongst those tribes which
have more recently become known to us, we have to men¬
tion the Timmanees, whose principal place is Rokon, on
the river Rokelle, some miles distant from the colony of
Sierra Leone. From their youth they accustom them¬
selves so much to drinking palm wine, that they get into
a relaxed and effeminate state at a very early age. The
Koorankas are mixed with the Mandingoes. They go con¬
stantly armed, usually with a firelock and dagger. Lastly,
the Soolimas are a gay, thoughtless, stirring race, whose
principal town is called Falaba, not far from the sources
of the rivers Rokelle and Kabba. The principal languages
spoken are the Jallof, Mandingo, Serawool, Soosoo, Arabic,
Portuguese, and many varying dialects formed out of these.
In the trade of Senegambia, the English, French, Dutch,
Danes, and North Americans participate. The exports
consist of slaves, which, howrever, are of less value than
those of Guinea; skins of tigers, and other animals ; wax,
hides, ivory, gums, cotton, and the like. England obtains
SEN 93
ivory and gold from the countries situated between Cape Senegam-
Blanco and Cape Negro, and gives in return such of her own hia.
manufactures as are required. The trade in gold amounts ^
to 30,000 ounces yearly.
Of the numerous kingdoms and countries into which the
vast territory of Senegambia is partitioned, there wall be
found described in this work, each under its own head,
Bambook, Bissagos, Bondoo, and Kajaaga. There still
remain unnoticed a considerable number, of which we shall
here present a brief account.
1. The land of the Foulahs consists of a number of pro¬
vinces or kingdoms, interspersed throughout the tract com¬
prehended between the mountainous border of the country
of Sierra Leone on the west and that of Timbuctoo on the
east, as also a large tract on both sides of the Senegal, and
several districts on the Gambia ; these provinces being in¬
sulated from each other in a very remarkable manner. The
principal of the Foulah states is that within Sierra Leone,
and of which Temboo is the capital. The next in order
appears to be that bordering on the south of the Senegal
river, and on the Jallofs. Others of less note lie between
the rivers Gambia and Faleme ; Foola-doo and Brooko
are situated along the upper part of the Senegal; Was-
sela, beyond the upper part of the Niger; and Massina,
lower down on the same river, adjoining Timbuctoo on the
west. Amongst other districts belonging to the Foulahs
may be mentioned Morfil or Ivory Island, Bilbos, and other
islands of the river Senegal. On the former is a French
factory, at a place called St Podhor, which is fortified. A
trade in gum is here carried on. Not far from the sources
of the Senegal, and three hundred and seventy miles inland,
are situated, on the mountains of Kong, the towns of Tem¬
boo, which has eight thousand inhabitants, and Ladi, which
has five thousand inhabitants. In both are Maraboot schools;
and some trade is carried on in iron, silk, and leather. The
other towns it is unnecessary to enumerate, nor can the whole
number of inhabitants in the land of the Foulahs be ascer¬
tained. 2. Ludamar, situated on the borders of the Sahara.
It is ruled over by a Moorish king, who resides at Benowm.
On the borders of the neighbouring kingdom of Kaarta lies
Tsharra, where the unfortunate Houghton met his fate. 3.
The land of the Jallofs or Yolofs, comprising four territories
or governments, and situated near the sea-coast, in the re¬
gion between the rivers Senegal and Gambia. This coun¬
try is rich in provisions, cattle, and poultry, and flourishes
under a more regular administration than that of the ad¬
joining states. The people manufacture cotton goods. The
chief ruler bears the title of emperor of the Jallofs, and re¬
sides at Hikarkor, the principal town. The states separated
from the Jallof empire, such as those of Baol and Cayor, are
governed by a prince, who bears the title of Darnel. 4.
Sin, or Barb-Sin, for the most part situated on the north
of the Gambia, has a hundred and forty square leagues of
territory, and contains sixty thousand inhabitants. The
regent, who is called Boor, has his principal seat at Joal, a
seaport, formed by the mouth of the river of that name.
There is a trade carried on in cattle, poultry, rice, slaves,
wax, hides, and ivory. 5. Boorsali, or Salum, situated on
a river of the same name, which discharges itself into the
Atlantic in latitude 13° 44' north. It comprehends a sur¬
face of 1500 square miles, and contains 300,000 inhabitants.
The principal place, and the residence of the king, is
called Calyoon. Upon the Gambia are situated Kahan or
Cahon, and Cower or Kayee, where cotton-weaving is
carried on. 6. Bar or Barrah, situated at the mouth ol
the Gambia, has an area of 700 square miles, and con¬
tains 200,000 inhabitants, who are Mahommedans. There
are here public schools, so that it must have risen above
the barbarism of most of the surrounding states. I he
country is tributary to Salum, and is governed by regents of
circumscribed authority. The principal town is called Ba-
94
SEN
Senegam- rinding; the others are Albreda, on the river Gambia, which
h>a- has 7000 inhabitants, and Jellifree, on the same river, a
' ^ v v Portuguese settlenient? where there is also an English fao
tory. Salt is the principal article of trade. 7. Badiboo,
situated to the east of the former, on the right bank of the
Gambia, is about 600 square miles in extent. The capital
is a small place of the same name. The population of the
country may amount to 150,000. 8. Yani, also situated on
the Gambia. The chief towns are Pisania, where there is
an English factory, and Jonkadouda, where are several other
European factories. There is a trade carried on in go ,
ivory, and other products of the country. 9. Wally, or
Bembook, is situated to the east of the former, and is nc i
in wood, corn, rice, garden-stuffs, cotton, indigo, cattle, and
fish. Malchme is the chief town, where resides the king,
who exercises a limited sovereignty. 10. Wooli, a Mandigo
kingdom, extends along the northern bank of Gambia, be¬
tween Salum and Bondoo. The country is generally cover¬
ed with extensive woods; the soil is everywhere fertile,
producing cotton, tobacco, and esculent vegetables; and
there are a number of towns situated in the valleys, which
are the tracts chiefly cultivated. Medina, the capital, is a
walled town, the residence of the king and state oflicers.
It does not appear that this is a place of any considerable
trade. 11. Gedumah, situated on the northern bank of the
Senegal, and inhabited by nomadic Moors, who here find
pasture for their cattle. It appears to be destitute of eit ler
town or village. 12. Combo, Foini, Caen, Jemaroa, lom-
mani, and Kolar, are the names of small kingdoms or ter¬
ritories, generally productive in rice, wax, goats, poultry,
and the like, and in the principal towns of which are Euro¬
pean factories. 13. The land of the Soosoos, which is si¬
tuated between the sources and head waters of the Senega
and Gambia. This country is inhabited by an active race
of men, who appear to live under a monarchy, rrom t e
conflicting statements of travellers and geographers, it seems
doubtful if these people do not form a part of the roulahs.
14. The land of the Feloops, situated upon the banks of the
Casamanza, and on the upper course of the Vintam, is
about twenty-five leagues in length by fifteen in breadth.
The country is very fertile, and the inhabitants rear cattle,
which they defend with much courage against lions and
other wild animals, with which their forests abound. Rice,
goats, poultry, bees’ wax, and honey, are abundant, and
partly exported. The population may amount to fifty thou¬
sand, who inhabit about sixty villages. 15. Kaboo is a ter¬
ritory situated on the upper part of the rivers St Domingo
and Geba. It is subject to a king, who trades with the Por¬
tuguese in slaves, gold, and ivory. His residence, which is
in the chief town, lies on the lake from which the river
Geba flows. The Portuguese have here a settlement. Ka¬
boo is very fertile in rice, millet, maize, indigo, and cotton.
It is inhabited by a mixture of nations, chiefly Pagan Man-
dingoes, whose language prevails. 16. The important king¬
dom of Foota Torra, which extends considerably both to
the north and south of the middle Senegal, but whose in¬
terior has not yet been explored by Europeans. There are
a number of other kingdoms or territories in Senegambia,
but they do not require particular notice. The most dis¬
tinguished are the kingdom of Jallonkadoo, in which the
river Senegal takes its rise ; and the kingdom of Soolimana,
which extends along the rocky Rokelle, and the C amaranca
and Mungo.
Besides those places we have mentioned as possessing
European factories, the English, French, and Portuguese
have also settlements. The English have factories on the
rich gum coast at Portendik, to the noith of the Senegal;
the island of James, situated a few miles from the mouth of
the Gambia, with the fort of the same name ; the island of
Boolam, with a secure and spacious harbour, and formerly
one of the Sierra Leone Company’s stations, for promoting
SEN
civilization amongst the Indians, for assisting in putting Seneschal
down the slave-trade, and for cultivating West Indian pro- \\
ducts; and the island of St Maria, on the Gambia, with twelve 
thousand inhabitants.
The French possess the island of St Louis or Senegal, at
the mouth of the river of the same name, with 16,130 in¬
habitants, and the Fort St Louis, whence ships proceed on
their voyage up the Senegal; but navigation is very much
embarrassed by a dangerous bank across the mouth of the
river. The trade between this place and the mother coun¬
try was at one time very considerable, amounting to L.750,000^
annually; and the English disposed of an equal amount of
goods on the Gambia. At the French settlement a consi¬
derable quantity of cotton is still grown, and gum collected.
The names of the other places are, the island of Goree,
which is separated from the mainland by the canal of Da¬
kar, 1500 toises in breadth. It is a great basaltic rock, with
a town upon it, which bears the same name, and a fort,
which bears that of St Michael. The French have also in
the neighbourhood of Cape Verd a place called Rioffesco.
On the left bank of the Senegal is the settlement of Bakel,
a hundred and five miles from St Louis, to which there
is a steam-boat sent annually with goods. There are, be¬
sides, St Charles, formerly called Fort St Joseph; and the
islands of Babaghee, Safal, and Geber.
The Portuguese possess St Cachao or Cacheu, situated
on the north-east of the island of Bassao, at the mouth of
the river St Domingo, in the kingdom of Koombo. It is
fortified, has a Catholic church and a monastery, is the seat
of a Portuguese governor, trades with the Cape Verd and
Azore Islands, and contains 8000 inhabitants. The Por¬
tuguese also possess the island of Bissago, and the posts of
Farim, Zeguichor, and Geba, which belong to the govern¬
ment of Cape Yerd. (K* K- R*)
SENESCHAL (Seneschallus), derived from the German
sein, “ a house or place,” and scale, “ an officer,” is a steward,
and signifies one who has the dispensing of justice in some
particular cases: as the high seneschal or steward of Eng¬
land ; seneschal de la hdlel de roi, “ steward of the king’s
household, seneschal or steward of courts.” (Go. Lit. 61;
Croke’s Jurisd. 102; Kitch. 83.)
SENGBEST, a town of Persia, in the province of Kho-
rassan, twenty-five miles south-east of Meshed.
SENGEN, acity of China, of the first rank, in Quangsee,
situated in a small and mountainous district. Long. 107.
34. E. Lat 23. 24. N.
SENGOA, a village of Persia, in the province of Azer-
bijan, forty-eight miles south-east of Tabreez.
SENJEN, one of the largest islands of the kingdom of
Norway, after Hindoen. It is separated from the continent
by a narrow strait, and is about fifty miles in length and
thirty-nine in breadth. It is surrounded by cliffs of more
than 600 feet in height, which are covered with birch and
pine trees ; and, considering the climate, there are some to ¬
lerably good sections of pasture-land, upon which black
cattle are reared. It comprehends three parishes, viz. Berg-
fiord cum Medfiord, with 370 inhabitants; Torask, with
350; and Tronoe, with 1560. There are two trading ports
on the shore, Klowen and Gabostad, where small vessels
repair.
SENLIS, an arrondissement of the department of the
Oise, in France, which extends over 516 square miles. It
contains seven cantons and 132 communes, with, in 1836,
78,790 inhabitants. The capital is the city of the same name,
situated on the river Nonnette, an ancient place, with walls
built at some remote period. The cathedral is also antique,
and has the loftiest tower in France. It contains nine
churches, and 950 houses, with 5016 inhabitants.
SENNA, a town of Persia, the capital of the eastern part
of Kurdistan, known under the name of the province of Ar-
delan. It is situated in the bosom of a luxuriant valley,
SEN
ennaar. richly ’hvated, and interspersed with orchards affording
—abundance of fruits of various kinds, namely, the peach, the
apricot, the pear, apple, and cherry, besides producing to¬
bacco and quantities of grain. It is a flourishing town,
containing 8000 inhabitants, of which number 2000 are
Jews, Armenians, and Nestorians, who trade to Mosul,
Bagdad, and Ispahan. The town is surrounded by moun¬
tains, which are inhabited by wandering tribes of Kurds and
Iliats. It is eighty miles south-east of Mosul. Lat. 35.
12. N.
SENNAAR, a country of Nubia, in Africa, forming that
peninsula of land which lies between the two main branches
of the Nile, immediately prior to their junction. From the
confluence of the Bahr el Abiad, and the Bahr el Azrek,
in north latitude 15° 34' 40", and east longitude 32° IF 25'',
to the town of Sennaar, on the Bahr el Azrek, may be about
a hundred and twenty miles; but the sway of the pasha of
Egypt extends two hundred miles farther southward be¬
tween the two rivers, so that the length of the country,
which appears to have no other distinctive name but Sen¬
naar, may be estimated at above three hundred miles. On
account of its wedge-like shape, its breadth is various, from
a point to a hundred and fifty or two hundred miles. East¬
ward from the Bahr el Azrek or eastern branch of the Nile,
there is an immense tract of country nearly enclosed by the
above-named river, and the Atbara or Tacazze, the great
tributary of the Nile. In many maps and geographical works
this is laid down as a part of Sennaar, and it certainly at one
time bore that name. But it is now distinguished by the
appellation of Atbari, and corresponds to the Mercie of the
ancients, to which article the reader is referred. The ter¬
ritory included between the Abiad and the Azrek, and to
which we limit the name of Sennaar, is usually called El
Gezira, or the Island, because, in the season of the rains,
the numerous streams which flow into these rivers from the
mountains in the south encompass several districts with
their spreading waters. But, viewed as a whole, the coun¬
try has no pretensions to the name of island; for there is
no large insulating stream cutting it off' from the mainland.
With more propriety, it is sometimes called Dar Fungi, or
the land of Fungi, that is, the Conqueror, a negro tribe,
which in 1504 descended from the interior of Ethiopia, and
founded the kingdom of Sennaar. A race of hereditary
monarchs, called Muck or Melek, continued to rule the
country from that period till 1821, when the pasha of Egypt
despatched an expedition into these regions, by which they
were subdued. The former sovereign retired, on a pen¬
sion (which was never paid), to the government of a small
and obscure colony, over which he was not permitted to
exercise any authority.
Sennaar is, for the most part, an elevated plain, which, ex¬
cept during the rainy season, is not only dry, but well ven¬
tilated by the breezes from the south and the east. These
winds are generally cool, because they come either from
the mountains of Abyssinia, or from the huge ridges that
compose the Gebel el Gamara. The climate is healthy,
except during the Khareef, the period which succeeds the
rains; yet even then Sennaar is the most healthy of the
Soudan possessions of the pasha. In summer the heat is
represented as by no means oppressive, where there is any
protection from the direct rays of the sun. The soil is
capable of cultivation after the rains, when the doura is
sown, the principal product of the country. This being
reaped, the land is allowed to remain undisturbed till after
the next rains, when the process is renewed. Camels,
cattle, and sheep, are abundant in some parts, the plains
frequently producing excellent pasture, and the superin¬
tendence of flocks and herds forming one of the chief occu¬
pations of the inhabitants. The woods abound in various
kinds of birds, including ostriches, whose feathers consti¬
tute an article of trade. Elephants, lions, tigers, camelo-
S E N
95
pards, monkeys, and other denizens of the forest, are found Sennertus.
in Sennaar, and frequently carry off the cattle and sheep.
There is likewise a rare animal called maraseen very abun¬
dant here. It is described as being in appearance “ more
like the hyena than the wolf,” measuring six feet in length
from head to tail, and standing above three feet in height.
Guinea-fowl are very plentiful in the woods and on the
banks of the rivers.
Sennaar, the capital of the country, formerly a large,
well-built, and populous city, is now little more than a heap
of ruins. In the days of Poncet it contained 100,000 inha¬
bitants ; but they are now reduced to 9000. It is situated
on the western bank of the Bahr el Azrek, in a bare plain,
and presents the appearance of a long, low, straggling ruin.
There are indeed in some of its quarters several hundred
habitable but almost deserted houses; and at every step
the traveller treads upon portions o( burned bricks, amongst
which are often found fragments of porcelain, and even of
marble. The most conspicuous buildings of fine baked
brick which remain are the mosque, and a palace adjoining
to it. The former is in a state of good preservation. Its
windows, the work of India, are covered with bronze grat¬
ings skilfully manufactured, and the doors are handsomely
and curiously carved. The palace is large, but in ruins, ex¬
cept a single pile of building in the centre, which is six
stories in height, and has five rows of windows. The houses
themselves are rarely of more than one story in height, and
generally built of mud or straw. There is a bazaar, a
wretched establishment, ill supplied with goods. Sennaar
is situated in north latitude 13° 36' 51", and east longitude
33° 30' 30".
A great number of villages are scattered over the coun¬
try, and especially along the banks of the rivers. One of
these, called Misselemieh, situated some fifty miles below
Sennaar, on the same river, is famous for its market, and
is the resort of many merchants from Souakin, who bring
cotton, spices, and perfumes to exchange for gold. One
great staple of commerce in Sennaar is slaves, who are
either taken in war, or stolen from Abyssinia, or sold from
Darfur and other places where the inhabitants are born
slaves. A considerable portion of the population of this
country is free, but vast numbers are slaves. The natives
are of two sorts, the free cultivators and the Mowelleds.
The latter are a peculiar race ; they are the descendants of
slaves who for many generations have lived at large, and
pay the masters to whom they belong, as locomotive pro¬
perty, a part of their monthly gains. Some of the great
sheicks possess six or eight hundred of these Mowelleds,
who may be sold like other slaves. The province below
the town of Sennaar, and as far down as Berhee, is govern¬
ed by a bey. The country above this town is divided into
two commands, those who hold them having to pay an an¬
nual contribution to the pasha of Egypt, of so many ounces
of gold, which, of course, is rigorously exacted from the
inhabitants. The capital of one of these districts is called
Goleh; it is said to be as large as Sennaar, and famous for
its workers in iron. Reysenas is the name of another place
of some consequence. (R* R‘ R')
SENNERTUS, Daniel, an eminent physician, was born
in 1572, at Breslau. In 1593 he was sent to Wittemberg,
where he made great progress in philosophy and in physic.
He visited the universities of Leipsig, lena, Frankfort on
the Oder, and Berlin ; but he soon returned to Wittemberg,
where he was promoted to the degree of doctor of physic,
and soon afterwards to a professorship in the same faculty.
He was the first w'ho introduced the study of chemistry in
to that university ; and he gained a great reputation by his
works and practice. He died of the plague at Wittemberg
in 1637. By contradicting the ancients, he made himself
enemies. He thought the seed of all living creatures ani¬
mated, and that the soul of this seed produced organization.
96
.SEN
SEN
Senoues He was accused of impiety for asserting that the souls of rational views of interest. It is certain that his lordship has Sense?,
i' beasts are not material, for this was affirmed to be the same carried the influence of the moral sense very far, and some v" Y''*'
qnse‘_ , thing with asserting that they are immortal; but he reject- of his followers have carried it farther. I he advocates for
ed this consequence, as he well might do. the selfish system seem to drive their opinions to the oppo-
SENONES, in Ancient Geography, a people of Gallia Cel- site extreme ; and we have elsewhere endeavoured to show
tica, situated on the Sequana, to the south of the Parisii, near that the truth lies between the contending parties. See
the confluence of the Jeauna or Yonne with the above-men- Moral Philosophy.
tioned river. Their most considerable exploit was their in- SENSES, Pleasures and Pains of. The natural agree-
vasion of Italy, and the taking and burning of Rome, as re- ableness, disagreeableness, and indifference of our sensadons
lated under that article. This was done by a colony of them and perceptions, present to the mind an important and ex-
long before transported into Italy, and settled on the Adri- tensive field of inquiry ; and on this subject we shall here
atic. Their capital, Agendicum, in Gaul, w7as in the lower make a few observations. All our senses have been cei-
age called Senones, now Sens. In Italy the Senones ex- tainly bestowed upon us for wise and beneficent purposes,
tended themselves as far as the river AEsis, but were after- and accordingly we find, that all of them, when properl)
wards driven beyond the Rubicon, which became the boun- cultivated, or exercised and improved, are capable of af-
dary of Gallia Cisalpina. fording us pleasure# The senses of smell and of taste seem
SENRAB, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Al- rather intended for the preservation of our animal existence,
lahabad, and district of Callinger, on the east side of the river and in this point of view are properly an object of the na-
Cane, twenty-four miles north from the town of Callinger. tural history of man; whilst the other three seem to be
Bong. 80. 25. E. Lat. 25. 18. N. more peculiarly intended for our mental improvement, and
SENS, an arrondissement in the department of the Yonne, accordingly form the object of intellectual and of moral
in France, which extends over 422 square miles, and com- philosophy. And agreeably to this we know that we de-
prehends six cantons, divided into ninety communes, wdth a rive a great deal of useful knowledge, in an easy and simpie
population in 1836 of 61,036 inhabitants. The capital is manner, concerning the objects that surround us, in the
the city of the same name, situated in a district rich in early part of life, from all the senses, particulany fi om sight
vines, on the river Yonne, where it is joined by the river and touch, and this too without labour or study. But this
Vannes. It has a cathedral of great antiquity and beauty, is not the only purpose for which the senses were designed,
and pleasing walks on the banks of the river ; and it con- It being thus certain that the senses were bestowed upon
tains 9095 inhabitants, who make cotton goods, hats, hosiery, us partly to preserve our animal existence, and parti) for
and silks. Long. 3. 12. 16. E. Lat. 48. 11. 55. N. our mental improvement, it seems reasonable, even a priori,
SENSATION, in Philosophy, is the perception of ex- to expect that nature would attach some pleasure to such
ternal objects by means of the senses. See Metaphysics, use and exercise of them as are calculated to promote these
SENSE is a faculty of the soul, by which it perceives ex- ends, and pain to the contrary; particularly in those in¬
ternal objects by means of the impressions they make upon stances in which she has left the management of them sub¬
certain organs of the body. See Metaphysics. ject to our own control. And accordingly we cannot but
Common Sense is a term that has been variously used observe what delight we derive from our senses, especially
both by ancient and by modern writers. With some it has in the morning of life, by w hich it wrould seem that nature
been synonymous with public sense; with others it has de- intended thus winningly to invite us to the proper exercise
noted prudence; in certain instances it has been confound- and improvement of them, and as it were unconsciously
ed w ith some of the powers of taste; and, accordingly, those acquire much useful knowledge. It is this species of plea-
who commit egregious blunders with regard to decorum, sure that supports and excites boys in the constant and
saying and doing what is offensive to their company, and often immoderate exercise of their organs of voluntary mo-
inconsistent with their own character, have been charged tion, the powers of which are thus increased and invigo-
wdth a defect in common sense. Some men are distinguish- rated.
ed by an uncommon acuteness in discovering the characters The exercise and improvement of the senses being sub-
of others; and this talent has been sometimes called com- servient to our intellectual improvement, nature has also
mon sense, similar to which is that use of the term which kindly attached much refined and rational pleasure to the
makes it to signify that experience and knowledge of life mental exertions ; so that we are thus seduced, as it were,
which is acquired by living in society. To this meaning to the cultivation of the various extraordinary powers and
Quintilian refers, when speaking of the advantages of a faculties of the mind.
public education. “ Sensum ipsum qui communis dicitur, It is evident that nature has given such organs and fa-
ubi discet, cum se a congressu, qui non hominibus solum, culties to man, as are calculated not only to make him live,
sed mutis quoque animalibus naturalis est, segregarit ? (Lib. but also to render life agreeable. Here too wre obtain a
i. cap. 2.) slight glimpse at least of some of the final causes of the
But the term common sense has in modern times been pleasures of sense. But if it be asked how it happens that
employed to signify that power of the mind which perceives there are such wide diversities between our sensations,
truth, or commands belief, not by progressive argumenta- some being by nature very agreeable to all men, and some
tion, but by an instantaneous, instinctive, and irresistible as disagreeable, whilst there are others so indifferent as to
impulse, derived neither from education nor from habit, but give neither pleasure nor pain, we must confess that we
from nature, acting independently of our will, whenever its can give no satisfactory answer, to show how so many very
object is presented according to an established law, and different sensations are produced by various kinds of im-
therefore called sense ; and acting in a similar manner upon pressions made on certain organs of the body, and how all
all, or at least upon a great majority of mankind, and there- these different impressions excite such sensations as suggest
fore called common sense. See Metaphysics. not only corresponding perceptions and external qualities,
Moral Sense is a determination of the mind to be pleased but at the same time affect the mind with pleasure, pain,
with the contemplation of the affections, actions, or charac- trouble, anxiety, or disgust. To be successful in these in¬
ters, of rational agents, which we call good or virtuous. quiries, we must presuppose some knowledge of the nature
This moral sense of beauty in actions and affections may of the connection subsisting between the mind and the body,
at first view appear strange. Some of our moralists them- which there is reason to think is placed beyond the limits
selves are offended at it in Lord Shaftesbury, as being ac- prescribed by nature to human research,
customed to deduce every approbation or aversion from The pleasure or pain which constantly attends certain
SEN
bnses. sensations is not uniform in degree, but varies considerably,
r-/—^ not only in different individuals, but even in the same per¬
sons at different times. It is not thus with the sensations
themselves. These are always constant and uniform. The
same kind of impression, when the organs are sound, uni¬
formly and invariably produces similar sensations; and these
are as invariably followed by the perception of their own
peculiar exciting causes. For any particular impression is
never known to excite in the same person a new sensation,
or the perceptions of an external object different from that
which it previously suggested, excepting in cases of disease.
And when it does rarely occur, as in those who cannot dis¬
tinguish a particular colour, smell, or taste, from certain
others, we uniformly attribute it to disease or malconforma-
tion. Were we not thus to have uniformly similar sensa¬
tions and perceptions of external objects from similar im¬
pressions, the senses would not be at all subservient to our
intellectual improvement, since, by giving different lessons
concerning the same or similar objects at different times,
they would render it impossible for us to be certain of any
thing, or to benefit by experience.
The effects of custom, which are at all times so consider¬
able and evident with respect both to the mind and the body,
as in the case of particular organs or faculties much im¬
proved by attention and exercise, have little or no influence
at all in interrupting or modifying this uniformity in our
sensations and perceptions. For no sound or properly or¬
ganized person will, either naturally or by custom, ever mis¬
take hardness for softness, or red for green, or sweet for bit¬
ter. But the influence of custom in modifying the pains
and pleasures of sense is well known and considerable. For
a person who can most accurately distinguish sweetness
from sourness, will, at the same time, either by particular
conformation, or more frequently in consequence of use and
habit, prefer wormwood or tobacco to honey.
But although we may despair of ever being able to dis¬
cover the physical cause of the pleasures and pains of the
senses, we maj’, however, advance a little by observing and
registering particular facts. It is accordingly of use to re¬
mark, that every species of sensation, if its nature be other¬
wise unchanged, is agreeable or disagreeable in proportion
to its strength or intenseness. For there is no sensation,
however agreeable, that will not become disagreeable, and
even intolerable, if it be immoderately intense. And, on
the contrary, those which by their strength and nature are
very troublesome, if rendered more mild and moderate, be¬
come not only tolerable, but agreeable. Thus, with respect
to the senses, it would seem that pain and pleasure are only
different degrees of the same feeling; and when we consider
the great varieties of which the sensation, not only of differ¬
ent organs, but even of any one of them, is susceptible,
and that each degree of these may be accompanied with
pleasure or pain, more or less, we must conclude that the
pains and pleasures of sense are capable of numberless mo¬
difications both in degree and in kind.
W e frequently observe, that sensations which were at first
agreeable, if often repeated, lose their relish, though the
nature and strength of the impressions be the same ; whilst
others, from being at first very disagreeable, as the taste of
tobacco and opium, become very pleasing, though the na-
ture and strength of the impressions have suffered no change,
f 01 the explanation ot such facts as these we must have re¬
course to the effects of custom. Thus, in both these oppo¬
site cases, the sensations, from being often repeated, lose
pait of the strength and of the novelty of their first im-
pi essions; and, with respect to the former instance, being
unable to command the attention, they become in the
eomse of time almost wholly, or altogether neglected, whilst
m the latter case, from being very offensive, they become
nghly agreeable. But if it be asked why habit and cus¬
tom produce these effects, and in what manner, we are un-
vol. xx.
S E S. 97
able to explain it farther, than by saying, since the fact is Senses,
unquestionable, that such is the nature of the human con-v—^
stitution. Of the effects themselves, no man can entertain
a doubt; and their causes, though at present unknown, may
by time and inquiry be further developed and simplified.
“ The labyrinth,” says Dr Reid, “ may be too intricate, and
the thread too fine, to be traced through all its windings;
but if we stop where we can trace it no farther, and secure
the ground we have gained, there is no harm done ; a quicker
eye may in time trace it farther.”
These principles are capable of affording us still farther
explanations. Why are new sensations always more agree¬
able, and variety so pleasing ? Because they fix the atten¬
tion more, and are not as yet blunted by frequent repetition
or by habit. It is because 'Some sensations lose their wont¬
ed effect by custom and by repetition, that we require
stronger ones, or at least stronger impressions on the or¬
gans and nerves, to increase or continue our pleasures. It is
also in consequence of their becoming less poignant through
habit that we may neglect so many pleasures, which we hard¬
ly know to be such, till they have flown for ever; and it is
because in the morning of life every thing has more novelty,
and because habit has not destroyed their relish, that the
pleasures of youth are much more intense than those of age.
The degree of pleasure is similar to that which a blind man
would feel on being made to see, or to that which a man
would enjoy on suddenly acquiring a new sensitive faculty,
although by long use and habit these pleasures are at pre¬
sent for the most part or wholly blotted away.
Although most sensations, when strong and lively enough
to make themselves accurately and easily distinguished, ge¬
nerally please most, each in its own kind and manner; still,
as there are different kinds of pleasure, different sensations
may please the mind in various ways; and accordingly, it
is not from the lustre of the midday sun, nor from the beau¬
tiful and lively appearance of all nature at noon, solely, that
the eyes can derive pleasure, any more than grand musical
sounds are the only things that please the ear. For we
often contemplate with a very different and a very consi¬
derable degree of pleasure the sublime and awful scenes of
nature, the twilight darkness of the shady grove, and even
the gloomy horror of night itself. We listen with delight
to the tempest shaking the forest, as well as to the gentle
murmurs of the passing stream. There is even a time when
nothing gives so much pleasure as darkness, silence, and the
absence of all sensation.
Amidst the great variety of good and evil with which we
are everywhere surrounded, it is a matter of the highest
importance to be able to discern aright. This we should
be incapable of doing were we not endowed with agreeable
as well as painful sensations. These serve to direct our
choice. Whatever contributes in any degree to our pre¬
servation, and to the improvement of our organs and facul¬
ties, is accompanied with pleasure; and, on the contrary,
when we are threatened with danger, a painful sensation
gives us the alarm. It is to the establishment of this law
that we are indebted for the duration of our lives, the im¬
proved and vigorous state of our faculties, and the enjoy¬
ment of that small portion of happiness allotted to us by na¬
ture. “ God,” says a French writer, “ having endowed man
with various faculties, bodily as well as intellectual, in order
to promote his happiness, also vouchsafes to conduct him
to this noble end, not only by the deductions of reason, but
also by the force of instinct and sensation, which are more
powerful and efficacious principles. Thus nature, by a sen¬
sation of pain, instantaneously apprises us of what might
prove hurtful to us ; and, on the contrary, by an agreeable
sensation, gently leads us to whatever may tend to the pre¬
servation of our existence, and to the perfect state of our
faculties, these being the two points on which our happi¬
ness depends. Our faculties can neither be of use, nor dis-
N
98
SENSES.
Senses.
play themselves, farther than as we exercise them. Motion
’ or action is therefore so necessary to us, that without it we
must inevitably sink into a deplorable state of insensibility
and languor. On the other hand, as we are weak and li¬
mited creatures, all excessive and violent action would im¬
pair and destroy our organs; we must therefore use on y
moderate motion or exercise, since by these means the use
or perfection of our faculties is reconciled with our clnet
interest, which is self-preservation. Now it is to this happy
medium, we mean to a moderate exercise of our faculties,
that the Author of our nature has so wisely annexed plea¬
The pleasures of sense are thus confined within narrow
limits ; for they cannot be much increased without pain, or
often repeated without losing their relish, at least in a great
measure; nor can they be long continued, partly tor the
same reason, and because they exhaust the mind, or rather
the nervous system. Hence we see that our animal appe¬
tites are confined within a narrow range, as is evident from
the effects of excess in eating and drinking. AH our sen¬
sitive powers are impaired; whilst, on the contrary, our in¬
tellectual powers are strengthened and improved by use
and exercise. And in proportion as we indulge our sensi¬
tive powers, our desires of indulgence increase, whilst the
pleasures which are the objects of these desires become
regularly less poignant. These, indeed, are wise regula¬
tions of nature; for it would seem as if she intended to
whisper gently to us in this way, by means of practical ex¬
perience, that we are not born solely for the enjoyment o
pleasure, at least not for that of the pleasures of the senses;
for all of them, as we have already remarked, if much in¬
dulged, lead to listlessness and disgust, and sometimes to
considerable pain. And indeed, just as pleasure passes thus
readily into trouble and pain, so does the sudden cessation
of pain, at least when this has been considerable, produce
often extraordinary pleasure ; so that we may here apply
the beautiful allegory of Socrates, “ that although pleasure
and pain are contrary in their nature, and have their faces
turned different ways, yet that Jupiter has tied them so to¬
gether, that he who lays hold of the one draws the other
along with it.” .
We have just said, that the sudden cessation of pain, at
least when this has been considerable, produces often ex¬
traordinary pleasure. But this opinion seems to be denied
by the author of an inquiry concerning taste. “ Among
the pleasures of sense,” says Mr Knight, “ more particularly
among those belonging to touch, there is a certain class,
which, though arising from negative causes, are neverthe¬
less real and positive pleasures; as when we gradually sink
from any violent or excessive degree of action or irritation
into a state of tranquillity and repose. I say gradually, for if
the transition be sudden and abrupt, it will not be pleasant;
the pleasure arising from the inverted action of the nerves,
and not from the utter cessation of action. From this in¬
verted action arises the gratification which we receive from a
cool breeze when the body has been excessively heated ; or
from the rocking of a cradle, or the gentle motion of a boat,
or easy carriage, after having been fatigued with violent ex¬
ercise. Such, too, is that which twilight, or the gloomy shade
of a thicket, affords to the eye after it has been dazzled by
the blaze of the mid-day sun; and such, likewise, is that
which the ear receives from the gradual diminution of loud¬
ness of tone in music.” That pleasure follows a gradual
cessation of any violent action or irritation, we mean not to
deny ; but we are at a loss to comprehend how it follows
that the transition from strong pain, if it be sudden and
abrupt, will not be pleasant. ^
But although the pleasures of sense be thus limited, these
limits are very different with respect to the d.fferent senses.
Some of them are soon exhausted, and do not any longei
distinguish well the objects that correspond to them ; nor
are they pleased with those objects which were at first very
agreeable, and which they distinguish with sufficient accu¬
racy ; whilst others continue to perform their junctions
longer, and to enjoy a more continued pleasure. Thus the
senses of smell and of taste are almost immediately satiat¬
ed, the sense of hearing more slowly; but the sight is in
this respect the last of all to be fatigued or satiated; whilst
the pleasures that arise from the exercise of our mental fa¬
culties are by far the most durable of all. Exercise of
the mind is as necessary as that of the body to preserve our
existence. The senses of other animals, being more quick
than ours, are sufficient to direct them to follow what is
agreeable to their nature, or to shun whatever is contrary
thereto But we are endowed with reason in order to sup¬
ply the deficiency of our senses ; and pleasure presents
herself as an incitement to exercise, in order to keep the
mind from a state of hurtful inactivity. Pleasure is not
only the parent of sports and amusements, but also of arts
and sciences; and as the whole universe is, as it were,
forced by our industry to pay tribute to our wants and de¬
sires, we cannot but acknowledge our obligation to that law
of nature which has annexed a degree of pleasure to what¬
ever exercises without fatiguing the mind. The pleasure
accompanying it is sometimes so great that it transports
the very soul, so that she seems as it were disengaged from
the body. We know what is recorded in history concern-
ing Archimedes,1 and several other geometricians, both an¬
cient and modern. If we doubt the truth of such facts, we
must at least acknowledge their probability, since we meet
every day with a number of similar examples. When we
see a chess-player so deeply immersed in thought as to be
in a manner lost to his outward senses, should we not ima¬
gine him to be wholly engrossed with the care of his own
private affairs, or of the public weal ? But the object of all
this profound meditation is the pleasure of exercising the
mind by the movement of a piece of ivory. From this ex¬
ercise of the mind also arises the pleasure we sometimes
take in refined and delicate sentiments, which, after the
manner of Virgil’s shepherdess {Et fugit ad salices, sed se
cnpit ante videri), are sometimes artfully concealed, but so
as to afford us the pleasure of discovering them. -
From some of the foregoing remarks we likewise see that
nature points out to us the superiority and excellence of
our mental faculties, thus suggesting to us that we ought
to cultivate them most, as being our better and nobler part,
to the cultivation of which that of our sensitive faculties
should be merely subservient. But although our plea¬
sures are thus by nature rendered in a great degree inde¬
pendent of ourselves, still we have it in our power to make
them all more durable, by varying and mixing them with
one another, or by interposing between those that are very
agreeable others that are less pleasing, so as that no indi¬
vidual pleasure shall be in excess.
Besides the circumstances already noticed, there are
others of a very different kind, which have also consider¬
able influence on the pleasures of the senses; such as dif¬
ferent conditions of the whole body, particularly of the
nerves, or of certain organs or functions, to which func¬
tions some organs of sense, and perhaps even the sensation
Sense?.
1 When Syracuse was taken by the Romans under Marcellus, ^rc]11^d®?tJV^fagnt^SentUdiA t^rtraLport of study and contemplation,
that he neither heard the clamour of the Romans nor P^ceived that tke ? , ^ j t‘ bold his hand til] he had finished the problem
orders that Archimedes should be spared.
3 Thtorie des Sentiments AgreaUes.
SEN
uses, of these, are in a great measure subservient. This is one
of the causes why many pleasures, which we cultivate with
all our might, cannot be immortal. If a person be thirsty,
spring-water is nectar to him; if hungry, any kind of food
is agreeable, even the smell of food is grateful. To a man
in a heat, or in a fever, cold is pleasing; and to one in a
cold fit nothing is so agreeable as heat. To these same
persons, at other times, so far are these things from being
agreeable, that they are often disgusting. The most de¬
cided glutton cannot always relish a sumptuous feast.
Besides the sensations excited by external objects, there
are others also which cause pain and pleasure. If the ac¬
tion of the muscles be strong, easy, and cheerful, and not
continued so as to fatigue us, it causes pleasure. On the
contrary, when this action is attended with a sense of list¬
lessness, lassitude, difficulty, and debility, it more or less
causes pain. In fine, various states and affections of the
mind, such as the exercise of memory, imagination, and
judgment, nearly for similar reasons, are sometimes painful,
at other times agreeable. “ Animi affectus, qui modici
grate excitant, vehementes, aut graves et diuturni, hujus
pariter ac corporis vires frangunt; hominem interdum sta-
tim extinguunt, saepius longa valetudine macerant. Somni
etiam, quo ad exhaustas vires reficiendas egemus, exces-
sus, vel defectus, et animo et corpori nocet.” “ Desidia,
sive animi sive corporis, utriusque vires languescunt: ni-
mia exercitatione baud minus laeduntur. Statuit enim pro-
vida rerum parens, ut singularum partium, et universi cor¬
poris animique vires usu roborentur et acuantur; et huic
iterum certos fines posuit: ita ut neque quem voluit na-
tura usus impune omittatur, neque ultra modum intenda-
tur.” ( Conspectus Medicince.)
“ Of such sensations and feelings as are agreeable or dis¬
agreeable, we may remark,” says Dr Reid, “ that they dif¬
fer much, not only in degree, but in kind and in dignity.
Some belong to the animal part of our nature, and are com¬
mon to us with the brutes ; others belong to the rational
and moral part. The first are more properly called sensa¬
tions, the last feelings. The French word sentiment is
common to both. ”
“ The Author of nature, in the distribution of agreeable
and painful feelings, hath wisely and benevolently consulted
the good of the human species ; and hath even shown us, by
the same means, what tenor of conduct we ought to hold.
For, first, the painful sensations of the animal kind are ad¬
monitions to avoid what would hurt us ; and the agreeable
sensations of this kind invite us to those actions that are
necessary to the preservation of the individual, or of the
kind. Secondly, by the same means nature invites us to
moderate bodily exercise, and admonishes us to avoid idle¬
ness and inactivity on the one hand, and excessive labour
and fatigue upon the other. Thirdly, the moderate exer¬
cise of all our rational powers gives us pleasure. Fourthly,
every species of beauty is beheld with pleasure, and every
species of deformity with disgust; and we shall find all that
we denominate beautiful to be something estimable or useful
in itself, or a sign of something that is estimable or useful.
Fifthly, the benevolent affections are all accompanied with
an agreeable feeling, the malevolent with the contrary.
And, sixthly, the highest, the noblest, and most durable
pleasure is that of doing well and acting the part that be¬
comes us ; and the most bitter and painful sentiment is the
anguish and remorse of a guilty conscience.” These ob¬
servations with regard to the economy of nature in the dis¬
tribution of our painful and agreeable sensations and feel¬
ings are so well illustrated by the elegant and judicious au¬
thor of Theorie des Sentiments Agreables, that we deem it
unnecessary to make any further remarks on this subject.
A little reflection may satisfy us that the number and va¬
riety of our sensations and feelings are prodigious. For, to
omit all those which accompany our appetites, passions, and
SEN' 99
affections, our moral sentiments and sentiments of taste, even Sensible
our external senses, furnish a variety of sensations differing Note
in kind, and almost in every kind an endless variety of de- !* ....
grees. Every variety wTe discern with regard to taste, smell, K?en_siy1 iuy,‘
sound, colour, heat, and cold, and in the tangible qualities
of bodies, is indicated by a sensation corresponding to it.
The most general and the most important division of our
sensations and feelings is into the agreeable, the disagree¬
able, and the indifferent. Every thing we call pleasure,
happiness, or enjoyment, on the one hand, and, on the other,
every thing we call misery, pain, or uneasiness, is sensation
or feeling. For no man can for the present be more happy,
or more miserable, than he feels himself to be. He cannot
be deceived with regard to the enjoyment or suffering of
the present moment.
But, besides the sensations that are agreeable or disa¬
greeable, there is still a greater number that are indifferent.
To these we give so little attention that they have no name,
and are immediately forgotten, as if they had never been ;
it even requires attention to the operations of our minds to
be convinced of their existence. For this end we may ob¬
serve, that to a good ear every human voice is distinguish¬
able from all others. Some voices are pleasant, and some dis¬
agreeable ; but the far greater part cannot be said to be the
one or the other. The same thing may be said of other
sounds, and no less of tastes, smells, and colours; and if we
consider that our senses are in continual exercise while we
are awake, that some sensation attends every object they
present to us, and that familiar objects seldom raise any
emotion pleasant nr painful, we shall see reason, besides
the agreeable and disagreeable, to admit a third class of
sensations, that may be called indifferent. But these sen¬
sations that are indifferent are far from being useless. They
serve as signs to distinguish things that differ ; and the in¬
formation we have concerning things external comes by
these means. Thus, if a man had not a musical ear so as
to receive pleasure from the harmony or melody of sounds,
he would still find the sense of hearing of great utility.
Though sounds gave him neither pleasure nor pain of them¬
selves, they would give him much useful information ; and
the same may be said of the sensations which wre have by
all the other senses.
SENSIBLE Note, in (derived from the French
term note sensible), means simply the note which ascends
by a semitone to the tonic or key-note of any scale, major
or minor. For example, in scale of C, B to C ; or in scale
of A, Gfl to A, and so on. (See Music.) This note is one
of the marked characteristics of modern European tonality.
SENSIBILITY is a nice and delicate perception of
pleasure or pain, beauty or deformity. It is very nearly al¬
lied to taste, and, as far as it is natural, seems to depend up¬
on the organization of the nervous system. It is capable,
however, of cultivation, and is experienced in a much higher
degree in civilized than in savage nations, and among per¬
sons liberally educated than among boors and illiterate me¬
chanics. The man who has cultivated any of the fine arts
has a much quicker and more exquisite perception of beauty
and deformity in the execution of that art, than another of
equal or even greater natural powers, who has but casually
inspected its productions. He who has been long accus¬
tomed to that decorum of manners which characterizes the
polite part of the world, perceives almost instantaneously
the smallest deviation from it, and feels himself almost as
much hurt by behaviour harmless in itself as by the gross¬
est rudeness ; and the man who has long proceeded stea¬
dily in the paths of virtue, and often painted to himself the
deformity of vice, and the miseries of which it is produc¬
tive, is more quickly alarmed at any deviation from recti¬
tude than another who, though his life has been stained by
no crime, has yet thought less upon the principles of virtue
and consequences of vice.
100
SEN
Sensitive
i-'iant.
Every thing which can be called sensibility, and is not
horn with man, may be resolved into association, and is to
he regulated accordingly ; for sensibilities may be acquired
which are inimical to happiness and to the practice ot vir¬
tue. The man is not to be envied who has so accustomed
himself to the forms of polite address as to be hurt by the
unaffected language and manners of the honest peasant with
whom he may have occasion to transact business ; nor is he
likely to acquire much useful knowledge, who has so sedu¬
lously studied the beauties of composition, as to be unable
to read without disgust a book of science or of^ history, of
which the style comes not up to his standard of perfection.
That sensibility which we either have from nature, or ne¬
cessarily acquire, of the miseries of others, is of the great¬
est use when properly regulated, as it powerfully impels us
to relieve their distress ; but if it by any means become so
exquisite as to make us shun the sight of misery, it coun¬
teracts the end for which it was implanted in our nature,
and only deprives us of happiness, while it contributes no¬
thing to the good of others. Indeed there is reason to be¬
lieve that all such extreme sensibilities are selfish affecta¬
tions, employed as apologies for withholding from the mi¬
serable that relief which it is in our power to give; for
there is not a fact better established in the science of hu¬
man nature, than that passive perceptions grow gradually
weaker by repetition, while active habits daily acquire ad-
ditional strength.
It is of great importance to a literary man to cultivate
his taste, because it is the source of much elegant and re¬
fined pleasure ; but there is a degree of fastidiousness which
renders that pleasure impossible to be obtained, and is the
certain indication of expiring letters. It is necessary to
submit to the artificial rules of politeness, for they tend to
promote the peace and harmony of society, and are some¬
times a useful substitute for moral virtue ; but he who with
respect to them has so much sensibility as to be disgusted
with all whose manners are not equally polished with his
own, is a very troublesome member of society. It is every
man’s duty to cultivate his moral sensibilities so as to make
them subservient to the purposes for which they were given
to him; but if he either feel, or pretend to feel, the mise¬
ries of others to so exquisite a degree as to be unable to
afford them the relief which they have a right to expect,
his sensibilities are of no good tendency.
That the man of true sensibility has more pains and more
pleasures than the callous wretch, is universally admitted,
as well as that his enjoyments and sufferings are more ex¬
quisite in their kinds ; and as no man lives for himself alone,
no man will acknowledge his want of sensibility, or express
a wish that his heart were callous. It is, however, a matter
of some moment to distinguish real sensibilities from ridi¬
culous affectations, those which tend to increase the sum
of human happiness from such as have a contrary tendency ;
and to cultivate them all in such a manner as to make them
answer the ends for which they were implanted in us by
the beneficent Author of nature. This can be done only
by watching over them as over other associations (see Me¬
taphysics) ; for excessive sensibility, as it is not the gift
of nature, is the bane of human happiness. “ Too much
tenderness,” as Rousseau well observes, “ proves the bit¬
terest curse instead of the most fruitful blessing ; vexation
and disappointment are its certain consequences. The tem¬
perature of the air, the change of the seasons, the brilliancy
of the sun, or thickness of the fogs, are so many moving
springs to the unhappy possessor, and he becomes the wan¬
ton sport of their arbitration.” ,
SENSITIVE Plant. The sensitive plants are well
known to possess a kind of motion, by which the leaves and
stalks are contracted, and fall down on being slightly touch¬
ed, or shaken with some degree of violence.
The contraction of the leaves and branc.ies 0i the sen-
S E N
sitive plant when touched is a very singular phenomena, and S™sitiv'e
different hypotheses have been formed by botanists in or- v
der to explain it; but we are disposed to believe that these
have generally been deduced rather from analogical ica-
soning than from a collection of facts and observations. \\ e
shall therefore give an account of all the important facts
which we have been able to collect upon this curious sub¬
ject ; and then draw such conclusions as obviously result
from them, without, how’ever, attempting to suppoit any
old, or to establish a new, hypothesis.
First, it is difficult to touch the leaf of a healthy sensi¬
tive plant so delicately that it will not immediately collapse,
the fbliola or little leaves moving at their base till they
come into contact, and then applying themselves close to¬
gether. If the leaf be touched with a little more force, the
opposite leaf will exhibit the same appearance. If a little
more force be applied, the partial footstalks bend uow n to¬
wards the common footstalk from which they issue, making
with it a more acute angle than before. If the touch be
more violent still, all the leaves situated on the same side
with the one that has been touched will instantly collapse,
and the partial footstalk will approach the common footstalk
to which it is attached, in the same manner as the partial
footstalk of the leaf approaches the stem or branch from
which it issues; so that the whole plant, from having its
branches extended, will immediately appear like a weeping
birch. „ , ,
Secondly, these motions of the plant are performed by
means of "three distinct and sensible articulations; the
first that of the foliola or lobes to the partial footstalk, the
second that of the partial footstalk to the common one, and
the third that of the common footstalk to the trunk ; the
primary motion of all which is, the closing 01 the leai upon
the partial footstalk, which is performed in a similar man¬
ner, and by a similar articulation. This, however, is much
less visible than the others. These motions are wholly in¬
dependent of one another, as may be proved by experi¬
ment. It appears, that if the partial footstalks are moved,
and collapse toward the petioli, or these toward the trunk,
the little leaves, whose motion is usually primary to these,
should be affected also; yet experiment proves that it is
possible to touch the footstalks in such a manner as to af¬
fect them only, and make them apply themselves to the
trunk, while the leaves feel nothing of the touch. Rut tnis
cannot be, unless the footstalks are so disposed as that they
can fall to the trunk, w ithout suffering their leaves to touch
any part of the plant in their passage, because, if they do,
they are immediately affected.
Thirdly, winds and heavy rains make the leaves of the
sensitive plant contract and close; but no such effect is pro¬
duced from slight showers.
Fourthly, at night, or when exposed to much cold in the
day, the leaves meet and close in the same manner as when
touched, folding their upper surfaces together, and in part
over each other, like scales or tiles, so as to expose as little
as possible of the upper surface to the air. I he opposite
sides of the leaves, or foliola, do not come close together
in the night, for when touched they apply themselves closei
together. Dr Darwin kept a sensitive plant in a dark place
for some hours after daybreak ; the leaves and footstalks
were collapsed as in its most profound sleep, anu on ex¬
posing it to the light, above twenty minutes passed before
it was expanded.
Fifthly, in the month of August, a sensitive plant wras
carried in a pot out of its usual place into a dark cave ; the
motion that it received in the carriage shut up its leaves,
and they did not open till twenty-four hours afterwards:
at this time they became moderately open, but were after¬
wards subject to no changes at night or morning, but re¬
mained three days and nights with their leaves in the same
moderately open state. At the end of this time they were
SEN
ensitive brought out again into the air, and there recovered their
Plant, natural periodical motions, shutting every night, and open-
■'—ing every morning, as naturally and as strongly as if the
plant had not been in this forced state ; and while in the
cave, it was observed to be very little less affected with the
touch than when abroad in the open air.
Sixthly, the great heats of summer, when there is open
sunshine at noon, affect the plant in some degree like cold,
causing it to shut up its leaves a little, but never in any
verv great degree. The plant, however, is least of all af¬
fected about nine o’clock in the morning, and that is con¬
sequently the most proper time to make experiments on it.
A branch of the sensitive plant cut off, and laid by, retains
still its property of shutting up and opening in the morning
for some days; and it holds it longer if kept with one end
in water, than if left to dry more suddenly.
Seventhly, the leaves only of the sensitive plant shut up
in the night, not the branches; and if it be touched at this
time, the branches are affected in the same manner as in
the day, shutting up, or approaching to the stalk or trunk,
in the same way, and often with more force. It is of no
consequence what the substance is with which the plant is
touched, it answers alike to all; but there may be observed
a little spot, distinguishable by its paler colour, in the arti¬
culations of its leaves, where the greatest and nicest sensi¬
bility is evidently placed.
Eighthly, Duhamel having observed, about the 15th of
September, in moderate weather, the natural motion of a
branch of a sensitive plant, remarked, that at nine in the
morning it formed with the stem an angle of 100 degrees;
at noon, 112 degrees; at three afternoon, it returned to
100, and after touching the branch, the angle was reduced
to 90. Three quarters of an hour afterwards, it had mounted
to 112 ; and at eight at night, it descended again, without
being touched, to 90. The day after, in finer weather, the
same branch, at eight in the morning, made an angle of
135 degrees with the stem; after being touched, the angle
was diminished to 80; an hour after, it rose again to 135;
being touched a second time, it descended again to 80; an
hour and a half afterwards, it had risen to 145; and on being
touched a third time, descended to 135, and remained in
that position till five o’clock in the afternoon, when being
touched a fourth time, it fell to 110.
Ninthly, the parts of the plants which have collapsed, af¬
terwards unfold themselves, and return to their former ex¬
panded state. The time required for that purpose varies,
according to the vigour of the plant, the season of the year,
the hour of the day, the state of the atmosphere. Some¬
times half an hour is requisite, sometimes only ten minutes.
The order in which the parts recover themselves varies in
like manner ; sometimes it is the common footstalks, some¬
times the rib to which the leaves are attached, and some¬
times the leaves themselves are expanded, before the other
parts have made any attempt to be reinstated in their for¬
mer position.
Tenthly, if, without shaking the other smaller leaves, we
cut off the half of a leaf or lobe belonging to the last pair,
at the extremity or summit of a wing, the leaf cut, and its
antagonist, that is to say, the first pair, begin to approach
each other; then the second, and so on successively, till all
the lesser leaves or lobes of that wing have collapsed in
like manner. Frequently, after twelve or fifteen seconds,
the lobes of the other wings, which were not immediately
affected by the stroke, shut; whilst the stalk and its wing,
beginning at the bottom, and proceeding in order to the
top, gradually recover themselves. If, instead of one of
the lesser extreme leaves, we cut off one belonging to the
pair that is next the footstalk, its antagonist shuts, as do the
other pairs successively, from the bottom to the top. If all
the leaves of one side of a wing be cut off, the opposite
leaves are not affected, but remain expanded. With some
SEN
101
address, it is possible even to cut off a branch without hurt- Sensitive
ing the leaves or making them fall. The common foot-
stalk of the winged leaves being cut as far as three fourths '''■““'v'"--
of its diameter, all the parts which hang down collapse, but
quickly recover without appearing to have suffered any con¬
siderable violence by the shock. An incision being made
into one of the principal branches to the depth of one half
the diameter, the branches situated between the section and
the root will fall down ; those above the incision remain as
before, and the lesser leaves continue open; but this direc¬
tion is soon destroyed, by cutting off one of the lobes at
the extremity, as wras observed above. Lastly, a whole
w ing being cut off with precaution near its insertion into
the common footstalk, the other wings are not affected by
it, and its own lobes do not shut. No motion ensues from
piercing the branch with a needle or other sharp instrument.
Eleventhly, if the end of one of the leaves be burned
with the flame of a candle, or by a burning-glass, or by
touching it with hot iron, it closes up in a moment, and the
opposite leaf does the same, and after that, the whole series
of leaves on each side of the partial or little footstalk ; then
the footstalk itself; then the branch or common footstalk;
all do the same, if the burning has been in a sufficient de¬
gree. This proves that there is a very nice communica¬
tion between all the parts of the plant, by means of which
the burning, which only is applied to the extremity of one
leaf, diffuses its influence through every part of the shrub.
If a drop of aquafortis be carefully laid upon a leaf of the
sensitive plant, so as not to shake it in the least, the leaf
does not begin to move till the acrid liquor corrodes the sub¬
stance of it; but at that time, not only the particular leaf,
but all the leaves placed on the same footstalk, close them¬
selves up. The vapour of burning sulphur has also this
effect on many leaves at once, according as they are more
or less exposed to it; but a bottle of very acrid and sul¬
phureous spirit of vitriol, placed under the branches un¬
stopped, produces no such effect. Wetting the leaves with
spirit of wine has been observed also to have no effect, nor
the rubbing of oil of almonds over them ; though this last
application destroys many plants.
From the preceding experiments the following conclu¬
sions may be fairly drawn. First, the contraction of the
parts of the sensitive plant is occasioned by an external
force, and the contraction is in proportion to the force.
Secondly, all bodies wdiich can exert any force affect the
sensitive plant; some by the touch or by agitation, as the
wind or rain ; some by chemical influence, as heat and cold.
Thirdly, touching or agitating the plant produces a greater
effect than an incision or cutting off a part, or by applying
heat or cold.
Attempts have been made to explain these curious phe¬
nomena. Dr Darwin, in the notes to his Botanic Garden,
lays it down as a principle, that “ the sleep of animals con¬
sists in a suspension of voluntary motion ; and as vegetables
are subject to sleep as wrell as animals, there is reason to
conclude,” says he, “ that the various action of closing their
petals and foliage may be justly ascribed to a voluntary
power ; for without the faculty of volition sleep would not
have been necessary to them.” Whether this definition of
sleep when applied to animals be just, we shall not inquire.
But it is evident the supposed analogy between the sleep of
animals and the sleep of plants has led Dr Darwin to admit
this astonishing conclusion, that plants have volition. As
volition presupposes a mind or soul, it were to be washed
that he had given us some information concerning the na¬
ture of a vegetable soul, which can think and will. We
suspect, however, that this vegetable soul will turn out to
be a mere mechanical or chemical one; for it is affected by
external forces uniformly in the same way, its volition is
merely passive, and never makes any successful resistance
against those causes by which it is influenced. All this is
102
SEN
Sentence, a mere abuse of words. The sleep of plants is a metapho-
''-“''Y'—rical expression, and has not the least resemblance to the
sleep of animals. Plants are said to sleep when the flowers
or leaves are contracted or folded together; but we never
heard that there is any similar contraction in the body of
an animal during sleep. ,
The fibres of vegetables have been compared with the
muscles of animals, and the motions of the sensitive plant
have been supposed to be the same with muscular motion.
Between the fibres of vegetables and the muscles of animals,
however, there is not the least similarity. If muscles be
cut through, so as to be separated from the joints to which
they are attached, their powers are completely destroyed;
but this is not the case with vegetable fibres. The follow¬
ing ingenious experiment, which was communicated to us
by a respectable member of the university of Edinburgh, is
decisive on this subject. He selected a growing poppy at
that period of its growth, before unfolding, when the head
and neck are bent down almost double. He cut the stalk
where it was curved half through on the under side, anti
half through at a small distance on the upper side, and half
through in the middle point between the two sections, so
that the ends of the fibres were separated from the stalk.
Notwithstanding these several cuttings on the neck, me
poppy raised its head, and assumed a more erect position.
There is, therefore, a complete distinction between muscu¬
lar motion and the motions of a plant; for no motion can
take place in the limb of an animal when the muscles of
that limb are cut.
In fine, we look upon all attempts to explain the motions
of plants as absurd, and all reasoning from supposed analogy
between animals and vegetables as the source of wild con¬
jecture, and not of sound philosophy. We view the con¬
traction and expansion of the sensitive plant in the same
lio-ht as we do gravitation, chemical attraction, electricity,
and magnetism, as a singular fact, the circumstances o
which we may be fully acquainted with, but must despair of
understanding its cause. .
SENTENCE, in Law, a judgment passed in court by
the judge in some process, either civil or criminal. See
Judgment. c
Sentence, in Grammar, denotes a period, or a set ot
words comprehending perfect sense, or a sentiment of the
mind. The business of pointing is to distinguish the seve¬
ral parts and members of sentences, so as to render the sense
as clear, distinct, and full, as possible.
In every sentence there are two parts necessarily re¬
quired ; a noun for the subject, and a definite verb. What¬
ever is found more than these two, affects one of them, either
immediately or by the intervention of some other, by which
the first is affected.
Again, every sentence is either simple or compound. A
simple sentence is that which consists of one single subject,
and one finite verb. A compound sentence contains several
subjects and finite verbs, either expressly or implicitly.
A simple sentence needs no point or distinction, but only
a period to close it, as “ A good man loves virtue for itself.”
In such a sentence, the several adjuncts affect either the
subject or the verb in a different manner. Thus the word
r/ood expresses the quality of the subject, virtue the object
of the action, and for itself the end thereof. Now none of
these adjuncts can be separated from the rest of the sen¬
tence ; for if one be, why should not all the rest ? and if all
be the sentence will be minced, into almost as many parts
as there are words. But if several adjuncts be attiibuted
in the same manner either to the subject or the verb, the
sentence becomes compound, and is to be divided into parts.
In every compound sentence, as many subjects or as
many finite verbs as there are, either expressed or implied,
so many distinctions may there be. Thus, « My hopes,
fears, joys, pains, all centre in you;” and thus, “ Catihna abut,
SEN
excessit, evasit, erupit? The reason of thus pointing is ob- Sentinel
vious; for as many subjects or finite verbs as there are ui ag
sentence, so many members does it really contain. When- , 
ever, therefore, there occurs more nouns than verbs, or con¬
trariwise, they are to be conceived as equal; since, as every
subject requires its verbs, so every verb requires its subject,
with which it may agree, excepting, perhaps, m some ngu-
rative expressions. . .
SENTINEL, or Sentry, in military affairs, is a private
soldier placed in some post, to watch the approach of the
enemy, to prevent surprises, or to stop such as would pass
without orders or discovering who they are. I hey are
placed before the arms of all guards, and at the tents and
doors of general officers, colonels of regiments, &c.
Sentinel Perdu, a soldier posted near an enemy, or m
some dangerous position, where he is in hazard of being lo^t.
Sentinel, Great and Little, are two islands in the East¬
ern Seas. The first is about ten miles in circumference,
and is about twenty miles from the Greater Andaman.
Long. 92. 40. E. Lat. 11. 36. N. The second is about
eight miles from the Little Andaman. Long. 92. 23. E.
Lat. 10. 59. N. . , . ,
SEOUNY, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gundwana, sixty-eight miles north by east from the city
of Nagpoor. Long. 80. 3. E. Lat. 22. 4. N.
Seouny, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta territo¬
ries, and province of Khandesh, seventy-three miles noit
by west from Ellichpoor. Long. 77. 1. E. Lat. 22. 21. N.
SEPARATISTS. This name has for some years been
generally applied to a particular sect in these countries.
It originated with a few Christians in Dublin, about t re
year 1803, who had their attention strongly directed to the
principles of Christian fellowship. Convinced that the au¬
thority of the apostolic word was divine and unchangeable,
not to be annulled or weakened by the lapse of time, by
the customs of nations, or by the laws of earthly legislators,
they set out in the attempt to return fully to the course
marked out for Christians in the New Testament. There
they perceived that all the first Christians in any place were
connected together in the closest brotherhood, and that
this connection, grounded on the apostolic gospel which
they believed, was altogether regulated by the apostolic
precepts, the commands of the divinely-commissioned am¬
bassadors of Christ; and they also perceived that the same
divine rule which regulated their fellowship in the gospel
with each other, forbade them to maintain any religion^
fellowship with others. From the practice consequent on
this, they received the name of Separatists, a designation
since applied to them, by an act of parliament passed in
the year 1833, for their relief in the matter of oaths. Io
give even a concise account of the tenets and practices by
which they are distinguished from most other religionists in
these countries, would require more space than could be al¬
lotted to this article ; but among them the following prin¬
cipal may be noted. They hold, that the only true God is
made known to men exclusively in the gospel of his son
Jesus Christ; that those alone who believe the divine testi¬
mony there revealed know the true God, whose distinguish¬
ing glory is displayed in the fullest harmony of perfect right¬
eousness and perfect mercy, as the Saviour of sinful crea¬
tures, and the justifier of the ungodly, through the ledemp-
tion that is in Christ Jesus, through the propitiation for sin
which he made by his obedience unto death, and the di¬
vine acceptance of which is proved by his resurrection horn
the dead. They hold that forgiveness of all sin, acceptance
in the sight of God, and eternal life, come to the guiltiest
of sinners, as such, and are assured in the divine word to
every one, without distinction, who believes the testimony
concerning Jesus of Nazareth. They understand by the
faith with which justification and eternal life are connect¬
ed, nothing else but the belief of the things declared to all
SEP
epoury alike in the gospel; and by repentance, nothing but the
II change of mind which takes place on a sinner’s believing
ntuagint. t|ie gospel. Both these they hold to be solely the work of
God in his people; the Spirit of God working by his re¬
vealed word, in them to will and to do; and they acknow¬
ledge God to be the sole author and agent of every thing
that is good, and that every thing which comes from the
sinner himself, either before his conversion to God, or after
it, is essentially evil. As a church they assemble on the
first day of the week, as the memorial day of Christ’s resur¬
rection, to show forth his death, the only ground of their hope,
by taking bread and wine, as the symbols of his body broken
and his blood shed for the remission of sins; to join in the
exercises of prayer and praise ; to contribute to the necessi¬
ties of the poor ; to express their fraternal affection by salut¬
ing each other with an holy kiss; and to attend, as occasion
requires, to the discipline appointed by the apostles for re¬
moving any evil which may appear among them. For a full
account of their doctrines on baptism, the clerical character,
and other subjects, see Essays and Correspondence of the
late John Walker, London, 1838, two vols. 8vo.
SEPOURY, or Sipry, a town and fortress of Hindustan,
province of Agra, and district of Gohud, taken by the Bri¬
tish in 1781. It is eighteen miles south-west of Narwa.
SEPOYS, or Seapoys, natives of Hindustan serving in
a military capacity under the European powers, and disci¬
plined after the European manner.
SEPTEMBER, the ninth month of the year, consisting
of thirty days. It took its name as being the seventh month
from March, with which the Romans began their year.
SEPTENTRIO, in Astronomy, a constellation, usually
called ursa minor.
In cosmography, the term septentrio denotes the same
with north ; and hence septentrional is applied to any thing
belonging to the north.
SEPTICS are those substances which promote putrefac¬
tion, chiefly the calcareous earths, magnesia, and testaceous
powders.
SEPTIZON, or Septizonium, in Roman antiquity, a
celebrated mausoleum, built by Septimius Severus, in the
tenth region of the city of Rome. It was so called from
septem and zona, because it consisted of seven stories, each
of which was surrounded by a row of columns.
SEPTUAGESIMA, in the calendar, denotes the third
Sunday before Lent, or before Quadragesima Sunday. It
is supposed by some to take its name from its being about
seventy days before Easter.
SEPTUAGINT, the name given to a Greek version of
the books of the Old Testament, from its being supposed
to be the work of seventy-two Jews, who are usually called
the seventy interpreters, because seventy is a round number.
The history of this version has been expressly written by
Aristaeas, an officer of the guards to Ptolemy Philadelphus.
Ptolemy having erected a noble library at Alexandria, which
he took care to fill with the most curious and valuable books
from all parts of the world, was informed that the Jews
had one containing the laws of Moses, and the history of
that people ; and being desirous of enriching his library
with a Greek translation of it, he applied to the high priest of
the Jews, and, to engage him to comply with his request,
set at liberty all the Jews whom his father Ptolemy Soter
had reduced to slavery. After such a step, he easily ob¬
tained what he desired. Eleazar the Jewish high priest
sent back his ambassadors with an exact copy of the Mo-
saical law, written in letters of gold, and six elders of each
tribe, in all seventy-two, who were received with marks
of respect by the king, and then conducted into the isle of
Pharos, where they were lodged in a house prepared for
their reception, and supplied with every thing necessary.
They set about the translation without loss of time, which
they finished in seventy-two days; and the whole being
SEP 103
read in presence of the king, he admired the profound wis- Septuagint.
dom of the laws of Moses, and sent back the deputies laden —v—-''
with presents, for themselves, the high priest, and the temple.
Aristobulus, who was tutor to Ptolemy Physcon, Philo,
who lived in our Saviour’s time, and was contemporary with
the apostles, and Josephus, speak of this translation as made
by seventy-two interpreters, in the reign of Ptolemy Phila¬
delphus. All the Christian writers during the first fifteen
centuries of the Christian era have admitted this account
of the Septuagint as an undoubted fact. But since the Re¬
formation, critics have boldly called it in question, because
it was attended with circumstances which they think incon¬
sistent, or at least improbable. Dupin has asked, why were
seventy-two interpreters employed, since twelve would have
been sufficient? Such an objection is trifling. We may as
well ask, why did King James I. employ fifty-four transla¬
tors in rendering the Bible into English, since Dupin thinks
twelve would have been sufficient ?
Prideaux objects, that the Septuagint is not written in
the Jewish, but in the Alexandrian dialect; and could not
therefore be the work of natives of Palestine. But these
dialects were at that time probably the same, for both Jews
and Alexandrians had received the Greek language from
the Macedonians about fifty years before. Prideaux further
contends, that all the books of the Old Testament could not
be translated at the same time; for they exhibit great dif¬
ference of style. To this it is sufficient to reply, that they
were the work of seventy-two men, each of whom had sepa¬
rate portions assigned him.
The dean also urges, that Aristaeas, Aristobulus, Philo,
and Josephus, all directly tell us, that the law was translat¬
ed, without mentioning any of the other sacred books. But
nothing was more common among writers of the Jewish
nation, than to give this name to the Scriptures as a whole.
In the New Testament, law is used as synonymous with
what we call the Old Testament. Besides, it is expressly
said by Aristobulus, in a fragment quoted by Eusebius, that
the whole Sacred Scripture was rightly translated through
the means of Demetrius Phalereus, and by the command of
Philadelphus. Josephus, indeed, says the learned dean,
asserts, in the preface to his Antiquities, that the Jewish
interpreters did not translate for Ptolemy the whole Scrip¬
tures, but the law only. Here the evidence is contradic¬
tory, and we have to determine whether Aristobulus or
Josephus be most worthy of credit. We do not mean, how¬
ever, to accuse either of forgery, but only to inquire which
had the best opportunities of knowing the truth. Aristo¬
bulus was an Alexandrian Jew, tutor to an Egyptian king,
and lived within a hundred years after the translation was
made, and certainly had access to see it in the royal lib¬
rary. Josephus was a native of Palestine, and lived not
until three hundred years or more after the translation was
made, and many years after it was burned along with the
whole library of Alexandria in the wars of Julius Caesar.
Supposing the veracity of these two writers equal, as we
have no proof of the contrary, which of them ought we to
consider as the best evidence ? Aristobulus certainly. Pri¬
deaux, indeed, seems doubtful whether there was ever such
a man ; and Dr Hody supposes that the Commentaries on
the five books of Moses, which bear the name of Aristobu¬
lus, were a forgery of the second century. To prove the
existence of any human being, who lived two thousand
years before us, and did not perform such w orks as no mere
man ever performed, is a task which we are not disposed to
undertake ; and we believe that it would not be less difficult
to prove that Philo and Josephus existed, than that such a
person as Aristobulus did not exist. If the writings which
have passed under his name were a forgery ot the second
century, it is surprising that they should have imposed up¬
on Clemens Alexandrinus, who lived in the same century,
and was a man of abilities, learning, and well acquainted
104
SEP
Septuagiat. with the writings of the ancients. Eusebius, too, quotes
v-—the Commentaries of Aristobulus. But, continues the
learned dean, “ Clemens Alexandrinus is the first author
that mentions them. Now, had any such commentaries
existed in the time of Philo and Josephus, they would surely
have mentioned them.” But is the circumstance ol its not
being quoted by every succeeding author a sufficient rea¬
son to disprove the authenticity of any book ? Neither
Philo nor Josephus undertook to give a list of preceding
authors, and it was by no means the uniform practice of
these times always to name the authors from whom they
derived their information.
Prideaux further contends, that the sum which Ptolemy
is said to have given to the interpreters is too great to be
credible. If his computation were just, it certainly would
be so. He makes it L.2,000,000 sterling ; but other writers1
reduce it to L.85,421, and some to L.56,947, neither of
which is a sum so very extraordinary in so great and mag¬
nificent a prince as Philadelphus, who spent, according to
Athenaeus, not less than ten thousand talents on the furni¬
ture of one tent, which is six times more than what was
spent in the whole of the embassy and translation, which
amounted onlv to 1552 talents.
Prideaux says, “ that what convicts the whole story of
Aristaeas of falsity is, that he makes Demetrius Phalereus
to be the chief actor in it, and a great favourite of the king;
whereas Philadelphus, as soon as his father was dead, cast
him into prison, where he soon after died.” But it may be
replied, that Philadelphus reigned two years jointly with
his father Lagus, and it-is not said by Hermippus that De¬
metrius was out of favour with Philadelphus during his fa¬
ther’s life. Now, if the Septuagint was translated in the
beginning of the reign of Philadelphus, as Eusebius and
Jerome think, the difficulty will be removed. Demetrius
might have been librarian during the reign of Philadelphus,
and yet imprisoned on the death of Lagus. Indeed, as the
cause of Philadelphus’s displeasure was the advice which
Demetrius gave to his father, to prefer the sons of Arsinoe
to the son of Bernice, he could scarcely show it till his
father’s death. The Septuagint translation might therefoie
be begun while Philadelphus reigned jointly with his father,
but not be finished till after his father’s death.
Besides the objections which have been considered, there
is only one that deserves notice. The ancient Christians
not only differ from one another concerning the time in
which Aristobulus lived, but even contradict themselves in
different parts of their works. Sometimes they tell us he
dedicated his book to Ptolemy Philometer ; at other times
they say it was addressed to Philadelphus and his fathei.
Sometimes they make him the same person who is mention¬
ed in second Maccabees, and sometimes one of the seven¬
ty-two interpreters a hundred and fifty-two years before.
It is difficult to explain how authors fall into such incon¬
sistencies, but it is probably occasioned by their quoting
from memory. I his was certainly the practice of almost
all the early Christian writers, and sometimes of the apostles
themselves. Mistakes were therefore inevitable. Jose¬
phus has varied in the circumstances of the same event, in
his Antiquities and Wars of the Jews, probably from the
same cause; but we do not hence conclude, that every cii-
cumstance of such a relation is entirely false. In the ac¬
count of the Marquis of Argyll’s death in the reign of
Charles II. we have a very remarkable contradiction. Lord
Clarendon relates that he was condemned to be hanged,
which was performed the same day. On the contrary, Bur¬
net, Wodrow, Heath, and Echard, concur in stating that he
was beheaded ; and that he was condemned upon the Satur¬
day, and executed upon the Monday.2 But wras any reader of
English history ever sceptical enough to raise from hence a
SEP
question, whether the Marquis of Argyll was executed 01 Septuagini;
not ? Yet this ought to be left in uncertainty, according to ' v-
the way of reasoning in which the facts respecting the trans¬
lation of the Septuagint are attempted to be disproved.
Such are the objections which Prideaux has raised against
the common account of the Septuagint translation, and such
are the answers which may be given to them. We have
chosen to support that opinion which is sanctioned by his¬
torical evidence, in preference to the conjectures of modern
critics, however ingenious; being persuaded that there are
many things recorded in history, which, though peiiectly
true, yet, from our imperfect knowledge of the concomitant
circumstances, may, at a distant period, seem liable to ob¬
jections. To those who require positive evidence, it may
be stated thus. Aristseas, Aristobulus, Philo, and Josephus,
assure us that the law was translated, faking the law in
the more restricted sense, we have at least sufficient autho¬
rity to assert that the Pentateuch was rendered into Greek
under Ptolemy Philadelphus. Aristobulus affirms, that the
whole Scriptures were translated by the seventy-two. Jo¬
sephus confines their labours to the books of Moses. He
therefore who cannot determine to which of the two the
greater respect is due, may suspend his opinion. It is
certain, however, that many of the other books were trans¬
lated before the age of our Saviour; for they are quoted
both by him and by his apostles ; and, perhaps, by a minute
examination of ancient authors, in the same way that Dr
Lardner has examined the Christian fathers to prove the
antiquity of the New Testament, the precise period in
which the whole books of the Septuagint were composed
might, with considerable accuracy, be ascertained.
For four hundred years this translation was in high esti¬
mation with the Jews. It was read in their synagogues in
preference to the Hebrew, not only in those places where
Greek was the common language, but in many synagogues
of Jerusalem and Judaea. But when they saw that it was
equally valued by the Christians, they became jealous of it;
and at length, in the second century, Aquila, an apostate
Christian, attempted to substitute another Greek transla¬
tion in its place. In this work he was careful to give the
ancient prophecies concerning the Messiah a different turn
from the Septuagint, that they might not be applicable to
Christ. In the same design he was followed by Symmachus
and Theodotion, who also, as St Jerome informs us, wrote
out of hatred to Christianity.
In the mean time, the Septuagint, from the ignorance,
boldness, and carelessness of transcribers, became full of
errors. To correct these, Origen published a new edition
in the beginning of the third century, in which he placed
the translations of Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion.
This edition was called Tetrapla, the translations being ar¬
ranged opposite to one another in four columns. He also
added one column, containing the Hebrew text in Hebrew
letters, and another exhibiting it in Greek. In a second
he published two additional Greek versions, one of which
was found at Nicopolis, and the other at Jericho, i his was
called the Hexapla. By comparing so many translations,
Origen endeavoured to form a correct copy of the Scrip¬
tures. Where they all agreed, he considered them as right.
The passages which he found in the Septuagint, but not in
the Hebrew text, he marked with an obelisk ; what he found
in the Hebrew, but not in the Septuagint, he marked with
an asterisk. St Jerome says, that the additions which Ori¬
gen made to the Septuagint, and marked with an asterisk,
were taken from Theodotion. From this valuable work of
Origen the version of the Septuagint was transcribed in a
separate volume, with the asterisks and obelisks for the use
of the churches; and from this circumstance the great work
itself was neglected and lost.
1 Blair’s Lectures on the Canon.
51 Biographia Britannica.
SEP
pulchre. About the year 300, two new editions of the Septuagint
'—y'—-''were published ; the one by Hesychius, an Egyptian bishop,
and the other by Lucian, a presbyter of Antioch. But as
these authors did not mark with any note of distinction the
alterations which they had made, their edition does not pos-
vsess the advantages of Origen’s.
The bfest edition of the Septuagint is that of Dr Grabe,
which was published in the beginning of the last cen¬
tury. He had access to two manuscripts nearly of equal
antiquity) the one found in the Vatican library at Rome,
the other in the royal library at St James’s, which was pre¬
sented to Charles I. by Cyril, patriarch of Alexandria, and
hence is commonly called the Alexandrian Manuscript.
Anxious to discover which of these was according to the
edition of Origen, Dr Grabe collected the fragments of the
Hexapla, and found that they agreed with the Alexandrian
Manuscript, but not with the Vatican where it differed
with the other. Hence he concluded that the Alexandrian
Manuscript was taken from the edition of Origen. By com¬
paring the quotations from Scripture in the works of Atha¬
nasius and St Cyril, who were patriarchs of Alexandria at
the time St Jerome says Hesychius’s edition of the Septua¬
gint was used there, with the Vatican manuscript, he found
they agreed so well that he justly inferred that the manu¬
script was taken from the edition of Hesychius.
This version was in use to the time of our blessed Sa¬
viour, and is that out of which most of the citations in the
New Testament from the Old are taken. It was also the
ordinary and canonical translation made use of by the Chris¬
tian church in the earliest ages; and it still subsists in the
churches both of the east and the west.
(Those who desire a more particular account of the Sep¬
tuagint translation may consult Hody Be Bibiiorum Texti-
bus, Prideaux’s Connections, Owen’s Inquiry into the Sep¬
tuagint Version, Blair’s Lectures on the Canon, and Michae-
lis’s Introduction to the New Testament, last edition.)
Septuagint Chronology, the chronology which is form¬
ed from the dates and periods of time mentioned in the
Septuagint translation of the Old Testament. It reckons
1500 years more from the creation to Abraham than does the
Hebrew Bible. Dr Kennicot, in the dissertation prefixed
to his Hebrew Bible, has shown it to be very probable that
the chronology of the Hebrew Scriptures, since the period
just mentioned, was corrupted by the Jewrs between the
years 175 and 200, and that the chronology of the Septua¬
gint is more agreeable to the truth. It is a fact, that du¬
ring the second and third centuries the Hebrew' Scriptures
were almost entirely in the hands of the Jews, while the
Septuagint was confined to the Christians. The Jew s had
therefore a very favourable opportunity for this corruption.
The following is the reason which is given by oriental
writers. It being a very ancient tradition that the Messiah
was to come in the sixth chiliad, because he was to come
in the last days, the contrivance was to shorten the age of
the world from about 5500 to 3760, and thence to prove
that Jesus could not-be the Messiah. Dr Kennicot adds,
that some Hebrew copies having the larger chronology
were extant till the time of Eusebius, and some till the year
700.
SEPULCHRE, a tomb or place destined for the inter¬
ment of the dead. This term is chiefly used in speaking
of the burying-places of the ancients, those of the moderns
being usually called tombs.
Sepulchres were held sacred and inviolable, and the care
taken of them has always been held a religious duty, ground¬
ed on the fear of God, and the belief of the soul’s immor¬
tality. Those who have searched or violated them have
been thought odious by all nations, and were always se¬
verely punished.
I he Egyptians called sepulchres “ eternal houses,” in con¬
tradistinction to their ordinary houses or palaces, which they
VOL. xx.
S E R 105
called “ inns,” on account of the short stay in the one in Sequanni
comparison wdth their long abode in the other. ||
Regular Canons of St Sepulchre, a religious order, for- Sera"
merly instituted at Jerusalem in honour of the holy se-
pulchre, or the tomb of Jesus Christ.
Many of these canons were brought from the Holy Land
into Europe, particularly into France, by Louis the Younger;
into Poland, by Jaxa, a Polish gentleman ; into Flanders,
by the counts of that country; and many also came into
England. This order was, however, suppressed by Pope
Innocent VIII., who gave its revenues and effects to that
of our Lady of Bethlem; and this also becoming extinct,
they were bestou'ed on the knights of St John of Je¬
rusalem. But the suppression did not take effect in Po¬
land, where they still subsist, as also in several provinces
of Germany. These canons follow the rule of St Augustin.
Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, a military order, esta¬
blished in Palestine about the year 1114.
The knights of this order in Flanders, in 1558, chose
Philip II. king of Spain for their master, and afterwards his
son ; but the grand-master of the order of Malta prevailed
on him to resign ; and when afterwards the Duke de Nevers
assumed the same quality in France, the same grand-master,
by his interest and credit, procured a like renunciation by
him, and a confirmation of the union of this order to that of
Malta.
SEQUANI, a people anciently forming a part of Gallia
Celtica, but annexed to Belgjca by Augustus, separated
from the Helvetii by Mount Jura, with the Rhine on the
east, bordering on the JEdui and Segustiani to the south,
and Lingones to the west; now Franche Comte.
SEQUESTRATION, in Common Law, is setting aside
the thing in controversy from the possession of both the
parties that contend for it. In this sense it is either volun¬
tary, as when done by the consent of the parties ; or ne¬
cessary, as where it is done by the judge, of his own autho¬
rity, whether the parties are inclined or the reverse.
Sequestration is also used for the act of gathering the
fruits of a benefice void, to the use of the next incumbent.
Sometimes a benefice is kept under sequestration for
many years, when it is of so small value that no clergyman
fit to serve the cure will be at the charge of taking it by
institution; in which case the sequestration is committed
either to the curate alone, or to the curate and church¬
wardens jointly. Sometimes the profits of a living in con¬
troversy, either by the consent of the parties, or by the
judge’s authority, are sequestered, and placed for safety in
a third hand, till the suit is determined, a minister being
appointed by the judge to serve the cure, and allowed a
certain salary out of the profits. Sometimes the profits of
a living are sequestered for neglect of duty, for dilapida¬
tions, or for satisfying the debts of the incumbent.
SEQUIN, a gold coin, struck at Venice, and in several
parts of the grand signior’s dominions. In Turkey it is
called dahob, or piece of gold, and, according to Volney, is
in value about 6s. 3d. sterling. It varies, however, consi¬
derably in its value in different countries. At Venice it is
equal to about 9s. 2d. sterling.
SERA, a town of the south of India, in the province of
Mysore, and capital of a district of the same name. The
climate is subject to drought, and there seldom falls as much
rain as is required to raise a full crop. Rice is the most
beneficial product, and in favourable years the greater part
of the watered land is sown with it; but in dry seasons
coarser grains are sown. The trade carried on is to the
nizam’s country, the Mahrattas, and Bednore, Seringapa-
tam, and Bangalore, and the article of exportation is the
dried kernel of the cocoa-nut. This place, which was first
conquered by the Bejapoor Mohammedan government in
1644, was afterwards the seat of an independent principali¬
ty, which was at its greatest prosperity under Delawar Khan,
o
106
S E R
Seraglio immediately before it was conquered by Hyder, at winch
I! time the natives assert it to have contained 50.000 houses.
Serangaui jt afterwards suffered many calamities from Tippoo anti
lbles' the Mahrattas, and now contains scarcely 300 houses ; but
it is fast reviving. In the district of Sera, all the villages
were strongly fortified; and frequent famines took place,
when the inhabitants were in the practice of plundering
each other to support life. The defence of the villages
against plunderers was conducted, not by fire-arms, but by
throwing stones, in which the inhabitants are very dexte¬
rous. The town is eighty four miles north from Sermga-
patam. Long. 76. 55. E. Lat. 13. 37. N.
SERAGLIO, formed from the Persian word seraw, or
Turkish word serai, which signifies a house, is commonly
used to express the house or palace of a prince. In this
sense it is frequently used at Constantinople, where the
houses of foreign ambassadors are called seraglios. But it
is commonly used by way of eminence for the palace of the
p-rand signior at Constantinople, where he keeps his court,
where his concubines are lodged, and where the youth are
trained up for the chief posts of the empiie. _ .
SERAI, a building on the high road, or in large cities,
in India, erected for the accommodation of travellers.
SERAMPEI, a country or district in the interior of the
island of Sumatra. It has on the north and north-west
Korinchi; on the east, south-east, and south, Pakalang,
Jambee, and Sungei-tenang; and on the west and south¬
west, a river and chain of high mountains. It comprehends
fifteen fortified and independent villages.
SERAMPOOR, a town in the province of Bengal, ana
district of Birbhoom, 107 miles west from Moorshedabad.
Long. 80. 24. E. Lat. 24. 6. N.
SERAMPORE,a town of Bengal, belonging to the iJanes,
situated on the west side of the Hooghly river, about twelve
miles above Calcutta. Serampore has a pleasing appearance
viewed from the river, the houses being tolerably well built,
of brick, and whitened; they have flat roofs, with balconies
and Venetian windows, though few of them are more than
two stories in height. There is a handsome church, and a bat¬
tery of twelve pieces of cannon, chiefly for saluting, for the
town is without fortifications. The trade which the Calcutta
merchants carried on during the war, under cover of the Cal¬
cutta flao-, was very profitable to the Danes who were settled
here The trade which it now carries on with Europe
and China is but trifling. It is chiefly supported by mis¬
sionaries ; and insolvent debtors from Calcutta found here
an asylum, from whence they could set their creditors at
defiance. The missionaries have here established a printing-
press, and printed the Scriptures in various dialects. Dur-
incr the short war with the Danes it was taken possession of
by’the British; but it was soon afterwards restored. Long.
88. 26. E. Lat. 22. 45. N. „ • , , •
SERANGANI Isx.es, a group of small islands in tne
Eastern Seas, about five leagues south of Magindanao, and
between the fifth and sixth degrees of north latitude. I he
largest island is called Hummock Isle, about thirty miles
in circumference. The next in size is about twenty-five
miles in circumference; and there is another of somewhat
inferior dimensions. This island, which is the most west¬
erly is very high and of a conical form, and its northern
coast is very bold. It is fertile and well cultivated, and
produces most of the tropical fruits, also rice, sugar-canes,
pine-apples, mangoes, sour oranges, limes, jacks, plantains,
cocoa-nuts, sago, sweet potatoes, tobacco, &c. I he snips
that pass, trade with the inhabitants for poultry, goats, and
■ other refreshments; and one principal article of trade is bees
wax. There is a great demand among the natives for white
or printed cottons, such as loose gowns or jackets, coloured
handkerchiefs, knives, razors, and bar-iron. 'I he inhabitants
SEE
arc, like almost all the islanders in the Eastern Seas, addict¬
ed to piracy ; and they have canoes, and also larger boats,
armedPwith ^mall brass cannon, with which they carry on
this trade of plunder. The Dutch claimed the sovereignty
over these islands, which, however, they seldom exercised.
SERAPH, or Seraphim, spirits of the highest rank in
the hierarchy of angels, who are so called from the£ bei"g
supposed to be the most inflamed with divine bvc, by their
nearer and more immediate attendance at t ie urone
God, and to communicate their fervour to the remoter and
inferior orders. Seraphim is the Hebrew plural of seraph.
8FR APION, a physician of Alexandria. He anct L
Hnus of the isle of Cos were both scholars of Herophilus,
and were founders of the empirical sect, which happened
about 287 before Christ. _ ,
SERAPIS, in Mythology, an Egyptian deity, who was
worshipped under various names and attributes, as the tu¬
telary god of Egypt in general, and as the patron of several
of their principal cities. Tacitus informs us, that he was
worshipped as a kind of universal deity, that represented
iEsculaphis, Osiris, Jupiter, and Pluto. He was sometimes
taken for Jupiter Ammon, the bun, and Neptune, and the
honours that were rendered to him at Alexandria were more
solemn and extraordinary than those of any other place. ^
Plutarch and Clemens of Alexandria, as well as iacitus,
inform us, that whilst the first Ptolemy was employed m for¬
tifying Alexandria with walls, and adorning it with temples
and stately buildings, there appeared to him in his sleep a
voung man of extraordinary beauty, oi a stature more than
human, admonishing him to despatch into Pontus some ot
his most trusty friends, to bring from thence us statue; as¬
suring him that the city and kingdom which possessed it
should prove happy, glorious, and powerful. The young
man having thus spoken, disappeared, mounting up into
heaven in a blaze of fire. ' . , ~ v
Ptolemy discovered his vision to the priests; but finding
them ignorant of Pontus, he had recourse to an Athenian,
who informed him that near Sinope, a city of I ontus, there
was a temple much resorted to by the natives, which was
consecrated to Pluto, where he had a statue, near which
stood that of a woman. Ptolemy neglecting the injunc¬
tions of the apparition, it again appeared to him in a me¬
nacing attitude ; and the king immediately despatched am¬
bassadors to the Serapian monarch, loaded with presents.
The king of Sinope consented, but his subjects opposed the
removal of the statue. The god, however, of his own ac¬
cord, as we are informed, conveyed himself to the ambassa¬
dors’ ship, and in three days landed in Alexandria. l ie
statue of Serapis was erected m one of the suburbs of the
city, where a magnificent temple was afterwards i caret.
The statue of Serapis, according to Macrobius, was of a
human form, with a basket or bushel on his head, signify¬
ing plenty ; his right hand leaned on the head ot a serpent,
whose body was wound round a figure with three heads, of
a dog, a lion, and a wolf; and in his left hand he held a
measure of a cubit in length, as if it were to take the height
of the waters of the Nile. The figure of Serapis is found
on many ancient medals.
The famous temple of Serapis at Alexandria was destroy¬
ed by order of Theodosius; and the celebrated statue ot
this deity was broken in pieces, and its limbs carried first
in triumph by the Christians through the city, and then
thrown into a fierce fire kindled for that purpose in the am¬
phitheatre. As the Egyptians ascribed the overflowing ot
.the Nile, to which was owing the fertility of their country,
to the benign influence of their god Serapis, they conclud¬
ed, that now he was destroyed, the river would no longer
- overflow, and that a general famine would ensue ; but when
they observed, on the contrary, that the Nile swelled to a
i Tacitus, Hist lib. iv. cap. 3 ; Plutarch, He- hide et Osirid,; Clemens Alexandrinus in Protrep.
S E R
Greek greater height than had been known in the memory of man,
il and thereby produced plenty of all kinds of provisions, many
'K0, of the pagans, renouncing the worship of idols, adored the
God of the Christians.
SEREEK, a town of Persia, in the province of Mekran,
about four miles from the coast, near the entrance of the
Persian Gulf. It contains a large mud fort and 600 huts,
and is 105 miles north of Jask.
SERENADE (Serenata), a concert of instrumental or
of vocal music, or of both, given under the windows of a
house, generally after nightfall ; and common in Italy and
Spain as a mark of amatory respect. The Notturno is of
the same kind.
SERENUS Sammonicus, a celebrated physician in the
reigns of the Emperors Severus and Caracalla, about the
year 200. He wrote several treatises on history and the
works of nature; but there is only one of them extant,
which is a very indifferent poem on the Remedies of Dis¬
eases. He was murdered at a festival by the order of Ca¬
racalla. He had a library that contained sixty-two thou¬
sand volumes, which Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, his son,
gave to Gordian the younger, to whom he was preceptor.
SERES, a people of the Farther Asia, bounded on the
west by Scythia without Imaus, on the north and east by
Terra Incognita, and on the south by India beyond the
Ganges. According to these limits, their country answers
nearly to Cathay or Northern China. Mela places them be¬
tween the Indi and Scythae, and perhaps beyond the Indi,
if we distinguish them from the Sinae. The ancients com¬
mend them for their cotton manufactures, different from
the produce of the bombyces or silk-worms, called seres by
the Greeks; and hence serica means silk.
Seres, or Sirus, a city of European Turkey, in the pro¬
vince of Rumelia, and the circle of the Bay of Contessa.
It stands on a fine plain watered by the rivers Egrifu and
Stromza; but it is considered as unhealthy. It is surround¬
ed with walls, which are in a neglected state. It contains
ten mosques, several Greek and Armenian churches, and
about thirty thousand inhabitants. It is the chief market
for cotton wool, which is extensively cultivated on the fer¬
tile plains around it. It has also a considerable trade in
rice, tobacco, and fruits of all kinds.
SERGE, a woollen quilted stuff, manufactured on a loom
with four treddles, after the manner of rateens, and other
stuffs that have the whale. The goodness of serges is
known by the quilting, as that of cloths by the spinning. Of
serges there are various kinds, denominated either from their
different qualities or from the places where they are wrought.
The most considerable is the London serge, which is now
highly valued abroad.
The method of making the London serge we shall now
describe. For wool, the longest is chosen for the warp, and
the shortest for the woof. Before either kind is used, it is
first scoured, by putting it into a copper of liquor some¬
what more than lukewarm, composed of three parts of wa¬
ter and one of urine. After being kept long enough in
it for the liquor to dissolve and take off the grease, it is
stirred briskly about with a wooden peel, taken out of the
liquor, drained, washed in a running water, and dried in
the shade; it is then beaten with sticks on a wooden rack
to drive out the coarser dust and filth, and picked clean with
the hands. Thus far prepared, it is greased with oil of
olives, and the longest part, destined for the warp, is combed
with large combs heated in a small furnace. To clear off
the oil again, the wool is put in a liquor composed of hot
water with soap melted in it; whence being taken out,
wrung, and dried, it is spun on the wheel.
As to the shorter wool, intended for the w oof, it is only
carded on the knee with small cards, and then spun on the
wheel, without being scoured of its oil. It must be re¬
marked, that the thread for the warp is always to be spun
S E R 107
much finer, and better twisted, than that of the woof ■ Fhe Serge.mt.
wool both for the warp and the wmof being spun, and the ' v-"''
thread divided into skains, that of the woof is put on spools
fit for the cavity or eye of the shuttle, and that for the warp
is wound on a kind of wooden bobbins to fit it for warping.
When w'arped, it is stiffened with a kind of size, of which
that made of the shreds of parchment is considered as the
best, and when dry it is put on the loom.
When mounted on the loom, the workman, raising and
lowering the threads, which are passed through a reed, by
means of four treddles placed underneath the loom, which
he makes to act transversely, equally, and alternately, one
after another, with his feet, in proportion as the threads are
raised and lowrered, throws the shuttle across from one side
to the other ; and, each time that the shuttle is thrown, and
the thread of the woof is crossed between those of the warp,
strikes it with the frame to which the reed is fastened;
through those teeth the threads of the warp pass; and this
stroke he repeats twice or thrice, or even more, till he
judges the crossing of the serge sufficiently close. Thus he
proceeds till the warp is all filled with woof.
The serge, now taken off the loom, is carried to the fuller,
who scours it in the trough of his mill with a kind of fat
earth called fuller’s earth, first purged of all stones and
filth. After three or four hours’ scouring, the fuller’s earth
is washed out in fair water, brought by little and little into
the trough, out of which it is taken when all the earth is
cleared ; then, with a kind of iron pincers, all the knots,
ends, and straws sticking out on the surface on either side
are pulled off; and then it is returned into the fulling trough,
where it is worked with water somewhat more than luke¬
warm, with soap dissolved in it, for nearly two hours. It
is next washed till such time as the water becomes quite
clear, and there be no signs of soap left, when it is taken out
of the trough, the knots again pulled off, and put on the
tenter to dry, taking care as fast as it dries to stretch it out
both in length and breadth, till it be brought to its just di¬
mensions. When well dried, it is taken off the tenter, and
dyed, shorn, and pressed.
SERGEANT, or Serjeant, at Law, or of the Coif, is
the highest degree, taken at the common law, as that ot
doctor is of the civil law ; and as these are supposed to be
the most learned and experienced in the practice of the
courts, there is one court appointed for them to plead in by
themselves, which is the Common Pleas, wdiere the common
law of England is most strictly observed. But they are net
restricted from pleading in any other court, where the judges,
who cannot have that honour till they have taken the de¬
gree of sergeant-at-law, call them brothers.
Sergean-tat-Arms, or Mace, an officer appointed to at¬
tend the person of the king, to arrest traitors and such per¬
sons of quality as offend, and to attend the lord high stew¬
ard when sitting in judgment on a traitor.
There are four other sergeants-at-arms, created in the
same manner.; one, wrho attends the lord chancellor ; a se¬
cond, the lord treasurer; a third, the speaker of the House
of Commons ; and a fourth, the lord mayor of London on
solemn occasions.
Common Sergeant, an officer in the city of London, who
attends the lord mayor and court of aldei'men on court days,
and is in council with them on all occasions, within and
without the precincts or liberties of the city. He takes care
of orphans’ estates, either by taking account of them, or by
signing their indentures, before these pass the lord mayor
and court of aldermen ; and he likewise lets and manages
the orphan estates, according to his judgment, to the best
advantage.
Sergeant, in War, is an uncommissioned officer in a
company of foot or troop of dragoons, armed with an hal¬
bert, and appointed to see discipline observed,, to. teach the
soldiers the exercise of their arms, and to order, straightep*
108 S E R
Sergeanty and form their ranks and files. He receives the orders from
II. the adjutant, which he communicates to his officers. Each
v Serie3- ^ company has generally two sergeants.
r ^ SERGEANTY (serjeantia) signifies, in Law, a service
that cannot be due by a tenant to any lord but the king;
and this is either grand sergeanty or petit. The first is a
tenure by which the one holds his lands of the king by such
services as he ought to do in person to the king at his co¬
ronation, and may also concern matters military, or services
of honour in peace. Petit sergeanty is where a man holds
lands of the king to furnish him yearly with some small
thing towards his wars, and in effect payable as rent.
S E R
Though all tenures are turned into soccage by the 12th Car. Serieg.
II. cap. 24, yet the honorary services of grand-sergeanty still
remain, being excepted in that statute.
SERIES, in general, denotes a continual succession oi
things in the same order, and having the same relation ot
connection with each other. In this sense we say, a series
of emperors, kings, bishops, and the like.
In natural history, a series is used for an order or subdi¬
vision of some class of natural bodies ; comprehending all
such as are distinguished from the other bodies of that class,
by certain characters which they possess in common, and
which the rest of the bodies of that cast have not.
S E It I E S.
(1.) Series, in Arithmetic or Algebra, a rank or progres¬
sion of quantities which succeed one another according to
some determinate law. For example, the numbers
3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, &c.
constitute a series, the law of which is, that each term ex¬
ceeds that before it by a given number, viz. 2. Again, the
numbers
3, 6, 12, 24, 48, 96, 192, &c.
constitute a series of a different kind, each term being the
product of the term before it, and the given number 2.
(2.) As the law according to which the terms of a series
are formed may be infinitely varied, there may be innu¬
merable kinds of series. We shall enumerate a few of the
most common.
1. Arithmetical Series. The general form of a series ot
this kind is
a tf, o -p 2c?, a -J- 3c?, a -p 4c?, &c.
and its law is, that the difference between any two adjacent
terms is the same quantity, viz. d. The first of the two
preceding examples is a series of this nature.
2. Geometrical Series. Its general form is
a, ar, ar"2, ar3, arA, &c.
In this kind of series each term is the product of that
which precedes it and a constant number r, which is called
the common ratio of the terms. The second of the above
examples is a particular case of a geometrical series.
3. Harmonic Series is that in which the first of any three
of its consecutive terms is to the third, as the difference be¬
tween the first and second to the difference between the
second and third ; hence we readily find, that putting a and
b for its first two terms, its general form will be
, ab ah c ^
2a —b' 3a —26’ 40 — 36’
If we suppose a = 1 and b = \, we get
1> 3> 4’ b b &c"
as a particular example of a harmonic series.
4. Recurring Series. Let its terms be denoted by
A, B, C, D, E, F, &c.
Then we shall form a recurring series if, m and n being put
for given quantities, we take
C = mA + «B, E = mC + nD,
D = mB + nC, F = mD + »E.
For example, let us suppose A = 1, B 2x, m — 4jt,
n — Sx; then C = 10**, D = 38x3, E = 154a4, F = 614a?5,
so that the first six terms of the series are
1, 2a;, 10a;2, 38a:3, 154a4, 614a:5.
We have here supposed each term to be formed from the
two which come immediately before it; but the name re¬
curring series is given to every one in which the terms are
formed in like manner from some assigned number ot the
terms which precede that sought. Thus, putting, as be¬
fore, A, B, C, D, &c. for the terms of the series, and m, n,
p, q, for given quantities, we shall have another recurring
series, if we suppose them so related that
?hA -p nB -p pC -p = 0,
mB -p nC -j- pD qB — 0,
mC + rcD + joE -p gT = 0.
The two series of quantities sin. a, sin. 2a, sin. 3a, &c. and
cos. a, cos. 2a, cos. 3a, &c. are both recurring, as is mani¬
fest from the law which connects the quantities one with
another. (See Algebra, § 251.)
(3.) As in general it is the sum of the terms of a senes
which is the object of investigation, it is usual to connect
them by the sign -p or —, and to apply the name series to
the expression thus formed. Accordingly,
l-p3-p5-p7-p9*** + {1+2 (« — 1)}
(where n denotes the number of terms) is called an arith¬
metical series ; and in like manner
1 + 2 + i + i ‘ ‘ + 5^—4
is a geometrical series.
(4.) A series may either consist of a definite number of
terms, or their number may be supposed greater than any
that can be assigned, and in this case the series is said to
be infinite. The number of terms of a series may be infi¬
nite, and yet their sum finite. This is true, for example,
of the series
2 + 4 + i + iV +’ &c‘
which is equivalent to unity, or 1.
(5.) We have already treated of several branches of the
doctrine of series in the articles Algebra, Fluxions, and
Logarithms ; and, in particidar, we have given four differ¬
ent methods for expanding a quantity into a series, viz.
1. By Division or Evolution.
2. By the Method of Indeterminate Co-efficients.
3. By the Binomial Theorem. (Algebra, sect, xvii.)
4. By Taylor’s Theorem. (Fluxions, § 28.)
We shall here treat briefly of another branch of the theo¬
ry, namely, how to find the sum of any proposed number
of terms of certain series, or the sum of their terms conti¬
nued ad infinitum, when that sum is finite.
(6.) There is a great analogy between the terms of a se¬
ries and the ordinates of a curve which are supposed to stand
upon the axis at equal distances from one another, the first
ordinate reckoned from the extremity of the axis being
analogous to the first term of the series, the second ordi¬
nate to the second term, and so on. From this analogy it
follows immediately, that like as the nature of a curve is
indicated by an equation expressing the value of an inde¬
finite ordinate in terms of its corresponding abscissa, so also
the nature of a series may be shown by an equation which
shall express the relation between any term, and the num-
SERIES.
Series, ber that denotes the place or order of that term in the se-
—ries. In conformity to this method, putting the symbols
T(i), T(2), T(3), &c., to denote the terms of any series
whatever, we may express it generally thus,—
T(i) -f- T(2) -J- T(3) * * * -J- T(o),
where the characters (1), (2), are meant to denote the place
or order of the terms to which they are joined (the first
term being supposed to have the place 1, the second term
the place 2, and so on), and (v) is put for any indefinite
number.
The nature of the arithmetical series
a + (a + ^) + (a + 2d) + (a 4* 3d) +, &c.
will be defined by the equation
T(t>) = a-\-(y— l)d;
and, in like manner, the nature of the geometrical series
a + or + ar1 + +> &c.
will be expressed by the equation
T(») =r arv — x.
(7.) As the expression for the value of the indefinite
term T(®) becomes identical with all the terms of the se¬
ries in succession, by substituting the numbers 1, 2, 3, &c.
one after another, for v, that expression is called the general
term of the series. In the series
. 7 . ab , ab , ab , „
a + b+ — j + „- Hi + in—^ +’ &c-
2a — b 3a — 26
the general term is evidently-
4a —
ab
1-2
1 • 2- 3
1 • 2 • 3
4 =r
4 • 5 3 • 4
~2 2~ ’
j _ (m — \)n (n — 2) (m — 1)
n (n 4- 1)
n = ——1—
(n-
2
\)n
1 _|_2 + 3-|-4••• -fw
_n{n Jf- 1)
I • 2
Prob. II. It is proposed to sum n terms of the series
having for its general term the second function
v(v 1)
1 • 2
This series, by substituting 1, ~,
is found to be
1-2,2
Fs + r
3 • 4
2. 3, &c. successively for
w(» -f- 1)
2 1 1 • 2 1 1 • 2
We now, following the mode of proceeding employed in
*1) (v I -
last problem, put the expression —j-—^—- under this form,
r (v -j- 1) (w 4“ 2) (w — 1) w (v 4- 1)
1-2-3 1-2-3 ’
to which it is evidently equivalent, and, substituting 1, ?,
3, &c. successively for v, find
1-2 1-2-3
(v — l)a — (r — 2)6"
(8.) We shall investigate the sum of any number of
terms of such series as have their general terms expressed
by any one of the following algebraic functions.
tt(t’4-l) w (w4* 1) 4_2) 'y(w4-l)(v4*2)(v4*3)
0,
1-2-3
3’
4
“S’
5
l-2“l-2-3 1-2-3
n{n Jf- 1 ) (rc 4- 2)
1-2-3
(n— 1) « (» -j- 1)
*
&c.
Problem I. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms of
the series of which the general term is the first function.
By putting 1, 2, 3, &c. to n successively for v, it appeal's
that the series to be summed is
14-24-34-4---4-W.
Now, as v — V ^ - - — ——We ^ave’ putting
in this formula 1, 2, 3, • • • to « successivelv, for v,
2 2 ’
_ 2•3
" ~ 2 — 2 ’
2 • 2
Let the sum of the quantities on each side of the sign
= be now taken ; then, observing that each of the frac-
• 7l(Tl 1 1)
tions on the right-hand side, with the exception of ^ Tg
occurs twice, once with the sign 4"? and again with the
sign —, by which it happens that their aggregate is r= 0,
it is evident that we have
109
Series.
occurs twice, and with contrary signs ;
w(« 4- 1)
1 • 2
In this problem, as in the former, it appears that each
quantity on the right side of the equations, except
n (n 4- 1) (m 4- 2)
1 • 2 • 3
therefore, taking the aggregate of the terms on each side,
we have
1-2 2-3 3- 4 4-5 «(«-|-l)
l-2 + l-2+l-2 + l- 2’”+ 1-2
_ m (» -p 1) (h _|_ 2)
“ ~~ 1-2-3 ’
(9.) It will be obvious, by a little attention to the solu¬
tions of these two problems, that in each, the terms of the
series to be summed are the differences betwixt the adja¬
cent terms of another series, namely, that which has for its
general term the function next in order to the general term
of the series under consideration ; that is, the terms of the
series whose general term is v, are the differences betwixt
V (v -L- 1 \
those of the series having —— ■ for its general term ;
and again, the terms of this last are the differences of the
n 1 • 1 • ^ 4- 1) 4- 2) ^ .
terms of the series having —-—][ •2-3 —' *or ltS &ene_
ral term. Now, as the sum of the differences of any series
of quantities whatever which begins with 0 must necessa¬
rily be the last term of that series,1 it follows that the sum
of all the terms of each of the series we have considered
must be equal to the last term of the next following series ;
and this term is necessarily the expression formed by sub¬
stituting n for v in its general term, that is, the sum of the
series 1 4" 2 -f 3 ’ * ’ -f- n, which has v for its general
. n(n .
term, is —^^^; and the sum of the series
For example, let the quantities be 0, a, b, c, d ; then it is manifest that (a — 0) + (J — a) + (c — b) + (d — c) = d.
110
SERIES.
Series.
1 • 2
+
1 • 2 ^ J • 2 ^ 1 • 2
3 3
+
+ +
n(n -f 1)
1 • 2
(n + 1) (« + 2)
1 • 2 • 3
1 he next series, which has —{Tg • 3 —~^or ltsgene‘
ral term, as well as all that succeed, will be found to have
the very same property, as may be proved as follows. Let
p denote any term of the series of natural numbers 1, 2,
3, &c. Then, because
j __v p v— 1
.p + l JP + 1
if we multiply these equals by the product of all the factors
of the powers of the terms of an arithmetical progression, ^
the general term of which will, in the simplest case, be rp,
p being a given number. The manner ot doing this will
appear from the following problems.
Pros. III. It is proposed to find the sum of « terms ot
the series of squares I -p 4* + 9 + 16 + 25 +> ^
+ 22 +32 + ¥ + 52 +, &c.
The general term of this series being v2, we put it un¬
der this form, v(v + \) — v; hence we get, by substitut¬
ing 1, 2, 3, &c. for v,
l2 = 1 • 2 — 1,
22 = 2 • 3 — 2,
32 _ 3.4 _ 3,
42 _ 4 • 5 _ 4,
Series:.
«4-l?;4-2/, v 4- p
v, —L— _T—) &c. to ~ -
I
, we get
2 3 p
v (v 4^- 1) (y + 2) • • • (y p — 1) .
1 • 2 • 3 • • • p
{y (y + i) (^ + 2) • • • (y + p)
1 • 2 • 3 • • (« + 1)
(y — 1) y (y + 1) ' * * (v p — 1)
1-2* 3 •'••(/>+ 1) _ *
Now, if in this identical equation we substitute the num¬
bers 1, 2, 3, &c. to n successively, for y, the results obtain¬
ed from its first member
y (y -}- l) (y + 2) • • • (y — 1)
1•2•3 • •-p ’
will be a series having this function for its general term,
and the terms of which will evidently be the difference be¬
tween the terms of another series having the first part of
the second member of the equation, viz.
y (y + 1) (y + 2) • • • (y +p)
. 1 • 2 * 3 • • * (p + 1). ’
for its general term: Hence it will happen, as in the two
foregoing problems, that the sum of all the terms of the
former series will be equal to the last term of the latter ;
which conclusion may be expressed in the form of a theo¬
rem, as follows: -' *
Theorem. The sum of n terms of a series having for its
general term the f unction
y (y + 1) (y + 2) • • • (y + p — 1)
is equal to
« Q + 1) (ft + 2) (n+p)
1 • 2 • 3* • • (p + 1)
Or, setting aside the denominators of the terms, we may
express the theorem thus : The sum of n terms of a series,
having for its general term the expression
y (y + 1) (ft + 2) • • • (y + p — 1),
is equal to
ft (ft + I) (ft 2) • • • (ft + p)
p + 1
We shall give a few particular cases of this formula.
I. l+2 + 3 + 4- -- + ft =
II. 1 • 2 + 2 • 3 -|- 3 • 4 + 4 • 5 • • • + ft (ft + 1)
_ ft (ft + 1) (m -j- 2)
~ 3 ’
III. l-2-3 + 2-3*4 + 3-4-5---+w(ft4-l)(ft + 2)
ft (ft + 1) (ft + 2) (ft + 3)
- 4 •
(10.) By means of the above general theorem, we may
find the sum of any number of terms of a series composed
»2 — ft (ft + 1) — «•
Therefore, adding, we find
P + 22 + 32 + 42  + ft*
_ f 1 • 2 + 2 • 3 + 3 • 4 + 4 • 5 • • • + ft (ft + 1)
- \—( 1 + 2 + 3 + 4-" + ft).
But by the general theorem (9.)
1-2 + 2-3 + 3-4
. « (ft + 1) (ft + 2)
+ ft (ft + 1) = 3 V-T-^
and l + 2 + 3 + 4',, + ft
_ ft (ft +1)
2
therefore I2 + 22 + 32 + 42, • • + ft2
 ft (« + 1) (ft + 2) ft(ft + l)
_ _
 ft (ft + 1) (2ft +1)
6
We might have arrived at the same conclusion by consi¬
dering, that since y2, the general term of the series, is equi¬
valent to y (y + 1) ^— y, the series must be the difference
between two others, one having y (y + 1) and the other v
for its general term ; for the sake of perspicuity, however,
we have put down the terms of all the three series.
Prob. IV. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms of
the series
P + 23 + 33 + 43 + 53 +, &c.
The general term in this case is y3; now, to transform this
function, so as to deduce the sum of the series from the
general theorem, we assume
y3 rz y (y + 1) (y + 2) + Ay (y + 1) + By,
where A and B denote quantities which are to have such
values as shall render the two sides of the equation identi¬
cal, whatever be the value of v. Taking now the product of
the factors, we have
y3-y3+ (A + 3) y2 + (A + B + 2)y;
therefore, by the theory of indeterminate co-efficients (Al¬
gebra, § 159),
A + 3 = 0, A + B+ 2 = 0:
hence we find A — — 3, B = — A — 2 = 1; thus it ap¬
pears that, y being any number whatever,
y3 = y (y + 1) (y + 2) — 3y (y + I) + y.
Now, let S denote the sum of n terms of the series under
consideration, which has y3 for its general term, and put
P, Q, R for the like sums of the three series whose gene¬
ral terms are the functions y (y + 1) (y + 2), y (y + 1), and
v respectively; then it is evident that S = P — 3Q + R.
But by the theorem (9.)
_ ft (ft + 1) (ft + 2) (ft + 3),
4
Q
_ ft (ft + 1) (ft + 2)
R =
ft (ft + 1)
SERIES.
Series.
therefore S
_ n (n + 1) (n + 2) (w + 3)
-n(n+l)(n + 2) +
and, by proper reduction,
S = P + 23 + 33 + 43  n:
n(n-l- l)
a(a+ 1) (a+ 1) (a + 2)
1 1
 »2 (« + l)2
Corollaky. We have found (Prob. I.) that
1 + 2 + 3 + 4" + « =
n(n-\-\)
tlierefore, comparing this with the result just now obtained,
it is evident that
(1 + 2 + 3 + 4--- + rc)2= l3 + 23 + 33 + 43 b «3.
This is a very curious and elegant property of numbers.
(11.) It is manifest that, by the mode of proceeding em¬
ployed in last problem, we may investigate the sum of n
terms of the series
1™ + 2m + 3m + 4™ +, &c.
m being any whole positive number whatever ; and indeed
in the very same way we may find the sum of any number of
terms of a series whose general term is
a + + c/?2 + dvz +, &c.
where a and b, &c. denote given numbers; namely, by
transforming it into a function of the form
A + B /? + C /? (/> + 1) + Dc (c + 1) (y + 2) +, &c.
where A, B, and C, &c. denote constant quantities. Our
limits, however, will not allow us to go into particulars.
(12.) The next class of series we shall consider, compre¬
hends such as may be formed by the successive substitu¬
tion of a, a + 1? « + 2, &c. (a being put for any given
quantity whatever) in the series of functions
1 1 1
v(y+ 1)’ />(/>+ l)(/7 +2)’ t^+l^ + S^ + S)’ &C<
We shall begin with the first of these.
Prob. V. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms of
the series
« («+ 1) + (a + 1) (a + 2) + (a+ 2) (a + 3)+5 &C’
which is formed by substituting «, a + 1, a + 2, &c. suc¬
cessively for v in the general term ;——.
v (y —f- 1)
Whatever be the value of v, we have
1   l _ 1
v (y -j- 1) v z; + l’
therefore, preceding as in the foregoing problems, we get
1 1 i
(a + 2) (a + 3) (a + 4)
the general term in this case being
1
v(y 1) (z; + 2)'
Because ?+/, + 2) ~l~~^2’therefbre’ multiP1yir+r
by 2 (v + iy we have
l
= i r__i 1  I.
v (/? + 1) (v + 2) 2\/;(/7+1) (/;+!)(/; +2)/’
and hence, by substituting a, a + 1, a + 2, &c. successively
for v,
 1 — 1 / 1  l I
a (a + 1) (a + 2) 2 \ a (a + 1) (« + J) (a + 2) J ’
 1 -x f 1
(a + 1) (a + 2) (a + 3) ^ \ (a + 1) (a + 2)
“(a + 2)(a+3)}’
  L = l{ L
(a + 2) (a + 3) (a + 4) " \ (a + 2) (a
(a + 3) (a + 4) } ’
+ 3)
a(a + 1)
1
a+ i’
1 l
(a + l)(a + 2)
1
a + 1
1
a + 2’
1
(a + 2) (a + 3) a + 2 a + 3’
1
(«+ n — 2)(a + n—l)
1
a-J-n—: 2
1
a + »-
1
1’
(a+w — l)(a + ») a + n — l a + w"
Here it is evident that the terms of the series to be
summed are the differences betwixt every two adjoining
terms of this other series,
i + -J._ + _L_+^ +_i_ .
« a+1 « + 2 « + 3 a + «
hence it immediately follows, that the sum of all the terms
111
of the former is the difference between the two extreme Series,
terms of the latter; that is,
1 + > . .
(a + n — 1) (a+ nj
a a + 71
If we suppose the series to be continued ad infinitum,
then, as n will be indefinitely great, and —-j— indefinitely
small, the sum will be simply —; or, in other words, the
1 a
fraction - is a limit to the sum of the series.
a
Prob. VI. Let it be required to find the sum of n terms
of this series,
1 ( 1
a (a + 1) (a + 2) + (a + 1) (a + 2) (a + 3)
+ 7 T—Frrr  7—rr +, &C. *,
(a + n — 1) (a + ?/) (a + n + 1)
=  1 )
2 \ (a + n — l)(a + n) (a + n) (a + n + 1) j ’
Hence it appears that the terms of the series to be summed
are the halves of the differences of the terms of the series
_J__+ 1 + 1   
a(a + 1) T (a + 1) (a + 2) ^ (a + 2 ) (a + 3) * ‘ ’
+ I .
(a + n) (a + n + 1) ’
consequently, the sum of all the terms of the former is half
the difference between the extreme terms of the latter, or
is =
1 /_! I 1
2 \ a (a + 1) (a + ri) (a +n + \)j
(13.) From these two particular cases it is easy to see
how we may sum the series when the general term is
 1 
^ (^ +(^ +2) • • • (v+py
112
Series, p being any whole number whatever : for since
'v'*_ v ^ujJ p  l! 1
v(v + p)
SERIES.
V V +/>’
therefore, multiplying the denominators by all the factors
which are intermediate between v and v p,
we have
 P 
v{v + \) (v + 2) .. .(v + p)
1
In this case, a = %,p —2, therefore the sum is
1 1 1 1
2 X 27 X ^ X
24
v {v + 1) (w + 2)
I
.(v + p— 1)
(v + 1) (w + 2) (w + 3) .. . (u + p)'
Now the latter side of this equation is a general expression
for the difference between any two adjacent terms of a series
whose general term is
 1 
v(v + 1) (w + 2) . . . (v + p — 1)’
therefore the difference between the first and last terms of
this series must be the sum of the series whose general term
is the function on the other side of the equation, viz.
 P 
v (v + I) (w + 2) . . . (« + /?)’
Hence we have the following very general theorem.
Theorem. Let a denote any number whatever, and let
1, 2, 3 . . . p a series of numbers, each of which exceeds
that before it by unity ; the sum of n terms of a series formed
by substituting the numbers a, a +1, a + 2, &c. to a + n — 1
successively for v in the function
1
is equal to
v(w + 1) (*> + 2)
1
(v + p)
(15.) When the function from which the series is derived
has not the very form required in the theorem, it may be
brought to that form by employing suitable transformations,
as in the two following examples.
Ex. 3. It is proposed to find the sum of the series
n + &5 + Ifd* 4S7 +,&c'
continued ad infinitum.
This series is evidently formed by the substitution of
the numbers 1, 2, 3, &c. successively for v in the function
 iThis expression, however, does not in its pre-
w (v + 3)
sent form agree with the general formula, because the fac¬
tors v + 1,^ + 2 are wanting; therefore, to transform it,
we multiply its numerator and denominator by {v + 1)
(y + 2), and it becomes
 (^+ 1) (v+2)
v(v + 1) (u + 2) (r + 3)*
We next assume its numerator
(y + l)(y + 2) = A(y + 2)(y + 3) + B (y+ 3) + C,
and by multiplying get
y2 + 3y + 2 = Ay2 + (5A + B) y + (6A + 3B + C);
therefore, that v may be indeterminate, we must make
A = I, 5A + B = 3, 6A + 3B + C = 2,
from which equations we get A = 1, B = 3 — 5A = — 2,
C = 2 — 6A — 3B=z2, so that
_1  (y + 2) (y + 3) —2(y + 3) + 2
y(y-|- 3) y(y + 1) (y + 2)y + 3)
1 2
a (a + 1) (a + 2) .. . (a + p— 1)
 1 
\)(a-\-n-\-2) .. .-4-(a + n+/,--T)*
Corollary.
equal to
1
The same series continued ad infinitum is
1
^ * a (et + 1) (a + 2) .. . (a + /> — 1)*
(14.) We shall now give examples of the application of
this theorem.
Example 1. Required the sum of n terms of the series
+ —t 1 v- „ + ; : } +>
2 * 3 • 4 • 5
6 • 7
3 • 4 • 5 • 6 ‘ 4-5
The terms of this series are evidently produced by the suc¬
cessive substitution of the numbers 2 3, 4, 5, &c. for v in
the function
1
y(y+ l)(y + 2) (y + 3);
therefore, comparing this expression with the general for¬
mula, we have a—2,p — % and the sum required
^ 2 • 3 • 4 (2 + w) (3 + ») (4 + «) j-'
Ex. 2. Required the sum of the series
1 , 1 . 1 . 1
+ ^s+ n—77;—rr, + 10 +, &c.
3 1*2
sum of the proposed series is 1
10- 13- 16
1 • 4 - 7 1 4 • 7 • 10 7 • 10- 13
continued ad infinitum.
By a little attention it will appear that its terms are pro¬
duced by the substitution of the numbers 1^, 2^, &c.
successively for v in the function
1 _ 1
3y (3y -}* 3) (3y + 6) “ 27y (y + 1) (y + 2)’
y (y + 1) y(y+l)(y + 2)
' + ^ 
‘ y(y +1)(y + 2)(v + 3)’
Thus it appears that the proposed series is resolvable into
three others, the general terms of which all agree with the
theorem. Now the sum of the infinite series whose general
term is —r—^—pr appears by the theorem to be or l,be-
v(y -r 1) a
cause a = 1, and the sum of the infinite series whose ge-
 2
neral term is —-—;——i—^ is in like manner found
y (y + 1) (« + 2)
 2 1  1
to be —+ |—^ -5— ; and, lastly, the infinite series
whose general term is (,. + „ + 3) (,. + “
• 2 1 1
 ^ rr therefore, collecting these into one, the
1,1 11 ^
2 + 9 = i8’theanSWer-
Ex. 4. Required the sum of the infinite series
- - —l— . -4“ ■ — -4—  -4- fo e
2,3,4~3*4,5~4*5*6~5*6,7~’
The terms of this series are evidently formed by the sub¬
stitution of the numbers 2, 3, 4, successively in the func¬
tion
y— 1
y(y + 1) (y + 2)’
Now y — 1 = y -f- 2 — 3; therefore
y—1 1 3
y (y + 1) (y + 2) y (y -f- 1) v (y + 1) (y + 2)’
Thus it appears that the proposed series is reducible to two
S E R I E S.
others, one having its terms produced by the substitution of
2, 3, See. for v in the function |——, and the other by
•f*
v {l) + 1)’
a like substitution in the function
— 3
Now,
v(t>4- 1) (v + 2)‘
by our tlieorem, the sum of the first of these is and that of
the second is
1
‘R~3
1
4
1
Now, this last being evidently a geometrical series, of
which the common ratio is ——r its sum is
>+-’
therefore the sum of the
1 -f
1
proposed series is - — - =
from these examples it is sufficiently evident how the
theorem is to be applied in other cases ; and it appears also,
that by means of it we can sum any series whatever whose
general term is of the form
A >+x + .,w. .„ +
}\»-1 >
therefore the sum of the series
l
+ „ , o +
i+J_
a a -j- 1
1
+ "
I
a -j- 2 1 a-f-3 1 a -j~ 71 — 1
will always be greater than this expression ; but if we sup-
?;(1 -f- v)
i'(l + v)(v+ 1)
&c.
C f / n—1
l)(v+o)(w+3) +’ Pose n so gi'eat that the quantity (1 + "J is equal to or
of the series-
or admits of being reduced to that form.
(1G.) It deserves to be remarked, that the series
1 , 1 1 1 1
1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5+’ &C'
which is of a very simple form, and in appearance of the
same nature as those we have summed, does not, however,
admit of being treated in the same manner; and indeed if
it be continued od infinitum, its sum is infinite, that is, it
exceeds any number which can be assigned. The truth of
this assertion will be evident if we can show that a certain
defini
term _   _      
an unit, or 1 ; for this being the case, as w e can go on con¬
tinually in assigning such sets of terms, we can conceive
as many to be taken as there are units in any proposed
number, however great; and therefore their sum, and much
more the sum of all the terms of the series, from its begin¬
ning to the end of the last sets of terms, will exceed that
number. Now, that this can always be done may be proved
as follows:
Let the term of the series from which we are to reckon
be—, then, if the thing be possible, and if n be the requi- i + 6' • • • +
exceeds a, which is evidently always possible, then the above
expression for the sum of the geometrical series will be equal
to 1, or will exceed 1 ; therefore the same number of terms
1
1
4*
1
-f, &c. will ah
a ‘ + 1 1 a -|- 2 ”r a -f- 3
ways exceed 1; now this is the property *of the series we
proposed to demonstrate.
(1\ n~l / n~i
1 -f -) , then ~ a ( 1 -}- ) ; but
uootinull win uc cviueut ii we can snow uiai a certain ^is quantity is greater than o -j- — 1, the denominator
life number of its terms, beginning with any proposed the ^ast terrn or’ t^e series
i, can always be found, the sum of w'hich shall exceed 1 , 1 , 1 ,
j 1-,—U —: 1 .
a a «-}-2 a-f-3
+
a -j- n— i’
the sum of which, we have proved, will upon that hypothe¬
sis exceed unity; much more then will the sum exceed
unity if we suppose the series continued until the deno¬
minator of its last term be equal to or greater than a2.
Hence, beginning with the term it appears that
5 + x + 4,— 1,
1
1,
site number of terms, we must have
1 1 1,1
a -j- 1 ■*" a~-f 2 + - 1 1 +
Now, because
1,
— 1
67i
« + 2+-,
’(l + «) =',+3 + ! + i<’
and in general,
“(1 + ^=“+r +
P'P— 11
^2-,7+’&c-
therefore, p being any whole number,
P
“OE)
i
a + p, and consequently
1
a +P<
hence it follows, that the series
1 1
1
r 4"
4-
4-
1
«4”1Im4“2 1
will be greater than the other series
a(l+J) + a(l+i)2+„(,+I)3
25 = 52
, , ^ 1
<2TT 4- -iV • • • 4- q+qZ-
4-«r^ •••4-458329 =
&c.
Although the sum of the series we have been considering
is infinite, yet it evidently increases very slowly; indeed
it is a limit to all such as have a finite sum; for every in¬
finite series the terms of which decrease faster than the re¬
ciprocals of an arithmetical progression is always finite.
(17.) We have already explained what is meant by a
recurring series (2.). We shall now treat briefly, first, of
their origin; next, of the way in which they may be sum¬
med ; and, lastly, of the manner of determining the general
term of any particular series.
The series which is produced by the development of
a rational algebraic fraction has always the property which
constitutes the characteristic of the class called recurring
(2.); and, on the other hand, any series having that property
being proposed, an algebraic fraction may be found, by the
expansion of which the series shall be produced.
1 2#
1— .r ~+’ ‘or examP^e’ by dividing the
numerator by the denominator, is converted into the infi¬
nite series
1 + 3x-\-\x2-^-r!xiJ^- lla4-{- IS#5 &c.
p
The fraction
VOL. xx.
a 14
SERIES
Series, which is of such a nature that if T, T', T;/, denote any
“'"'y'"*"'' three of its succeeding terms, their relation to one another
is expressed by the equation
T" = Tx* + T'x.
If we employ algebraic division to convert the fraction
into a series, the law of its terms will not appear so readily
as if we were to use the method of indeterminate co-effi¬
cients. By this method we assume the fraction equal to
Ca^ + Dic3 + Ea!4-f, &c.;
and hence, multiplying by the denominator, and bringing
all the terms to one side, as explained in Algebra, § 159,
we have
+ D)
x2 — C[
-B)
1 _p. 2# -f- 3a?2 + 4a-3 + 5a;4 +, &c.
its scale of relation being
a;2 T (» — 2) — 2a? T o — i) + T W =
Here p = x2, q =z — 2x, r — 1, therefore, observing that
the last two terms of the series must be (w—- 1) xn 2 and
nxn
A + B)
— 1 —A V
-2 )
and hence
A—1 = 0,
B—A —2 = 0,
+ C)
a? —B ^
— A )
a? -f, &c. = 0 ;
C — B — A rr 0,
D — C — B = 0,
&c.
From these equations it appears that the law of the series
is such as we have assigned.
The equation expressing the relation which subsists
among a certain number of succeeding terms of a recur¬
ring series is called its scale of relation. The same name
is also sometimes given to the equation expressing the con¬
nection of the co-efficients of the terms. Thus the scale of
relation of the foregoing series is either
T" = T a; + T' a?2,
where T, T', and T" denote any three succeeding terms of
the series ; or it is
R = P + Q,
where P, Q, and R denote their numeral co-efficients.
(18.) We come next to show how the sum of any pro¬
posed number of terms of a recurring series may be found.
Let the series continued to n terms be
T (1) + T (2) + T (3) . . . + T (n — 2) + T (M—1) + T («),
where the characters T (i), T (2), &c. denote the succes¬
sive terms, and the numbers (l), (2), &c. their order or
place ; and as, whatever number of terms is contained in
the scale, the manner of summing the series is the same,
we shall in what follows, for the sake of brevity, suppose
that it consists of three, in which case it may be expressed
thus,
joT (» —2) qH. (»—i) 4- r ^ (») —
where p, q, r denote certain given quantities.
The scale of relation affords the following series of equa¬
tions,
pH (i) 4- y T (2) 4- rT (3) = 0,
pT (2) 4- qT (3) 4- rT (4) = 0,
pT (3) 4- ?T (4) 4- rT (51 rr 0,
joT (»—2) -f ^T (»—i) 4- rT (n) = 0.
Taking now the -sum of these equations, we get
{ T (1) -p T (2) 4- T (3) - • • 4- T (n — 2)1. \
4- 5 {T (2) 4- T (3) 4- T (4) • • • -f- T (»-i)} > = 0.
4- r {T (3)-4- T (4) 4- T (5) • • • 4- T (»)} )
■ *, we have, after substituting and reducing,
4- a-”*1
c.} [ =0,
c.\)
But, putting s for the sum of n terms of the series, this
equation may manifestly be expressed thus,
jo {s—T (b) — T 1
4- 5 — T a) — T (n)} > = 0.
4. |s — T (i) —• T.w} j
Hence, after reduction, we find s =
p [T(w —11 + T (n) } -f 5 {T(i) +T(»)} + r {T a) -f T (2) }.
P + q + r
from which it appears that in this case the sum depends only
on the first two and the last two terms of the series.
Example. It is proposed to find from this formula the
sum of n terms of the series
_ 1 — (n 4-1)^
s ~~ ~ 1 — 2a? + a?2
This formula will not apply in the case of a? ~ 1, because
then the numerator and denominator are each ~ 0: but in
such cases as this we may find the value of the function
which expresses the sum by what is delivered at § 5o,
Fluxions. .
(19.) The process by which we have determined the
value of n terms of the series 1 (i) -p I (2) -f- f (3) -f-, &c.
will also apply to the finding the rational fraction from which
the series may be deduced, which is also the sum of the
series continued ad infinitum. I or in this case the equa¬
tion from which we have deduced the sum being
P {T (i) + T (2) + f (3> +> &c.}
4- 5 {T (2i 4- T (3) 4- r (4) 4“ j
4- r {T (3) 4- T (4) + T (5) 4-, &c.
that is,
jos -j- 5 {s — T (!)]■ + ^ I5 T (i) T — 0,
{# + T C1) + f T (2)
we have 3 = p+~f+r
For example, let it be required to find the fraction which,
being developed, produces the series
1 4- 2a; + Sx2 + 4a;3 -j- >
the scale of relation of which is
X2 T (n - 2) — 2x T (»-!) 4- T (n) 4- 0.
Here p — x2, q~ — 2a?, r — 1, T (i) = 1, T (2) 2a;;
therefore, substituting in the formula, we get
  l   1_
f — 2a? 4- a?2 (1 — a?)2
for the fraction required, or for the sum of the series con¬
tinued ad infinitum.
(20.) We come now to the last branch of the theory ot
recurring series which we proposed to consider, namely,
how to find in any case the general term.
We shall begin with the most simple, and suppose the
fraction to be ^—-—, which being expounded into a series
1 —px
by division, is
a 4- apx 4- ap2 a;2 -j- aP3 x3 "K
Here it is immediately manifest that the general term is
apn — i xn~X.
. a -{■ bx
Next let us suppose the fraction to be ^ 
Let the two roots of the quadratic equation 1 — ax — fix2
~ 0 be x — x ~ so that 1 — px = 0, and 1 — qx
p q
— 0; therefore 1 — ax — Bx~ = (1 —px) (1 — 9X) >
we have
a bx
a bx
1 — ax — fix2 (1 —px) (1 — qx)
Let us assume this expression equal to
-_P_4__Q_
i I i y
1 — px 1 — qx
where P and Q. denote quantities which are to be inde¬
pendent of a?; then, reducing to a common denominator, we
have
a -j- bx  P 4" Q- — (^B -j- pQ) x
(1—px){\—^)— (1—px){\ — qx)
Hence, that x may remain indeterminate, we must make
SERIES.
115
P + Q = a, + pQ. zz. — b,
/and from these equations we get
p _ aP + b d __ac] + b
p — q’ p — q'
Now, by the operation of division, we find
P
= P + ^Px + Pp2a;2 +> &c.
1
-px
a
1 — qx
therefore, since
= Q + Q.qx -f Qq^x2 +, &c.;
a bx
1 — ax ■— fix2 1
- px
+
Q
i — qx
a bx
, it fol-
x”
— ]
lows that the development of the fraction-^——‘t  
1 — ax — fix2
which proceeds according to the powers of x, is
(P + Q) + (Pp + Qq)x + (Pp2 + Qq2) x2
+ (Pp3 + Q^3) x3 +, &c.
And here it is evident that the general term is (Ppn~l
+ Qqn-1) xn-\
Let us take as a particular example the fraction
J   £
1 x 2X2’ w^ien expanded into a series, becomes
\-\-0x + 2x2 + 2x3 + 6x* + 10a^
+ 22a;6 + 42a;7 + 86^ + , &c.
Here, from the equation 1 — x — 2x2 = 0, we get x — ±
and x z= — 1, so that 1 — 2x and 1 -j- a; are divisors of the
function 1 — x — 2x2, that is, 1 — a; — 2a;2 = (1 + a;)
(1 — 2a;); hence p = — 1, q = 2; and since a = l,b = 1,
therefore P = Q = -l, and the general term (Ppn ~1 -f-
Qqn — l)xn~l becomes, by substituting,
where the sign + is to be taken when n is an odd number;
but the sign — when « is even.
Sometimes the values of p and q will come out imaginary
quantifies ; these, however, will be found always to destroy
one another when substituted in the general term.
Let us next suppose the fraction which produces a re¬
curring series to be
a bx -j- cx2
1 — ax — fix? — yx3'
Let x ~ x ~ x — ~ be the three roots of the cubic
equation 1 — a,x — fix2 — yx3 = 0, then the denominator
of the fraction will be the product of the three factors
1 — px, 1 — qx, 1 — rx.
We must now assume the fraction equal to the expres¬
sion
1 —px 1 — qx 1 — 7'x’
in which P, Q, R denote quantities which are independent
of x.
I he three terms of this expression are next to be re¬
duced to a common denominator and collected into one,
and the co-efficients of the powers of x in the numerator of
the result are to be put equal to the like powers of x in the
proposed fraction ; we shall then have
P + Q + R = «,
(? + r) P + ( pi- r) Q + (p + £) R = — b,
qrP + prQ, + pqB, =z c,
and by these equations the values of P, Q, R may be found.
T ^ p Q R ' ,
1 _ p£ i _ q-p T^-^x be n0W resolved int0 se¬
ries by division * then, adding the like powers of x in each,
we have
(P + Q + R) 4- (Pp + Q? + Rr) * + (Pp2 + Qq2
+ Rr2) x? -f, &c.
for the series which is the development of the fraction
d bx + cx2
1 — ax — fix2 — yx3
and here the general term is evidently
(Pp11 — 1 + Qqn~1 + Rr”—a;ra — I;
and in the very same manner may the general term be
found in every case in which the denominator of the frac¬
tion admits of being resolved into unequal factors.
(21.) Let us now suppose the fraction to have the form
(JZ^pv)2’ tbe denon“nator being the product of two equal
factors ; this fraction cannot be decomposed into other frac ¬
tions the denominators of which are the simple factors of
its denominator. We may, however, transform it into two,
which shall have their numerators constant quantities by
proceeding as follows: Assume the numerator a ■+■ bx
— P + Q(1 —px), then, that x may remain indetermi¬
nate, we must have P + Q = «, —pQ = b, therefore
Q = —-,P = « + -.
P p
The assumption of 0 + &£=P + Q(l —px) gives us
therefore
a + bx _ P Q
(1 —px)2 ~ (1 —px)2 1 —px‘
Now, putting the first term of the latter side of this equa¬
tion under the form P (1 —px)~2, it is resolved by the
binomial theorem into the series
P (1 + 2px + 3p2x2 + 4p3x3 +, &c.) ;
the other fraction, being expanded into a series, is
Q, + Qpx -j- Qp2x2 +, &c.
Therefore the complete development of _.a ^ is
4 (1 ' ■ pxf
P + Q + (2P + Q) JO* + (3P + Q)p2x? +, &c.
and here the general term is manifestly
(nP + Q.)pn~1 xn~\ or, substituting for P and Q their
values,
{npa + (n— 1) bjpn—2xn — 1.
(22.) In general, whatever be the form of the fraction
from which a recurring series is derived, to determine the
general term we must decompose the fraction into others
which may be as simple as possible ; and provided it be ra¬
tional, and the highest power of x in the numerator at least
one degree less than the highest power in the denominator,
it may be always decomposed into others having one or
other of these two forms
P  Q 
1 — px’ (1 — qx)n’
in which expressions P, Q, p, and q, denote quantities in¬
dependent of x. Each partial fraction gives a recurring
series, the general term of which will be sufficiently obvi¬
ous ; and as the series belonging to the original fraction is
the sum of these series, so also its general term will be the
sum of all their general terms.
We have now treated of some of the more general me¬
thods of summing series which admit of being explained by
the common principles of algebra; but the subject is of
great extent, and to treat of it so as to give a tolerable no¬
tion of its various branches, would require more room than
could with propriety be spared in such a work as ours.
(23.) The method of fluxions or differential Calculus af¬
fords a method, almost the only general one we possess,
of summing series. The general principles upon which it
is applied may be stated briefly as follows. Since the in¬
tegral of any differential containing one variable quantity
may always be expressed by a series, on the contrary, every
Series.
11C>
SERIES.
.x—Nap.log. (1 —x), (see Algebra, sect, xix.); therefore Series.
ds = —~—~X Nap. log. (1 tf).
x x-
Series. series may be regarded as the expression of an integral:
when any series then is proposed, Ve must endeavour to
find the differential expression of which that series is the
integral; and as we can always find the integral of a diffe- j
rential, at least by approximation, within given limits, we To find the integral, let us put v for the function - log.
may thence determine, if not the exact, at least the approxi- . . .
mate value of any infinite series. We shall now show how (1 — x'), then, taking its fluxion, we lia\e
this principle may be applied in some particular cases.
Problem I. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms of
the series
x 2a?2 + Sar1 -f- 4a;4' * * * + nxn-
Let the sum be denoted by s. Then, multiplying all the
terms by we have
‘ x
sdx
and
dx , dx
* = - -r x log. (i-o-
dx
dx
X iog.(i-o = * + ?(Trri)i
— dx -p 2xdx + Sx"dx * • • -p nxndx.
x
Let the integral of both sides be now taken, and the re¬
sult is
— a. #2 £.3 _j_ ^ ... x”.
J x
Now the series on the right-hand side of this equation
is a geometrical progression, the sum of which is
to be X——-— (Algebra, § 56). Therefore
therefore, substituting, we get
, t dx
, dx
— d v 4- ;
1 1 — x
dx
x
log. (1 — x) -p c.
1 — x
/sdx _ x — x’1 T
X 1  X
and taking the integrals,
s — v — log. (1 — x) + c
_ log*(1 x)
x
To determine the constant quantity c, let us take x = 0;
known then in this case all the terms of the series vanish, so that
s = 0, also log. (1 —x) z= log. 1 =:0; and since in general
log. (I — x) I / x2 x3 c \ , x
= A-*-2-T-’ &cj = - 1 - 2 -
log. (! — *)_
-, &c. when x — 0, then
and, taking the differentials,
dx _dx — (w + 1) xndx + nxn 41 dx
X (1 — xf ’
Hence we find
_x — (ft + 1) a?”+1 + nxn*2
S~ (1 —a-)2 '
This result agrees with that formerly found (17) of this
article.
3 ' ' x
fore 0 ~ — 1 -pc, and c =: 1 ; hence it appears that
,_'°8-(l—a’)_log.(1_J,)+ i
1; there-
 _ (I -- log* C1 — a:)
+ 1*
1-3 + ^-? + 5-n+>&c-
Problem II. It is proposed to sum the infinite series
1 . 1
3 o
We may consider this series as a particular case of the more
general series
xl
—;L-P, &c.
X JL X
3 5
Example. Let x — x, then our formula gives
F^2+ 2^3^ + +’ &c- = 1 ~
Nap. log. 2 = *3068528.
Problem IV. Let the series to be summed be
, m >ft 4- 1 „ ft* 4- 2 „
1 -] a? -J —— t' x- q 2-- *3 4-, &rc.
^ ft ~ ft -f- 1 n ft -p 2 r
Putting s for this series, let all its terms be multiplied by
a?”-1, so that the exponent of x in each may be identical
with its denominator; the result is
namely, that in which x—\. Putting therefore the sum sxn-1 — a;”-1 + — xn -J   -E~x»+2_p,^c<
= s, and taking the differentials, w e have n 11 + 1 71 + ~
ds ^dx (\ —a?2 + xl — a16 -P, &rc.). and hence, taking the differentials
Now7 the series in the parenthesis is obviously the develop- xn~lds -p(»—l)sxn~2dx= (n — l)xn~-dx -p mxn~]dx
1 ., „ . dx + (m + ]) xndx + (»j -}- 2) a? ”41 c/a? -p, &c.
ment of the rational fraction
1 +aa
, therefore ds —
j Let both sides of this equation be now multiplied by xn
1
-P a™ -p Xmxl -p Xm* - -p, &c.
and taking the integral s = arc (tan. = x) + c, radius be- n OT_2 . rm-2dx,mxni-\dr
ing unity. (Fluxions, § 139.) Now, when * = 0, all * / O^+^—^sx^ dx (n — l)x dx + mx ax
the terms of the series vanish, so that in this case s =: 0 ; -p (m -p 1) xndx -p (m -f- 2) x m dx -f, &c.
and as when a? = 0, arc (tan. = x) = 0; therefore c, the Putting now the single character dp for the fluxional ex¬
constant quantity added to complete the fluent, is 0, and Passion which forms the first member of this equation, we
we have simply s — arc (tan. = x), and when* =r 1, then geP taking the fluents of both sides,
s a quadrant = *7853982. n ^
Problem III. Required the sum of the infinite series
fy$ rytl 'f'3 Oi4
X X -J-   j- -f} &
1*2 2*3 3*4 4*5 kut the series in the parenthesis is the development of
Putting s for the sum, and taking the differentials, we get 1
, dx lx? , a? a? xf> . * \ 1 —
*=Fh-+T+ r+’s+’H
Now the series in the parenthesis is evidently equal to
* m -1 -p * m (1 -p * -p x? -p x3 -p, &c.) ;
therefore
P =
m — 1
1 , * ’
_ vm — l _j 
SERIES.
ies. Taking now the fluxions, and substituting instead of dp the
^ expression it was put to represent, we get
xm ~ lds + (n — i) sxm — 2dx
t ^ \ m <1,1 , n)xm — ldx . xmdx
= (n—\)xm~2dx    b —   ;
i — x (1 — xy
and this, after reduction, becomes
ds + — sd* = ^
x X 1  X (1 — x)'2
This fluxional equation being of the first degree and first
order, its primitive equation may be found (from the gene¬
ral formula given in Fluxions, § 171) to be
_ 1 ^ />r/ \ OJ . mxn ~ xdx . xndx l
^}=
and this again, by remarking that j\n — 1 - 2dx = xn -',
and that
f?nxn - ldx _ mxn mxndx
• ' 1 — x « (1 — x) Jn (1 — .r)2’
may be reduced to
. _ l _j_ tnx « — m p xndx
n(l — x) nxn ~ (1 — x)2’
The remaining fluenty"^j*^**, may be found by § 101,
Fluxions, and it must be so taken, that after being multi-
plied by it shall vanish when a1 = 0 ; for then this
hypothesis will make the wdiole function which expresses
the value of s vanish, except its first term 1, as it ougrht to
do. °
Example. Let us suppose n — 2, then
x2dx , x
\i = + 2 loS- (i —^
11
/
and
(i — XT
— »i /• xzdx _(2 — m)x
2a.’ J (1 —Fp “ 2(1 — x)
+
log. (1 — a-),
the fluent being here taken as directed. In this case, after
collecting the terms, we get s, or
1  5-
1
+ i0g. (\—x).
1  X X
(24.) There is a branch of the doctrine of series which is
of considerable importance in pure mathematics, as well as
in many physical inquiries, and in the science of astronomy;
it is called the Interpolation of series.
To interpolate a series is to interpose among its terms
others which shall be subject to the same law, or which shall
be formed in the same manner as the original terms of the
series; or, in other wrords, it is to find the value of one or
more terms by means of others which are given, and which
may be either at equal or unequal intervals from one another,
the places of the given terms as well as of those sought be¬
ing supposed known.
It is easy to see that this problem may be applied to the
construction of logarithmic tables; for we may regard the
logarithms of the natural numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. ad infini¬
tum, as the terms of a particular series of which the num¬
bers themselves are the indices ; thus having given the lo¬
garithms of some numbers, we may by interpolating deduce
Irom them the logarithms of others.
Again, in astronomy we may consider the numbers which
express the successive observed positions of a celestial body
•
as the terms of a series, their indices being the intervals of
time between the observations and some assumed epoch,'
and the problem we are considering will enable us to de¬
termine the position at any instant different from the times
of actual observation, provided the intervals between the
observations be small, and the instant for which the posi¬
tion is sought not very remote from those at which the ob¬
servations wrere made.
(25.) To illustrate the nature of the problem to be re¬
solved, let us consider some particular case, as, for example,
the arithmetical series
a, a -{-</,« -j- 2c/, a + St/, a -{- 4^
Let t and t be two given terms of the series which are
at any distance from one another, and let n and n' be their
indices, or numbers which denote their places in the series.
Also let y be any term whatever, and x its index. Then, by
the nature of an arithmetical series,
t z= a + {n— \)d, tf — a (n'— l)d,
y=z a -j- (x— l)d.
Now, as there are here three equations, each involving the
quantities a and d, we may eliminate both these quantities
by the common rules (Algebra, sect, vii.) ; and this being
done, we get
(x — n') (f — t) z= («' — n) (y — t') ;
and hence we find this expression,
Series
y
■%t+x
C,
n — ri ' n'— n
which is a general formula for interpolating any arithmeti¬
cal series ; and it is observable, that it is entirely independ¬
ent both of the first term and common difference.
Example. The 7th term of an arithmetical series is 15,
and the 12th term is 25 : it is required to find the 10th term.
Here n—1, n' = 12, a1 = 10 ;
t — 15, — 25, y is sought.
Therefore, by the formula,
2 3
y^-XlS + -X25=21, the answer.
o o
(26.) The mode of investigation by which we have found
a formula for the interpolation of an arithmetical series will
apply also to others, if the law according to which the terms
are formed be known ; in general, however, the law of a
series to be interpolated is either not known, or it is not
taken into account, and we only consider the absolute mag¬
nitudes of certain terms, and the numbers expressing their
places in the series. To resolve the problem generally with
these data, it is usual to proceed as follows: Let a straight
line AB, and a point A in it, be assumed as given in posi-
A u o' o" r i)* b
tion, and let there be taken the segments AD, AD', AD",
AD'", &c., proportional to the numbers denoting the places
of the terms of a series reckoned from any term assumed as
a fixed origin ; and at the [joints D, D'j D", let there be
erected perpendiculars proportional to the terms themselves.
Let us now suppose a curve to pass through C, C', C", C'",
&c.; then, if it be so chosen that its curvature may vary
gradually in its progress from point to point, without any
abrupt changes of inflection, and, moreover, if the terms
(which we may suppose to be either at equal or unequal dis¬
tances) are pretty near to one another, it is easy to con¬
ceive, that if AP be taken equal to the number expressing
118
SERIES.
Series.
the place of a term between C"D", CWDW, any two others,
the term itself will, if not exactly, at least be nearly, ex¬
pressed by PQ., the ordinate to the curve.
As an infinite variety of curves may be found that shall
pass through the same given points, in this respect the
problem is unlimited; it is, however, convenient to assume
such as are simple and tractable. The parabolic class pos¬
sess these properties, and accordingly they are commonly
employed.
Let us then express the ordinates CD, CD', C"D", C^D’",
&c. which are the given terms of the series, by
t, t', l", &c.
and the abscissae AD, AD', AD", AD'", or the numbers de¬
noting the order of the terms, by
n, ix\ n", n'", &c.
Put y for PQ, a term to be interpolated, and # for AP
its place. Then, considering x and y as indefinite co-ordi¬
nates, a parabolic curve that shall pass through the points
C, C, C", Cw, &c., will have for its equation
?/ — A + Ba? + Car2 + Da:3 +, &c.
the number of terms on the right-hand side being supposed
equal to that of the given points, and A, B, C, &c. being
put to denote constant quantities. To determine these, we
must consider that when x — n, then y — t, and that when
x — n', then y = t', and so on; therefore, substituting the
successive corresponding values of x and y, we get
* = A + Bra -f Cra2 + Dra3 +, &c.
— A + Bra' -f Cra'2 + Dra'3 +, &c.
f- A -f Bra" -f Cra"2 + Dra"3 +, &c.
f- A + Bra'" + Cra'"2 + Dra'"3 +, &c.
&c. &c.
This series of equations must be continued until their num¬
ber be the same as that of the co-efficients A, B, C, D, &c.
If we now consider t, t', t", &c. and ra, ra', ra", &c. as known,
and A, B, C, &c. as unknown quantities, we may determine
these last by eliminating them one after another from the
above equations, as is taught in Algebra. And the values
of A, B, C, &c. being thus determined and substituted in
the general equation, we shall have a general expression for
y in terms of x, the number denoting its place and known
quantities ; and this is in substance the solution originally
given of the problem by Sir Isaac Newton, who proposed it
in the third book of his Principia, with a view to its appli¬
cation in astronomy.
A celebrated foreign mathematician (Lagrange) has, in
the Cahiers de VEcoU Normals, given a different form to
the expression for y. He has observed that since, when x
becomes ra, ra', ra", ra"', &c. successively, then y becomes t, t',
t", t'", &c. It follows that the expression for y must have
this form,
y — at fit' yd' -j- W" -f-, &c.
where the quantities a, fi, y, <&c. must be such functions of
x, that if we put x — ra, then a — \ and fi z= 0, y = 0, &c.
and if we put x = ra', then a = 0, fi — 1, y — 0, &c.; and
again, if we make x — ra", then x = 0, fi — 0, y = 1, &c.
and so on. Hence it is easy to conclude that the values of
a, fi, y, &c. must have the form
_ (x — ra') {x — ra7) {x — ra"')
and here the number of factors in the numerator and deno¬
minator must be each equal to the number of given points in
the curve. This formula would be found to be identical with
that which may be obtained by the method indicated in last
article, if we were to take the actual product of the factors
and arrange the whole expression according to powers or x.
It possesses however one advantage over the other, viz. that
of admitting of the application of logarithms.
We shall now show the application of this formula.
Ex. 1. Having given the logarithms of 101, 102, 104,
and 105, it is required to find the logarithm of 103.
In this case we may reckon the terms of the series for¬
ward from the first given term, viz. log. 101, so that we
have
t -log. 101 = 2-0043214,
i! - log. 102 = 2-0086002,
?/ = log. 103 = term sought,
t!' — log. 104 — 2-0170333,
t!" — log. 105= 2-0211893,
Substituting now in the general formula, we get
IX —IX —2 __15 A/_2XlX —2
fi —
(ra — ra') (ra — ra") (ra —
{x — ra) (x — ra") {x —
i'")’
■ ra"')
&c.
y =
(ra' — ra) (ra' ■
(x — ra) (a: -
- ra") (ra' — ra'")
ra') (x — ra'")
, &c.
, &e.
(ra" — ra) (ra" — ra') ra" — ra'")
(x — ra) (x — ra') [x — ra'")
(ra'" — ra) (ra"' —- ra') (ra'" — ra")’
&c.
&c.
ra — 0,
ra' — 1,
a: 2,
ra" = 3,
ra'" = 4.
/? =
— l x —3 X — 4
2X — 1 X —2
1 X —2X —3
t 9W
Therefore # ^ — g + IT
2
3
2<"
■3
3 X 2 X — 1
2 X 1 X — 1
4X3X1
+ fi
Dec. 24. distance 715,
26. 772.
— 2-0128372, the answer.
Ex. 2. Given a comet’s distance from the sun on the fol¬
lowing days in December, at twelve at night, to find its
distance December 20.
December 12. distance 301,
21. 620,
Here we shall estimate the places of the terms from the
time of the first position, viz. December 12. Therefore
t — 301, ra = 0,
y is sought, x = 8,
t' — 620, w' = 9,
L" = 715, ra" =12,
t"’ — 772, ra'" =14.
In this case the general formula gives us
1 „ 6 2.8
“=G3’'S = «
’’' = -3,a=35’
therefore
^ “ 63 +
2P_ 8jN
45 _ 3“ + 35 ‘
— 586-3, the answer.
We shall conclude this article with a brief enumeration
of the best woi'ks on the subject which we have been treat-
ing of.
Bernoulli, Ars Conjectandi; Newton, Methodus
rentialis ; Taylor, Methodus Incrementorum ; Stirling, Me¬
thodus I)ijferentiafis, sive Tractatus de Summatione et In-
terpolatione Serierum; Euler, Institutioncs Calculi Dijferen-
tialis ; Emerson’s Method of Increments ; Emerson’s Dif¬
ferential Method ; De Moivre, Miscellanea Analytica ; La¬
grange, Theorie des Fonctions Analyliques; Trade des Dif¬
ferences et des Series, a sequel to Lacroix’s work on the Cal-
cul Differentiel; Dr Hutton’s Mathematical and Philoso¬
phical Tracts; Spence’s Essay on the Theory of the various
orders of Logarithmic Transcendents, with an Inquiry into
their Applications to the Integral Calculus, and the Sum¬
mation of Series.
S E R
SERINAGUR, a principality or province of Northern
Hindustan, situated chiefly between the 30th and 31st de¬
grees of north latitude, and between the 77th and 79th of
east longitude. It is divided from Thibet by the great
mountain-wall of the Himalaya that bounds Hindustan on
the north ; it has the great plain of the Ganges on the
south; on the east the rivers Uauli, Alcananda, and Ram-
gunga form its limits; and on the west it is bounded by the
stream of the Jumna. It is estimated to be a hundred and
forty miles in length by sixty in breadth, and to contain an
area of nine thousand square miles. It contains two geogra¬
phical divisions, namely, Gurwal proper, which occupies the
whole of the lower ranges of hills and the sources of the Gan¬
ges, comprehending the hilly and mountainous region from
which that river springs. In former times this principality also
included Kumaon. In 1814 the Ghoorkhas possessed the
whole country extending northward to the dependencies of
China. Since their expulsion a new division has been ef¬
fected, by which it has been separated into two distinct por¬
tions ; the British government having retained the Deyrah
Boon, the passes of the Ganges, and the Jumna, at either
extremity of that valley, as also all the country to the east¬
ward of the Alcananda and Bhagirathi, which last-mention¬
ed tract has been annexed to Kumaon, and the remainder
restored to the expatriated rajah. The territories to the
eastward are therefore at present bounded by the Alcanan¬
da, from Radraprayag until its conjunction with the Bhagi¬
rathi, and thence to the plains by the united streams of
the Ganges, and above Radraprayag, where the Alcananda
receives the Mandakeri by the latter river. All the terri¬
tories to the east of that line have been permanently an¬
nexed to Kumaon.
The whole face of this country towards Lalldong south¬
ward forms one vast assemblage of steep and lofty hills,
of the rudest forms, and jumbled together in all directions.
They are sometimes disposed, with an appearance of regu¬
larity, in parallel chains of no great extent, and shut in at
their termination by narrow ridges running across the val¬
leys at right angles. The summits are sharp and narrow,
rising abruptly ; and the distance between each range being
very short, the valleys are in consequence so confined that
it would be difficult in many of them to find room for an
encampment of a thousand men. The aspect of these moun¬
tainous regions is very different. There are many of the
ridges stony and naked, affording no shelter for birds or wild
animals, while others are covered with trees, and always
green, being covered wdth a luxuriant carpeting of shrubs
and fragrant flowers. The eastern parts of the country to
the Ganges consist of lower ranges of hills, extending
eastward to an undefined extent, and covered with exten¬
sive forests of oak, holly, horse-chestnut, fir, and beds of
strawberries, equalling in flavour those in Europe. Over
this extensive and mostly desert country inhabitants are
very thinly scattered, a great proportion of it being left in
the undisturbed possession of the wild animals, such as the
elephant, which is, however, greatly inferior in size and
quality to the Chittagong elephant, on which account it is
seldom domesticated ; the tiger, the leopard, and generally
all the other animals which are found to range among the
tropical forests. The country is chiefly watered by the
Ganges, and its head streams the Bhagirathi and Alca¬
nanda, by the junction of which it is formed at Devapray-
aga. The latter is a considerable river, and is joined by
its tributaries the Mandakini, the Pinden, the Mandaioki,
the Birke, and the Dauli; while the Bhagirathi is joined by
the Bilhang. Some of these rivers bring a large accession
of water to the main stream ; and they have most of them
their remote sources in the Himalaya Mountains. None of
these streams being fordable, and, besides, descending with
all the violence of mountain-torrents, and their channel
being too much encumbered with rocks and stones to ad-
S E R
119
mit the use of boats, they are crossed by rope and platform Serinagur.
bridges at the most convenient points of communication ; ^—   
while the roads are merely footpaths running along the
slope of a mountain in the direction of the principal streams
and water-courses, and being only practicable in many places
for hill-porters. (See the article Hindustan.) Sheep and
goats are also trained to traverse the difficult road, and to
act as beasts of burden. They are loaded with small bags,
containing twelve pounds of grain each, and are despatched
in flocks of from 150 to 200, under the charge of" two or
three, shepherds with their dogs. A steady old well-trained
ram is extremely serviceable in carrying goods in these
mountainous countries, particularly grain, which forms a
principal article of commerce. From the higher region salt
is brought back.
In 1796, while Serinagur or Gurwal included Kumaon,
and was an independent principality, the revenues amount¬
ed to five lacs of rupees per annum, which sum was made
up of the duties on imports and exports, the land-rents,
the working of mines and washing of gold. The other
sources of revenue arose from a tax on the importation of
rock-salt and borax from Bootan; of musk in pods, chow-
ries, hawks, and male and female slaves from the countries
bordering on Bhadrinath ; of cotton cloths of all descriptions
from the province of Oude; and of salt from Lahore.
Gold is found among the sands of most of the mountain-
streams. The principal places where it is gathered are Car-
naprayaga, Paeenkoonda, Devaprayaga, Rickercase, and
Lakherighaut. There are in the mountains mines of cop¬
per, which in 1816 were let out for one year at 1850
rupees. Prior to the Ghoorkha invasion these mines wTere
said to yield 52,000 rupees. During the confusion conse¬
quent on that event some of them have been choked up
with rubbish ; and to recover them from their present con¬
dition would require more capital than any native ever pos¬
sesses. At Nagpoor and Dhunpoor, to the north and north¬
east of Serinagur, are two copper-mines, which are said to
produce fifty per cent. At Dessouly, a considerable dis¬
tance to the east, there is a lead-mine ; and iron is pro¬
duced in many parts of the country. Near Jarachi Ghaut,
in the eastern quarter of the province, there is a quarry of
very fine marble.
The ancient name of this province w^as Gurwal; and
while it was an independent state the rajah’s forces were
estimated at 5000 men, armed with matchlocks, bows and
arrows, and swords and shields, but without discipline. In
1791 the Nepaulese made an attempt to reduce this coun¬
try, but met with such unexpected resistance, that they de¬
sisted from the attempt. From this date, however, the Se¬
rinagur rajah became tributary to the Ghoorkhali dynasty.
In 1803 an army of 10,000 men marched to complete the
conquest, and a battle took place, which decided the con¬
test between the Serinagur and Nepaul rajahs in favour of
the latter.
Serinagur, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Serinagur, of which it is the capital. It is situated in the
centre of a valley watered by the river Alcananda, which
extends a mile and a half to the eastward, and the same
distance to the westward, of the town. It is of an elliptical
form, being in length about three quarters of a mile, and
much less in breadth. The houses are built of rough stone
and mud, generally raised to a second floor, and covered
with slate. They are remarkably crowded together ; and
the streets are so narrow' as scarcely to leave room for two
persons to pass. The house of the former rajahs is in the
middle of the town, and is the largest, being raised to a
fourth story, and built of a coarse granite. The town is now-
in a ruinous condition, having been reduced to poverty and
insignificance by a variety of causes ; by the invasion of the
Nepaulese at the end of the year 1803, the earthquake which
took place in the same year, the encroachments annually
19Q S E R S E R
Seriti^a- jnade by the Alcananda, and, finally, by the oppressive
tiaiam. government under its Ghoorkhali rulers. The inhabitants
v-are chiefly Hindus, the number of Mahommedan families not
exceeding sixty or seventy, and most of these being petty
shopkeepers. The Hindu inhabitants are chiefly the de¬
scendants of emigrants from the Doab and province of Oude.
Serinagur is the seat of an inconsiderable trade, the most
profitable branch of which consists of a traffic in silver and
specie, which is carried on to a considerable amount by the
leading persons in the town, who are agents of the great
banking-houses at Najibabad and in the Doab, and who are
employed in the sale of merchandise and coins. Ihe other
articles of trade are the produce of the hills, consisting of
coarse hempen cloth, hemp, lead, copper, drugs, gums, wool,
and a sort of flannel made of wool. From Bootan are im¬
ported cow-tails, musk, saffron, borax, salt, drugs of differ¬
ent kinds, and a few' shawls that are sent circuitously from
Cashmere. Hawks are also brought from the hills. The
articles received in exchange are coarse cotton and woollen
cloths, silk, spices, Lahore salt, sugar, and tobacco. The
air of Serinagur is unfavourable to strangers, on which ac¬
count manv of the merchants forsake it during the rainy sea¬
son. Long. 79. 18. E. Lat. 30. 11. N.
SERINGAPATAM, a celebrated city of Hindustan, in
the province of Mysore, of which it is the capital. Its si¬
tuation is remarkable, being at the upper end of an island
four miles in length by one and a halt in breadth, formed
by the Cavery, which is here a large and rapid river, having
a broad channel, that is, however, impeded by rocks and
fragments of granite. The proper name of this city is Siri
Ilunga Patan, or the city of Sri Ranga, corrupted in com-
mon language into Patana. It has been known as a for¬
tress from a very early period; the fort is situated at the
west end of the island; its area is about a mile, and it is
an immense mass of building, unfinished, and its defences
injudiciously constructed. The fortifications exhibit the
long straight walls and square bastions of the Hindus ; and
the glacis is in many parts so high that it sheltered the as¬
sailants. The suburbs occupy the middle and highest part
of the island, and are about half a mile square. The streets
are, like those of most eastern towns, narrow and confused ;
nor are there any public buildings which are noted for ele¬
gance or splendour in the eyes of Europeans. They have all
a mean appearance. Hyder’s palace, named the Lolbang,
which was finished in 1780, when he was occupied in the
wars of the Carnatic, and to which he never returned, is si¬
tuated at the east end of the island. It is two stories in height,
and, according to Lord Valentia, by whom it w'as visited, it
is by no means an inelegant building, though mud is the
material of which it is constructed. The ground-floor was
very public, and seems to have been occupied by the at¬
tendants. Above are excellent apartments, and balconies
opening into courts in which the sultan usually sat and gave
audience. It was prettily painted, but, owing to the want
of windows, was too gloomy for a European habitation,
and has accordingly been altered and improved by the Bri¬
tish residents. It is situated in a garden, which was beau¬
tiful, but was destroyed during the siege of the city. Ad¬
joining to this building is the tomb of Hyder, where now
rests all that was royal of this Mussulman dynasty, namely,
Hyder, his wife, and Tippoo, under tombs of black marble
elevated about eighteen inches from the ground, and co¬
vered with rich cloths, which have a canopy over them.
The whole building, with its dome, its brilliantly polished
black marble columns, and its mosque annexed, has a hand¬
some effect. In the verandah are buried several of the fa¬
mily ; and on the outside, upon an elevated platform which
goes round the whole building, are the tombs of several
faithful servants. The British government allow' 2000 pa¬
godas annually to the Moulahs for reading the Koran, and
for musicians to perform the nobut. The palace in the city
is a very large building, surrounded by a massy and lotty Seringa-
wall of stone and mud, and of a mean appearance. All the ^ P'itai>'. | L
buildings are now converted to very different uses from '-““Y"" v
those for which they were originally intended. Hyder’s
palace is the residence of a surgeon ; his seraglio is con¬
verted into a European hospital; and 1 ippoo s seraglio has
become a barrack for artillery. His private abode is occu¬
pied by the resident, and his public apartments by Euro¬
pean troops. There is a palace built by 1 ippoo near the
town, which was the residence of Genei'al ellesley. The
upper floor consists of one central room, with four others at
the corners, and verandahs below them, all very curiously
painted; a verandah below covers each side, on the walls
of which is painted the famous battle with Colonel Baillie.
Other paintings adorn the walls, in which Hyder and Tip¬
poo are represented as conquerors, and subject princes are
painted below.
In 1610, Seringapatam was taken from the fallen dynasty
of Bijanagur by the rajah of Wadeyar, and made the capital
of Mysore. The town was increased and the fortifications
improved by his successors. But it was Hyder and his son
Tippoo who took pleasure in strengthening and embellish¬
ing this the capital of their dominions. It was then that it
arrived at that degree ol splendour and strength which at¬
tracted the cupidity and afterwards foiled the attempts of the
neighbouring powers. It was afterwards besieged by the
Mahrattas and by the nizam’s troops, and was rescued from
their attacks by Hyder consenting to pay large sums of
money for its security. In 1800, according to a register of
the houses, the fort or city contained 4136 houses and 6900
families, and the suburbs 2216 houses and 3335 families.
Estimating five persons to each house, the city and suburbs
will be found to contain 31,895 persons, independently of a
strong garrison and its numerous followers. During the
reign of Tippoo, the island of Seringapatam was estimated
to contain 150,000 inhabitants. They were greatly dimi¬
nished during the siege, and after the storming of the place;
but many have since been attracted to the rajah’s residence
at the city of Mysore, and many Mahommedans w ho origi¬
nally came from the Carnatic have returned, after the de¬
struction of Hyder’s dynasty. The manufactures of Serin¬
gapatam and its vicinity were never considerable, and prin¬
cipally consisted of military stores and camp equipage. Tim¬
ber sells here at a high price, being brought principally by
land-carriage from the Western Ghauts. Bread is alsosdear,
which compels the Europeans to subsist upon rice. Good
vegetables and excellent meat are, however, to be had in
abundance. In February 1792, Seringapatam was invest¬
ed by a formidable British force, amounting to 400,000,
including followers of every description. Tippoo had not
the means of withstanding this numerous host; and his in¬
trenched camp being stormed with great loss, he was com¬
pelled to yield to the humiliating terms imposed upon him
by his conquerors, to relinquish half his dominions, and to
pay to them the sum of three and a half millions. In 1799,
war being again declared by the British against Tippoo, an
immense force, under Genei’al Harris, advanced against the
capital, which was invested by the British and the nizam’s
forces on the 14th of April, and was stormed, with a great
slaughter of the garrison, in the afternoon of the 4th of
May. Tippoo himself was killed under a gateway, by a
party, it is supposed, of the twelfth regiment of foot, but by
whom is not known, no individual having ever appeared to
claim the honour ; nor was it discovered who obtained pos¬
session of his valuable necklace of pearls. The British
have ever since retained possession of the island, which nuvv
forms one of the collectorships under the Madras presidency.
The travelling distance from Madras is 200 miles, from Hy¬
derabad 406, from Poonah 525, from Bombay 622, from
Nagpoor 727, from Calcutta 1170, and from Delhi 1321
miles. Long. 76. 51. E. Lat. 12. 26. N.
S E R
ingham SERINGHAM, an island formed by the Cavery, oppo-
II site to Trichinopoly, in the Carnatic. The river separates
^pents^ jnt0 tw0 branches, and about thirteen miles eastward these
branches again approach; but the northern, which is at this
place twenty feet lower than the southern branch, is permit¬
ted to run waste into the sea, and is termed the Ccleroon;
whilst the southern, which retains the name of Cavery, is led
into a variety of channels to irrigate the province of Tan-
jore. Near the east end of the island is formed an immense
mound, to prevent the waters of the Cavery from descending
into the Coleroon. This island is celebrated for two Hindu
temples, the largest of which is situated about a mile from
the western extremity of the island, and is surrounded by
seven square enclosures built of brick, the walls of which
are twenty-five feet in height and four feet in thickness.
These enclosures are at the distance of 350 feet from each
other, and have each four gates opposite the cardinal points.
The outward wall is nearly four miles in circumference, and
its gateway to the south is ornamented with pillars, several
of which are single stones thirty-three feet in length and
five in diameter. The British pay so much deference to the
Hindu superstitions, that no European has yet entered this
temple. It is resorted to from all parts of India by pilgrims
seeking absolution for their sins. A tax is levied on them;
and this fund, besides supporting a number of dancing girls,
who are prostitutes to the Brahmins, yields a revenue to the
British government. In 1751, during the siege of Trichi¬
nopoly, the French and their allies took possession of the
island of Seringham. In 1752, the French force was com¬
pelled to surrender to Major Laurence. The Hindu sane-
S E R 121
tuaries in these temples were respected by the troops of Serino
both nations, neither of whom sought access into the tern- li
pies. Serpents.
SERINO, a city of Italy, in the Neapolitan province ofV'-"~v~w/
Ulteriore. It stands between two hills, and contains ten
parish churches, with 7500 inhabitants, who are employed
in making woollen goods and in spinning silk. There is
also a very large annual fair held at Serino ; and near to it
are the ruins of the ancient Roman city Sabatia.
SERLE’S Island, in the Southern Pacific Ocean. It is
seven or eight miles long, and four or five broad, with a la¬
goon in the middle. Long. 223. E. Lat. 18. 18. S.
SERMATTA, an island in the Eastern Seas, about twen¬
ty-two miles in length and six in breadth. Long. 129. 13.
E. Lat. 8. 9. S.
SERONGE, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta ter¬
ritories, and province of Malwah. It is situated in a fine
open country, well cultivated, and has the remains of ancient
prosperity and greater population than at present. The
bazaars are strong, and built of stone; and a large caravanse¬
rai still remains. The adjacent country is an open plain.
It was formerly the scene of the Pindarie plunderers; and
the villages are in consequence mostly in ruins. It is 165
miles north-east from Oojain, 389 from Benares, 595 from
Bombay, 849 from Calcutta. Long. 78. E. Lat. 24. 8. N.
SERPENS, in Astronomy, a constellation in the north¬
ern hemisphere, called more particularly Serpens Ophiuchi.
The stars in the constellation Serpens are, in Ptolemy’s ca¬
talogue, eighteen; in Tycho’s, thirteen; in Hevelius’s, twen¬
ty-two ; and in the British catalogue, sixty-four.
SERPENTS, or OPHIDIAN REPTILES.
In our article Reptilia (see Encyclopcedia Britannica,
vol. xix. p. 150) we deemed it advisable to postpone the con¬
sideration of the Ophidian order, in the hope that our readers
might be benefited by the termination of MM. Dumeril and
Bibron’s work, the most complete and careful publication
by which the history of the reptile race has been as yet il¬
lustrated.1 But having been disappointed in that expecta¬
tion, we proceed to fill up our sketch of the class in ques¬
tion from other equally authentic sources. The student
will bear in mind that our present treatise, relating to the
third great order of reptiles, called Ophidia (from of/;, a
serpent), interpolates at the page above referred to, and
connects, in the natural system, the Sauria, or lizard-like
reptiles, with the Batrachia or frogs, sirens, and salaman¬
ders. We also take leave to remind our readers (and this
the more emphatically, seeing that the imperfect treatise
now put forth is the last of the zoological essays for this
work likely to proceed from the present pen), that the study
ot nature is a high and solemn calling, for the proper per-
foi mance of which, according to the measure of each capa-
city, men are as accountable to their Creator as they are
jbr the discharge of all other duties, wheth c* moral, intel¬
lectual, or professional. We may not say to him who de¬
sires an entrance into that magnificent temple which God
ms erected in his works, “ Take off thy shoes, for the place
on which thou standest is holy ground ;” but we shall say,
'■ Divest yourself of arrogance, conceit, and self-delusion ;
woiship closely, continuously, and fervently ; and ever bear
in mind that you are yourself a reptile, debarred by the
very constitution of your nature from seeing any thing other-
vuse t an in a glass darkly.” Should not this feeling act
^ a nionit°r in favour of humility and distrust ? From
whence come contentions among you ? From ignorance
and folly, from the blinding effect produced by the undue
importance which every man is apt to attach to his own
small doings, and the frequent absence of that kindly con¬
sideration with which each Christian observer should view
the labours both of predecessor and contemporary. It is
indeed woful to think that those to whom God has given
a taste for pursuits in themselves so pleasing and consola¬
tory should so often disgrace their lofty calling by meanness
and malice, and that irritability and “ all uncharitableness”
should in any way arise among men who, when not wil¬
lingly blinded, may perceive at least a glimpse of what the
divine Milton (with how much of inward light, though him¬
self so “ dim-suffused !”) has beautifully called “ the bright
countenance of truth shining amid the still air of delightful
studies.” If naturalists are the priests of nature, then let
them bear in mind that theirs is no vain or selfish ministra¬
tion, and so conduct themselves
As ever in their great task-master’s eye.
The exact lines of demarcation which separate the pri¬
mary orders of the reptile race are somewhat difficult to
draw, as in truth must always be the case wherever there
are strong affinities of form and habits. Ncituro, non fo,cit
saltum, is a saying the truth of which the student of her
manifold wonders must ever remember; and in our pre¬
sent department especially, there are several very singular
creatures, which so combine the characters of two conti¬
guous orders, that well-instructed naturalists differ as to
whether they should terminate the one or commence the
other. Thus Baron Cuvier’s last Ophidian genus is Ccecilia,
which Professor Bell regards as a Batrachian reptile, or ra-
largep^rtio^f^TsTurirn ^ V°1S‘ ^ with plates (containing hitherto only the Chelonian and a
VOi. xx. ’ ■
Q
122
Serpents.
SERF
thcr as belonging to his separate class Amphibia, which,
after the example of Blainville and Latreille, he constitutes
by means of the entire Batrachian order.1 Thus also La-
certa apoda of Pallas, though furnished on each side with a
small bone analogous to the femur, and pertaining to an
actual pelvis concealed beneath the skin, is yet classed by
the great French anatomist with the Ophidians, being, so
to say, the “ very head and front of their offending ;”2 while
several systematic writers range our Anguis fragilis, and
other snakes commonly so called, among the lizards. An
American reptile, Anguis ventralis of Linn., now forms
Daudin’s genus Ophisaurus, the name of which (derived
from 0^/5, serpent, and mvooi, lizard} implies the peculiar
combination now referred to. The Saurian genus Seps,
described at the conclusion of our former treatise, is cha¬
racterized by Cuvier as having an elongated body, “ tout-
a-fait semblable a celui d’un orvet’ (Anguis); and, on the
other hand, the same author enters upon his Ophidian or¬
der by means of the Anguida, or slow-worms, which he
simply describes as “ des seps sans pieds.” These, and
other examples which it would be easy to adduce, demon¬
strate the close connection which subsists between the
Saurian and Ophidian orders.
It has indeed been customary to class among serpents
whatever reptiles combined the absence of limbs with an
extremely lengthened form of body; but a more rigorous
observation will demonstrate that several species which, in
accordance with that principle, will take their place as ser¬
pents, are yet in their prevailing organic structure removed
from them in most essential points, the chief resemblance
being that of the external and extremely lengthened form.
Now this attenuated aspect, and absence of all the ordinary
locomotive members, are likewise exhibited by several Sau¬
rian reptiles, and of course in an increased degree as they
actually approach the serpent or Ophidian tribes ; but the
two characters just mentioned do not convert them from
one order to another, being still held, as it were, in subor¬
dination to the general structure.3 4
We bring forward these observations at present, chiefly
that the reader may understand why we commence our
treatise on serpents by a brief sketch of several species
which in truth we can scarcely regard as serpents at all,
however raised “ to that bad eminence” by many noted
writers. We might have placed them at the termination
of the Saurian order of our former article Reptilia ; but the
fact being that we did not do so, we feel it incumbent on us,
before proceeding to the serpents properly so called, to pre¬
sent a short notice of their names and nature. In doing
this we shall follow for a space the arrangement of Baron
Cuvier, presuming that the reader will now understand our
views regarding the doubtful nature of all those genera
which precede the true serpents, of the advent of which
due notice will be given.
The French anatomist defines serpents as,—reptiles with¬
out feet, which advance by means of sinuous movements of
ENTS.
the body. He divides them into three great groups,—the Angni^:
Anguidae or slow-worms,—the true serpents (subdivided
into, 1st, double movers, i. e. the genera AmphisbcBna and
Typhlops ; 2dly, serpents properly so called, containing all
the actually Ophidian species),—and the naked serpents,
composed of the single genus Ceecilia.
We commence, then, with the
ANGUID2E, OR SLOW-WORMS.
These still exhibit the bony head, the teeth, the tongue
of Seps, and the eye is furnished with three eyelids. They
correspond to the ancient unrestricted genus Anguis of
Linnaeus, and are characterized externally by-imbricated
scales covering the whole body. The species now form four
minor genera, of which the first three still exhibit beneath
the skin certain small bones corresponding to those of the
shoulder and pelvis.
Genus Pseudopus, Merrem. Tympanum visible exter¬
nally. A prominence on each side of the anus, containing
a small bone analogous to the femur, and appertaining to
a true pelvis hid beneath the skin. Rudiments of the an¬
terior extremities barely manifested by an inconspicuous
fold, containing no interior humerus. One of the lungs is
a quarter less than the other. The scales are thick and
imbricated, and between those of the back and belly are
some smaller scales, which produce a longitudinal furrow on
either side.
Of the species, the earliest known is P. Pallasii, Cuv.,
Lacerta apoda, Pallas,—discovered in the south of Russia
by the naturalist last named.4 It measures from one to
two feet in length, and the colours are ferruginous above,
pale yellow beneath. The scales of the back are smooth,
those of the tail carinated. This species occurs also in
Hungary and Dalmatia, and the specimen figured hy Dr
Shaw5 was procured in Greece by Dr John Sibthorpe, the
professor of botany in the university of Oxford. M. Dur-
ville discovered another species (which bears his name) in
the Archipelago.6 See Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. 1.
Genus Ophisaurus, Daudin. No external appearance
even of the hinder extremities, but the tympanum is still
apparent, and the scales exhibit a plication or folding upon
each side of the trunk. The smaller lung only equals a
third of the greater.7
The best known species is Oph. ventralis,—Anguis ven¬
tralis, Linn.,—an American reptile, common in the southern
states of the union. It is of a greenish yellow, spotted above
with black. Its tail is longer than its body, and the crea¬
ture itself is so brittle and easily broken, even in the living
state, as to be known by the name of glass serpent. Ac¬
cording to Catesby, “ a small blow of a stick causes the
body to separate, not only at the place struck, but at two
or three other places, the muscles being articulated quite
through the vertebra;.”8
1 Encyclopaedia of Anatomy and Physiology, part i. p. 91. These amphibian orders are as follows : 1st, Amphipneurta, containing the Si¬
rens and Proteans; 2d, Anoura, the frogs and toads ; 3d, Urodela, the salamanders ; 4th, Abranchia, the genera Menopoma and Amphiuma;
and, 5th, Apoda, the genus Caxilia. “ It is easy,” adds Mr Swainson, “ to perceive that this last passes into the first by means of the dipod
Sirens, and thus the whole form a circular group more or less perfect in its connecting links.” (Cabinet Cyclopaedia, vol. cxvi. p. 86.)
8 See Regne Animal, ii. 69.
3 “ Un examen comparatif,” observes M. Schlegel, “ des objets m’a demontre que ces Sauriens anomaux, c’est-a-dire, a formes alongees et a
extremites rudimentaires, appartiennent toujours par I’ensemble de leur organisation a quelque espece de 1’une ou 1’autre des families de
cet ordre, parmi lesquslles ils doivent etre distribues. On ne peut nier, par exemple, qu’il y a un passage graduel des Scinques a I’Angms
et aux Acontias, par I’intermede des Scinques brachypus, decreensis, serpens, seps, du Pygodactyle et du Bipes,—etres moins differens
entre eux par leur organisation que par leurs formes, et qui ne composent qu’une seule famille, celle des Scincoides, de laquelle on ne sau-
rait exclure ni les Ablephares ni les Gymnophthalmes. Le meme passage graduel existe dans la famille des Lizards, des genres Lacerta et
Tachydromus au Monodactyle ; on y peut ajouter comme espece anomale le Pygopus. On pourrait rapprocher dans la methode le Tetradac-
tyle, le Chalcis, le Pseudopus, et I’Ophisaurus. Yiennent enfin la famille des Amphisbenes,—Chirotes, Leposternon, Amphisbaena, et celle des
Typhlops,—Typhlops, Rhinophis, Uropeltis.” (Physiognomic aks Serpens, i. p. 2.)
4 jVoa. Com. Petrop. xix. plate 9, fig. 1. 5 General Zoology, iii. plate 86. 6 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, ix. 307.
7 Of the cranium of this genus, Cuvier has remarked, “ C’est une vraie tete de Saurien.” Regne Animal, iii. 430.
8 Carolina, ii. plate 59.
SERPENTS.
123
iVmphis- Genus Angdis, Cuv. No extremities visible externally,
baniilae. Tympanum concealed beneath the skin. Maxillary teeth
—v--' compressed and hooked,—no teeth upon the palate. Body
surrounded by imbricated scales, without plication on the
sides. One of the lungs is a half less than the other.
The English slow-worm, Anguis fragilis, is common over
a great part of Europe.1 It is very smooth, of a shining
brownish-gray above, inclining to reddish on the sides, and
bluish-black upon the under surface. It rarely measures
more than a foot in length. It lives on insects and small
mollusca, excavates circuitous holes in the earth, of several
feet in extent, and with more than one issue. It is an in¬
nocent and gentle creature, remarkable for stiffening itself
so much when seized as sometimes to break in two. Hence
its specific name of fragilis.
Genus Acontias, Cuv. No osseous pieces corresponding
to the sternum and pelvis, the shoulder-blades and clavicles.
Anterior ribs united to each other inferiorly by cartilagi¬
nous prolongations. Teeth small and conical: “ Je crois,”
says Cuvier, “ leur en avoir aper^u quelques-unes au pa¬
lais.”2 Muzzle enclosed in a kind of mask. One lung of
medium size, and another of very small dimensions.
To this genus belongs the speckled slow-worm of Shaw,
Anguis Meleagris, Linn., a native of the Cape of Good Hope.3
Its tail is much shorter and more obtuse than that of the
British slow-worm. Its upper surface is spotted longitudi¬
nally with brown. Africa produces other species, one of
which, according to Cuvier (Ac. ccecus), is entirely blind.
We now reach Baron Cuvier’s second great division,
the True Serpents, consisting of all those genera which
exhibit no vestige of either shoulder or sternum, but have
a great portion of the circumference of the body surrounded
by the ribs. The vertebrae articulate by means of a con¬
vex facette at one end, entering into a concave facette of
that which follows. (See Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 2a and 2b.)
The third eye-lid and the tympanum are wanting, but the
osselet of the ear exists beneath the skin, and its handle
passes behind the tympanic bone. Several still manifest a
remnant of the posterior members hid beneath the skin, or
even showing themselves externally under the form of small
hooks.4 The first two genera are scarcely entitled to the
designation of True Serpents ; and Baron Cuvier has him¬
self drawn a line between them and those which he names
Serpents properly so called, although the two terms seem
not particularly distinctive. The reptiles in question form
the tribe Double Marcheurs of Cuvier, and may be named
AMPHISBiENID/E, OR BLIND-WORMS.
1 he lower jaw still continues, as among the preceding
groups, supported by a tympanic bone, articulated directly
to the cranium, the two branches of that jaw being solder¬
ed together anteriorly, while those of the upper one are
fixed to the cranium and the intermaxillary bone. This
formation both produces an equality of dimension between
the head and the rest of the body, and also prevents that
peculiar power of dilatation for which the genuine ser¬
pents are so remarkable. (See Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. la.)
Their general form, according to Cuvier, “ leur permet de
marcher egalement bien dans les deux sens,” a tact, how¬
ever, which that great observer does not seem to state as
from the “ ocular proof,” and for the confirmation of which
we have sought in vain in the work of any well-instructed
traveller. The bony frame-work of the orbit is incomplete
behind, the eye is extremely small, and the body is covered
with scales. The windpipe is elongated, the heart placed
far backwards, and the anus situate close to the extremity
of the body. None of the known species is venomous. Of
the two genera, the one is closely related to Chalcis and
Chirotis, the other to Anguis and Acontias.
Genus AmphisBjENa, Linn. I he entire body covered
by circular ranges of quadrangular scales. A range of pores
anterior to the anus, leeth of a conical form, numerous
on the jaws, none upon the palate ; only a single lung.
The species are South American reptiles, to which an
ancient classical name has been, with no great propriety,
applied. (See Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. 2.) The white one,
Amph. alba, Linn., measures from a foot and a half to two
feet in length, and is proportionably of a bulky form.5 It
inhabits Brazil, where its native name of Ibriaram signifies
Lord of the Earth. It was first described by Marcgrave,
who, however, states erroneously that it is venomous, and
will wound either with head or tail. It preys on insects,
and is often found near ant-hills. Another species, from
Martinique (Amph. cceca, Cuv.), is stone-blind.
It may be observed in passing, that the genus Leposter-
non of Spix is composed of Amphisbeense, of which the
anterior part of the body is furnished below with several
plates, which interrupt the ranging of the circular rings.
They have no pores anterior to the anus, the head is short,
and the muzzle slightly projecting. Example, Lep. mi-
crocephalus, Spix,—Amph. punctata of Prince Maximilian
(Neuwied).
Genus Typhlops, Schneider. Body covered with small
imbricated scales (as in Anguis, with which group the spe¬
cies were for a long time combined). Muzzle advanced,
furnished with plates. Tongue long and forked ; eye in the
form of a minute point, scarcely visible through the skin; anus
almost terminal; one lung four times larger than the other.
These, as Cuvier remarks, are small serpent-like crea¬
tures, which bear a great resemblance to earth-worms.
They inhabit the warmer countries both of America and
the old world. Some have the head obtuse, and of equal
diameter with the body. Such is T. braminus, Cuv., the
punctulated slow-worm of Shaw, and rondos talooloopani
of Dr Russel.6 It is a diminutive reptile, measuring about
six inches in length, with the thickness of a hen’s quill. It
is of a cream-colour, powdered over with innumerable black
dots. It is common in Vizagapatam, and, according to the
author last named, is vulgarly reputed mischievous. It is
described as moving with great swiftness; and a specimen
immersed in spirits remained alive for more than ten mi¬
nutes. Others (and these the majority) have the muzzle
depressed and obtuse, and furnished anteriorly with seve¬
ral plates. Example, T. reticulatus? A few have the
front of the muzzle covered by a single broad plate. Such
is T. subargenteus (Anguis lumbricalis, Linn, and Lacep.),
the silvery snake of Brown.8 Finally, there are one or
more peculiar species, in which the muzzle terminates in
a small conical point, and the posterior extremity is enve¬
loped by a horny buckler of an oval form. We here place
T. Philippinus, Cuv., which measures about eight inches
in length, and is entirely of a black colour. W^e presume
that Dr Shaw’s snouted slow-worm, Anguis nasuta (A.
rostrata of Weigel3), though differing in colour, is nearly
allied, and ought to be placed in the same genus.
Amphis-
baenidae.
' Lacepede, Quadrupedes Ovipares, ii. plate 19, 1. 8 n^one Animal ii 7n
^ Thesaurus, ii. Uh. 2\, bg. 4. It is not found in the East Indies, as both Seba and Shaw supposed.
They 7" at Ir ^occasion to notice, differ in their views regarding the exact nature of these outward appendages.
i iiey are described by M. Mayer, in the twelfth volume of the Academia Natures Curiosorum of Bonn. '7
8 CirU,',, a & , iV , ^ r . 6 SerPfts °fthe C°ast of Coromandel, p. 48, pi. 43. 7 Scheuchzer, Pin,ska Sacra, pi. 747, 4.
Cml and Natural IPstory of Jamaica, p. 460, pi. 44, fig. 1. 9 Beriin p. m.
124 SERF
Ophidian We now arrive, “ by lingering steps and slow,” at the
Reptiles. genuine serpents, or
OPHIDIAN REPTILES, PROPERLY SO CALLED.
The principal characteristic of the serpent race consists
in an extremely elongated body, clothed with scales, des¬
titute of limbs, and furnished with a tail, or caudal extre¬
mity. Locomotion is effected by lateral undulations, aided
by the scales externally, and by the ribs within. Although
the genera] form, viewed in relation to its transverse di¬
mensions, is concentred to an extremely small diameter,
the different parts are capable of great enlargement, which
admits in many cases of their swallowing bodies bigger
than themselves. In conformity writh this peculiar struc¬
ture, even the bony portions of the head are not so knit to¬
gether as in other animals, but, with the exception of the
parts which protect the brain, are capable of a certain de¬
gree of separation. (See Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. 1&.) 1 he
development of the tympanic bones; their mode of attach¬
ment ; the mobility which they enjoy from not being fixed
to the cranium by their lower extremity; finally, the struc¬
ture of the under jaw, the two branches of which are capable
of separation in consequence of being united by elastic Hga.-
ments instead of symphysis; all combine to produce the vast
swallowing powers of these reptiles. The entire absence of
limbs is accompanied by an equal absence of those solid por¬
tions, such as the sternum and pelvis, which unite the limbs
with the body. The ribs are free for the same reason, and
thus readily admit both of the occasional enlargement of the
intestinal cavity, and of that extreme pliancy of form for
which all the species are remarkable, whether they creep,
climb, or swim. To facilitate these various movements,
the general envelope is minutely subdivided into numerous
compartments, the scales of the lower surface being usually
much larger than those of the upper, and subserving the
place of feet, the ribs being attached to the lateral margin
of the inner surface of these abdominal plates. 1 he space
of bare skin between the scales is greater among serpents
than other reptiles, and on the throat this bare expanse
forms a longitudinal cleft, known by the name of gular
furrow.
The true Ophidians are closely connected to the Saurian
order by the preceding genera Amphisbama and Typhlops,
which certainly form a passage from one of those great or-
* dinal groups to the other. It is these connecting links that
render precise definitions, drawn from a few apparent cha¬
racters, so difficult, if not impossible. “ II est tres facile,”
observes M. Schlegel, £; de se faire une idee d’un serpent,
lorsqu’on prend pour type une des especes ou tous les cha-
racteres de 1’ordre se trouvent reunis ; mais il est difficile
de consigner des marques distinctives qui separent d’une
maniere tranchee les Ophidiens des Sauriens.”1 Thus the
gular furrow which characterizes all serpents except the
genus Acrochordus, exists also among lizards, and several
other Saurian reptiles. A few Ophidians even exhibit
vestiges of the hinder extremities, analogous to what we
may observe among the so-called apodal Saurians, al¬
though there is reason to suspect that the parts alluded to
represent, in the latter the pelvis, in the former the actual
extremities.2 Perhaps the characters deduced from the
bones of the cranium would afford the best distinctions be¬
tween the two orders, were it not that in these, too, certain
species of the genera Typhlops and Uropeltis make a near
approach to the true Ophidians. It may be well, however,
to state briefly the distinguishing features in the cranial
ENTS.
osteology of the latter order. The bones of the face in Ophidian
serpents never form a fixed mass perforated by the nostrils, Reptiies. ’
and incased by sutures in each other; and the intermaxillary ’
bone, trigonal, and compressed in its form, is always free,
and to a certain extent moveable, that is, never soldered by
sutures to the maxillaries on either side. The maxillaries
themselves, when united to the anterior ffontals, are so
merely by a narrow attachment, always preserving a cer¬
tain mobility ; and the lateral margins of the nasal bones are
free throughout their whole extent. No Ophidian reptile
has thick conical teeth perpendicularly incased ; they rathei
resemble hooks curved backwards, with sharp points; and
we believe that all serpents, with the exception of the ge¬
nus Oligodon, have the palate armed with teeth resembling
those on the maxillae, whilst in the Saurian order the pala¬
tine teeth exist only in the form of small irregular asperities.
From the preceding brief sketch it may be inferred, that
the most peculiar character of serpents consists in their mode
of locomotion, and their extraordinary powers of deglutition.
These conditions modify their entire organization, for the
former determines the general shape of the body, and the
latter that of the internal parts. On examining the posi¬
tion of the intestines, we find that these organs, which in
the majority of other vertebrated beings occupy several
spacious cavities, are in the Ophidians enclosed within a long
and narrow cylinder. It is obvious that this disposition
cannot prevail without great changes in the form of the
viscera; and the disturbance alluded to is even destructive
of bilateral symmetry. We thus find the heart sometimes
far removed from, at others closely approached towards, the
head, according as the stomach is more or less extended; it
is thus also that most frequently there is only a single lung,
sometimes extending in front of the heart, but usually pla¬
ced behind that organ, and almost always terminated by a
species of sack of greater or less extent, and serving as a
reservoir of air. The liver, for the same reason, assumes a
narrow ribbon shape, extending from the heart to the py¬
lorus. The gall-vessel, that it may not be interrupted in
its functions by the repletion of the stomach, is removed
from the liver, and placed in the same curve of the duode¬
num as that which receives the pancreas and the spleen.
The stomach resembles a lengthened narrow cylinder.
Then follow the intestines, of which the numerous inflec¬
tions are filled with fat, and which, after descending in a
straight line, terminate in the cloaca. The lower portion
of the abdominal cavity not being sufficiently spacious for
the reception of the rest of the organs, there thence results
an anomalous disposition of the kidneys, testicles, and ova¬
ries. “ La verge enfin, et un organe secreteur, sont loges
dans la queue.” These peculiar forms, however, of the ma¬
jority of the internal parts of serpents exercise no influence
over their functions; for, on more minute investigation, we
find that they vary not only in distinct species, but in dif¬
ferent individuals of the same species.
The disposition of the external organs, on the contrary,
present much more constant forms; but these parts are mo¬
dified by the habits of the species, whether arboreal, ter¬
restrial, or aquatic. The mode of locomotion is, however,
very uniform, the movement being nearly the same which
aids a serpent while gliding on the surface of the ground,
traversing the depths of lakes and rivers, or climbing around
the umbrageous branches of forest-trees. The lateral un¬
dulations of the body suffice for these progressions; and it
is chiefly the sea-snakes that make use of their tails, which
are expressly organized for that special purpose, acting as
a scull. The degree of rapidity depends in a great mea¬
sure on the nature of the surface in which the motion is
1 Essai surla Physiognomic des Serpens, par H. Schlegel. La Haye, two vols. 8vo, 1837. Of this, the most recent and complete work on our
present department with which we are acquainted, we have availed ourselvt s largely in the following treatise.
s We have exhibited these parts as they exist in the genus Boa. See Plate CCCCXL1V. figs. 1, la, and H.
SERPENTS.
125
>hidian exercised. Serpents drag themselves along with difficulty
ptiles. over glass or any polished body, but make their way with
great alacrity over any earthy irregular surface, or through
tangled vegetation. For the exercise of these movements
it is of course necessary that the bones and muscles should
be fitly disposed; and every one who has examined a pro¬
perly prepared serpent, must have been struck at once by
the multiplicity and uniformity of its parts. The ribs and
vertebrae are almost all alike in their formation, and it is
only towards the caudal extremity that the bones diminish
in bulk.
As all the vertebrae of serpents carry ribs, the usual dis¬
tinctions of cervical, dorsal, and lumbar, do not exist; and
it follows, that the number of ribs always corresponds to
that of vertebrae. Moreover, as the scaly articulations
of the skin always correspond to the ribs, which are their
levers, so the number of abdominal plates agrees with the
amount of ribs and vertebrae. This number varies not only
with the species, but the individuals, and to so surprising an
extent, that we not unfrequently find a difference in the
same species, amounting to thirty or even fifty vertebrae.
The number of vertebrae of the body, properly so called,
rarely exceeds 300, and is never fewer than 100; the ver¬
tebrae of the tail, on the contrary, are sometimes reduced
to five, although in other cases they amount to from 150 to
200. The ribs are more numerous in serpents than in any
other class of created beings, several having above 500,—
that is 250, or upwards, on each side of the spinal column.
We here figure the skeleton of the common ringed snake
of England,— Tropidonotus natrix. See Plate CCCCXLIV.
fig. 2.
The muscles exhibit various modifications in the different
species. In some they are remarkable for their consider¬
able size, and for the extraordinary development of tendons,
especially among the venomous kinds. This organization is
necessary for the production of that force and energy with
which their undulating movements are often executed.
The muscles which produce these effects are situate along
the sides of the back, and on the anterior face of the ver¬
tebrae ; but as the ribs likewise exercise the function of lo¬
comotive organs, the numerous muscles which are attached
to these parts greatly facilitate the lateral movements. The
muscles of serpents being greatly interlaced, it becomes
difficult to describe them singly, and their comparison with
analogous parts in the higher orders is by no means easy.
These anatomical details, however, are not to be expected
in the present publication. We therefore refer the reader
to the works of Home,1 Hiibner,2 Duges,3 Duvernoy,4
Meckel,5 and Schlegel.6
The muscles of serpents, as of other reptiles, preserve
their irritability for a long time after what we may regard as
the actual death of the animal; for these creatures, although
deprived of their head, and divested of their skin, will con¬
tinue to exhibit muscular movements for several weeks, if
kept in a moist condition. Swammerdam, in his Biblia Na-
turce, has proved, both by his figures and descriptions of
frogs, that even at that early period (1666), that peculiar
galvanic effect was demonstrated in the muscles of these
reptiles, which at a future period gave rise to such important
discoveries regarding the phenomena of Voltaic electricity.
A few words may be said regarding the supposed vestiges
of the hinder extremities observable in certain serpents.
Several species exhibit on each side of the anus a small
hook or crotchet, half concealed by scales. The existence
of these parts has been long recognised, but we believe it is to
Professor Mayer of Bonn that we owe a more precise know¬
ledge of their nature. The only Ophidian genera in which Ophidian
they have been hitherto precisely observed, are Tortrix, Py- Reptiles.
thon, and Boa. They are most developed among the Boas,
and the huge size of these reptiles admits of a more satis¬
factory examination. (See Plate CCCCXLIV. figs. 1, \a,
and 15.) These vestiges, then, consist of an assemblage on
each side, of three principal osseous pieces, and of two small
accessory portions attached at the point of articulation of
the tibia and tarsus. The terminal bone, which alone ap¬
pears externally, is in the form of a crotchet, covered by a
hard and scaly skin. When a longitudinal incision is made
in the flesh, we find that the interior piece, which is the
most developed, more or less S shaped, and comparable to
the tibia, is prolonged with its free extremity into the ab¬
dominal cavity. The middle portion, on the contrary, which
seems to represent the tarsus, is thick, short, slightly arched,
and completely concealed within the flesh. This apparatus
is moved by flexor and extensor muscles of a sufficiently
simple structure. The use of these vestiges of the poste¬
rior members is still unknown. Their feeble development
debars the idea of their contributing in any way to locomo¬
tion. Certain observers maintain that they are prehensile
organs, which give firmness of position on whatever bodies
are embraced by the circumvolutions of the tail and trunk ;
or that they may even subserve the generative process.
They exist in both sexes.
When in a state of entire repose, the majority of ser¬
pents love to roll themselves into a spiral mass, with the head
in the centre, slightly raised above the other portions. Pos¬
sessing the power of bending their bodies in almost all di¬
rections, we at the same time frequently find them simply
extended on the ground or herbage in a sinuous curve. To
produce progressive motion, they merely unrol the body,
and bending it into successive lateral sinuosities, bring into
play the numerous points of contact presented by the an¬
terior extremities of the ribs, and thus push along with
great facility. These reptiles are frequently observed to
raise the anterior portion of their body into an erect posi¬
tion, supporting themselves on the tail and part of the ab¬
domen, as if with a view to survey the scene around them.
I he body, itself, is then usually quite stiff and straight, al¬
though some assume a more curved attitude, besides ex¬
hibiting a peculiar swelling or enlargement of the neck.
When suspended perpendicularly from the branch of a
tree, the great Boas exhibit scarcely any sign of life or mo¬
tion. They descend simply by dropping themselves down¬
wards, their peculiar form and great elasticity of structure
preventing their receiving any injury from the fall; and
when they reach the ground, this rapid movement, so far
from proving hurtful, aids by its impulsion their terrestrial
progress.
hrequent mention has been made by vague observers, of
serpents which could execute a retrograde movement,—
gliding backwards as easily as in an ordinary direction. This
fact has not been established on the authority of any instruct¬
ed naturalist, and may well be doubted, notwithstanding
what the ancients have said of the Amphisbaena (a/i^/'f and
fiahtiv, marching both ways), a reptile alleged to have a head
at either end, and supposed to be endowed with the faculty
of progressing in both directions.'’ The name, originally ap¬
plied to a species of the ancient world, probably the Eryx,
has been erroneously bestowed by modern naturalists (fol¬
lowing the example of the Portuguese) on a tribe of serpents
peculiar to America,—a country which knew not Aristotle.
The majority of serpents (both of the innocent and the
colubriform venomous kinds) defend themselves against the
Phil. Trans, vol. x.; and Lectures on Comp, A.nat.
2 De Organis motoriis Bocb canince.
Ann. des Sciences Nat. vol. xii.
4 Ibid.
5 Vergl. Anat. vol. iii. p. 130, et suiv.
6 Physiognomic des Serpens, vol. i. p. 18.
7 Pirn. 8, 35; yFJian, 9, 23.
126
SERPENTS.
Ophidian attack of their enemies by darting upon them, with the
Reptiles, head elevated, so as to enable them to bite with greater
’ energy. A few, such as the Najas, raise a considerable
portion of the anterior of the body, so as to assume a very
singular position. Most of them give utterance to a sharp
hissing sound as a prelude to battle ; and they also produce
a peculiar blowing, by forcing the air rapidly through the
nostrils. Several species throw themselves upon their prey
with a great and sudden bound, usually seizing it by the
throat; while others encircle it by a tortuous embrace, thus
pressing it to death by sinewy folds. The venomous kinds
make use of the same means to obtain their food as they
do to defend themselves from threatened danger. Quietly
stretched along the earth, they will attack indifferently what¬
ever incommodes them ; but knowing the potency of their
empoisoned fangs, they are satisfied by the infliction of a
murderous bite, without recourse to muscular pressure.
As snakes swallow their food entire, and without masti¬
cation, their teeth serve merely to wound and retain their
prey, or to instil into it the envenomed fluid. This deadly
matter is the product of certain glands of the head. These
are of two kinds; the one composed, like the salivary glands
of quadrupeds and birds, of numerous small granules, which
secrete a fluid analogous to saliva, and destined to prepare
the food for digestion ; the other, of a very different nature,
forming a thick sack, of which the interior is divided into
numerous compartments, and distilling a liquid which, by
its fatal effects on the principle of life, becomes a dreadful
instrument of destruction. The salivary glands are com¬
mon alike to all Ophidian reptiles, but scarcely a fourth of
the entire species are provided with those which secrete the
poison. The teeth which conduct this fatal fluid into the
wound are hollow and pierced at each extremity. They
are always situate towards the anterior end of the maxil¬
lary bone, are covered by the gums, which there form a kind
of sheath, and are always kept bent when in repose. The
rest of the teeth, and the whole of those of the innocuous
kinds, are solid, with the exception of the hollow which con¬
tains the nutritive organ of the tooth. Although these large
anterior fangs are characteristic of the poisonous kinds, we
yet find a considerable number of innocuous species, of va¬
rious genera, which have the jaws armed with one or two
teeth larger than the others, and usually furrowed by a
cleft extending along the anterior face. These grooved
teeth are always situate at the base or posterior extremity
of the maxillaries, and it is but seldom that we perceive a
second on the middle portion of the jaw. Their sole func¬
tion is believed to be the pouring into their wounded prey
an abundant supply of saliva secreted by the posterior part
of the salivary glands, which are most voluminous in the re¬
gion occupied by the teeth in question. I he organization
of these posterior glands entirely resembles that i the or¬
dinary salivary ones; and recent observation has demonstrat¬
ed, that the bite of species belonging to the genera Bry-
ophis, Dipsas, and others with furrowed teeth, is followed
by no fatal results, at least to the human race.1
In studying in detail the teeth of the Ophidian reptiles,
we may perceive a gradation from the solid to the hooked
teeth. Each tooth in fact consists, in its earliest develop¬
ment, of a kind of lamella with curved margins, so as to
open as it were on its anterior face. In the so-called solid
teeth, this opening has become filled by the union of the
margins at an early period ; it continues open for a longer
time in the hooks of the most venomous kinds, but in the
completed state they exhibit only the two orifices destined
for the entrance and emission of the poison,—the lower one
continuing to preserve the character of a longitudinal cleft. (>phid
In other poisonous species we find analogous fangs, but with ^eptui
a continuing vestige of the groove which formerly united Yrj
the two orifices. Finally, the furrow in the lengthened
posterior teeth of certain innocuous species, is nothing more
than the permanence of the groove now mentioned.
The solid teeth occur indifferently in all Ophidian rep¬
tiles ; but their number, form, and position, vary in the
different species. With the exception of the genus Oligo- ,
don, which is unprovided with palatine teeth, there are
alwavs four rows of teeth in the upper jaw (see Plate
CCCCXLIII. fig. 1c), and two in the lower. Intermaxil¬
lary teeth are not observable, except in the genus Python,
and occasionally in Tortrix scytale,—the number rarely ex¬
ceeding four (see figure last referred to). These solid teeth
are usually all of equal length ; but in the Boas they enlarge
towards the extremity of the muzzle (fig. 11), while the
reverse is the case in several species of Coluber, Tropidono-
tus, &c. The Lycodons exhibit some teeth more largely
developed than the others at the anterior extremity of the
maxillaries ; those of Dryophis and Psammophis are rather
unequal, several being even greatly elongated towards the
centre of the jaw; those of certain species of Dipsas, Homa-
lopsis, &c. are often furrowed; while other genera, such as
Xenodon, Coronella, and several kinds of Homalopsis, have
the base of the maxillaries armed with a strongly developed
tooth of a solid structure. The number of teeth, in general'
obviously varies in relation to the development of the maxil¬
laries, and of the dental bone of the lower jaw.
The poison-gland, which forms so peculiar a character of
the noxious kinds, is enclosed in a thickish tendinous en¬
velope, hard and tenacious to the touch, and diminishing
backwards into the form of a narrow ribbon, by which it
is attached to the articulation of the lower jaw. Anteriorly
this envelope is also restricted to a canal-shaped space,
which stretches along the maxillaries, and then descends
towards the orifice already mentioned, of the anterior face
of the base of the hooked fang. (See Plate CCCCXLIII.
fig. 10). Among the poisonous serpents properly so called,
this canal is folded when the fangs are in a state of repose,
but easily extends in conformity with the movement of the
maxillary bones. The interior of the poison-gland is sub¬
divided into a great number of minute cells, produced by
very slender partitions, which cross each other at an angle
more or less acute. To this peculiar structure, so dissimilar
to that of the salivary glands, is due the secretion called
poison, from its fatal effect when mingled with the blood of
any living creature. It is true, that the bite of even the
most innocent animal may sometimes produce the most dis¬
astrous results, by a concourse of peculiar circumstances,
such as the temperature of the climate, the psychological
or pathological condition of the creature bitten, or the rabid
fury of that which has aggressed, and for this reason the bite
of innocuous serpents may have sometimes proved fatal even
to the human race; but the poison of the injurious kinds
holds its noxious qualities in its very nature, although the
circumstances just alluded to may render more deadly its
destroying powers.
The poison of snakes, when fresh, may be described as a
transparent limpid fluid, of a greenish-yellow colour, slight¬
ly gluey, viscous, adhering to other objects when dried,
and evaporating without burning when exposed to fire. It
sinks in water, and when mingled with it by shaking, pro¬
duces a troubled and somewhat whitish appearance. It
partakes greatly of the nature of mucus ; and when placed
in contact with any re-active substance, we discover that it
1 The glands in the head of serpents have been discussed in numerous publications. See, among others, Ranby, Phil. Trans. No. 401, p. 377;
Tiedemann, Mem. de VAcad, de Munich, 1813, p. 25 ; Cloquet, Mem. du Mus., vii. p. 62; Demoulins ap. Magendie, Journ. de Physiol, iv. p.
274 ; Meckel, Archiv, i. 1 ; and Duvernoy, Ann. des Sciences Nat. xxvi. and xxx. Various observations bearing on the subject will also be
found in the well-known writings of Redi, Mead, Fpntana, and other physiologists.
SERPENTS.
hidian is neither acid nor alkaline; there is nothing peculiar in its
! itiles. oJoui-j and when applied upon the tongue it produces a sen-
sation resembling that of fresh fat. Our recorded notices
on the subject are, however, somewhat contradictory. Dr
Mead and his associates, in certain experiments on the
poison of the viper, inform us that that fluid, “ when dilut¬
ed with a little warm water, was very sharp and fiery when
tasted with the tip of the tongue, as if the tongue had been
struck through with something scalding or burning; this
sensation went off in two or three hours ; and one gentle¬
man who would not be satisfied without trying a large drop
undiluted, found his tongue swelled, with a little inflam¬
mation, and the soreness lasted two days.” The Abbe Fon¬
tana, on the contrary, describes it as of no particular acri¬
mony of taste, but rather resembling oil or gum; and Dr
Russel makes the same statement regarding the poison even
of the Cobra de Capello, a species much more venomous
than any viper. The accounts of its effect upon the sto¬
mach, when taken internally, also show that doctors differ.
It is long since Celsus said, “ nam venenum serpentis non
gustu sed in vulnere nocet.’’ Boerhaave quotes the well-
known case of Jacob Sozzi, who, at the court of' the Duke
of Tuscany, is alleged to have taken three drams of this
poison, without experiencing any bad consequences; while
Fontana affirms, that although its internal effect is not like
that of a bite or puncture, it cannot be swallowed with im¬
punity. On this point the older authors, as Dr Shaw in¬
forms us, also disagree. Matthiolus asserts, that even when
sucked from a wound it has proved fatal; while others con¬
firm the prevailing opinion of ancient writers, and the ex¬
perience of Cato’s soldiery, that it is harmless when so re¬
ceived. The practice, indeed, of the Psylli and Marmari-
des of old,
Tame, at whose voice, spell-bound, the dread Cerastes lay,
probably proceeded upon this principle of suction. These
Psylli were African tribes, and were employed, according
to Lucan, by Cato, for the recovery of such of his men as
had been bitten by serpents during their march among the
Libyan deserts. The heroic Roman is also said to have
assured his followers, who feared to drink, even in “ a dry
and desert land,” of the translucent fountains, lest they too
should be infected by serpents, that, however noxious might
be the bite of these envenomed reptiles, yet the poison
must lose its effects when mingled with so pure an element.
And now with fiercer heat the desert glows,
And mid-day gloamings aggravate their woes ;
When, lo ! a spring amid the sandy plain
Shews its clear mouth to cheer the fainting train.
But round the guarded brink in thick array
Dire Aspics roll’d their congregated way,
And thirsting, in the midst, the dreadful Dipsas lay.
Blank horror seized their veins, and at the view
Back from the fount the troops recoiling flew.
When, wise above the crowd, by cares unquell’d,
Their awful leader thus their fears dispell’d :
Let not vain terrors now your minds enslave.
Nor dream the serpent brood can taint the wave ;
Urged by the fatal fang their poison kills,
But mixes harmless with those bubbling rills.
Dauntless he spoke, and bending as he stood.
Drank with cool courage the suspected flood.
The poison of the viper, according to Boerhaave, is ren¬
dered inactive by digestion in the stomach and bowels, so
that it will not afterwards exert its fatal influence on the
blood; “ for a whole ounce of this venom taken by the
mouth will not kill an animal, while at the same time a
small needle only dipped in the same fluid, and taking up
perhaps not more than the hundredth part of a drop, when
thrust into the blood of a living creature, almost infallibly
destroys.”1 The following is Bruce the travellers well-
127
known but extraordinary narrative. “ I will not hesitate Ophidian
to aver that I have seen at Cairo (and this may be seen Reptiles.
daily, without trouble or expense) a man who came from ' “'v'"'—^
above the catacombs, where the pits of the mummy-birds
are kept, who has taken a cerastes with his naked hand
from a number of others lying at the bottom of the tub*
has put it upon his bare head, covered it with the common
red cap he wears, then taken it out, put it in his breast,
and tied it about his neck like a necklace; after which it
has been applied to a hen, and bit it, which has died in a
few minutes; and, to complete the experiment, the man
has taken it by the neck, and beginning at the tail, has ate
it as one would do a carrot or a stock of celery, without any
seeming repugnance.”
This opinion, however, that the poison of snakes may be
taken internally without producing any troublesome effects,
has been recently contradicted by the experience of Dr
Hering, at Surinam. This traveller took at different times
various doses of the poison of a rattle-snake ( Crotalus mu-
tus) mixed with water, and suffered from its effects for up¬
wards of eight succeeding days. These manifested them¬
selves by pains in the larynx and other parts of the body,
by an increased secretion of mucus in the membranes of
the nose and oesophagus, and by frequent diarrhoea, accom¬
panied by pain in the rectum. To these symptoms were
added several others of a rather curious kind, attributable
to the influence which this poison seemed to exercise even
over the moral faculties.
By far the most deleterious effect, however, of this subtle
fluid is produced by its mingling with the blood, through
the medium of an inflicted wound. It then shows its mor¬
bid influence with a rapidity often frightful, and usually
proportioned to the quantity of the poison instilled, and to
the abundance with which the wounded part is furnished
with those vessels which bear the stream of life. For this
reason, of course, the bite of a large snake is more dan¬
gerous than that of a small one; and so also a wound in
the tongue, or in any vein, is almost always mortal, while
it not unfrequently happens, that when a hard or callous
part is bitten, no injurious results are found to follow. Cold¬
blooded animals are much less affected by the bite of a
snake than are quadrupeds or birds; and in the majority of
invertebrated tribes it produces no effect whatever. Gene¬
rally speaking, however, the smaller the victim, the more
deadly are the consequences of a wound. In Europe, the
human race scarcely ever suffers fatally from the bite of a
viper; and it is supposed that the poison of several would
be required to kill a bullock or a horse. So at least say
many modern writers; yet we cannot help remembering
what Boerhaave tells us regarding a viper, which, “ being
enraged by the members of the Tuscan Academy,” and
then suffered to bite the nose of a strong bull, the pon¬
derous creature died in a very short time. A small quad¬
ruped dies rapidly from an infliction of the slightest wound.
In tropical countries, however, where the poisonous species
are often of considerable size, and their venom is both more
abundant and in a state of higher concentration, the effects
are fatal both to man and beast. The activity of the poison,
in truth, increases with the temperature of the climate.
Various experiments have been tried, with a view to as¬
certain the strength of this animal poison in different spe¬
cies of serpents, and the best means of arresting its fatal
influence. The observations of Lauren tius, Fontana, Russel,
Davy, and Lenz, are familiar to the student of physiology,
but less satisfactory in their results than might be desired,
from the modifying effects of special circumstances. To
obtain well rectified general inferences, it would be neces¬
sary that numerous experiments should be tried with ser¬
pents of corresponding size, existing under similar circum-
1 See Shaw’s General Zoology, iii. p. 371.
SERPENTS.
128
Ophidian stances, and in relation to victims of the same constitution;
Reptiles. anj {^y repeating these experiments with various kinds of
' serpents, and taking the average effect of each kind as a re¬
sult, we might in a measure ascertain the different charac¬
ters of these animal poisons, of which we have as yet but a
meagre knowledge.
The effect of a serpent’s bite usually manifests itself
without delay. A sharp pain is felt in the part pierced by
the fangs, although the puncture is extremely minute, and
scarcely a drop of blood may flow; swelling follows, and
inflammation soon declares itself. The progressive effects
upon other parts of the system are exhibited by a general
feebleness; walking becomes painful, and respiration labori¬
ous and constrained; the patient suffers from ardent thirst,
followed by nausea, vomiting, glimmering of the sight, and
other symptoms, which, combined with acute bodily pains,
often deprive the victim of his senses. Livid spots some¬
times surround the wound, the dread precursors of that fa¬
tal gangrene which, spreading more extensively, ere long
puts a period to existence. “ His strength is poured out
like water, and all his bones are out of joint; his heart is
like wax, it is melted in the midst of hts bowels. His
strength is dried up like a potsherd, and his tongue cleav-
eth to his jaws, and he is brought unto the dust of death.”
Then, instead of the bloom of youth, the power of man¬
hood, or the pride of beauty, we behold but a bloated corpse,
the sad repulsive remnant of humanity. It may be remark¬
ed, however, that the poison of these subtle reptiles seems
to deprive us of life under a considerable variety of aspects.
A lethargic torpor without pain is said to follow the bite of
the asp; and hence, we presume, its preference by that luxu¬
rious queen for whom Antony “ lost the world.” The fact,
though doubted by medical observers, seems in a great mea¬
sure confirmed by the examples adduced by Captain Gow-
die, as recorded by Dr Russel.1 Lucan of old has distin¬
guished the poisonous serpents that infested the march of
the Roman army over the deserts of Libya, by the various
symptoms which they produced; but his dreadful cata¬
logue should perhaps be regarded rather as a piece of poe¬
tical embellishment than as an historical relation. Yet it
seems now believed, that however the symptoms may vary,
the nature and action of the poison is the same in all, and
is in most cases to be counteracted by the same means.
The virulence of the bite even of individuals of the same
species probably varies according to the season of the year,
just as their manners and external aspect also vary, as so
beautifully described by Virgil.
Postquam exhausta palus, terraeque ardore dehiscunt;
Exilit in siccum, et flammantia lumina torquens
Saevit agris, asperque siti, atque exterritus aestu.
Ne mihi turn modes sub dio carpere somnos,
Neu dorso nemoris dbeat jacuisse per herbas :
Cum positis novus exuviis nitidusque juventu,
Volvitur, aut catulos tectis aut ova relinquens,
Arduus ad Solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.2
The excessive rapidity with which death was frequently
produced by the bite of venomous serpents, induced Dr
Mead to conclude that its fatal influence affected the ner¬
vous rather than the circulating system. But the experi¬
ments of Fontana go far to demonstrate that the venom of
the viper is perfectly innocent when applied to the nerves
only; but that it acts immediately upon the blood, and
through the medium of that fluid destroys the irritability
of the muscular fibre, and so produces death. A different
idea has been more recently proposed; that the poison of
serpents acts upon the blood by attracting the oxygen
which it contains, and which is believed to be essential to
its vital functions. The human heart, and in general the
heart of all animals with warm blood, has two ventricles or
cavities; and the blood, before it is returned to the right
ventricle, has to perform two circles, a lesser between the Ophidi
heart and the lungs, and a greater between the heart and s KePtlL!
the rest of the body. While the blood passes through the
lungs, it undergoes a very remarkable change of colour, and
of other properties. A certain portion of atmospheric air
is attracted and absorbed, while the remainder carries off
by expiration whatever ingredient of the blood is either un¬
necessary or injurious. The atmosphere we respire is a
compound fluid, of which one portion is oxygen or pure
air, and another and much larger is noxious or azotic air;
and it is the former ingredient only which is attracted by
the blood in its passage through the lungs, and contributes
to the maintenance of animal life. From this combination,
the heat of animals, and the brilliant colour of the blood,
are supposed to be derived.
The preceding observations will enable the reader to
comprehend more clearly the theory of the action of poi¬
sons proposed by Mr Boag. He adduces the following ar¬
guments in its support: 1. Man and other warm-blooded
animals, exposed to an atmosphere deprived of oxygen,
quickly expire. The poison of a serpent, when introduced
into the blood, also causes death; but carried into circula¬
tion by a wound, and in very small quantity, its operation
is comparatively slow and gradual. 2. The appearances on
dissection are very similar in both cases, the blood be¬
coming of a darker hue, and coagulating about the heart
and larger vessels. The destruction of the fibrous irrita¬
bility, and tendency to rapid putrefaction, are also remark¬
able in each. 3. Although Dr Mead mingled the venom
of a viper with healthy blood out of the body without per¬
ceiving it produce any change in its appearance, this is pre¬
sumed to arise from his having mixed a very small portion of
poison with a large portion of blood; but if two or three drops
of venom be mixed with forty or fifty drops of blood, it im¬
mediately loses its vermilion colour, becomes black, and in¬
capable of coagulation. 4. It is, moreover, a remarkable cir¬
cumstance, that the poison of serpents has most power over
those animals in which the blood is the warmest and the
action of the heart the most lively, while it is but a tardy
and altogether uncertain instrument of death to the majo-
rity of cold-blooded creatures. Of this the reason is, as
Mr Boag supposes, that cold-blooded animals do not re¬
quire a large quantity of oxygen to preserve their lives; a
fact otherwise sufficiently obvious from the conformation
of their heart and respiratory organs. Fontana’s experi¬
ments with a view to the prevention of the fatal effects of
poison, may be here stated in a few words. He applied
lunar caustic, which is a preparation of silver in nitric acid,
and found on so doing, that not only was the venom there¬
by rendered innocuous, but the corroding power of the
caustic greatly diminished. He next wounded a variety of
animals by means of envenomed teeth, and scarifying the
wounds, he washed them in a solution of lunar caustic and
water, and by this means saved the lives of the greater
number, although they belonged to species which he knew
to be easily killed, while the death of others was greatly re¬
tarded. These experiments, it may be added, neither pro¬
ceeded upon nor led to any theory.
Now the application of the following admitted facts is
presumed by Mr Boag to explain the efficacy of Fontana’s
treatment, and to illustrate the accuracy of his own views.
1. Oxygen enters into the composition of all acids, and is
the principle, as its name imports, on which their acidity
depends. 2. Metals are united with oxygen under various
circumstances, but chiefly in two ways; the first is by burn¬
ing them in an open fire, or, to speak more philosophically,
by the contact of heat and air, when they are converted
into metallic oxides; the second is by the decomposition
of acids, when they form compound salts. 3. Oxygen is at-
‘ In his work on the Serpents of the Coast of Coromandel.
2 Gear. lib. iii. 1. 482.
SERF
ihidian tracted by different metals with different degrees of force ;
i ptiles- those which attract it with the least force are the more per-
'■V—feet metals, such as platina, gold, and silver, which cannot
be converted into oxides, except at very high temperatures;
whereas arsenic, and many other substances, attract it strong¬
ly, and are usually found in combination with it even in the
bowels of the earth. If, therefore, the mortal effects which
arise from the bite of a serpent result, as stated by Mr Boag,
from the subtraction of oxygen from the blood, it is natu¬
ral to suppose that the most efficient cure must consist in
the renewal of that vital ingredient; and the most obvious
and easy mode of accomplishing this wall be, to employ such
substances as are known to contain oxygen in the greatest
abundance, and to give it up with the greatest facility. This
is precisely the character of lunar caustic, which is made
by dissolving silver in nitric acid, and afterwards evaporat¬
ing and crystallizing the solution.1
In further illustration of this singular subject, we may
here give a brief account of the effect produced by the bite
of some remarkable salt-water snakes, belonging to the
genus Hydrus (Hydrophis of our present treatise). Soon
after the opening of the bar in the month of October 1815,
reports prevailed at Madras that a great shoal of sea-snakes
had entered the river, and that many natives while crossing
had been bitten, and had died in consequence. A reward
was offered for each of these creatures captured and car¬
ried to the superintendent of police. Pandauls vrere erect¬
ed opposite to the two principal fords, and skilful natives,
under the direction of Dr M'Kenzie (to whom we are in¬
debted for the information), were provided with eau-de-luce
and other remedies, and ordered to afford immediate aid to
those who might be bitten. Many were bitten according¬
ly (the snakes seeming in no way loathe to expedite the
result), and all exhibited the symptoms usually consequent
upon the action of a powerful animal poison ; but none died.
We shall state a couple of cases, with the mode of treat¬
ment. A native woman, while crossing near the custom¬
house, was seen, on emerging from the water, to shake off
something from her foot. This to several spectators ap¬
peared to be a water-snake. The woman, after advancing
a few paces from the river, fell down, and was immediately
carried insensible to the pandaul. On examining her feet,
two small but distinct wounds were perceived on the ankle
of the right leg; her skin was cold, her face livid, her breath¬
ing laborious, her pidse scarcely perceptible. A ligature
was immediately placed above the wound, which had been
previously enlarged with a lancet, and a piece of the car¬
bonate of ammonia well moistened with pure nitric acid
applied, while thirty drops of the eau-de-luce were adminis¬
tered nearly at the same time in a glass of water. In five
minutes more a similar dose vras poured down the throat,
which seemed rather to increase the spasmodic affection of
the chest; but the pulse at the wrist became distinct, though
feeble. A third dose was repeated in three minutes more,
on which she uttered a scream, and began to breathe more
freely. Ten minutes had now elapsed since she had been
carried to the pandaul, and in about three minutes more a
tea-spoonful of the eau-de-luce was given, which almost
immediately produced violent nausea, and a profuse perspi¬
ration. When a little salt was put into her mouth, she de¬
clared it was not salt, but sugar; and this the natives deemed
an infallible sign of still-continued danger. She soon, how¬
ever, entirely recovered, and merely complained for three
or four days of a numbness in the limb above the wound.
Another case was that of a Lascar, who was bitten by a
snake while in the middle of the river. He advanced a few
paces after quitting the bank, and then fell down in violent
ENTS. 129
convulsions. When brought in, his breathing w^as laborious, Ophidian
his skin cold and clammy, his countenance livid, and his Reptiles,
pulse feeble at the wrist, but distinct at the temples. A
quantity of froth and foam was ejected from between his
dosed teeth. He too recovered, after a similar mode of
treatment; but he complained for many days that he had
no left leg. On another occasion a large healthy chicken
was exposed to the bite of a Hydrus major, four feet long.
It was bit in the foot, and in about ten minutes began to
droop, and to show a slight convulsive flutter of both wings.
In three minutes more it became convulsed, and at the end
of seventeen minutes from the infliction of the wound it
suddenly dropped down dead.2
Dr Russel has figured and described forty-three of the
most common serpents of Hindustan, and of these he found
only seven that were provided with poison-fangs. He in¬
forms us, that a quantity of warm Madeira taken internally,
with an outward application of eau-de-luce on the punctures,
w^as generally successful in curing the bite of even the most
venomous species. He also states that the medicine called
the Tanjore pill was equally efficacious. On comparing the
effects of the poison of five of the oriental species on brute
animals, with those resulting from the rattle-snake and Eu¬
ropean viper, Dr Russel remarked, that they all produced
morbid symptoms nearly the same, although they might
differ in the degree of their deleterious power, and the ra¬
pidity of its operation.
Tbe tongue of serpents is remarkable for its great ex¬
tensibility. It is protected by a rather firm skin, becomes
very slim towards the anterior extremity, where it divides
into two slender filaments, and is capable of being with¬
drawn into a kind of sheath, which opens in front of the
glottis. The position of these parts varies in the different
species, being placed, for example, very near the muzzle in
the genus Hydrophis, but much further backwards among
both the terrestrial and the tree serpents. The tongue of
the Ophidians in general, though extremely similar to that
of certain Saurians, such as Monitor, Tejus, and other ge¬
nera, yet differs in the far greater simplicity of the harder
parts by which it is supported; for we find, in place of a
hyoid bone, composed of several pieces, merely a simple
cartilaginous thread attached to the internal face of the
general integument of the gular region, with its two extre¬
mities prolonged greatly backwards. This cartilage is some¬
times, as in Boa, intimately united to the muscles of the
throat, of which it intersects the fibres, its posterior extre¬
mity being then attached to the skin on the sides of the
neck; but in the majority of cases, the horns of the hyoid
are free, closely approached, and prolonged into the ca¬
vity of the chest, even as far as the heart. The tongue
of these reptiles seems in truth, by its construction, to be a
genuine organ of touch, and serving neither for taste nor
deglutition, being during the latter act enclosed within its
sheath. A little notch-like aperture at the end of the
muzzle, which exists in most serpents, except the aquatic
kinds, admits the protrusion of the tongue without the ne¬
cessity of opening the mouth. This movement is usually
made very leisurely, although with extreme rapidity when
the individual is excited either by fear or passion.3
The use of the tongue in serpents is not exactly known.
Its narrow and cylindrical form would render it unapt to
aid the process of mastication, even were the teeth of a na¬
ture to perform that process. They are continually lancing
it into the air, and may possibly in this way also gather
moisture from grass or other herbage. It is, however, be¬
lieved that they never drink. “ On ignore,” says M. Sehle-
gel, “ si les serpens boivent, et s’il est juste d’opiner pour la
Ind a^vo]^3"^1" ^>0^S0n °f Serpents, by . Boag, Esq., Asiatic Researches, vol. vi, p. 103 ; and Edinburgh Cabinet Library (Zoology of
8 Asiatic Researches, vol. xiii. p 329.
VOL. XX.
See Helmann, Tiber den Tastsinn der Schlangen.
SERPENTS.
Ophidian negative; toutefois on n’a jamais aper^u des fluides dans
Reptiles. ceux dont on a examine I’estomac.”1 Other authors, how-
~ ^ ever? are 0f a somewhat different opinion. “ Tout au plus,”
say MM. Dumeril and Bibron, “ cette langue fort longue
sert-elle, comme on fa observe quelquefois, a faire pene-
trer un peu de liquide dans la bouche, car nous avons vu
nous-meme des couleuvres laper ainsi I’eau que nous avions
placee aupres d’elles dans la cage oil nous les tenions ren-
fermees pour les observer a loisir.”2
The alimentary canal of the Ophidians is remarkable for
its great simplicity.3 The oesophagus and stomach form a
continuous canal, to the special parts of which it is difficult
to assign precise limits. The pancreas, according to M.
Schlegel, is always placed “ dans la premiere courbure qui
fait 1’intestin a partir du pylore,” and varies in different
species both as to size and form. The spleen is of an oval
or somewhat globular shape, of a rather firm consistence,
and frequently concealed among the lobes of the pancrea,s,
with which it is sometimes intimately united. The liver in
Ophidian reptiles assumes a long ribbon-shaped form, more
slender at either end, sometimes imperfectly divided into a
couple of lobes, and extending along the oesophagus and
stomach, from the heart as far as the pylorus. The hepa¬
tic canal descends from its interior face towards the pan¬
creas, to conduct the bile into the small intestine. The
gall-bladder, which is abundantly supplied, discharges its
fluid by a short conduit, which joins the hepatic canal at
an angle more or less acute. The kidneys, remarkable for
their lengthened form and symmetrical position, are divided
into a great number of small lobes, adhering to each other
by means of the cellular tissue.
Digestion, notwithstanding the activity of the gastric
juice, is sufficiently slow in serpents. It would appear, in
fact, that the juice in question exercises its influence chiefly
in the regions near the pylorus; for it has been found that
an animal withdrawn from the abdomen of a snake is always
decomposed towards its lower extremity, while the portion
lying nearer the oesophagus continues unconsumed. Indi¬
gestible portions, such as hair, feathers, &c. are said to be
sometimes ejected by the mouth; and, according to M. Die-
perink, when a serpent in a wild state is pursued soon after
it has swallowed a considerable prey, it will disgorge it to
facilitate the means of escape. In regard to the digestive
faculty of serpents, one of the most remarkable characters
consists in the strong absorbing power of the intestines.
When we examine their fecal remains, we find that these
exhibit as it were a dry extract of the entire prey, of which
the parts incapable of liquefaction remain not only unaltered,
but occupying precisely the same relative positions which
they held in the living animal. If, for example, a rat has
been swallowed, we find, in what at first appears a dry and
unformed heap, the muzzle, the long hairs upon the cheeks,
the down which covers the thin cartilage of the ears, the
hair, of various length and colour, which has clothed the
back, abdomen, and especially the tail, and finally the
nails, in a perfectly entire state. All fleshy or softer sub¬
stances have been completely absorbed; and the earthy salts,
which by their union with the gelatine give consistence to
the bones, still indicate by their colour the position former¬
ly occupied by these osseous portions. The most complete
natural analysis has been effected by means of dissolution,
compression, and absorption,—and of this the desiccated
mass already mentioned is the sole residuum.4 The infre-
quent meals of serpents are thus in a measure compensated
by the great profit which they derive from each.
The mode in which these reptiles swallow their food is
sufficiently simple. They commence by getting the head
within their throat, and while the teeth of one jaw adhere
to the prey, the other jaw makes a forward movement, and, Ophiu.
fastening its teeth, draws the object inwards, till by this el)ti
alternate action of the jaws, and chiefly of the under one, Y'
deglutition is effected. The jaws, as we have already hint¬
ed, are capable of a certain separation from each other even
at their basis, and an abundant supply of saliva being at
the same time poured out upon the victim, a body larger
in bulk than the snake itself is sometimes swallowed ; and
as in this case the process is slow, and but a small portion
can enter the throat at a time, the reptile reposes for a con¬
siderable period, even till, with distended mouth, it seems
gorged with putrefaction, presenting a hideous and disgust¬
ing picture of gluttony and sloth. When the venomous
kinds swallow their prey, they do not use their poison-fangs,
but lower these beautiful and highly-finished instruments of
destruction into the hollow of the gums,—“ sheathing them
as a sword.”
The heart of Ophidian reptiles is usually of an elongated
form, and is remarkable for its distant position from the
head. It is composed of twro spacious auricles, separated
from each other by a membranous division ; the ventricle,
on the contrary, is imperfectly divided into two rather nar¬
row cavities, by a partition which takes its origin from the
base of the heart, and loses itself amid the fleshy fibres of
that region. The walls of the auricle, although fleshy, are
slender,—those of the ventricle are of considerable thick¬
ness, especially on the left side of that portion which ex¬
tends in the form of a conical appendage beneath the left
auricle. Each auricle communicates with the ventricle by
means of a broadish opening, susceptible of being closed by
a valve. The right auricle receives all the veins, which
form, with the exception of the left jugular, prior to passing
through the wall of the auricle, a kind of sac of greater or
less extent, which, in addition to the ordinary tunics, ex¬
hibits a distinct muscular coat. Two large valves serve to
close the common entrance of the veins into this auricle.
When the blood has attained the right chamber of the ven¬
tricle, it is driven into the pulmonary artery, of which the
embouchure offers twro valves; comprised at its base in the
common trunk of the aortas, this artery curves itself be¬
neath the left aorta, and approaches the lung, of which it
margins the posterior face before entering the interior of
that organ. A single pulmonary vein, piercing the lung
behind the artery of the same denomination, carries the
oxydised blood into the left auricle, which is of a conoid
form, and less spacious than the right one. This oxydised
blood, after having passed into the left cavity, is pushed to¬
wards the right side, where we find the embouchures of the
two aortas, of which each exhibits a pair of semicircular
valves, even when these openings are united into one.
We shall now devote a few lines to the respiratory or¬
gans. When we observe a serpent in a state of repose,—
as on the grassy herb
Fearless, unfeared, he sleeps,—
we may see that its body alternately dilates and contracts
by the play of the ribs, and that this movement is repeated
slowly, yet at regular intervals. But we may also perceive,
that the nostrils are closed for a longer, and consequently
an unconforming period, during one of which the body is
contracted and dilated perhaps thirty times. It results from
this observation, that the lungs of Ophidians, besides their
ordinary function, fulfil that of serving as reservoirs of at¬
mospheric air, which, though replenished only by a single
inspiration, contain a quantity sufficient to admit a continu¬
ous oxydation of the blood by the contraction of the lungs.
When the oxygen is totally absorbed, expiration takes place,
and a supply of fresh air is drawn in. The configuration of
1 Physiognomic des Serpens, i. 97- 1 Hrp- Gen. i. 135. ^ .
The digestive organs are described by Duvernoy in Ann. des Sciences Nat., and by Meckel in his Vergl. Anat. 4 Erp. Generale, i. Hj.
SERPENTS. 13]
rphidian the lungs undergoes many modifications in the different M. Cloquet, and verified by Baron Cuvier and M. Dumeril, Ophidian
jptiles. races of Ophidian reptiles. The form is usually that of a have demonstrated that the eye of Ophidians is covered Reptiles,
simple conical sac, extending from the heart toward the by a single lid, large though immoveable, and incased in a
lower regions of the stomach, where it ends in a mem- projecting frame, which forms around the orbit a series of
branous pouch. The trachea, composed of numerous demi- scales, variable in number, though' usually amounting to
rings united anteriorly by a membrane, terminates in the seven or eight. When the general coverin«- is renewed
origin of the lungs by an oblique opening. The latter or- we find that a delicate coating of the eye is likewise thrown
gan is divided more or less completely into two bronchiae off as a portion of the exuvi*. The structure of the ear
in Boa, the majority of Tortrix, the genus Dipsas, and in serpents seems to demonstrate that these creatures are
others; and in these we may perceive the vestige of a se- dull in their sense of hearing.
cond lobule of the lung, sometimes half as large as that on The general envelope of Ophidian reptiles forms a kind
the other side. A singular peculiarity is observable among of cuirass, which enables them to withstand the influence of
the sea-serpents. In Hydrophis colubrinus, for instance, the the elements and the effects of external accidents. To con-
tracheal pipe is prolonged into the hypochondriac region, form to the movements of the body, and the occasional en-
where it terminates in a membranous sac, extending to largement of its parts, this covering, we need scarcely say,
within a couple ot inches of the anus; but in place of a is composed of a multiplicity of separate compartments, of
membrane uniting the rings of the trachea, it is the lung which the smaller are called scales, the larger plates. These
itself that envelopes that tube throughout its whole length, parts are composed of much thicker layers of the integu-
The small size of the brain in serpents is obvious in all, ment than the intervening portion, which consists of a de-
and becomes very conspicuous in relation to the size of the licate skin, seldom visible except when the body is more
head, when we select for observation any of those species than usually distended, and for this reason almost always
in which the organs of manducation are strongly developed, colourless, being unsubjected to the influence of light. In
The two hemispheres are prolonged by restriction into the certain species of the genus 'Tropidonotus, however, the
olfactive lobule, so that the latter part is borne, as it were, mucous membrane of the neck is so tinted as to exhibit a
upon a pedicle. We observe the optic lobules on their beautiful vermilion-red between the scales; and the scales
posterior face, and passing beneath the hemispheres towards themselves in many species exhibit colours, both fixed and
the eye, to form the optic nerve. The cerebellum is a very iridescent, of great brilliancy : 
small organ, situate behind the optic lobules, almost uni¬
form with the spinal cord, or offering but an inconsiderable rl?c^ °f. ver<lant gold, erect
enlargement. The grand sympathetic nerve is interlaced mi bt 1 leir CHC lng sPires*
at so many points with the par vagum, that it is next to The general tinting depends in a great measure upon the
impossible to trace its origin with any certainty. condition of the epidermis, and is always freshest and purest
As to the intellectual faculties of these reptiles, we know immediately after the casting of the slough or superficial
that Satan found skin. The total amount of longitudinal rows of scales is
The serpent subtlest beast of all the field; almost always an unequal number, there being a single
range rather larger than the rest along the centre of the
and we doubt not that, even in our own days, they may be dorsal region, with an equal number on either side; but to
placed at least upon an equality with the Saurian and Che- this rule Herpetodryas carinatus forms an exception (the
Ionian orders. The reproductive power with which their only one perhaps throughout the order), there being a dou-
separate parts are said to be endowed has probably been ble central row of scales along the back. The form of the
the subject of some exaggeration ; and it seems certain that scales is greatly varied, some being rounded on the margins,
when the tail or other important portion has been destroy- others truncated at the extremity, or prolonged into a sharp¬
ed by mutilation, it is altogether incapable of being repro- ish point. The greater number are what naturalists call
duced. The sense of smell is believed to be by no means imbricated, that is, lying slightly over each other like the
acute in these reptiles. The nostrils vary in the different tiles of a house ; but almost all sea-serpents have the scales
genera in respect to form, size, and position. It may, how- of a hexagonal form, with the epidermis very thin,
ever, be stated as a constant rule, that the purely aquatic The median line of the lower parts is usually covered by
species have the nostrils small, directed upwards, and for a range of broad scaly plates, of much larger dimensions than
the most part susceptible of being closed by means of a the ordinary lateral and dorsal scales; and the caudal plates
valve, while those of the terrestrial and arboreal kinds are are generally different from those of the abdomen. The
usually lateral and open. Among the burrowing serpents latter form a single uniform range from the anus to the
these openings are almost always of an orbicular form, and throat, where they disappear. They are sometimes narrow,
of very small dimensions. In the genera Trigonocephalus as in the genera Boa, Tortrix, &c., and in such cases re-
and Crotalus there is a cavity on each side of the muzzle, semble the scales of the back; but in the far greater num-
behind the nostrils, of which the use is still unknown. The ber they are so broad as to encroach even on the flanks,
eye is probably defective in the power of distant vision, and thus occupy a large proportion of the circumference of
though sufficiently acute for all the ordinary purposes of a the body. The plates beneath the tail do not form a single
serpent’s life. It is covered over by the external skin, of central range, except in Boa, Eryx, and a few other Ophi-
which, however, the tunics are in that quarter extremely dians, the majority of the order having the part in question
thin and diaphanous, and present themselves under the form provided with a double row of plates. We may add, that
of a hemispherical lamella adhering to the scaly plates which the terminal plates of the abdomen also not unffequently
surround the orbit. There is thus no apparent eye-lid to partake of this divided character.
the visual organs of serpents, a slight edging of the skin The head of Ophidian reptiles is rarely clothed with scales
forming their only protection.1 The supposed absence of of a character similar to those of the body. They are larger,
this part was presumed by the ancients, and has been re- and of a more determinate and symmetrical form; and as
corded in the writings even of modern anatomists of the they offer distinctive characters of easy application, they
greatest skill. But more recent researches, undertaken by have received from M. Schlegel various names, in accord-
.. c ^ous avons dit qu if n y avail pas de paupieres apparentes dans les serpens, et que ces animaux semblent, par eela meine, avoir
1 ail fixe, et etre toujours £veill£s. (Erp. Gen. i. 102.)
132 SERF
Ophidian ance with the position they occupy, such as vertical, occi-
Keptiles. superciliary, frontal, rostral, labial, ocular, frenal, tem-
" " poral, mental, and gular.1
The system of coloration which prevails among these in¬
sidious creatures is very varied, and admits of numerous
exceptions to any general laws which we might attempt to
establish in its illustration. In numerous species there is a
beautiful accordance between the tinting of the body and
the colour of the places they inhabit; thus many tree-ser¬
pents are of a uniform greenish hue, exactly similar to that
of the foliage by which they are overshadowed, while seve¬
ral kinds of Dendrophis and Dnjophis seem rather to imi¬
tate the small and leafless branches. In the genus Dipsas
the colours recall to mind those of the mossy trunks of an¬
cient trees ; fresh-water snakes are usually of a sombre uni¬
form hue; while the marine species partake of those clearer
tints of green and blue which beautify the pellucid billows
of the up-heaving sea. Such as dwell in dry and desert
lands are often to be scarcely distinguished from the parch¬
ed sand by which they are surrounded; while others, which
affect a more varied soil and richer vegetation, are adorned
with the gay and gorgeous colouring of flowers, or the me¬
tallic splendour of the mineral kingdom. Several have
their bodies encircled by alternate bands of crimson and
black upon a pearly-white or delicate yellow ground, and
present an aspect as richly adorned as any we can discover
throughout the entire range of the animal world.
Lovelier not those that in Illyria changed 1
Mermione and Cadmus, or the God
In Epidaurus, nor to which transformed
Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline was seen :
He with Olympias, this with her who bore
Scipio, the height of Rome.
Among the more beautiful may be mentioned Coronella
venustissima and coccinea, Lycodon formosus, several spe¬
cies of Tortrix and Heterodon, the majority of the genus
Elaps, Naja lubrica, Dendrophis ornaia, and Dipsas ma-
crorhina. Numerous other species are equally remarkable,
both for the splendour and diversity of colour by which
they are adorned ; but as these, bright hues are subject to
numerous causes of variation, from age, sex, and season, it
results, that among no order of created beings is the always
uncertain character of colour to be less depended on than
among the subjects of our present dissertation. It seems,
however, established as a general law, that the younger in¬
dividuals have the liveliest and most distinct tints, and that
these in more aged examples are not unfrequently effaced,
or fade away, as we find in Coluber canus and melanurus,
Homalopsis buccata, Xenodon severus, and others. The
power of speedy and spontaneous change of colour does
not, however, seem to be a possession of the Ophidian order,
as it is of so many of the Saurian tribes. Yet a few of the
arboreal serpents have been occasionally observed to mo¬
dify their living tints from time to time.
The natural colours of these creatures can scarcely be
judged of from specimens imported to our cabinets from
foreign climes. The spirit in which they are preserved is
not the spirit of beauty. Black, brown, ochry-yellow, and
several other tints, do not. altogether lose their lustre; and
Calamaria arctiventris and brachyorrhos, Tortrix macu-
lata and xenopeltis, Coronella ntfula, Lycodon hebe and
subcinctus, Coluber constrictor, Msculapii, and melanurus,
and several kinds of Naja, Homalopsis, and Vipera, may
be named among those which are most easily preserved.
But green speedily tarnishes after death, loses its vivacity,
and becomes bluish ; it even communicates its tint to spirit
of wine. White almost always loses its purity, and becomes
ENTS.
of a soiled or yellowish aspect, while pale yellow passes into Ophidian, If
dingy white. The brilliant hues of red and orange with which Reptdes 5
so many species are adorned, almost entirely disappear, and Y^*‘ ^
are converted into dingy or brownish yellow. Blue, vvhich
is rather a rare colour among Ophidian reptiles, also quickly
fades away, and the more exposed the specimens are to the
influence of light, the more rapidly are these and other
changes effected.
In discussing the various branches of natural history, it
is the practice of authors to state the uses of each particu¬
lar tribe of animals to the human race. We fear, that in
relation to our present subjects, a single paragraph may suf¬
fice. Serpents certainly confer benefit by destroying other
injurious creatures, such as small mammiferous vermin,
worms, insects, and mollusca of various kinds. 1 hey were
formerly used in medicine, though that practice, we believe,
is now confined to the ignorant and superstitious ; yet it
has been recently stated, that Dr Marikrosky, of Rosenau,
in Hungary, has employed the gall of serpents with success
in epileptic cases.2 It is well known that the flesh of the
viper has been highly esteemed, both by ancient and mo¬
dern physicians, as a restorative and strengthening diet.
This idea, as Dr Shaw has well observed, seems to have
originated from the reptile casting its skin, a natural pro¬
cess, viewed by the vulgar as a renovation of youth; and a
snake being made the emblem of health, and consecrated
to fEsculapius, may have depended on the same idea. .,1 he
flesh of the viper was used by the ancients in leprous and
other cases. “ The Greek physician Craterus, mentioned
so often by Cicero in his Epistles to Atticus, cured, as Por-
phyrius relates, a miserable slave, whose skin in a strange
manner fell off from his bones, by advising him to feed on
vipers’ flesh in the manner of fish. Antonius Musa, phy¬
sician to Octavius Caesar (Augustus), is said by Pliny to
have ordered the eating of vipers, in the case of otherwise
incurable ulcers, which by this method were quickly heal¬
ed ; and Galen says, that those who are afflicted with ele¬
phantiasis are wonderfully relieved by eating vipers’ flesh
dressed like eels.”3 According to Lopez, the negroes of the
coast of Congo eat roasted adders, and regard them as de¬
licious food. It is well known that the credulous Sir Ke-
nelm Digby, with a view to recover his wife, the Lady Ve-
netia, from consumption, caused her to feed on capons fat¬
tened with vipers. But we need not detain our readers
with more of these, at best, ambiguous views. To proceed
with our natural history.
In European countries, the copulation of serpents usually
takes place, in fine weather, during the months of April and
May, and three or four months elapse before the eggs are
laid. Incubation is effected within the body of the female;
for, on opening an egg immediately after exclusion, we al¬
most always find a foetus more or less developed, sometimes
entirely formed. In the latter case, the so-called shell is
merely a delicate membrane, through which the young can
force their way, even at the moment of parturition. In the
greater number of species, however, the eggs are composed
externally of a resistant covering resembling parchment,
the young being very imperfectly formed at the period of
deposition, and requiring sometimes a month or more be¬
fore they are hatched. It is merely this difference in the
times of final exclusion that constitutes the distinction be¬
tween the viviparous and oviparous kinds, these being
otherwise essentially the same. All Ophidians are in truth
oviparous; and those naturalists are in error who compare
this seemingly viviparous generation to that of mammife¬
rous animals, in which the young are nourished by the pla¬
centa of the mother. According to M. Herholdt,4 the con-
1 See Pht/siognomie des Serpens, i. 60.
i Hufeland, Journ. Ann. 1831, cab. 10.
3 General Zoology, iii. 372.
4 Ooersigt. 1830, p. 4.
SERPENTS.
133
hidian
; ptiles.
dititfns most favourable to the development of these em-
bryons are humidity, produced by a feeble vegetable fer¬
mentation, with a proportional temperature (between -f- 20°
and -j- 6° R.), and under circumstances likely to favour
absorption and evaporation through the external tunic of
the egg. Hence their love of dunghills, or heaps of leaves
piled up in places open to the sun.
The supposition entertained by many is incorrect, that
poisonous serpents always produce living young, and that
the innocuous kinds as constantly deposit eggs. This di¬
versity in the generative process does not seem to bear
any relation to the organization of the species ; at least we
find the two modes exemplified in nearly-related species of
the same genus. Thus the harmless Coronella hzvis pro¬
duces young as lively as those of the common viper; Boa
murina is also viviparous, while the deadly Najas and seve¬
ral others lay eggs. The number of young ones varies in
different species. M. Schlegel did not find above ten in
several kinds of Calamaria, from twenty to twenty-five in
the genus Coluber, and above thirty in Trigonocephalus
atrox. The offspring usually differ from their parents in
being of more lively colours, with the head blunter and
rounder, the eyes larger, and the scales and other appen¬
dages of the epidermis less raised. They are, however,
furnished with teeth exactly like those of their respective
parents, and of which they do not fail, when occasion offers,
to make speedy use. The venomous kinds instinctively
elevate and depress their poison-fangs, as if ready from
the first to defend themselves against that persecution to
which their race is subjected. The European kinds are
known to change their skins about five times every sum¬
mer, that is, once a month from the end of April to the
beginning of September. They are capable of long-con¬
tinued abstinence, independent of the lethargic state into
which the northern species fall in winter. A Boa con¬
strictor sent from Surinam to Holland fasted continuously
for six months. The age to which serpents attain is to us
unknown.
We shall now devote a few pages to a branch of our sub¬
ject of peculiar interest, which we have seldom altogether
neglected in relation to other departments of zoology in
the course of the present work, and which, so far as con¬
cerns the singular beings now under more particular consi¬
deration, has never been at all discussed in any work ac¬
cessible to the English reader,—we mean the distribution of
serpents over the earth’s surface.
A knowledge of the geographical distribution of reptiles
may be regarded, not only as highly interesting in itself,
but as extremely important in relation to the general sub¬
ject of the location of organized life. Numerous diversify¬
ing agents tend to alter the original position of plants.
Their seeds are carried hither and thither both by winds
and waves, the human race have transported them to and
from many distant regions, and artificial culture has so
changed their natural characters, that the very earth which
bore them can no longer recognise her offspring. A vast
majority of living beings are created with the means of
transporting themselves, with more or less facility, from one
country to another. Many quadrupeds are continually ex¬
tending the sphere of their original habitation; birds of
powerful flight wing their buoyant way from clime to clime;
while the liquid depths of ocean offer a vast continuous
space, within which the finny tribes may exercise their mi¬
gratory movements. But it is far otherwise with the race of
reptiles, especially the footless tribe of serpents. Destitute
of the pow er of long-continued locomotion, they never at¬
tempt to travel far from the places of their birth, and thus,
even in our own days, they still represent more accurately
than do the other classes of the animal kingdom the posi¬
tions in which they may be supposed to have been origi¬
nally placed. Such as inhabit northern countries, and are
at the same time incapable of enduring cold, having no Ophidian
power to flee from the rigours of winter, escape its effects Reptiles,
by falling into a state of lethargic repose.
It is obvious, then, that the geographical distribution of
serpents presents a peculiar interest, inasmuch as it tends
to make us acquainted with the true and natural relations
which exist between these creatures and the places they in¬
habit, and thus in a measure presents us with a picture of
the primitive state of matters, before man’s intermeddling,
and other supervening agents, had altered the local relations
of animal life.
One of the most curious general facts in the distribution
of serpents, is their apparent absence (at least so far as the
land species are concerned) from the numerous islands of
the vast Pacific Ocean,—a circumstance not altogether to
be accounted for by the isolation of these various groups,
seeing that those of the Indian Archipelago particularly
abound with serpents. Another fact seems still more firmly
established, that the reptiles of the New World are all spe¬
cifically different from those of the Old,—a peculiar feature
in the history of their class, in so far as many quadrupeds
and birds are common to both countries. At the same time
it may be borne in mind, that it is only the species of very
northern portions of the two continents which are in any
case identical, and that as these northern portions are al¬
most, if not entirely, destitute of reptile life, the field is great¬
ly narrowed, so far as that form of existence is concerned.
I he snakes of South America are in general very distinct
from those of the northern portions of the New World, al¬
though a few are identical. Several of the southern spe¬
cies inhabit the West Indies and the warmer parts of the
United States, where they form what may be termed cli¬
matic varieties. Other species more characteristic of a large
extent of North America, reach as far south as Mexico and
the Antilles. America in general, especially its equatorial
districts, is almost as rich in snakes as the Indian islands.
It is otherwise with New' Holland, where these reptiles are
by no means numerous, but where the species, excepting
perhaps a few of its more northern kinds, are peculiar to
the country. I he serpents of Japan seem, without excep¬
tion, to belong to particular species not hitherto observed
in other quarters of the world. The numerous islands of
the great Archipelago of the Indian Ocean produce in se¬
veral instances identical species, and these, moreover, are
not unfrequently the same as those of Malacca, Bengal, Hin¬
dustan, and Ceylon. If wre may judge from the few known
species, the serpents of Madagascar may be regarded as
peculiar to that vast island. Africa, compared with other
great equatorial continents, cannot be said to be very rich
in these reptiles. Its southern portions produce species en¬
tirely different from those of Europe and of other countries ;
but these species have a wide range in Africa itself being
in many cases spread over all its intertropical regions, and
even its northern parts. i hese comparatively northern
countries, in addition to some peculiar species, produce
several others which likewise inhabit the shores of both
sides of the Mediterranean. Many of our European ser¬
pents are found over a large portion of temperate Asia, a
region which appears to produce but a small proportion of
peculiar species.
The geographical distribution of families and genera, 
these being viewed as representing various leading forms,—
affords an equally curious subject of observation. We may
notice, in the first place, that the venomous sorts are distri¬
buted, with the exception of a few islands, over whatever
countries produce serpents of any kind. These venomous
species bear no determinate co-relation, as is often supposed,
to intense heat; for they occur in cold and temperate coun¬
tries equally with the innocuous kinds. But their aggre¬
gate number is much more limited than that of the latter ;
for while we reckon tiie total number of known Ophidians
134
SERPENTS.
Ophidian at 263,1 we do not find above fifty-seven of these endowed
Reptiles, injurious attributes,—that is, the proportion is not much
^ ^ v -u_ ■' more tjjan one five. This proportion, however, is not
maintained throughout the various countries of the globe,—
the venomous kinds seeming to be comparatively more nu¬
merous in open sterile countries. Of this, Africa and New
Holland furnish examples,—the venomous species of the
former continent being to the innocuous kinds as one to
two or three, while of the ten species (or thereabouts) ot
ascertained New Holland species, not fewer than seven are
venomous. In general, the number of individuals of each
species is much more limited among the venomous kinds,
as these live in an isolated manner, and rarely multiply so
as to become abundant. Local circumstances sometimes
favour an exception to this rule, as in the case of the Trigo-
noeephalus lanceolatus of Martinique and St Lucia, and that
of the Dalmatian Viperus ammodytes. The sea-snakes, all
of which are poisonous, are likewise of a gregarious nature.
Excepting the anomalous group called Fortrix, there does
not seem to exist any genus of serpents which is spread over
all countries capable of maintaining reptile life; and this
restriction seems to illustrate the intimate relation which
subsists between the organization of these beings, and the
countries they inhabit. For example, the Colubers pro¬
perly so called, which are destined to dwell in countries
which are either well wooded, or marshy with abundant
vegetation, have not yet been observed in New Holland,
and are so rare in South Africa that only a single species
has been found there, and that of a somewhat anomalous
nature, in so far as its characters exhibit an approach to
those of species which dwell by preference in sandy deserts.
A similar observation applies nearly to the genus Coronella,
composed of species which inhabit marshy plains, or such
as are covered by brushwood. None of these occur in New
Holland (which is noted for its frequent want of water),
while the South African kinds differ from the typical spe¬
cies of the genus. The tree-serpents are characteristic of
equatorial countries, inhabiting of course only those por¬
tions which fulfil the conditions of their existence, that is,
are well wooded. The three genera which compose the
family are found both in the Old and New World ; but it is
noticeable that the species of the genus Dipsas of America
do not attain to so great a size as the majority of those of
India ; while the genus Dryophis in America forms a true
geographical division of the group, in so far as the dental
system and muzzle are less developed, and the pupil of the
eye is orbicular. The fresh-water snakes, comprised in the
genera Tropidonotus and Homalopsis, occur abundantly in
countries rich in permanent lakes, and watered by con¬
tinuous rivers. They are thus well known in Asia, Ameri¬
ca, and even Europe, but are extremely rare in Africa, and
unknown in New Holland. The genus Homalopsis, indeed,
which contains the essentially aquatic species, does not oc¬
cur in Africa, but predominates in the New World, so rich
and unrivalled in its mighty reservoirs of water.
The geographical distribution of the Botis exhibits some Ophife
facts worthy of record. The whole are peculiar to warm
countries. The genuine species are confined to South
America; their analogues in the ancient world being the
Pythons of India, although in the latter country we also
find several serpents very similar to Boas, but of very small
size, and of which none exists in the western world, except
a single representative in the island of Cuba. The genus
Acrochordus forms a limited group, entirely confined to the
East Indies. Of the venomous serpents, it is chiefly the
vipers, and perhaps a few rattle-snakes, which make their
way into temperate or colder countries, the majority of the
genera occurring in intertropical regions. Of the colubri-
form venomous serpents, the genus Elaps is the only one
which occurs in both worlds; and it is not improbable that
the American species will be found to constitute a geogra¬
phical group, distinguished by their peculiar coloration, and
certain small distinctions even in form, ihe Indian species
of the genus last named are longitudinally striped, instead
of being ringed with red and black, while those of New Hol¬
land present some anomalous features. The genus Bun-
garus is proper to the East Indies, where also are found
certain Nojcis, although the majority of these prefer a di ier
and more sandy soil,—a circumstance which explains their
greater predominance in Africa and New Holland. 1 he fact
does not seem to admit of easy explanation, that salt-water
serpents should be found almost exclusively in the Indian
seas* from Malabar to the great Pacific Ocean. In regard
to the venomous kinds properly so called, of the three ge¬
nera of which that division is composed, it may be observ¬
ed, that one, Viperus, is proper to the ancient world; that
another, Crotalus, is confined to the new ; while a third,
Trigonocephalus, occurs in both. These last-named rep¬
tiles dwell in great forests, or in well-wooded countries, and
for that reason are not observed either in Africa or New
Holland, where they are replaced by vipers ; but it may be
mentioned, that the viper of New Holland is an anomalous
species, while such as inhabit Europe equally depart from
the typical form, and tend towards that of Trigonocephalus.
In the genus just named two divisions may be established,
one composed of species with the head clothed with scales,
and which inhabit more particularly tropical countries; an¬
other formed of species with the head covered by scaly
plates, and which extend into temperate regions.
The preceding are a few of the most general facts in the
distribution of Ophidian reptiles. We shall now notice
some of those peculiarities which distinguish particular con¬
tinents,—and, first, of Europe. We here find no species of
the genera Calamaria, Helerodon, or Lycodon, no genuine
tree-serpents, no species of Homalopsis or Boa. W e never
meet in Europe with any salt-water serpents, nor with any
of the colubriform venomous kinds; and the poisonous tribes
in general are represented merely by a few vipers. That
the entire order of Ophidian reptiles has its great centre
of dominion in sultry regions, is made manifest by the fact,
* We here follow the computation of M. Schlegel, who probably proceeds upon the idea that the actual species have been nominally mul-
tinlied bv the misapplication (and duplication) of various names. The amount must have been considerably greater in M Humboldt s opi¬
nion as that illustrious writer incidentally states that equatorial America produces 115 serpents out of the 320 which form the Ophidian o
der ’ Daudin even in his time, described about 313 supposed species, of which eighty were regarded as venomous and 233 as innocuous, which
•via a aroater proportion to the former than they are at present entitled to. Nearly 400 different kinds of serpents are believed to exist in
fhe Paris Museum, although we know not with what degree of critical accuracy that enumeration has been made
We do not ourselves possess the means of ascertaining the total number of reptiles now known to naturalists; but the following table ex¬
hibits the amount (as in 1834) in the National Museum of Paris, compared with the number described in the works of three principal
writers on the class in question Lacdpfede, 1790. Daudin, 1805. Merrem, 1820. French Museum, 1834.
62 62 97
88 83 168
Ophidians 172 315 348 391
Batrachians    40 91 °7
292 556 580 846
We may conclude this note by observing, that the unfortunate Wagler, in his Naturllchc* Syttem der Amphibien, four vols. Munich, 1830,
with folio Atlas of plates, has described no fewer than 248 genera of the reptile race.
Chelonians    24
Saurians  56
SERPENTS.
i hidian
j ptiles.
that the temperate and northern parts of Europe produce
^ no peculiar species, that is, no species which do not occur
equally, if not more abundantly, in the southern districts of
the continent, where we likewise find several kinds native
to the neighbouring countries of Asia and Africa. Limits,
however, may be assigned to several species, and this cir¬
cumstance naturally gives rise to some curious observations.
The common viper, for example, inhabits all the central
parts of Europe, and is even spread over temperate Asia
as far as Lake Baikal. It is well known in Sweden, spreads
westwards into Britain, is frequent in Jura, Islay, and some
others of our western islands, but is unknown in Ireland.
The western boundary, however, of the great mass of indi¬
viduals of this species may be stated to be the river Seine,
while the Alps appear to form its southern limit.1 In the
southern portion of western Europe our viper is replaced
by another species called the aspic ( Vipera aspis\ which
spreads from Trieste over Italy into Sicily, through Swit¬
zerland and over France, passing beyond the Seine towards
the Pyrenees, and probably into Spain. The southern parts
of the east of Europe produce a third species of this genus,
Vipera ammodytes, which we find to spread from Styria as
far as the south of Hungary, and into Greece, Dalmatia,
Sicily, and probably likewise Calabria. This distribution
of so nearly-allied species seems modified by, if not de¬
pendent on, the nature of the territories which each inha¬
bits. The first prefers, in general, heathy lands and places
of a rather moist and wooded character, the second affects a
dry and arid country, while the third rejoices in a rocky re¬
gion. No local or climatic varieties of these vipers have
been yet observed; but it is otherwise with several other
snakes, which have a widely extended distribution over Eu¬
rope ; for example, Coronella Icevis, and Tropidonotus na-
trix and viperinus. These species, of which the former two
inhabit almost the whole of northern and central Europe,
the last not extending further than the fiftieth degree of
north latitude, occur equally in the south of EuropefwLere
they form well-marked local varieties. Thus, in Spain, Trap,
viperinus has the back longitudinally rayed ; and a corre¬
sponding character occurs in Sardinia in relation to a spe¬
cies common in that island, while the Sicilian individuals
present some slight additional disparities. Coronella Icevis
forms in Italy a peculiar climatic variety, of a paler hue
than usual, which extends as far north as Marseilles. Co¬
luber JEsculapii, which inhabits the south of Germany, is
also found in Dalmatia, Italy, and Provence. Col. viridi-
Jlavus has been observed over all the south of Europe,
Greece, Hungary, Dalmatia, Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, and as
far north as France and Switzerland. Col. hippocrepis oc¬
curs in Spain and Sardinia, while Col. leopardinus is a na¬
tive of Sicily, Dalmatia, and Greece ; but, so far as known,
neither of these kinds is met with in Italy. Neither has
Psammophis lacertina, so common in Dalmatia, in Spain,
and a large portion of France, been ever found either in
Italy or the adjacent islands. The southern countries of
Europe produce several serpents which are not characte-
V a Sreat extent of distribution. Such are Xenodon
Michahelhs of Spain, and Psommophis Dahlii of Dalmatia
(the latter, however, which approaches the tree-serpents in
its slenderly elongated form, being found also in Greece),
and Tortnx eryx, confined to Greece as a European spe- ;
cies, but elsewhere well known amid African and Asiatic
deserts.
A careful and more extended study of the distribution
of animal life in Africa would be found to illustrate many
curious relations both in descriptive zoology and physical
geography. No other continent furnishes more striking
proofs of the connection between the natural characters of
135
a country and its animal inhabitants. Thus, after acquir- Ophidian
ing some knowledge of the physical constitution of Africa, Reptiles,
we might almost predicate the prevailing features of its na-
tural history. The leading character of this continent is
the presence of vast sandy plains or deserts, and elevated
plateaus, of which the vegetation is either entirely extin¬
guished, or held by a precarious tenure. Acted upon con¬
tinually by a burning sun, the flat unvaried surface is alto¬
gether unfit for the production of those vapours which, in
a state of atmospheric condensation, produce our refreshing
showers of frequent moisture, and the more stormy acces¬
sories of hail and snow. The great mountain ranges being
few and far between, the intermediate regions possess no
perennial fountains of refreshing water, no “ clouds of morn¬
ing dew,” to clothe their arid wastes with verdure. Hence
the absence of that mighty power which in America slum¬
bers amid the most unpeopled wilderness, and makes, when
aided by the hand of man, the “ desert blossom as the rose.”
It results from the fact of so large a portion of Africa being
destitute of rivers, and consequently of forests and other
lowlier vegetation, that we there find but a small number
of those animals which inhabit woods and fresh waters,
while such as are fitted to scour over vast plains occur in
great abundance. Hence the absence of stags and the ex¬
istence of vast troops of antelopes ; hence also the scarcity
of squirrels and other wood-haunting Rodentia, and the in¬
crease of certain swift-footed terrestrial kinds. The cha¬
racters of reptile life exhibit an equal conformity with the spi¬
rit of these observations. Africa produces perhaps a greater
number of land-tortoises than all other portions of the world
combined; but the fresh-water kinds, with the exception
of a single Ewys, and one or two species of the genus Trio¬
nyx, are nearly unknown, while frogs and toads are also
few in number. The same observation applies in reference
both to the aquatic serpents and the wood-loving kinds.
1 he genera Dryophis and Homalopsis are entirely want¬
ing, and not more than one or two species are known of
each of the genera Dipsos, Dendrophis, and Tropidonotus.
In so vast a continent, however, in spite of its prevailing
character of aridity, there must be numerous exceptions;
and wre know how far-flowing are the waters of the Nile
and the Niger, how lofty and continuous the mighty moun¬
tains of Abyssinia. Many an umbrageous river, we doubt
not, still rolls its crystal waters directly towards the all-ab¬
sorbing sea, or fills up the glassy depth of unimagined lakes,
whose beautiful shores are haunted by many unknown forms
of existence,—
Fair creatures, to whom Heaven
A calm and sinless life, with love, hath given.
Our knowledge of African snakes, however, is still insuf¬
ficient to admit of any accurate geographical sketch of their
distribution being laid before our readers, for we have no
data on which to assign limits to the majority even of the
best-known species. Egypt and Abyssinia, Algiers, a
part of Senegambia, the coast of Guinea, and the Cape,—
these are the chief points from which any precise know¬
ledge has been derived. ^ et we may hazard the asser¬
tion, that Africa in general is much poorer in reptiles,
particularly serpents, than either Asia or America. The
number of genera is equally circumscribed; and the same
observation applies to our present class as has been made
in relation both to the higher animals and plants of Africa,
to wit, that the species of certain genera are very numerous,
and that several different kinds often inhabit the same places.
Jowards the southern extremity of the continent we meet
with four species of the genus Coronella, as many of the
genus Noja, and three Vipers. The other genera which
1 It is indeed alleged to have been met with, though sparingly, in the valley of the To, and as far as the Florentine territory.
136
S E II P E N T S.
Ophidian occur there have each only a single representative. These
Reptiles, reptiles belong almost without exception to species pecu-
^ Y " " liar to the African continent. Lycodon Horstokii and Naja
rhombeata occur on the coast of Guinea, which produces
likewise Psammophis moniliger,—but a local variety, re¬
sembling that w'hich is found in Egypt. In Senegambia we
find three species of tree-serpents, of the genus Dendro-
phis, which differ from those of the Cape, but of which one
(Den. pictd) is spread over a vast extent of the Asiatic
world, as far south-eastwards as New Guinea. 1 he inter-
tropical countries of Africa produce Python bivittatus, cha¬
racterized by an equally great extension, as it is found both
in Java and the Chinese empire. Viperus arietam of the
Cape is found as far north as Abyssinia, where it forms a
variety of a paler hue. Northern Africa produces several
serpents of species different from those ot other parts of
that continent. Such are Tortrix eryx &nA Vipera echis,
which elsewhere inhabit as far south as Hindustan, the Ge¬
ra stes, a species of Dipsas, and several kinds of Coluber.
Other species, such as Naja haje and Psammophis momh-
gcr, differ more or less from their southern representatives.
The Mediterranean countries of Africa nourish several kinds
which occur in the south of Europe ; and this analogy be¬
tween the two continents is very striking when we com¬
pare, not the serpents alone, but the zoological productions
in general, of Barbary, with those of Portugal and Spain.
No serpents have been yet observed in the islands situate
within the radius of Africa, and it appears certain that they
do not exist in the Canary Islands.
The great island of Madagascar, of which the natural
productions are as yet but slightly known, appears to be
zoologically allied to Africa chiefly by the species of its
western side; and although the eastern slopes of its great
mountain chain exhibit features of an Asiatic character, its
totality presents a very distinct and peculiar complexion.
With the exception of Tropidonotus schistosus, all the
known serpents belong to particular and elsewhere undis¬
covered species. For example, the Lanhaga, an anoma¬
lous and very remarkable species of Dryophis, Herpetodryas
Goudotii and Rhodogaster, and Dipsas Gaimardii, are all
peculiar to Madagascar. The Mauritius produces a very
beautiful species, Coluber miniatus, and a small Boa (B.
Dussumieri) of an extremely attenuated form. From the
Seychelles Islands we know of no serpent but a species of
the genus Psammophis.
With the exception of its tv/o magnificent Indian penin¬
sulas, Asia is not so productive as might be expected of the
reptile race. The temperature of a vast portion of the lof¬
tier and central, and a fortiori of the northern districts, is
subjected to a low temperature during many months ot the
year. We know that Northern Asia, Siberia more espe¬
cially, produces several animals of the higher orders, iden¬
tical with some which inhabit the more rigorous parts of
Europe ; but the alleged identity of the Siberian species of
Tropidonotus and Viperus may possibly require confirma¬
tion. A curious Ophidian, peculiar to the southern coun¬
tries of Siberia, is Trigonocephalus halys, intermediate or¬
ganically between the vipers of Europe and those species
of its own genus which have the head furnished with scaly
plates. The deserts to the south of the Caspian Sea, which
are prolonged on the one side into Hindustan, on the other
bv means ot the Iran, into Arabia and Syria, thus connect¬
ing with the desert tracts of Africa, produce a few species
common alike to corresponding portions of both continents.
We are still in almost total ignorance of the snakes of the
great plateaus and other portions of Central India.
The reptiles of Japan present this peculiarity, that while
the Batrachian and Chelonian orders exhibit several spe¬
cies identical with those of Europe (Rana esculenta and
temporaria, Hyla arborea,, Emys vulgaris, &c.), the Sau¬
rian and Ophidian groups seem to consist of species alto-
getter unknown m Europe. Howeye^w knowjs yet «££
but in part, for the Japanese species hitherto collected com¬
prise, in addition to the genus Hydrophis, merely three spe¬
cies of Coluber, two of Tropidonotus, and a single Ingo-
nocephalus. , n
The island of Ceylon, though not extremely remote from
the coast of Coromandel, produces several serpents not
known in continental India, such as Tortrix maculata, Ca-
lamaria scytale, Lycodon carinatus, and twn species o In-
gonocephalus,— Trig, hypnale and mgromargmatus. It is
along the Ceylonese shores that we first perceive certain
species of the genus Hydrophis, those singular snakes
which dwell exclusively in the sea, and occur fiom the
island in question over all the intertropical marine waters
east of Malabar, and as far as Polynesia. The number of
Ophidian species which inhabit the Gangetic I emnsula,
without spreading into the great islands of the Indian Ar¬
chipelago, is limited. Such, however, are Tortrix eryx,
Coronella liusselii and octolineata^ several species or Cb”
luber and Lycodon, Dipsas trigonata, several kinds of Tro-
pidonotus, Flaps trimaculatus, and some vipers. The great
islands themselves, with their smaller dependencies, are re¬
garded by M. Schlegel as presenting a most interesting
field for the study of zoological geography, and the obser¬
vation of those local races, constituted by the diversities
observable in apparently identical species placed in diffei-
ent localities. These islands are of the first rank as to
size, situate within the tropics, covered by an abundant
vegetation, and inhabited by innumerable tribes of living
creatures of every class and kind. They are separated from
each other by seas of no great breadth, yet sufficient to
present, as matters are now constituted, an insurmountable
barrier to the migration of the majority ot species. Now
when we find the same creatures inhabiting many different
and distant islands having no communication with each
other, we may reasonably infer that each insulated tract of
land has borne its own inhabitants since the relations of
our earth’s surface became as they now exist, and that the
individuals of each species form in every island a family
group, which will exhibit, when compared with the corre¬
sponding species in other islands, certain modifications pio-
duced by the disparities of their position. Experience has
proved the accuracy of this assumption. It has not unfre-
quently happened, that the same species has been discover ¬
ed to inhabit Sumatra, Java, Borneo, Fimor, the Celebes,
the Philippine Islands, and continental Asia, and in each
localitv has been observed to present some constant though
extremely slight distinction. Now it would never do to
regard these as so many distinct species. They are only
local or climatic varieties, the origin of which may be ob¬
scure or incomprehensible (as are many things besides), but
which we doubt not would show their identity, by ea,ch re¬
cognising the individuals of their kind, and by breeding to¬
gether, could they be transported from one to another ot
their sea-girt isles. Innumerable examples of these cli¬
matic differences might be adduced, were we to extend our
observations throughout the vast range of the animal king¬
dom ; but here a few examples from the reptile races must
suffice. The Najas from the isles of Sunda constantly differ
in several characters from those of Bengal and the Philip¬
pine Islands. Tortrix rufa from the Celebes is distinguish¬
able from individuals of the same species from Bengal and
Java, by the uniform tint of the back, and by two small
spots upon the occiput. Calamar oligodon of Java exhi¬
bits in Sumatra a difference in the dorsal tinting, and forms
in Ceylon and the Philippine Islands a third local variety
of great beauty. Analogous differences exist between the
individuals of Coronella baliodeira of Java and Sumatra.
Lycodon hebe of Java is smaller in size, and not so pale in
colour, as that same species in Bengal, while those from
Timor are still more diminutive, and of darker hue. The
SERPENTS.
137
pliidian beautiful Coluber melanurus inhabits Java, Sumatra, and
eptiles. the Celebes; but the individuals from the last-named loca-
'■-v   lity have the nape of the neck constantly adorned by an
angular black mark. Herpetodryas oxycephulus is of a
beautiful grass-green colour in Java; but this pure tint be¬
comes embrowned in Borneo, and in Celebes appears al¬
most black upon the dorsal region. Dendrophis picta in¬
habits almost all the intertropical countries of the Old World,
from Senegal to New Guinea, but varies considerably at
distant points of such a vast and surprising distribution.
Dryophis nasuta of Bengal and the Mariannas has in Java
the abdomen rayed with yellow. Dryophis prasina, com¬
mon in the isles of Sunda, exhibits a local variety in the
Celebes; and Tropidonotus quincunciatus, a species wide¬
ly spread through India, has in Java the spots confluent,
so that the dorsal portion seems rayed with black. Trop.
chrysargos of Sumatra bears a different aspect from that
species in the Celebes, while both vary from the individuals
found in Java. Homalopsis Schneideri, which is spread
from India to New Guinea, exhibits several varieties in
different regions. The great Python bivittatus occurs in
China, the isles of Sunda, both the Indian peninsulas, and
Ceylon, and is, moreover, distributed across Africa as far
as Senegambia. In this vast extent of territory it exhibits
some considerable variations, which, when the extreme dif¬
ferences merely are regarded, and the intermediate links
kept out of view, have caused iMo be described, in its dif¬
ferent aspects, as distinct species, all however referable,
in Mr Sehlegel’s opinion, to one and the same. Flaps fur-
catus and bivirgatus exhibit a different distribution of co¬
lours in Sumatra from what they do in Java; but it may
be stated as a general fact, that almost all the known ser¬
pents of the former island have been found also in the latter.
Indeed a considerable number of these insular Ophidians
occur likewise both in Hindustan and Bengal.
It is a singular circumstance, that the two most remark¬
able species of the genus Trigonocephalus ( Trig, puniceus
and rhodostoma) have hitherto been observed only in Java;
while Trig, viridis, so common in India, Bengal, Sumatra,
and Timor, does not occur in the first-named island. The
genus Bungarus, on the other hand, which inhabits Ceylon,
Hindustan, and Bengal, does not occur in any other of the
great eastern islands, except Java. In the Celebes we find
many peculiar forms of animal life, combined with others
well known elsewhere. Among the serpents we find there
a beautiful species of Herpetodryas (Herp. dipsas), and
Dipsas irregularis, which also occurs in Amboyna. Seve¬
ral species are absolutely the same as those of Java and Su¬
matra, although a few form permanent local varieties, which
exhibit some slight disparities of colour. Such are Tortrix
rufa, Coluber melanurus, Herpetodryas oxycephalus, Dryo¬
phis prasina, Dipsas dendrophilus, and Tropidonotus chry-
sargus. . Of the Moluccas our knowledge is extremely
slight, being confined chiefly to the island of Amboyna. We
there find three or four serpents, likewise known as Javanese
species ; but it does not appear that the isles of Sunda pro¬
duce Lycodon modestus, Boa carinata, Dendrophis rhodo-
pleuron, or Python amethystinus. Timor is in some mea¬
sure intermediate in its productions between Java and the
Moluccas. Its Python is perhaps different from that of
Amboyna, and it produces a singular Homalopsis (H. leu-
cobalia). Lycodon hebe is there of a deeper tint than in
Java; and Coluber radiatus is represented in Timor by Col.
subradiatus,—a species analogous, but not the same. New
Guinea and the adjacent islands produce several new spe¬
cies. W e know little of the reptiles of the Philippines,
though a few have been collected in the environs of Ma¬
nilla, in the island of Lu^on ; and these clearly establish the
curious fact, that the species of that island bear a strong
analogy to those of Ceylon,—not a few being identical.
The Naja of the Philippines belongs to the ordinary variety
VOL. xx.
of N. tripudians, as it occurs in India, and which always Ophidian
differs in some measure from the same species from the isles IC ptiles.
of Sunda. '''■“"■'v'"—^
The vast insular continent of New Holland is as yet but
slightly known, most of its ascertained productions having
been sent only from a few limited localities; but the anoma¬
lous and extraordinary character of its productions may
even now be fairly inferred. The snakes seem peculiar,
and almost all belong to the venomous division. No water
species have as yet been seen there. It has already been ob¬
served, that the innumerable islands of the great Pacific
Ocean are believed to be unproductive of serpents. The
Mariannas, however, form an exception to this general rule,
and Dampier mentions green serpents as inhabitants of the
Gallipagos.
A few brief notices of the serpents of the New World may
terminate the geographical department of our subject. On
comparing the species of the two great continents of Ame¬
rica with each other, we observe some interesting parallels.
The rattle-snake, Crotalus horridus, so common over a large
extent of South America, is represented in the northern
territories by Crot. durissus, as is Coronella venustissima by
Cor. coccinea. This kind of comparison, however, applies
but to a few species, for the majority of kinds produced by
one of the continents differ from those of the other. Thus,
the genera Tortrix, Dipsas, Dendrophis, Boa, have as yet
been found only in South America, or as far north as the
Antilles, while Tropidonotus, on the contrary, is not found
in the southern continent, though frequent in the northern,
from which it likewise extends to parts of the West Indies.
A small number, however, of southern species are found
also in North America, such as Calamaria melanocephala,
Lycodon clelia, Coronella cobella, Herpetodryas cursor, Dry¬
ophis Catesbyi, Flaps corallinus, Homalopsis carinicauda ;
while in like manner Heterodon platyrhinus, and Herpeto¬
dryas cestivus, which may be regarded rather as northern
species, have been ascertained to inhabit Brazil. The fol¬
lowing species of North American reptiles also inhabit the
Antilles; Calamaria striatula, Coronella coccinea, Hetero¬
don platyrhinus, Coluber constrictor, Herpetodryas cestivus
and cursor, Tropidonotus bipunctatus, fasciatus, and sau-
rita. Those next named also occur in the Antilles, although
their proper country is South America; Calamaria me¬
lanocephala, Coronella regince, Lycodon clelia, Dendrophys
liocercus, Dryophis Catesbyi and aurata, Dipsas annulata,
Homalopsis angulata. Boa constrictor and cenchria, and
Flaps corallinus. The species peculiar to these West In¬
dian islands are very few in number, the most characteris¬
tic being Psammophis Antillensis, Trigonocephalus lanceo-
latus, Dendrophis Catesbyi, and Boa melanura. On com¬
paring the snakes of Guiana with those of Brazil, we find
many species common to both countries, several, however,
forming local varieties more or less distinct, as in the cases
of Herpetodryas lineatus and Olfersii, Coluber poecilostoma,
&c. Certain species are peculiar to one or other of the
countries above named,—for example, Calamaria badia,
Xenodon typhlus. Coluber corais, Herpetodryas Boddaertii,
Dendrophis aurata, Dryophis Catesbyi and argentea, Ho¬
malopsis plicatilis. Flaps lemniscatus and Surinamensis, &c.
have never been seen except in Guiana; while Calamaria
Blumii, Coronella Merremii, Xenodon Scholtii and rhinos-
toma, Lycodon formosus, Herpetodryas serra, Homalopsis
carinicauda and Martii, are found only in Brazil. Other
species, again, appear as it were to represent each other in
these parts of South America, so that we may place in
parallel, Coronella venustissima, Dipsas Mikani, Wegeli,
leucocephala, and Nattereri, and Trigonocephalus Jararaca,
of Brazil, with Coronella venusla, Dipsas nebulata, Ca¬
tesbyi, macrorhina, punctatissima, and Trigonocephalus
atrox of Guiana. The other parts of South America are
too little known to admit of any detailed comparison ; but it
138 SERPENT S.
Ophidian may be observed, that of the species discovered in Chili, inhabit low and moist abodes. They seldom exceed afoot^on-vem
Reptiles, several are entirely new, and distinct from such as exist on in length, and are found in both the Americas, in Africa, mous
v _ ^ this side the Cordilleras.1 * Southern Asia, New Holland, and the Indian Archipelago. ^ ^ ^
Notwithstanding the interest of the subject, we must now There are eighteen described species, of which one of the
bring our general observations to a close, and proceed with most curious is Cal. Iwnbricoidea of Boie.3 Its body, though
a brief systematic sketch of the principal genera and species, sometimes several feet long, does not exceed the thickness
referring the reader to M. Schlegel’s work (and to those of of a swan’s quill. The colour is blackish-blue above, bluish
the other Erpetologists here quoted) for more minute de- below, with blackish spots, and a yellow ray along the sides,
tails. In conformity with the views of the author just nam- The scales are smooth, square, and disposed in thirteen rows,
ed, we preserve the ancient subdivision of venomous and Abdominal plates from 190 to 217, caudal from sixteen to
non-venomous kinds. The constant character of the for- twenty-three.
mer consists in being provided with a gland of a cellular p HI.—Terrestrial Serpents.
structure, which secretes a very deleterious poison. Maxil- ^
lary teeth, called fangs, of much greater length than the Genus Coronella. Body somewhat pentagonal, thick-
others, hollow interiorly, and furnished with openings at ening towards the centre. Head distinguishable from the
either extremity, for the entrance and exit of the poison, neck, sometimes very broad at the base, depressed, toe
are the potent weapons with which these insidious reptiles muzzle short, obtuse, and slightly truncated. Scales smooth,
inflict their fatal wounds. It is difficult, if not impossible, and disposed in from seventeen to nineteen longitudinal
to assign to these serpents any certain character of exter- rows. Abdominal and caudal plates about 180 -j- 40,
nal distinction, although there is something in their general The species of this genus are very alert in their move-
aspect which points them out, even to the uninitiated, as ments, and defend themselves, when attacked, with grea^
dangerous neighbours. Their natural habits also offer this energy and perseverance. They are dispersed oyer almost
distinction, that the venomous kinds are almost always either all parts of the world (preferring plains and humid places),
terrestrial or marine, although Trig, viridis is slightly arbo- but have not as yet been observed in Japan or New Holland,
real, and certain species of Naja occasionally occur in fresh and are rather rare in Asia. Specimens from South Ame-
water. But the colubriform venomous kinds so greatly re- rica are very frequent in collections. Cor. lavis is a well-
semble the innocent species, that professed naturalists have known European species, which occurs in France, Germany,
sometimes combined them with each other. Their most Switzerland, Italy, and, from Sparmann s description, ap-
common characters consist in a thickish rounded muzzle, pears to be among the number of the few Ophidians which
and a short, thick, conical tail. The marine serpents may inhabit Sweden.4 It is of a shining bay colour, ornament-
be recognised by their flattened tails. ed by irregular black marks, which form a peculiar design
The constitution of the following families bears relation upon the head. The under surface is yellowish, marked
rather to the habits of life than the organic structure of the with square black spots. There are twenty-one rows of
species they respectively contain. scales, and the plates are 175 -J- 55. I his species is vivi¬
parous, that is, the young are hatched within the body of
the mother. When attacked, it attempts to escape with
FIRST PRIMARY DIVISION. NON-VENOMOUS great celerity, and when foiled in that intention, it fights
SERPENTS. with energy, bites furiously, and will scarcely allow itself to
. be taken alive. It cannot be lifted by the end of the tail
Family I.—Burrowing Serpents. (at ieast with impunity), as many serpents may, as it pos-
Genus Tortrix. Body cylindrical, of nearly equal di- sesses the power of bending its body upwards, and wound-
mensions throughout; head small, obtuse, and covered by ing the hand of its captor. However, its bite, though dis-
imperfectly developed plates; eyes small; nostrils narrow ; agreeable, is in no way dangerous. It is an excellent swimmer,
gape not widely cleft; teeth short and conical; tail short, but does not enter the water willingly. It is very fond of mice.
Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 6. About thirteen other species are known to naturalists.
The species of this'genus (which in M. Schlegel’s work Genus Xenodon. General form heavy, head broad,
includes also Eryx and Xenopeltis of other authors) inha- muzzle short and truncated, body thick, abdomen flattened,
bit the warmer countries of both the Old and New World, Upper jaws provided posteriorly with a solid, elongated,
preferring dry and sandy districts, in which they form nar- compressed tooth. Scales smooth, and dispersed in rather
row excavations. T. eryx occurs over a vast extent of ter- oblique ranges, especially on the neck, which is capable of
ritory, from Egypt to Hindustan, and is met with in the expansion. Plates of the head short and broad,
southern parts of Europe. The ground colour of the dor- Of this genus the species are few in number, and of these
sal region is a beautiful red with numerous confluent spots, the individuals are by no means abundant. They are of
and bands of blackish brown ; the under parts are yellow, large size, sometimes measuring from three to four feet in
the whole covered by small scales. The muzzle is obliquely length, and, being thick in proportion, present a somewhat
truncated at the end. Length about two and a half feet, formidable aspect. They are usually characterized by a
Abdominal plates 195, caudal twenty. Six other species are grayish-blue tint, and occur chiefly in Java and intertropi-
known, of which T. scytale is American, and, of all un- cal America. None have been as yet found in Africa or
doubtedly Ophidian reptiles, makes the nearest approach to New Holland, but Xen. Michahelles inhabits the south of
those ambiguous genera Typhlops and Aniphisbcena? France and Spain.5 This species is distinguished by its
short conical head, terminated by a prominent rostral plate.
Family II.— Worm-like Serpents. It has twenty-seven rows of scales, and 216 -f- 60 plates.
Genus Calamaria. Body small and cylindrical, termi- Genus Heterodon. Head not very distinguishable from
nated by a short conical tail. Plead uniform with the body, the general form, which is slightly pentagonal, and almost
Plates in the muzzle few in number. of equal thickness throughout. Abdomen somewhat angu-
The majority of the genus have the lower surface of a lar, and narrower than in Xenodon. Tail very short, and
fine vermilion hue, a colour frequent among reptiles which furnished beneath with divided plates. Rostral plate al-
1 See Physiognomie des Serpents (distribution ge'ographique), i. p. 195, et seq. * Museum Adolph. Fred. pi. 6, fig. 2.
3 Erpetologie de Java, pi. 22. 4 Neue Schwed. Ahhandl. xvi. 180, pi. 7, f. A, B.
6 Figured by Wagler under the title of Rhinechis Agassizii. leones, pi. 25.
139
SERPENTS.
]-veno- ways prominent, sometimes prolonged into a small upturn-
ous. e(j trunk.
Pents*y All the species are natives of the New World. The pre-
' ^ vailing colour is red, ringed or spotted by a deeper hue.
Their manners are unknown, but it is presumed that they
inhabit a dry and sandy soil. We shall here name only the
harlequin snake of America (Het. cuccineus), which in¬
habits Louisiana and the southern states.1 The ground
colour is a bright yellow, tending more or less to brown up¬
on the back, which is adorned with above twenty broad round
or oval spots, of a purplish-red colour, bordered with black.
Its brilliant tints are effaced soon after death. “ This beau¬
tiful snake,” says M. Audubon, alluding, we believe, to our
present species, “ is rather rare in the United States, where
I have observed it only in the south. It glides through the
grass with ease, and ascends to the tops of bushes, and
among the branches of fallen trees, to bask in the sun.
Children are fond of catching it on account of its beauty.
It feeds principally on insects, such as flies, and small Co-
leoptera.”2 This seems the species described by Herrera in
his History of the West Indies, as inhabiting Mexico and
the Floridas, where it is known by the name of Madres de
Hormigas, on account of its frequenting the society of ants.
Genus Lycodon. Form usually thin, sometimes ex¬
tremely slender. Anterior maxillary teeth longer than the
others. Vertical and anterior frontal plates small and
shortened, the occipitals rather long.
The species inhabit both the Old and New World. The
prevailing tint is of an earthy hue, passing more or less in¬
to brownish or ochry-yellow, the majority of species being
ornamented by a collar of a clearer colour. Several kinds
are ringed with black, white, and red. The abdominal
plates usually amount to 200, the caudal vary from fifty to
a hundred. We know little of the habits of these reptiles,
of which above a dozen species have been collected in dif¬
ferent parts of the intertropical world.
Genus Coluber. This genus, as originally established
by Linnaeus, contained all the Ophidian reptiles with sub¬
divided caudal plates. The venomous kinds were after¬
wards removed, and the genus itself partitioned into seve¬
ral groups; but even then the genus Coluber properly so
called continued to contain a vast amount of species. MM.
Boie and Schlegel restricted it still farther; and although
it is difficult to apply the distinctive notes of these writers,
the genus is natural in itself, when we seek to recognise
it rather by the general bearing and physiognomy of the
species, than by means of isolated characters.
It contains all those innocuous serpents of considerable
size, which hold, as it were, by the form and proportion of
their particular parts, a central position among the other
Ophidians. Their bodies, less contracted than those of the
fresh-water kinds, are yet by no means so slender as those
of the arboreal species. Their head is not so lengthened
as that of the latter, but is less broad than that of the aqua¬
tic sorts. The tail, modified in accordance with the nature
or the species, varies in its form, as these resemble or re¬
cede from the conterminous groups in their mode of life.
It is thus that certain species of the genus Coluber are
closely connected with Tropidonotus, or even Homalopsis,
while others are linked with Herpetodryas, Psammophis,
Coronella, or Xenodon. The muzzle is usually broad, thick,
rounded, rather short, the nostrils lateral, open, and oblong.
The head is always laterally angular, from whence results
the lateral position of the eyes, of which the pupil is orbicu¬
lar in form. The body varies in proportional thickness in
the different species, but is usually compressed, and slightly
pentagonal. The abdomen is generally broad, convex, Non-veno-
rarely angular, and is covered by numerous plates, more mous
closely set together than in other serpents, and sometimes SerPeuts-
amounting to nearly 300. The tail is almost always cylin-
drical and pointed, generally of medium length, rarely slen¬
der and elongated, occasionally short and conic, its inferior
portion furnished with divided plates.
Almost all the countries of the earth, of which the nature
of the soil and climate is not altogether opposed to the ex¬
istence of the Ophidian order, are inhabited by the genus
Coluber. Only a single species, however, has been found in
Southern Africa, and not one has yet occurred in New Hol¬
land. Their habits are what may be termed terrestrial, that
is, they rarely enter water of their own accord, although se¬
veral climb among shrubs and bushes wdth some celerity in
search of prey. Several kinds occur in Europe, and those
from intertropical countries measure in some instances from
seven to eight feet. They are rarely adorned with bril¬
liant colours, brown being the prevailing hue. Of some
the markings are uniform, while others are spotted or lon¬
gitudinally rayed. Of the European species, one of the
best known and most extensively distributed is Col. JEscula-
pii, which sometimes attains to the length of from four to
five feet. The colour of the upper parts is olive-brown,
beneath yellowish, or marbled with gray, with a paler collar.
Abdominal plates 228, caudal seventy-nine.3 We have notes
on the history of this species from MM. Host and Lenz. It
is described as being extremely active in its movements,
climbing trees with facility, but avoiding contact with
water. It is oviparous, and feeds on lizards, frogs, and
small birds, but takes no nourishment in captivity. When
attacked, it defends itself with great determination; but when
captured, becomes tame in a few days. In the museum of
Vienna, several specimens of this fEsculapian snake are
preserved alive; and their manners are so gentle that chil¬
dren make playthings of them, and handle them for hours
at pleasure.
The ancient Greeks adored the god of medicine in va¬
rious places under diverse forms, but frequently in the guise
of a serpent, as an emblem of sagacity, and an animal en¬
dowed with so many sanatory qualities, that several Hel¬
lenic peoples regarded the creature itself as the very Deity.
It was especially so with the inhabitants of Epidaurus (a
flourishing city of Peloponnesus), who in a sacred grove, the
favourite abode of serpents, erected a magnificent temple in
honour of these by us abhorred reptiles. The Roman people,
when terrified by a great pestilence, which ravaged the ca¬
pital (in their year 461), sent an embassy to Epidaurus in
search of this imaginary god, whom they might have found
in sufficient abundance near at hand. They entertained
these slimy deities in the island formed by the Tiber, and
where we may still see their figure sculptured in marble in
the gardens of St Bartholomew.4 Chandler tells us, in his
Travels, that the environs of Epidaurus still abound in harm¬
less serpents.
The only other species we shall here notice is Coluber
quator-radiatus, remarkable as being the largest of the
Ophidian reptiles of Europe. According to Metaxa (in
his Monograph of the Serpents of the Environs of Rome),
it sometimes attains the length of seven feet. It occurs in
Italy, the south of France and Spain, Dalmatia, Hungary,
&c. Its prevailing colour is an ochry-yellow passing into
brown, and somewhat deeper on the under surface. Two
lines of darker brown run along the flanks, and a blackish
line passes from the eye to the corner of the mouth. This
species, in spite of its great size and formidable aspect, is
Ornithological Biography, vol. i. p. 278; and Birds of America, pi. 52.
1 Catesby’s Carolina, pi. 60.
* Jacquin, Collectan. iv. 356, pi. 26 (Fem.), 27 (Mas).
titlp ’ a,n^ Aklrovandus,. Serp. pi. 240. The above is not the species called Col. JEsculapii by Linnaeus, who misapplied the
e ot the coral snakes of America,—Coronella tenustissima of modern authors.
140
SERPEN T S.
Kan veno> extremely gentle in its manners, and does not attempt to
In01ls bite even when seized Jn its native haunts. It is very com-
crpui mon jn fjgjjg near Tivoli, but is usually found on hill¬
sides. There is a passage in Pliny1 which relates that the
Boas of Italy sometimes attain to so great a size that the
entire body of an infant was found in the interior of one
slain during the reign of the Emperor Claudius. The spe¬
cies just noticed is certainly the largest of all the Roman
serpents, but its natural attributes in no way favour the re¬
ception of this preposterous story.2 The largest species ol
the genus is Coluber corals of Surinam. There are twenty-
seven different kinds described by M. Schlegel.
Genus Herpetodryas. This genus was established by
the late M. Boie for the reception of certain species of Colu¬
ber ( Col. carinatus, &c.), which combine the aspect and phy¬
siognomy of the preceding genus (to which they are close¬
ly allied) with the lengthened form and much of the habits
of the arboreal serpents. Their colours are usually of a
uniform greenish hue, sometimes passing into brown, or oc¬
casionally longitudinally rayed. The tail is generally long
and slender, a character which, combined with the narrow
and very angular abdomen, announces their arboreal dispo¬
sition. Their manners are wild and distrustful, and they
inhabit the warmer regions of both the Old and New World,
with the exceptions, so far as yet known, of Africa and New
Holland. We shall here name only Herp. carinatus, a Bra¬
zilian species, also common in Surinam. It is remarkable
for having two central rows of dorsal scales, so that the total
number of rows forms an equal number, a character unique
in the Ophidian order. It varies greatly in its external
markings.3
Genus Psammophis. This little group may also be re¬
garded as a dismemberment from Coluber, and brings us into
still closer contact with the genuine tree-serpents. They
offer an anomaly in their dentition, in as far as their poste¬
rior teeth, and those of the centre, are usually longer than
the others, and furrowed. The head is elongated, the ver¬
tical plate very narrow. Some have the body thin and long
drawn out, while others are more compact like Coluber.
The species occur in India, Africa, and America ; and Psurn.
lacertina is an European example well known in Dalmatia.4
They all prefer sandy soils, and prey chiefly upon Saurian
reptiles. Green and brown are the prevailing colours, al¬
though several are longitudinally rayed, or have the head
adorned by linear figures.
Family IV.—Arboreal or Tree- Serpents.
The members of this family are characteristic of the great
forests of the tropical countries of Asia and America. They
are rare in Africa, still more so in New Holland, and Eu¬
rope produces only a few anomalous species. Their form
is in general extremely elongated, they pass the greater
portion of their time in trees and bushes, and prey both on
birds and lizards.
Genus Dendrophis. Body compressed; abdomen (and
sometimes the tail) angular, and furnished with very broad
plates; scales narrow and elongated. Tail very slender.
Head lengthened. Eye large, the pupil orbicular. See Plate
CCCCXLIII. fig. 5.
These reptiles inhabit both the western and eastern
world, but are rare in New Holland, and unknown in Eu¬
rope. They climb trees with great facility, and are ex¬
tremely quick in their general movements. They are fre¬
quently adorned by lively colours. Nearly a dozen species
are known to naturalists.
Genus Dryophis. Muzzle slender and projecting. Ge¬
neral form greatly elongated, the body compressed, the ab¬
domen convex. Eye of moderate size. ^
The species of this genus are among the most remarkable
of the innocuous serpents, their shape being so extraordi¬
narily lengthened out, that many measure nearly five feet
in length, and are yet no thicker than the little finger.
Hence their Anglo-American name of coach-whip snakes,
of one of which, first described by Catesby, it was absurdly
believed by the Indians, “ that it will by a jerk of its tail
separate a man in two parts.”5 The tail, of extreme slender¬
ness, always measures half the length of the whole body;
and the muzzle is often drawn out in the form of a pointed
proboscis. These reptiles inhabit the torrid zone, or the
countries near the tropics, in Asia and the two Americas.
Although unknown in the continent of Africa, a species
(D. langaha) occurs in Madagascar. The genus admits of a
geographical division,—those of the ancient continent being
characterized by grooved maxillary teeth, and the pupil of
the eye elongated horizontally, while such as inhabit Ame¬
rica have the teeth less developed, and the pupil orbicular.
We may briefly notice Dryophis nasuta (the Passeriki of
Russel),6 a remarkable species, of a beautiful grass-green
colour above, the lower surface paler, and marbled with red.
A white or yellow ray extends from behind the eye to the
commissure of the lips, and another very distinct one passes
along each side of the abdomen and tail. The muzzle is
very sharp, and is terminated by a moveable fleshy appen¬
dage (See Plate CCCCXLIII. figs. 7 and 9.) This kind
occurs over a great extent of India and the great eastern
islands, and is frequent in the environs of Vizagapatam.
It lives in trees, and its manners are described as being
even ferocious. Its bite, however, is attended by no other
bad consequences than the pain of the wound; but the
common people deem it dangerous, as directing its attacks
chiefly at the eyes of the passers by. There is an Indian
whip-snake (probably not of this genus) common in the Con-
can, where it is described as concealing itself among the fo¬
liage of trees, from which it darts at cattle grazing below, ge¬
nerally also aiming at the eye. A bull which was thus wound¬
ed at Dazagon tore up the ground with extreme fury, and
died in half an hour, foaming at the mouth. This habit of
the reptile is truly singular,—for it seems to proceed neither
from resentment nor from fear, nor yet from the impulse of
appetite, but seems, “ more than any other known fact in
natural history, to partake of that frightful and mysterious
principle of evil, which tempts our own species so often to
tyrannize for mere wantonness of power.”7
The species already named as a native of Madagascar,
Dryophis langaha, Schlegel, partakes of those anomalous
attributes which characterize so many animal products of
that extraordinary island. It measures between two and
three feet in length, and is of a beautiful reddish-brown
colour above, the under surface being of a deep though
lively yellow, spotted with brown, especially beneath the tail;
but its most peculiar character is seen in the muzzle, which
is prolonged into a fleshy appendage of half an inch in
length, covered with small scales, and of variable form, be¬
ing in some cases sharp-pointed, in others compressed and
enlarged, or leaf-shaped. This curious reptile seems to
have been first (we believe inaccurately) described by M.
Bruguieres,8 and has since been banded about through va¬
rious genera.9 It is classed by M. Schlegel (we presume
after due examination),10 among the innocuous, that is, the
non-venomous kinds,—although the natives of Madagascar
Non-val
mou>'
Serpen
Quarterly Review, xii. 183.
Journal de Physique, xxiv. 132, plate 2.
1 Lib. viii. c. 14. 4 Fleischnian, Nov. Gen. pi. 2.
2 Quadrupedes Ovipares, ii. 163, pi. 7, fig. 1. 5 Carolina, ii. plate o4.
5 Wagler, Serp. Braz. pi. 7 and 12. 6 Indian Serpents, plate 12 and 13.
9 Langaha Madagascariensis, Lacep. Quad. Ovip. ii. 499:—Languya nasuta, Shaw, Gen. Zool. iii. 571, plate 127 :—Amphisbcena langaha,
Schneid. Hist. Amphib. ii. 151.
10 Physioynomie des Serpents, ii. 143.
141
SERF
i | veno- are said to hold it in great dread, from the belief of its be-
ous ing a highly poisonous species.1
pcntfi. Genus Dipsas. Head thick, broad, obtuse; the body
vigorous, but much compressed. Pupil of the eye usually
vertical. Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 7.
This genus comprises all those tree-serpents which, re¬
sembling the Colubers (and so far differing from the two
preceding genera) in the bulkier proportion of their parts,
are distinguished by their compressed bodies and more
slender tails. Both the size and colours differ greatly ac¬
cording to the species, some of which do not measure more
than fourteen inches, while others extend to five or six feet.
South America and the East Indies are their characteristic
countries, although a somewhat anomalous species is found
in Egypt and Dalmatia. The genuine Dipsas dwell habit¬
ually in trees, concealing themselves amid dense foliage,
from whence they dart upon their unsuspecting prey. The
largest species known to naturalists is Dip. dendrophila, a
Javanese reptile, which sometimes measures seven feet in
length. The ground-colour is a beautiful lustrous black,
with steel-blue reflections, paler on the under surface ;
and the body is encircled by from forty-five to fifty trans¬
verse narrow bands of a fine golden yellow.2 Dip. fallax
is, we presume, the sole European species,—if the reptile
so named really pertains to our present genus.3 Its habits
offer great disparity, at least M. Cantraine found it in Dal¬
matia in the month of December, creeping slowly among
the ruins of an ancient castle. It had previously been
found in the Levant by Olivier, and was more recently ob¬
served in the Morea by M. Bory St Vincent. Fleischman
informs us that it lives under stones, stirs abroad only in
the early morning and towards evening, avoids water, and
feeds on insects, lizards, and mice. About twenty-five spe¬
cies of this genus are described by M. Schlegel.
Family V.—Fresh-water Serpents.
The members of this group are more or less allied to Co¬
luber in their organization. They inhabit the water, or at
least frequently enter into that element, and prefer the
banks of rivers and the shores of lakes to situations more
remote from moisture. It does not follow that all snakes
endowed with analogous instincts and manners belong to
this group, because the majority of the Boas, and almost
all the Colubers, nearly correspond in their habits of life,
and are yet very dissimilar in their structure. In this fa¬
mily there are combined those serpents which, having many
mutual relations in their form and physiognomy, constitute
a very natural assemblage, though by no means distantly
separated from all other subdivisions. It is composed of
two genera, of which the first exhibits, with few exceptions,
nothing remarkable in its organization,—while the second
is characterized by several singular features.
Genus Tropidonotus. Head broad, body rather bulky,
abdomen broad and convex, tail short.
The majority of this genus inhabit Asia, especially the
Indian Archipelago. Southern Africa produces only a
single species; Europe two, which occur on both sides of
the Mediterranean basin. The same restricted number is
found in Japan, and several are native to North America.
None is known to inhabit either South America or New
Holland. Certain species are widely distributed, while
others are confined within narrow limits. They usually
occur along the shady, wooded banks of lakes and rivers,
w here they prey on frogs and fishes. They swim with great
dexterity, and are capable of continuing for a length of
time beneath the surface. Although they can both creep
1 Gen. Zool. iii. 572.
* Wagler, leones, i. pi. 8.
E N T S.
and climb with considerable swiftness, they usually prefer Non-veno-
to escape from threatened danger by plunging into water. mous
Many species never remove from the close vicinity of that ^erPenfs-
element; others inhabit plains subject to inundation ; and a
few7 are found to dwell in moist umbrageous forests, even
on the sides and towards the summits of high mountains.
Certain species are gregarious; while some are solitary,
dwelling in the deserted holes of small quadrupeds. Such
as inhabit temperate climates fall into a lethargic state in
winter. The whole are oviparous ; but the eggs of many,
even when newly laid, contain young in a state of consi¬
derable advancement.
The first species we shall notice is Tropidonotus nutrix
(Coluber natrix, Linn., Natrix torquata, Ray), the best-
know'n and most generally-diffused of European serpents,
and one of the few which inhabit the cold and cloudy clime
of Britain. We have exhibited its osteology on Plate
CCCCXLIV. fig. 2. It is subject to great variation of co¬
lour, but the prevailing tint is a pale ashy-blue tinged with
green, and relieved by a series of black spots or bands. The
under surface is dusky blue, with mottlings of yellowish white.
The collar is white or yellow, bordered posteriorly by deep
black ; and the plates of the head are extremely regular in
their form. The length ranges from two and a half to four,
or occasionally five feet. The female is always the larger.
This reptile has been studied and described by a host of
European writers. It is not characterized by any wildness
or ferocity, is easily tamed, and rarely bites even when
seized. “ II m’est cependant arrive,” says M. Schlegel,
“ qu’etant encore tres-jeune, et m’etant approche du bord d’un
bois, ou une societe nombreuse de ces serpens s’etait eta-
blie pour faireleur ponte, un Tropidonote d’une taille enorme
m’attaqua avec fureur, tandis que plusieurs autres s’echap-
paient dans les trous dont la terre etait percee.”4 The
ringed snake, as our present species is generally named,
prefers to take possession of the subterranean dwelling of
a mouse or mole to commencing an excavation for itself.
Being fond of warmth and shelter, it often approaches hu¬
man habitations, and readily lays its eggs in dunghills. Yet
it is often met with in the remotest wilds, or in thick um¬
brageous forests, and sometimes at a height of several thou¬
sand feet above the level of the sea. But on the whole it
prefers the vicinity of tranquil waters, where it dives fre¬
quently in search of fishes, as well as of frogs and other
batrachian reptiles. Although it possesses the pow7er of re¬
maining under water for nearly half an hour, it is not or¬
ganized for a continued abode in that element; and w hen
frequently forced from shore, its swimming powers become
exhausted, and it is “ found drowmed.” It is extremely
voracious, and will swallow a great number of frogs at a
meal. It hybernates, in cold and temperate countries, from
the month of October or November, seeking profounder
excavations, where frost can scarcely enter. It leaves its
retreat in March or April, according to the region it inha¬
bits, and casts its skin once a month till the end of August.
In that month also it lays its eggs, to the number of two
dozen or more. As the species pairs in April, it follows
that these eggs take five months to be developed in the ovi¬
ducts, though they are hatched in about three weeks after
deposition. Their form is oval, and they measure about
an inch and three lines in length. The young, when first
visible, measure from six to eight inches. This species
abounds over all France and Germany. It does not inha¬
bit the maritime parts of Holland, but is common in Guel-
derland and the province of Drenthe. It is well known in
Italy, Sicily, and Sardinia, as well as in Denmark, Sweden,
and Norway, and extends over a great portion of temperate
3 It is the Tarbophis fallax of Fleischman’s Dissertatio, pi. 1.
4 Physiog, ii, 304.
142
SERPENTS.
Serpents.
Non-veno- Asia, as far as Lake Baikal. It is a common species in
mous England, where it occurs in woods and hedges, as well as
in marshes. Mr Jenyns informs us, that it is particularly
abundant in the fens of Cambridgeshire, where it sometimes
attains a great size.1 We shall merely add, that it is eaten
in several continental countries. Col. viperinus, another
European species, pertains to this genus ; as do also a con¬
siderable amount of exotic kinds, which we cannot here so
much as name.
Genus Homalopsis. Body bulky, head very thick,
muzzle short and rounded; eyes and nostrils small, and
opening upwards ; form usually cylindrical, sometimes slight¬
ly compressed ; abdomen broad and convex ; tail short, co¬
nical, robust.
This genus inhabits the great fresh waters of the inter
tropical countries both of Asia and America, although it
seems less extended than the preceding, being seldom seen
bevond the tropics. A Bengal species occurs also in Java,
and a few are found identically the same in both the Ame¬
ricas. The majority attain a considerable size ; but though
as thick as a man’s arm, they rarely exceed the length of
four feet. Their heavy inelegant forms, small insidious
eyes, and large gaping mouths, confer upon them a peculiar
and repelling physiognomy ; yet they are quite innocuous,
in spite of the malignity of their aspect, a proof that we
should never judge from appearance. These are the most
truly aquatic of all the fresh-water serpents, passing almost
their entire lives submerged, and feeding chiefly on fish.
They are endowed with great muscular strength and strong
powers of locomotion in their favourite element. Their
colours are usually dark and lugubrious,—a schistose gray,
brown, olive, or a blackish hue prevailing over the upper
surface; while a yellower tint, with large square spots, is
frequent on the abdominal region. We are acquainted
with few details regarding their habits of life; and the spe¬
cies are rare in collections, probably in consequence of their
fish-like activity in the water rendering their capture diffi¬
cult. They are distributed over a variety of genera by dif¬
ferent naturalists; and M. Schlegel describes fourteen spe¬
cies, among which are included Hum. herpeton (Erpeton
tentaculatus, Lac.2), a serpent remarkable for two fleshy ap¬
pendages covered with scales, which extend from the ter¬
mination of the muzzle. fSee Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. 4.)
The abdominal plates are scarcely broader than the other
scales, and each is surmounted by a couple of ridges. Its
native country is unknown.
Family VI.—Boas.
This family, according to M. Schlegel’s views, compre¬
hends the greater number of those species which modern
naturalists have comprised under the genera Boa, Python,
and Acrcchordus. It is one of the most natural of the en¬
tire order, and has been too often erroneously separated,
merely on the consideration of a few unimportant charac¬
ters. We here find species, some of them the largest of
the Ophidian race, distinguished by a prehensile tail, and
a body possessing the power of twisting itself around other
bodies with great force and facility. The surface is en¬
compassed by numerous small scales, which advance upon
the head and encroach on the abdomen, so that the former
part never exhibits the regularly-formed plates of the Co¬
lubers, while those of the latter are unusually narrow. The
vertical position of the nostrils and small-sized eyes an- Non-venc
nounce a combination of aquatic with terrestrial habits of mo«,
life. The first genus, that of Boa properly so called, is cha-
racterized by simple plates beneath the tail ; the second,
Python, peculiar to the ancient world, exhibits the sub-
caudal plates divided, a supernumerary bone on the upper
margin of the orbits, and intermaxillary teeth; the third,
Acrochordus, is destitute of anal hooks, and has the surface
entirely covered over by small granular unimbricated scales.
All these generic groups have many characters in common,
both in habits and organization, and we shall here point
out a few of their generalities. , . , „ _
The term Boa, according to Pliny,3 is derived from Bos,
because the young of these reptiles are wont to nourish
themselves on cow’s milk.4 We are farther informed by
that credulous author, of the great Boa slain in the Vatican,
within the abdomen of which was found an entire infant.
Linnaeus applied the name to all serpents provided with
simple sub-caudal plates. It is obvious that his genus,
founded on a character of such slight importance, while it
excludes the Pythons, necessarily brings together several
heterogeneous groups. The defect in the modern arrange¬
ment of these reptiles arises chiefly from the practice of
viewing a single and often subordinate character, and rul¬
ing, as it were, the forms of nature in simple accordance
with its absence or existence. We thus find the Pythons
almost always separated from the Boas, and placed in the
genus Coluber, whil-e the Acrochordi, estranged from both,
comprise two distinct genera, sometimes placed among ve¬
nomous serpents, sometimes classed with the innocuous
kinds. “ Nos temps,” says M; Schlegel, “ fertiles en inva¬
sions de toute sorte, ont vu demembrer la famille des Boas
en autant de divisions generiques que Ton en compte d’es-
peces, qui elles-memes sont multipliees sans le moindre
fondement de verite. II n’est pas rare de voir la meme
espece distribuee en deux ou trois genres differens, et ces
genres places au hazard parmi d’autres Couleuvres ou parnai
les viperes.” The opportunities enjoyed by the author just
named, of studying the various species, has led him to the
belief that these are much less numerous than generally
supposed. He thinks that the majority of such as exist in
nature are now in some measure known, and that they do
not amount to more than fifteen, including Acrochordus.
Various anomalies exist among the species when compared
among each other. Some are spread over a vast tract of
territory, white others are confined within narrow limits.
They are all, however, inhabitants of countries either si¬
tuate beneath the equator or near the tropics. They oc¬
cur in both the Old and New World, but none is found
in Europe, North America, or Japan. The South Ame¬
rican species are frequent in collections; those of the (so-
called) more ancient countries of the earth are rather rare.
Some are oviparous, others produce their young alive. The
Boas usually attain, in truth, to an enormous size, although
their actual dimensions have been greatly exaggerated.
Thus at the very name of Boa constrictor the imagination
is filled “ with folds voluminous and vast,’1 although the
species really so called scarcely ever exceeds ten or twelve
feet in length. The largest Ophidian reptiles in the world
are Boa murina and Python Schneideri and bivittatus;
but it may be greatly doubted whether the first named,
which is the most gigantic of all, ever exceeds twenty-five
feet in these degenerate days, and we have no sufficient
1 British Vertebrate Animals, p. 296. Figured in Bell’s British Reptiles.
a Annales des Mas., ii. 280, pi. 50 ; Guerin, Iconog. Reptiles, pi. 20, fig. 3. 3 Hist. Nat. 8- •
4 “ Quant aux veritable serpens, il n’en est pas qui machent reellement, de meme qu’il est evident qu’aucun ne peut sucer ou
operer le vide dans la bouche, et que, par consequent, c’est un prejuge de croire que plusieurs de ces animaux, comme les Boas et les
Couleuvres, puissent teter les vaches; outre Tabsence des Idvres charnues, le defaut de voile du palais et de Tepiglotte, qui rendraien
la succion impossible, il est evident que les crochets acerds et recourbes en arriere, qui garnissent leurs machoires et leur palais,
s’accrocheraient comme des hameqons aux tetines des mammiferes et qu’ils ne pourraient s’en detacher.’’ {Erp. Gen. i. 135.)
SERF
jYeno-reason for supposing that it was ever any larger in former
us times.1 The recitals of our travellers have been too often
,:nt9' drawn, not from their owm observation (by no means ac¬
curate at the best), but merely from the popular belief of
ignorant and superstitious natives. The Pythons of the
Old World seldom exceed from eighteen to twenty feet
in length; and we can easily believe that one even of that
extent being met by a benighted traveller in some lone¬
some forest glade, or murky meadow, might be afterwards
described as something super-serpentine. Who in early
life (how few at any period) ever caught a trout of two
pounds or a pike of ten, without at least supposing that
the one weighed four, the other fifteen ? Yet who fears
the innocuous finny race, and how greatly must doubt and
dismay increase the seeming dimensions of a huge lugu¬
brious reptile, weaving its way through some “ wild wood,
dingle or bushy dell,” and dimly seen in sombre twilight
hours, by snatches of only four or five yards at a time ?
The same exaggeration prevails regarding both the size
of their natural prey, and its mode of capture. The la¬
mented Boie, who made numerous observations on the
Pythons of Asiatic countries, states that they particularly
attack only the smaller kinds of quadrupeds, although in¬
dividuals of unusual size sometimes swallow a young pig,
or that species of deer called muntjac. But the larger
mammiferous animals, and the human race more espe¬
cially, need entertain no reasonable expectation of attack;
and Prince Neuwied confirms this statement of the la¬
mented naturalist of Kiel, so far as concerns the great
species of the New World, which prey chiefly on birds and
reptiles.
Boas are said to be by no means difficult to tame. M.
Dieperink of Paramaribo informed M. Schlegel that he
was in the practice of keeping by him several different
kinds of live Boas, all of which lived in perfect harmony,
both among themselves and with other domestic animals.
Professor lleindwardt, however, was witness at Java to a
spectacle which proved that these great serpents are not
always as merciful as they are strong. A native of the
island having brought to the Baron Van Der Capelle a
huge Python, and being desirous to make it leave a pannier
in which it was contained, the monster rose upon him sud-
denly, and inflicted a severe wound, at once laying open
the tore-arm throughout its entire extent. It may be as
| well, then, upon the whole, not to allow the serpents of
this family to sleep at large in the bed-chambers of any
other family where there are small children.
The members of our present group seize their prey sud¬
denly by ambuscade, usually lying in wait for it in the vi-
j cimty of water. They fix upon it with their teeth, and
then, if of tolerable size or strength, entwine their folds
around it, pressing out the breath of life, or even bruisino-
the body, and breaking the bones in pieces. To aid this
act of butchery, some of the species are said to keep their
tails twisted around a tree, to which they drag their reluc¬
tant victim,—making use at the same time of the hard and
gnarled trunk to give a still stronger stringency to their
dreadful coils, while the faint-hearted prey
Clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit.
E N T S. H3
When the animal attacked is of smaller size, it is merely Non-veno-
mouthed, always head foremost, covered with saliva to has- )nous
ten putrefaction and aid deglutition, and afterwards swal- SerPents-
lowed at leisure. These gigantic reptiles are endowed with '
great muscular force, which, however, they rarely exercise
in a state of captivity. They seem extremely lethargic
when imported into Europe; many of them, if not gentle
in their manners, at least cannot be induced to bite by any
provocation ; their movements are very slow, they rarely
eat, and the majority indeed die after a few months’ confine¬
ment, without having tasted food.
The following curious, and we doubt not accurate, ac¬
count of the swallowing powers of one of the great Asiatic
serpents, has been recorded by Mr Macleod. He calls the
species Boa constrictor, which, as it was captured in Bor-
nea, it could scarcely be. It belonged, we presume, to the
genus Python, and measured sixteen feet in length by about
eighteen inches in circumference. We shall make no apo¬
logy for the size of the ensuing extract, as it so clearly il¬
lustrates the peculiar manners and the mode of deglutition
of these Boa-like serpents.
“ The live stock for his use during the passage, consist¬
ing of six goats of the ordinary size, were sent with him on
board, five being considered as a fair allowance for as many
months. At an early period of the voyage we had an ex¬
hibition of his talent in the way of eating, which was pub¬
licly performed on the quarter-deck, upon which he was
brought. I he sliding door (of his cage) being opened, one
of the goats was thrust in, and the door of the cage shut.
I he poor goat, as if instantly aware of all the horrors of its
perilous situation, immediately began to utter the most
piercing and distressing cries, butting instinctively at the
same time with its head towards the serpent, in self-defence.
The snake, which at first appeared scarcely to notice the
poor animal, soon began to stir a little, and turning his
head in the direction of the goat, he at length fixed a deadly
and malignant eye on the trembling victim, whose agony
and tenor seemed to increase; for, previous to the snake
seizing his prey, it shook in every limb, but still continuing
its unavailing show of attack, by butting at the serpent,
which now became sufficiently animated to prepare for the
banquet. The first operation was that of darting out his
forked tongue, and at the same time rearing a little his
head ; then suddenly seizing the goat by the Ifore leg with
his mouth, and throwing it down, it was encircled in an in¬
stant in his horrid folds. So quick, indeed, and so instanta¬
neous was the act, that it was impossible for the eye to fol¬
low the rapid convolution of his elongated body. It was
not a regular screw-like turn that was formed, but resem¬
bling rather a knot, one part of the body overlaying the
other, as if to add w'eight to the muscular pressure, the
more effectually to crush his object. During this time he
continued to grasp with his fangs, though it appeared an
unnecessary precaution, that part of the animal which he
had first seized. Ihe poor goat, in the mean time, conti¬
nued its feeble and half-stijled cries for some minutes, but
they soon became more and more faint, and at last it ex-
pired. The snake, however, retained it for a considerable
time in his grasp after it was apparently motionless. He
ject, however irreconcileable these may sometimes seem with each other Tt oVl d.lfferent opinions which prevail upon the s
great size and unexampled voracity '“In the Hutch enlrmief Jhe following quotation rather favours the idea of tl
country an enormouS“erpen in the bod of wh c h^ thl a th* ^ Andre Cleyer purchased of the hunters of
other individualTthe same species also examined ht Zl* T ""-mu ^ alt0^er entire, with its skin and limbs. In
dently swallowed a porcupine with its ouills He •ubH tint 1 er’ a 'V1 d he'f?°ft was found, with its horns ; and a third had €
in the island of Amk.ri amTthalthLkin'd HsomeH^ Li rZl"1 WOman Z bec?me tlie P1^ of a reptile of the same ge:
on the frontiers of Bengal. We need hardlv be astonished Li •°r 1L lrL;[i!0ie °f attacking the buffaloes in the kingdom of Arac
Brazil, in the sevenLenth centurLisures os tLt he hZ n Whe" Maurice of Nassau-Siegen, one of The governor!
and even of a Dutch woman” (usually a considerable nm , ? eye-witness of stags, and other equally voluminous mammife
where he commanded.” Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, ix. lLL ’ ’ devoured 111 this manner, in that region of South Amei
SERPENTS.
144
Non-veno- then slowly and cautiously unfolded himself, till the goat
mous fell dead from his monstrous embrace, when he began to
Serpt iit^. ^ prepare himself for swallowing it. Placing his mouth in
front of the dead animal, he commenced by lubricating with
his saliva that part of the goat; and then taking its muzzle
into his mouth, which had, and indeed always has, the ap¬
pearance of a raw, lacerated wound, he sucked it in as far as
the horns would allow. These protuberances opposed some
little difficulty, not so much from their extent, as from their
points; however, they also in a very short time disappeared,
that is to say, externally ; but their progress was still to be
traced very distinctly on the outside, threatening every mo¬
ment to protrude through the skin. The victim had now de¬
scended as far as the shoulders; and it was an astonishing sight
to observe the extraordinary action of the snake s muscles
when stretched to such an unnatural extent,—an extent
which must have utterly destroyed all muscular power in
any animal that was not, like himself, endowed with very
peculiar faculties of expansion and action at the same time.
When his head and neck had no other appearance than
that of a serpent’s skin, stuffed almost to bursting, still the
workings of the muscles were evident, and his power of
suction, as it is erroneously called, unabated; it was, in fact,
the effect of a contractile muscular power, assisted by two
rows of strong, hooked teeth. With all this, he must be so
formed as to be able to suspend, for a time, his respiration ;
for it is impossible to conceive that the process of breathing
could be carried on while the mouth and throat were so
completely stuffed and expanded by the body of the goat,
and the lungs themselves (admitting the trachea to be ever
so hard) compressed, as they must have been, by its pas¬
sage downwards.
“ The whole operation of completely gorging the goat
occupied about two hours and twenty minutes; at the end
of which time the tumefaction was confined to the middle
part of the body, or stomach, the superior parts, which had
been so much distended, having resumed their natural di¬
mensions. He then coiled himself up again, and lay quietly
in his usual torpid state for about three weeks or a month,
when, his last meal appearing to be completely digested and
dissolved, he was presented with another goat, which he
killed and devoured with equal facility.”1
As the vessel, which was sailing from Batavia to Eng¬
land, approached the Cape of Good Hope, this gigantic rep¬
tile began to droop, as was at first supposed, from the in¬
creasing cold. It refused to kill some fowls which were
presented, and died before reaching St Helena. On dis¬
section, the coats of the stomach were found to be “ exco¬
riated and pierced by worms!” Nothing of either goat re¬
mained except a single horn. During a prior captivity of
some months at Whidah, in the kingdom of Dahomey, Mr
Macleod had enjoyed opportunities of observing snakes
“ double the size of the one just described.” These kill¬
ed their prey in the same manner; but from their supe¬
rior bulk were capable of swallowing much larger animals
than either goats or sheep. Governor Abson, who had re¬
sided for nearly forty years at Fort William, a settlement
of the African Company, used to describe some desperate
struggles which had taken place between these great ser¬
pents and various wild beasts, as well as smaller cattle. A
negro herdsman was once seized by the thigh, but the mon¬
ster, in attempting to entwine itself around him, got en¬
tangled by a tree, and the man being armed with a knife, Non.ver*
had presence of mind to inflict several severe gashes on g*®011®
the neck and throat, which enabled him to disengage him-
self from the dreadful coils which were closing fast around
him. But he remained lame for life, in consequence of the
wound and heavy pressure inflicted by the jaws.
The natural colours, which are various in this famih,
disappear speedily after death. Some are brown upon a
yellowish ground, others exhibit a uniformly greenish hue,
red prevails among certain species, while a few are nearly
black. Almost all are more or less spotted ; and it has
been observed that, unlike the smaller tribes of serpents,
these markings continue equally, or rather more distinct, as
the individual increases in years. The body of the Boas is
thickest at the middle, tapers towards either end, and is
always considerably compressed. The abdomen is broad,
and slightly convex or keeled, dhe tail is shaped like the
body, but is more slender, not very conical, and usually
terminates in a blunted point. It is always prehensile, that
is, possesses the power of rolling inwards upon itself, or
forming convolutions around other bodies. The scales in
general are rather small, and as they encroach considerably
on the under surface, it follows that the abdominal plates
are narrower than usual. There are sometimes from sixty
to seventy ranges of scales, and about two hundred and fifty
abdominal plates. The number of these, however, is greater
in the Boas of the ancient world than among the American
species, which moreover differ in several other respects;
while the genus Acrochordus is distinguished from all its
congeners by the small granular scales w'hich clothe the
entire surface, and of which a double series prevails along
the median line of the abdomen, forming a kind of project¬
ing ridge or keel.
The head of the Boas is always distinguishable from the
trunk, being thick, rather lengthened, conical, depressed,
and terminated by a muzzle for the most part elongated, and
truncated at the point. T-he eyes are placed at some dis¬
tance from the nostrils, and are lateral in the terrestrial
species, of which the head is flattened above, and more or
less angular on the sides; but the more aquatic kinds have
the eyes rather vertical. These organs are always small
in our present family, and, excepting Acrochordns, have the
pupil horizontally elongated. The nostrils are broad, close¬
ly approached to the end of the muzzle, and in some are
placed upon its summit. They open upw ards in the genus
just named, and assume a tubular form. All the species
are provided with palatine teeth, nearly as much developed
as the maxillary ones; but there are no intermaxillary teeth
except among the Pythons. The glands of the head are
less developed in this family than among the majority of
Ophidian reptiles.
Genus Boa. No intermaxillary teeth. Space betw een the
orbits formed solely by the frontals properly so called. Sub-
caudal plates simple.2 See Plate CCCCXLIII. figs- 8-11.
This restricted genus includes the largest of Ophidian
reptiles, and although composed chiefly of South American
snakes, it also contains three Asiatic species, which, though
of much smaller size, cannot be regarded otherwise than as
a geographical division.
Boa constrictor, Linn., is a middle-sized species, which
rarely exceeds the length of ten or twelve feet.3 It is of a
reddish tint, elegantly marked by irregular reticulations of
1 Macleod’s Voyage of the Alceste, p. 290. ,
s This is the prevailing character of these parts, although we find in this, as in many other cases, a difficulty in seizing upon single
determinate features of constant application. Thus we sometimes meet with several divided plates in the sub-caudal region of these
so-called Boas. . ....... .
3 The true B. constrictor is often confounded with the more gigantic B. munna, and its dimensions have in consequence been
greatly exaggerated. We doubt if any existing species ever attains to the alleged size of the so-called B. constrictor. Mr Swain-
son however^ who has travelled in South America, and is himself a zealous student of the facts of zoology, both as recorded in books
and’ as existing in nature, states that the young individuals frequent in our menageries are mere pigmies in comparison to the
145
SERF
ENTS.
t-veno-brownish black, and other hues, and is subject to a great
oils variety of aspect, so far as colour is concerned. It is, how-
3(-*nt^ ever, well characterized by the small smooth scales which
^ cover both head and body, and of which there are sixty-
seven rows. The head is heart-shaped, and the tail short.
Abdominal plates 243, caudal fifty-eight. This species is na¬
tive to the intertropical countries of South America, and not
only have its size and voracity been greatly exaggerated,
but many traits have been applied to it which truly belong
only to the Pythons of the ancient continent. Thus the
very name of Devin, bestowed upon it by Lacepede, is bor¬
rowed from what Bosman relates of the worship accorded
by the negroes to certain African reptiles. It is met with
in Surinam and Brazil, in woody districts, being sometimes
seen suspended from the branch of a tree, sometimes con¬
cealed in the hollows of rocks, or beneath an ancient trunk.
It is feared by no one, is often killed with a short walking-
stick, and is commonly known by the name of Jiboya. It
feeds on small and middle-sized mammalia, such as mice, rats,
agoutis, pacas, and capybaras, as well as on various reptiles.
A hunter, however, assured the Prince of Neuwied, that
his dog on one occasion would have fallen a victim to a
Boa of this species, had he not contrived to shoot it during
the combat. The true constrictor does not enter the water.
The Brazilians take it by means of gins, and employ its
skin for making boots and saddle-cloths. They also use its
fat. All engraved representations of this species, having
been made from ill-prepared museum specimens, are worse
than indifferent.1
The rat-eating Boa, B. murina, Linn. (B. Anaconda,
Baud.2 B. aquatica, Neuw.3), is the largest Ophidian rep¬
tile of America, and probably the most gigantic of known
species. It is distinguished in Brazil by the title of Cucu-
riuba, and passes a great portion of its time in the water,
either swimming about in various directions, or floating
lazily with the current. It dives wfith great dexterity, can
remain for a length of time beneath the surface, and is said
to prey on fish as well as quadrupeds. It is tenacious of
life, and is killed by the natives either with bow or musket
in the water, or with sticks when met with on shore, wdiere
its movements are somewhat sluggish. Both its skin and
fat are used for various purposes, and its flesh is eaten by
the Botocudes. M. Fermin measured one which had at¬
tained the length of twenty-three and a half feet; and the
Prince of Neuwied was assured by the natives that it is
often much longer, although he himself never saw one above
twenty feet. This species exhibits less varied markings
than the preceding. The general hue of the upper parts
is sooty brown, with two rows of orbicular blackish spots
along the back. The under surface and sides are of an
ochry yellow, the latter marked with a double row of ir¬
regular eye-shaped spots, which confound themselves with
numerous squarer spots upon the belly. The nostrils are
vertical, the eyes also directed upwards. The head is of
an elongated form, with a rounded muzzle. Abdominal Non-veno-
plates 250, caudal sixty-six. ,noiis
The other species of this genus are B. cenchria, canina ,SerPcnts'j
(Plate CCCCXLIII. figs. 8-11), hortulana, from South ^ v 4
America; B. Dussumieri, from a small island near the Mau¬
ritius ; B. carinata, from the Moluccas and New Guinea;
B. conica, from Bengal; and B. melanura, from the island
of Cuba.
Genus Python. Several intermaxillary teeth. Upper
portion of the orbit formed by a particular bone incased
among the three frontals, and named super-orbital by Cu¬
vier. Sub-caudal plates usually divided. Lips hollowed
out in front. Plates of the head larger and more regular
than in Boa. See Plate CCCCXLIII. figs. 16, 1c, and
3, and Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 5.
This genus was established by M. Daudin for the recep¬
tion of the great serpents of the ancient world. Brown,
black, and yellow, are their prevailing colours. Certain of
the species equal (some say exceed) the Boas of America
in size, for example the Ular-sawa (Python bivittatus,
Khul, Col. Javanicus, Shaw). I his species is of a yellowish
tint, relieved by a pattern of broad alternate brown spots.
The top of the head is margined by two rays of the ground
colour. The flanks are variously adorned by black and
white, and the under surface is marked by deep square
spots. There are sixty-three ranges of smooth small scales,
270 abdominal and seventy caucfal plates. This great rep¬
tile is spread, according to M. Schlegel, over a vast extent
of territory, being known to occur from the western coast
of Africa, over the whole of intertropical Asia, as far east
as China and the island of Java. It is said to attain the
length of twenty-five feet, and individuals of twenty feet
in length have been seen and described by trustworthy
naturalists. A fine specimen lived for some time in Hol¬
land, and was observed to be slow in its movements, mild
in its temper, and never inclined to bite even when pro¬
voked. It was kept in a large box enveloped in woollen
cloths, where it lay in continued tranquillity, and suffered
itself to be drawn out for frequent exhibition without ma¬
nifesting any signs of anger or impatience. We suspect
that the senses of this, and of other large tropical snakes, are
so far benumbed by the change of climate in Europe as to
produce stupefaction rather than tameness. The specimen
in question was presented with food every eight days, which,
however, it often refused for several successive times. It
was most easily excited to eat by the sight of a live rabbit,
into the head of which it would fix its teeth, and then, pla¬
cing it within a fold of its body, deprived it almost instantly
of life. After the commission of this murder, it was in no
hurry to swallow its victim, but sometimes licked it for a
while, occasionally taking two or three hours to effect the
final deglutition. This is supposed to be the Pedda-poda
of Dr Russel, called rock-snake by the Anglo-Indians.4
We do not happen to know to what extent this or any
nsnltrp^hvhrchvhave ^ ^ found to forty feet in length” (Cabinet Cyclopaedia, vol. cxvi. p. 143). Yet he does not state this
1,p th^ 1 ofobse^yatlon’ or as connected with his own knowledge as well as belief A single specimen of such cisantic rentile would
the wonder of Europe, and would make a fortune for its owner. A Dutch friend of Mr Waterton’s killed a Boa the does rmt
it’o™.T.,e8lT,,trtWO feet l0"/' * Pair of stag's horn, in its month. It had swallow'd “,e sta' buf'offd iiS swalloiv
diooa,d tw!V i',!CtluWe T11'!' aftpt'sed), and so had to wait in patience with that uncomfortable mouthful till its stomach had
g the body, and then the horns would drop out.” It was in this expectant plight that the Dutchman fmind ir
gomg m his canoe up the river, and sent a ball through its head (Wanderings in South America third edit n The lircrp upr Inf
moutln twentI,'f°uf'’’ 1 f to jmcs'are'so 1eax^nsilejl'ha'tr'\lr Waterton'after^tinning'hls'specinien,'could easidy^et^his head 'into'its
Sr 0Tf "-?1- >«.««• tr. pi. 92, fig. I. There are
Jormosiisimiis, Rex .expMum, diomi/ojaor^and Kveral othera LaUrentl seems to llaTe composed such species as CoMictor
Reptiles, v. 161, pi. 63. , . .. , „
T
146
SERPENTS.
Serpents.
Non-veno- other species of Python may have attained in ancient times,
rnous but it is probably from some misconceived view of our pre-
, sent species that the marvellous traditions regarding almost
immeasurable serpents have been derived. Who has not read
of that enormous reptile which spread dismay even through a
Roman army? It is thus related by "Valerius Maximus, from
one of the lost books of Livy, by whom it is said to have been
recorded at greater length. “ And since we are on the sub¬
ject of uncommon phenomena, we may here mention the
serpent so eloquently and accurately (!) recorded by Livy,
who says, that near the river Bagrada in Africa, a snake
was seen of so enormous a magnitude as to prevent the
army of Attilius Regulus from the use of the river; and
after snatching up several soldiers with its enormous mouth,
and devouring them, and killing several more by striking
and squeezing them by the spine of its tail, was at length
destroyed by assailing it with all the force oi military en¬
gines and showers of stones, after it had withstood the at¬
tack of their spears and darts ; that it was regarded by the
whole army as a more formidable enemy than even Car¬
thage itself; and that the whole adjacent region, being taint¬
ed with the pestilential effluvia proceeding from its remains,
and the waters with its blood, the Roman army was obliged
to move its station : he also adds, that the skin of the mon¬
ster, measuring 120 feet in length, was sent to Rome as a
trophy.” The learned Frienshemius, having had the ad¬
vantage of living a thousand years or two after the histo¬
rian of the Punic war, has given a still more circumstantial
account of this bloody broil in his Supplernenta Liviana.
He there informs us, that “ it caused so much trouble to
Regulus, that he found it necessary to contest the posses¬
sion of the river with it, by employing the whole force of
his army; during which a considerable number of soldiers
were lost, while the serpent could neither be vanquished nor
wounded, the strong armour of its scales easily repelling
the force of all the weapons that were directed against it;
upon which recourse was had to battering engines, with
which the animal was attacked in the manner of a fortified
tower, and was thus at length overpowered. Several dis¬
charges were made against it without success, till its back
being broken by an immense ston^ (we admire detailed ac¬
counts of ancient actions), “ the formidable monster began
to lose its powers, and was yet with difficulty destroyed,
after having diffused such a horror among the army, that
they confessed they would rather attack Carthage itself than
such another monster.” Probably such another was not
then at hand, and we believe has never been seen since ;
but the anecdote itself holds out great encouragement to
modern travellers. It is, we doubt not, to Python bivittatus
that Bosman and other writers refer, when they mention
the religious veneration with which some great African set -
pents are regarded by the natives. But we must conclude
our imperfect notice of this genus by stating, that of the
remaining species, P. Schneideri (Plate CCCCXLIII. fig. 3,
and Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 5) is found in Malacca, Java,
Sumatra, and Amboyna ; P. amethystinus, in Saparua, a
small island opposite Amboyna (a nearly identical kind be¬
ing found in Timor, Samao, and New Ireland) ; and P. Pe-
ronii in New Holland.
Genus Acrochordus. Head rounded, eyes extremely
small, rather vertical, pupil orbicular, nostrils tubular, nearly
terminal, opening forwards or upwards. Tail strongly pre¬
hensile, and, in common with the trunk, compressed. Anal
hooks wanting. Whole body covered by small scales, and
the abdomen furnished with a kind of keel beset with scales.
Teeth as in the Boas proper.
The anomalous reptiles of our present genus may be said
to combine the characters of the Boas and sea-serpents.
Their dentition resembles that of the former, while the
position of the eyes and nostrils, the compact closure of the
mouth, compressed form of the body, the existence of the
abdominal crest, and absence of anal hooks, assimilate them
to the latter. They are, however, easily distinguished by
being destitute of poison-i’angs. W ant of attention to the
latter character, and some confused and contradictory data
furnished by foreign naturalists, have caused several errors
in the arrangement of the species, which are very few in
number. They inhabit the intertropical countries of Asia,
are extremely aquatic in their propensities, and are external¬
ly distinguished by a somewhat sombie colouring, brown
and a yellowish hue being the prevailing tints. The Ja¬
vanese species, Acrochordus Javanicus, is of a deep earthen-
brown colour, irregularly marbled. Its form is thick, the
head short and obtuse, the tail slender in proportion to the
other parts. It attains a total length of eight feet, with the
thickness of a man’s arm, and was first described by Horn-
stedt, from a specimen taken in a large pepper-ground near
Sangasan in Java.1 Ac. fasciatus is also of a brown colour,
but with paler bands upon the sides, the general form much
more slender, and the dimensions considerably less.2 It is
more extended in its distribution than the preceding, being
found in Pondicherry, New Guinea, Sumatra, Java, and
Timor. It forms (it is said erroneously) the genus Chersy-
drus of Baron Cuvier,—-the great French naturalist having
been informed by M!. Leschenhault that the snake in ques¬
tion was extremely poisonous, and dwelt in the beds of the
rivers of Java. The accuracy of the former assertion has
been since disproved. No other species are distinctly
known.
SECOND PRIMARY DIVISION-
PENTS.
-VENOMOUS SER-
Family /.—Colubriform Venomous Serpents.
The poisonous species here assembled, although provided
with envenomed fangs, so nearly resemble the Colubers in
their general external forms as to be easily mistaken for them
by an inexperienced eye. They also partake in some points
of the features of the sea-serpents, but are distinguished by
wanting the flattened tail; while from the concluding family
of venomous serpents properly so called, they are kept apart
by the bulkier proportions, thick triangular heads, vertical
pupils, and carinated scales, which characterize the species
last alluded to. At the same time it must be admitted,
that those rigorous and distinct demarcations which so many
lovers of nature desire to establish, but which so few can
find, occur as seldom here as in other departments of zoo¬
logy,—several species in each family showing a strong ten¬
dency of transition towards another.
The reptiles of our present family have a more slenderly
elongated form than those of other poisonous groups. Their
trunk is in general a good deal drawn out, sometimes cylin¬
drical, or slightly compressed. Their tail, like that of all
poisonous species, is rather short, conical, and rounded at
the extremity. Their head, almost always of nearly equal
dimensions with the neck, is small, short, and obtuse at the
extremity. The eyes are rather small, sometimes vertical,
the pupil always orbicular. The nostrils, always lateral and
rather open, are pierced in a large plate on each side of the
muzzle. The scales are not numerous, of medium size, and
always smooth,—except in Naja hcemachates, in which they
seem surmounted by a keel. The abdomen is constantly
convex, and furnished with plates of greater or less extent,
according to the species. But what particularly charac¬
terizes this family is, that all the genera of which it is com¬
posed have the crown of the head covered by nine plates*
1 Act. Stockh. 1787 j and Journ. de Physique, 1788.
2 Shaw, Gen. Zool. iii. pi. 130.
SERF
( nous modelled after the type of those of Coluber. The poison
;nts. apparatus is much less developed than among other veno-
mous kinds; but the fangs, though short, are strong. The
species inhabit the warmer countries of both the New and
Old World, but do not occur in Europe. They form three
generic groups, as after mentioned.
Genus Elaps. Body slender and cylindrical, of nearly
equal size throughout, and usually encompassed by fifteen
rows of broad, smooth scales. Head elongated, and not
strongly distinguishable from the trunk.
This genus was established by Schneider,1 and now con¬
tains all those slender-bodied venomous kinds, which by
their elongated forms remind us of Tortrix and Calamaria.
They attain to no great size, seldom reaching three or four
feet in length, and scarcely exceeding a finger’s thickness
in diameter. Their colours are often bright and beautiful,
a combination of red and black being frequent among them.
They prefer countries covered by an abundant vegetation,
concealing themselves amid the herbs of the meadows, or
the loftier luxuriance of the forest; and with this circum¬
stance we may connect the fact, that only a single species
is found in Africa, all the others occurring in tropical Ame¬
rica, New Holland, the Indian Archipelago, and Bengal,—
the latter country however producing likewise only a soli¬
tary instance in Elaps trimaculatus. Their agility is by no
means great, and they prey chiefly on other reptiles,—birds
being probably too active, quadrupeds too large, and fish too
aquatic, for creatures of slowish movement, small size, and
terrestrial habits. We cannot here detail the species, of
which eleven are described by M. Schlegel, but must rest
satisfied by referring, as examples, to a few figures, such
as,—E. corallinus {Nova Acta, x. pi. 4), E. Surinamensis
(Seba, ii. pi. 86, fig. 2), E. collaris {Erpetol. de Java, pi. 45),
E. trimaculatus (Russel, Ind. Serp. i. pi. 8).
Genus Bungarus. Form moi’e robust than that of Elaps.
Head broad, depressed, rounded terminally, and towards
the sides. Abdomen convex. Tail robust. Dorsal line
furnished with a row of hexagonal scales, larger than the
rest. Sub-caudal plates simple.
To this genus belong the Bunga.rum pamma of Russel
{Ind. Serp. i. pi. 3), B. annularis, Daudin, and the Geedi
Paragoodoo of the former author, B. semifasciatus of Khul
and Schlegel. Both species inhabit India, as well as Java
and Ceylon. The natives of India, wdxo are said generally
to exaggerate the noxious character of their serpents, assert
that the bite of the latter produces immediate death, although
Dr Russel’s experiments go to prove that it is seldom fatal
to chickens in less than half an hour, or to dogs in a shorter
period than an hour and a half. A Geedi Paragoodoo was
made to bite a large dog on the thigh, near the groin, where
it held fast for more than twenty seconds, but the fangs
; scarcely penetrated farther than the skin. The dog howl¬
ed much when first wounded, but on being set at liberty
walked about for a time without manifesting any peculiar
symptoms. In ten minutes, however, he drew up the
wounded leg, continuing to stand on the other three; in a
quarter of an hour he crouched, and howled again, and the
thigh became paralytic, though the poor creature was still
able to raise himself; in twenty-five minutes both thighs
were paralytic; and in the course of the second hour he
became greatly disordered, grew apparently torpid, lay pant¬
ing on one side, and died in about two hours, without con¬
vulsions. Another dog of smaller size expired in one hour
and ten minutes, after being strongly convulsed for some
minutes prior to its death.
Genus Naja. General form robust. Body not cylin¬
drical, but thickening in the middle, and tapering towards
either end. Tail lengthened and conical. Abdomen broad
and convex. Head well distinguished from the trunk. Eyes
ENTS. M7
large and lateral. Neck more or less capable of infla-Venomous
tion. Serpents.
This genus contains the famous hooded or spectacle-
snakes, called cobras de capello by the Portuguese, the ma¬
jority having the power of raising the anterior ribs, so as to
produce a peculiar disk-like inflation of the neck or upper
portion of the body. The species are peculiar to the an¬
cient world,—if New Holland, which produces two, and was
unknown to the ancients, may be classed therein. M. Schle¬
gel describes eleven different kinds, many of which, how¬
ever, are arranged in separate genera by other writers, but
which that author regards as forming an uninterrupted se¬
ries, closely connected with each other, and of which the
foremost exhibit the announced generic characteristics in
great strength and precision, while the others gradually de¬
part from the type, and form a passage to the vipers.
The hooded snake, commonly so called {Coluber naja of
the older writers,—Naja tripudians of the recent systema-
tists), is one of the most noted as well as noxious of the In¬
dian reptiles. Its general length is from three to four feet,
and the diameter of its body about an inch and a quarter.
The inflated portion is marked above by a large conspicu¬
ous patch, closely resembling the figure of an old-fashioned
pair of spectacles. The usual colour of the upper parts is
pale ferruginous brown, the under being of a bluish white
occasionally tinged with yellow. The terminal portion ta¬
pers gradually, and ends in a rather slender sharp-pointed
extremity. In India this dreaded species is more univer¬
sally known than any other. It is frequently exhibited as
a public show, and being carried about in a covered basket,
is made to assume a kind of dancing motion (a modification,
we presume, of some natural and instinctive movement) for
the amusement of the public. Raising itself up on its lower
extremity, and moving its head and body alternately from
side to side, the insidious creature seems pleased by keep¬
ing time with the measured melody of “ flutes and soft re¬
corders.” We presume that a love of music is natural to
certain serpents; and that this fact was observed of old in
Palestine, is probable from the expression of the inspired
Psalmist, wEo compares the ungodly to the deaf adder,
which “ stoppeth her ears, and refuseth to hear the voice
of the charmer.” Chateaubriand relates that he was an eye¬
witness, on the banks of the Genesee, to the fact of a native
appeasing the wrath of a rattle-snake (which he even caused
to follow him), merely by the music of his flute. The dan¬
cing snakes of India are usually, though not universally, de¬
prived of their poison-fangs. “ When the music ceases,” says
Mr Forbes, “the snakes appear motionless; but if not imme¬
diately covered up in the basket, the spectators are liable to
fatal accidents. Among my drawings is that of a cobra de ca¬
pello, which danced for an hour on the table while I painted
it; during which I frequently handled it to observe the beau¬
ty of the spots, and especially the spectacles on the hood, not
doubting but that its venomous fangs had been previously ex¬
tracted. But the next morning my upper servant, who was
a zealous Mussulman, came to me in great haste, and de¬
sired I would instantly retire and praise the Almighty for my
good fortune. Not understanding his meaning, I told him
that I had already performed my devotions, and had not so
many stated prayers as the followers of his prophet. Mo¬
hammed then informed me, that w’hile purchasing some
fruit in the bazaar, he observed the man who had been with
me the preceding evening, entertaining the country people
with his dancing snakes ; they, according to their usual
custom, sat on the ground around him ; when, either from
the music stopping too suddenly, or from some other cause
irritating the vicious reptile which I had often handled, it
darted at the throat of a young woman, and inflicted a wound
of which she died in half an hour.’’2 A similar fate had
1 Hist. Amphib. ii. p. 289.
* Oriental Memoirs, i. p. 44.
148 serf:
Venomous nearly befallen an artist employed by Professor Reinwardt
Serpents. paint the portrait of a living Naja. It had in some way
^ --- v • disengaged its bands, and seemed to have prepared itself to
attack the unsuspecting painter the moment he entered his
apartment. He there found it supported on its tail, its body
raised, its neck dilated, its head advanced,—and then giving
utterance to some hissing sounds, it threw a quantity of sa¬
liva upon the very man who was about to hand it down to
posterity, but who fortunately effected an instantaneous re¬
treat before it came to closer quarters. We doubt not the
painter loved the picturesque, although that was not the
time to gaze with admiration on the fierce intruder:—
Not with intended wave.
Prone on the ground (as since), but on his rear,
Circular base of rising folds, that tower’d
Fold above fold, a surging maze ! his head
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes.
Dr Russel informs us that he never knew the bite of
a hooded snake prove mortal to a dog in much less than
half an hour, although it kills chickens in less than half a
minute. Now the rattle-snake has been known to kill a
dog in less than two minutes. Yet the use of the lunar
caustic, which in the hands of the Abbe Fontana proved so
efficacious when applied as remedial to the bite of the viper,
was found of little or no avail in India as a counteraction
to the venom of the cobra de capello.1 We shall conclude
our notices of this species by observing, that the Ceylonese
jugglers, according to Dr Davy, use it without extracting
the fangs, the only means which they employ to avoid its
vengeance being courage and agility. It is in fact held in
veneration by the natives of that island, who carefully avoid
it, offer it no injury, and put it out of doors unhurt when it
happens to enter their dwellings.2 The root ot Ophiorhyza
mungos is believed in India to be a specific against the bite
of the cobra de capello.
Another noted species is the Naja haje (Coluber haje,
Linn.), which plays the same part in the history and su¬
perstitions of the African tribes as the preceding does in
those of the Asiatic nations. The ancient Egyptians named
it Ouro, a term which signifies king, and which the Greeks
adopted into their language in the word Ouraios. It is
frequently represented in various Egyptian antiquities,
whether as drawn in colours, sculptured on the covers of
sarcophagi, or cast in bronze. One of the great creative
spirits of the world, called Cneph, Cnouphis, or Ammon, in
the cosmogony of Egypt, was represented in their symbo¬
lical writings under the form of a serpent winding itself
around a globe, or placed in the centre of a disk.
The jugglers of modern Egypt, especially of Cairo, use
this Naja in their pretended sorceries. These people affect
to be descendants of the ancient Psylli, and boast of inhe¬
riting from their ancestors the power of subduing and com¬
manding the most poisonous reptiles. The principal feat
which they execute consists in making the naja counterfeit
death, or they change it into a rod. This they seem to ef¬
fect by pressing the neck of the creature between their fin¬
gers, so as to produce a kind of catalepsy, which renders it
stiff and motionless. ' This is rather a singular fact when
considered in connection with the scriptural narrative,
where the rods of the magicians, when thrown down, are
converted into serpents.3 According to M. Geoffroy, the
species is still sufficiently common in Egypt, occurring both
in fields and ditches. “ Les cultivateurs sont done exposes
a le rencontrer frequemment; mais quoiqu’ils n’ignorent pas
le danger de sa morsure, sa presence ne les empeche nulle-
E N T S.
ment de vaquer a leur travaux ordinaires; connaissant bien Venorr
les habitudes du redoubtable reptile, ils savent qu’ils n’au- SerPtt j ^
raient a craindre d’etre attaques par lui, que s’ils venaient >”,v'
a commetre 1’imprudence de s’en approcher. En effet, tant
qu’ils se tiennent a quelque distance, 1’haje se contente de
les suivre du regard, en elevant sa tete et en prenant i’at-
titude dans laquelle les fig. 4 et 5 le represent.”4 ihe Afri¬
can Naja attains to about the same size as the Asiatic, and
greatly resembles it in general aspect; but its neck is less
capable of inflation, and its muzzle more conical. It is
usually of a yellowish-brown colour above, varied with nu¬
merous black and white spots; the under surface whitish,
although some individuals exhibit broad black spots or bands
on the abdomen. The Cape Naja is regarded by M. Schlegel
merely as a climatic variety of that now mentioned.
The Australian species {Naja porphyrica) was first de¬
scribed by Dr Shaw.5 It belongs to the genus Oploce-
phalus of Baron Cuvier, and we place it here on the au¬
thority of M. Schlegel. According to M. Lesson, it is
greatly dreaded at Port Jackson, and several convicts are
said to have died of its bite in a quarter of an hour. It is
common in the sandy brushwood of the shores of Botany
Bay. Its movements are full of force and vigour, its agi¬
lity remarkable, and it defends itself when attacked with
great hardihood.6 Another New Holland species is Naja
curia, described by MM. Quoy and Gaimard, and said to
bear resemblance to a viper. It is probably the only Colu-
briform venomous reptile which exhibits a somewhat verti¬
cally elongated pupil.
Family II.—Sea-Serpents.
Our present family is placed here, on the supposition
that all the species which it contains are poisonous. Se¬
veral naturalists, proceeding on certain data given by Dr
Russel, have maintained the contrary opinion; but long-
continued researches on the part of M. Schlegel have led
to the conclusion that there is really no exception to the
rule. Great confusion prevails in the synonymy of the spe¬
cies, chiefly owing to the absence of good figures and ac¬
curate comparative descriptions,—even Dr Russel’s plates,
which are the most numerous, being insufficient to lead to
a rigorous determination of the species. The specimens
themselves are obtained with great difficulty, and are con¬
sequently rare in our collections.
We have not sufficiently precise information on which to
settle the geographical boundaries of the marine family of
serpents. That species occur in the Persian and Arabian
Gulfs is by no means improbable; but the fact is inferred
rather from some passages in ancient writers than from mo¬
dern observation ; and we know that the authors of anti¬
quity, at least in some instances, mistook certain eel-formed
fishes for actual snakes. Schneider indeed7 (whose com¬
petence as a scholar no naturalist would dare to doubt) has
quoted several classical w'riters to demonstrate a remote
knowledge of sea-serpents; but that knowledge seems too
superficially and vaguely expressed to be altogether trust¬
ed, or even understood. iElian comes closer to the point
when he says, that “ the seas of India produce hydras with
flattened tails.”8
Modern naturalists are believed to be in error who assert
their occurrence in the Atlantic Ocean, no proper proof
having been yet adduced of any of these species inhabiting
the “ American Ferry,” as we see that world of waters now
named, since the steaming days of the British Queen and
1 Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol. viii. * Ceylon, p. 83, et seq.
3 “ Then Pharaoh also called the wise men and the sorcerers: now the magicians of Egypt, they also did in like manner with their enchant¬
ments ; for they cast down every man his rod, and th Jy became serpents ; but Aaron’s rod swallowed up their rods.” {Exodus, vii. 11, 12.)
4 Bescrip. de VEgypte, Atlas, Reptiles, pi. 7. e Voyage de la Coquille, Zoologie, ii. p. 55.
* Zoology of New Holland, pi. 10. 7 Hist. Amphib. i. p. 255. 8 iEl. 1. 16, chap. 8.
SERF
romous Great Western. M. Schlegel characterizes the statement
pents- as an “ assertion que je puis contredire avec certitude.” Be-
lieving that there are more things in heaven and earth than
are “ dream’t of in our philosophy,” and desiring to bear in
mind the sentiment of the inspired apostle, that “ if any
man think that he knoweth any thing, he knoweth nothing
yet as he ought to know,” we shall content ourselves by
stating that sea-serpents have not yet been observed in the
Atlantic Ocean. M. Schlegel’s researches have led him to
believe that they are confined “ aux mers intertropicales,
on voisines des tropiques, comprises entre le 90me et les
230me degres de longit. or. du meridien de Ferro.”1 We
shall here state the chief of the actual localities. Several
species were received by Dr Russel from among the nu¬
merous islands called Sunderabunds, which form the delta
of the Ganges. The same author likewise obtained many
from different points along the coast of Coromandel. Sir
Stamford Raffles mentions three species which frequent the
coasts of Sumatra.2 The Dutch voyagers have observed
only a single species on the coast of Java, but they have
met with several among the Moluccas, near Timor, Banda,
and the shores of New Guinea. Dr Strauss transmitted
two species from the Celebes. M. Von Siebold observed
them to abound in the China Sea, and met with many in the
course of his passage from Java to Japan, from the region
of the equator as far north as the 27th degree. Eschholtz
has incidentally observed,3 that the fishermen of the Phi¬
lippine Islands capture Acrochordus fasciatus in the Bay
of Manilla, and that this reptile cannot move upon the
land. Now it so happens that the Acrochordi correctly
so called never inhabit the sea; and it may therefore be
inferred that the observer last named had in view, not an
Acrochordus, but a sea-snake or Hydrophis. It is long
since Dampier told us of those which he saw along the
western shores of New Holland ;4 as did afterwards Sir Jo¬
seph Banks along the eastern coast, from the 20th to the
10th degree of north latitude. Forster, as Schneider has
recorded, found Hyd. pelamys abundant near Otaheite.
The habits of these reptiles are indicated here and there
by different writers. Dr Russel describes their aquatic
movements as active and elegant, but they have scarcely
any locomotive power on land, and speedily die wdien either
brought ashore or placed in fresh water. He found in the
abdomen of a female Hydrophis nine perfectly formed
young, each of which was enclosed in an egg or envelope,
from which (the matured condition) it may be inferred that
they are viviparous. It would also seem that their manners
are milder than those of the generality of poisonous species.
Dr Russel, at least, assures us in regard to Hyd. gracilis,
that no provocation would induce it to bite any object pre¬
sented to it. Neither could M. Lesson succeed in his dis¬
interested attempts to make Hyd. pelamys wound any poul¬
try, though he kindly put them together alive into a copper
bathing tub.5 6 The observations received from M. Von
Siebold by M. Schlegel confirm the belief of other naturalists,
that these reptiles, though assuredly dangerous from their
poisonous qualities, are not of a highly ferocious nature.
The former traveller fell in with vast numbers while sailing
from Batavia to Japan, all of the small species, elsewhere
so frequent and widely spread, known to naturalists by the
specific name of pelamys. Their movements were by no
means rapid, although they glided through the water with
grace and activity, raising their heads from time to time
above the waves, for the purpose probably of respiration.
Their motion is produced and directed by an action of
the tail, accompanied by a lateral and undulating movement
ENTS. 149
of the other parts of the body. They were easily enough Venomous
entrapped in wooden buckets, and glided through the sai- Serpents,
lors* hands without attempting to bite them,—the said sailors '-"“V—'''
having probably been previously informed that they were eels.
“ Le Professeur Reinwardt,” says Schlegel, “ confirme ce que
M. von Siebold rapporte relativement au caractere doux et
tranquille de ces animaux.”6 We cannot, however, help
thinking that this alleged sweetness of temper and tran¬
quillity are in some measure inconsistent with the cases of
the native woman and Lascar already reported in our in¬
troductory observations. The comparatively slow move¬
ments also do not accord with what we are elsewhere in¬
formed by M. Lesson. “ Le 27 Juillet,” says that natu¬
ralist, “ par une journee brulante, nous fumes pris de calme
sur les cotes de la Nouvelle Guinee. De nombreux ser¬
pens marins passerent le long de la corvette, et un embar-
cation que le capitaine fit mettre a la mer nous permit de
les chasser. Nous atteignimes apres de longues pursuites
une Pelamide, dont I’agilite etait extreme, et les mouve-
mens de natation des plus rapides.”7
We owe some interesting observations on the manners
of these marine serpents to M. Peron,8 although it may be
doubted whether that voyager did not occasionally take
his notes from too great a distance, especially in reference
to size and colour. No other credible author has ever de¬
scribed any of these species as attaining to so great a length
as twelve feet; the usual dimensions, we may here observe,
varying from two and a half to five feet. However, M.
Peron describes those he saw as gliding lightly in great
numbers on the surface of the sea, and waging destruc¬
tive war against a shoal of small herrings, which fled pre¬
cipitately towards deeper water. The haunts of these
snakes are by no means confined to the shallow shores, or
even the vicinity of continents or islands, for they are
often met with many hundred miles from land. On open¬
ing their stomach, our navigator found it filled with small
fish, and various marine Crustacea; but the reptiles them¬
selves became the frequent prey of sharks, in the interior
of which their half-digested remains were often found. It
naturally became a subject of surprise, that creatures so
light and active should so often fall victims to an enemy of
such weight and sluggishness; but after more lengthened
observation, a peculiarity in the habits of the former was
thought sufficient to account for their capture. These ser¬
pents were often seen as if asleep, and floating on the
waves, and so profound was their repose, that a large ves¬
sel, “ with all its bravery on,” might pass close by without
their being disturbed by its surging prow, its huge furrow,
or the loud voices of the garrulous sailors (Frenchmen, of
course). M. Peron supposes that it is in this state of le¬
thargy that the lazy sharks swallow them at their leisure.
As to the cause of the torpor itself, he naturally enough
suggests that it may arise, as among the terrestrial races,
from repletion, and the indolence indulged in by all ser¬
pents during the digestive process. “ Ces reptiles,” he
adds, “ nagent et plongent avec une egale facilite: souvent
a Tinstant meme ou nous croyons pouvoir les saisir avec nos
filets, ils disparaissaient a nos yeux ; et, s’enfon^ant a de
grandes profondeurs sous les flots, ils restaient une demi-
heure et plus sans remonter a leur surface, ou ne parais-
saient qu’a de tres-grandes distances du point ou nous les
avions vus plonger.”9
The general ground-colour of the majority of these rep¬
tiles is yellowish, varying towards green, blue, or white,
and often relieved by blackish rings, or broad lozenge¬
shaped spots, disposed transversely along the dorsal re-
7 Ia>c. cit.
8 Voyage, p. 105 and 129.
9 Loc. cit.
1 Physiog. des Serpents, ii. p. 491.
2 Phil. Trans, xiii. part ii. p. 334.
3 In Kotzebue’s Ntue Reise, Anh. p. 32.
4 Voyages, iv. p. 107 and 113.
8 Coquille, ii. p. 58.
6 Physiog. ii. p. 493.
150
SERPENTS.
Venomous gion. The colours seem less subject to variation than
Serpents. among tiie 0ther Ophidians, and there is no external dif-
ference between the sexes. All the species are included
by M. Schlegel in the following genus.
Genus Hydrophis. Head small, uniform with the
trunk. Nostrils vertical, of an orbicular form, and capable
of being closed by a valve. Eye small, pupil orbicular.
Fangs but slightly developed, and always followed by se¬
veral other teeth, solid though slender. Body tapering
towards both extremities. Scales lozenge-shaped or hex¬
agonal, not imbricated, covered by a thin epidermis, and
surmounted by a tubercle, of which there are two on the
median range of the abdomen. The abdominal scales
scarcely larger than the others. Tail broad, flattened la¬
terally, and performing the functions of an oar or rudder.
Lungs often prolonged into a reservoir of air as far as the
commencement of the caudal region.
Of this genus there are seven species, the particular
characters of which we cannot here detail, although their
general attributes may be made out from the preceding
observations. See Plate CCCCXLIV. fig. 4.
The most common kind is Hyd. pelamys of Oken1 * (An-
guis platura, Linn.), of a comparatively thickish form, the
head much elongated, the median line of the abdomen in¬
dicated by a suture formed by two rows of scales. It is
of a blackish brown above, beneath yellow; the tail, and
sometimes the entire body, varied by these colours. It is
the most extensively distributed of the genus, being found
wherever any sea-snakes occur. It seems to be the black
backed hydrus of Shaw (Hydrus bicolor, Schneid.) ; and
in India rejoices in the euphonious name of Nalla Wah-
lagillee Pam?- Of general occurrence in the Asiatic seas,
it is also common round the coasts of Otaheite, where it
is relished as an article of food, and known under the title
of Etoonatoree.
Family III.—Poisonous Serpents properly so called.
The species of this family are the most venomous of all,
and may, for the most part, be recognised by something
especially repulsive and forbidding in their aspect. Their
form is rather thick and heavy, their tail short, their head
extremely broad, depressed, and somewhat heart-shaped;
rarely protected by plates, but usually covered by scales
resembling those of the dorsal region ; the eyes are small,
deeply seated in the sides of the head, and shaded by pro¬
jecting superciliary plates, the pupil vertical ; the upper
lip is inflated, and falls over the lengthened fangs; the
body is usually beset by scales of a lanceolated form, sur¬
mounted by a ridge, except in one or two species of I ri-
gonocephalus, in which they are smooth.
Their habits and modes of life likewise present some
disparities when compared with those of the preceding
groups. Being of a lethargic nature and slow of move¬
ment, they seldom wander about in search of prey, but
keep themselves coiled up till it approaches closely, and
then springing upon it by a sudden straightening of the
body, they inflict a fatal wound, which needs no repeti¬
tion. There seems reason to believe that this mode of
attack is peculiar to the present family, the other poisonous
kinds pursuing their prey, and holding on when they have
seized it, while the poisonous serpents properly so called
are satisfied by sinking their envenomed fangs into the
flesh of their victim. Their gape is very wide, their hooks
long and sharp, their poison abundant and in a state of
high concentration, and the wound is inflicted suddenly,
with great force. The result is left to nature, and is in Venomo.
consequence both sure and speedy. v erpeH
We have said that the poison-fangs are more developed
than among the other Ophidians. T hey alone occupy
the maxillaries, being never followed by any small solid
teeth, though these occur along the palate and at the extre¬
mity of the lower jaw. The nostrils are in some spacious,
in others narrow, and vary also in their position. I hey
are followed in certain species by a deep pit or hollow,
scooped in the sides of the muzzle, and connected with a
broad cavity in the upper maxillaries. This character (of
which, however, we know not the function) seems analo¬
gous in some measure to the larmiers of ruminating quad¬
rupeds, and has been employed for the distribution of these
serpents into several groups. Such as are distinguished by
this nasal pit inhabit the forests of tropical countries, and
consist of two genera, Trigonocephalus and (Jrotulus, of
which the former (native both to Asia and America) is
chiefly found in moist and sombre woods, or places covered
by an abundant vegetation; while the latter (peculiar to
the western world) prefers a somewhat drier and more
barren soil. Such as possess no nasal excavation are com¬
prized in the genus Viperus. They affect a more open,
sandy soil, and occur exclusively in the ancient continents
and New Holland. We shall briefly survey these different
groups, in the order now named.
Genus Trigonocephalus. Head, as in other members
of the family, heart-shaped or triangular, extremely broad
behind, and consequently very distinguishable from the
neck. Tail terminated by a conical corneous plate.
The poison apparatus of these reptiles is developed in
the highest degree ; and as the species sometimes attain a
length of five or six feet, they may be regarded as among
the most redoubtable of venomous serpents. They all fre¬
quent wooded or shady situations, or moist meadows in the
immediate vicinity of forest-land. The abdomen is al¬
ways broad, rather convex, and furnished with plates, which
vary, according to the species, from 140 to about 270. The
tail is always short, conical, and usually somewhat slender.
The sub-caudal plates vary from forty to seventy; and of
these some are simple, others divided into two. The body
is often marked by large irregular or lozenge-shaped spots
upon a brownish or yellowish ground. Some, howrever, are
reddish, others of a greenish hue, and there is frequently a
line of deeper hue behind the eye. The species are rare
in collections. None occur in Europe or Africa. Ame¬
rica and the intertropical countries of Asia produce a large
majority. The genus is divisible into two sections, accord¬
ing as the head is covered with scales or with plates.
One of the most noted species of the first section is Trig,
lanceolatus, a native of the West Indies.3 The general co¬
lour is greenish yellow, paler beneath, and variously marked
with specks, spots, and bands of brown. A broad brown
line, bordered with white, proceeds from the eye towards
the mouth. We have a good account of the habits and his¬
tory of this reptile from Colonel Moreau de Jonnes.4 He
tells us of one killed by an officer which measured above
seven feet and a half in length ; and still greater (but per¬
haps less accurate) measurements are given by Dutertre3
and Labat.6 In the bodies of such females as were ex¬
amined, he found some fifty or sixty young ones, which,
when the period of their birth arrives, issue forth completely
formed, and much inclined to bite. In the adult state they
prey chiefly on rats, which, though not indigenous to these
islands, are now in all probability as 10,000 to one com¬
pared with the native quadrupeds. The snakes in question
1 Naturgesch. vol. iii. part ii. p. 279. 8 Indian Serpents, i. 47, pi. 41.
3 Quad. Oi'ip. ii. p. 121, pi. 5, fig. 1. Also described by Dr Shaw, under the title of Coluber megeera. Gen. Zool. iii. 406.
4 Monographic du Trigonocephale des Antilles. 5 Hist. Gen. des Antilles habitees par les Francois.
6 Nouveau Voyage aux Antilles, contenant Vllist. Nat.
SERPENTS.
151
imous have also multiplied prodigiously in St Lucia and Marti-
|* ents. nique, where from sixty to eighty may be killed during the
I cutting of a single field of sugar-cane. According to M.
Moreau de Jonnes, they people the marshes, the culti¬
vated grounds, the forests, the banks of rivers, and even
the summits of the mountains. The observer just named
encountered one on the very edge of the crater of that
naked mountain which overhangs the town of St Pierre, in
Martinique, at an elevation of more than 5000 feet; and he
feared it the more from the excessive lassitude under which
he himself at that time laboured. His alarm was not with¬
out cause, for only a few days before, a fisherman at the
foot of the mountain had been attacked by a similar reptile,
which issued from its concealment among the basalts of the
shore, and no efforts could save his life. These dreaded
serpents are sometimes found in holes made by rats or land-
crabs. They also enter hen-roosts and poultry-yards, and
sometimes creep into dwelling-houses, chiefly, however, the
huts of the negroes. But the sugar-plantations are their
favourite places of resort. “ Je n’ai jamais trouve,” says
our author, “ de serpent stationnaire, qu’il ne fut dans une
position offensive. L’action par laquelle le reptile prend
cette position, s’exprimer aux Antilles par le verbe lover.
Elle consiste a contourner en spirale toute la longueur de
son corps, qui forme quatre cercles egaux en diametre, super¬
poses les uns au dessus des autres, et sous le dernier duquels
la queue est placee comme point central d’appui, de resort
et de pivot. La tete, qui termine le cercle superior, est re¬
tiree en arriere. Quand I’animal s’elance sur une proie, il
fait effort sur la queue, et deroule subitement les quatre
cercles qui semblent se debander.” This species preys on
birds as well as quadrupeds, and the former manifest their
hatred by vain and clamorous cries whenever they behold
their “ arch destroyer.” It avoids the brilliant equatorial
light, and usually dwells in shaded places, seeking what it
may devour chiefly towards sunset, or during cloudy wea¬
ther.1 The distribution of this species is rather remarkable.
It does not extend throughout the whole of the Antilles,
nor is it found even in the majority of those islands. “ By
a chance equally singular, fortunate, and inexplicable, it is
confined to the islands of Martinique, St Lucia, and Be-
conia alone; and there is no proof, as has been pretended,
that it is common in the American continent. Neverthe¬
less, a tradition exists among the Indigenes, that it was in¬
troduced into Martinique by the Arronages, a horde which
inhabited near the mouth of the Orinoco, and which, impelled
by sentiments of hatred and vengeance against the Carribs
of that island, made them this fatal present, and let loose
in their forests this serpent, which was brought over in cala¬
bashes. But according to another popular opinion in the
same country, the Trigonocephalus is aboriginal of Marti-
| nique, and cannot live elsewhere, not even in Guadaloupe.
Some, however, think differently, and explain the pheno- Venomous
menon by the existence of the dog-headed serpent, which Serpents,
is believed to be a Boa, and which, common in Dominica
and St Vincent, has delivered these islands from the Trigo-
nocephalus.”2
Of the second section of this genus, comprising such as
have the head covered by plates instead of scales, we may
here name Trig, r/todostoma, which is of a thicker and
more vigorous form than the other species. The body ta¬
pers towards either end, the tail is short and acuminated,
the abdomen broad, and the back prolonged into a well-
marked keel. The colour is reddish brown, paler on the
back, the sides adorned by broad, deep, triangular spots,
the cibdomen white. The summit of the head is black,
surrounded by a broad streak of pale red, which descends
the sides of the neck to combine with the beautiful rose-
colour which tinges the lateral parts of the head, and from
which it is separated by a black band proceeding from be¬
hind the eye. The iris is of a golden yellow. “ L’expres-
sion sauvage de sa physiognomic,” says M. Schlegel, “ est,
pour ainsi dire, adoucie par la nature et la conformation des
plaques ecailleuses qui semblables a celles de la plupart des
couleuvres, ont la surface unie et luisante.”3 This species
inhabits the western parts of Java, where it conceals itself
in tangled vegetation, and makes its way at times into fields
and gardens. It preys chiefly on frogs, and is itself attack¬
ed by a species of civet cat which occurs in Java. It is
greatly dreaded by the natives on account of its deadly
poison ; and during M. Khul’s residence at Buitenzorg, two
labourers bitten by it died in five minutes. Although a
viviparous reptile, the foetus is enclosed in a coriaceous en¬
velope, as large as a pigeon’s egg. The species is figured
by Russel.4
The only other example of the genus we need here no¬
tice is Trig, cenchris, which inhabits the southern provinces
of the United States. Its occipital plates are of small di¬
mensions, and are sometimes even wanting. The ground
colour is grayish brown, marked by broad transverse bands
of a more coppery hue. The abdomen is yellowish, marked
by dark irregular spots. The point of the tail is usually
black, and all the parts are minutely speckled by that co¬
lour. It is a sluggish, slow-moving reptile, very poisonous,
but not given to bite, except in self-defence, when it main¬
tains its position courageously. It has been described by
different authors under a great variety of names, and by
some under more than one at a time.5 It is the Mokassin
snake of the Anglo-Americans, thus called on account of
the resemblance of its colour to the piece of dress so named
by the native tribes. It is figured by M. Daudin.6
Genus Crotalus. This dreaded genus contains the
rattle-snakes, and is distinguished from the preceding by a
more robust form, a thicker head, and a tail either armed
l p. 37. _ 3 PhyS' des SerpenSt Ji. 547.
5 <T'nfillh s Animat Kingdom, ix. 350. 4 Indian Serpents, ii. pi. 21.
it is both the brown and the black viper of Catesby’s Carolina, pi. 44 and 45; it is once figured, and at least twice described, bv
iJr Shaw, as Col. Cacodamon and Tisiphone, Gen. Zool. iii. pp. 377 and 400 ; it is the Pelias Niger of Merrem, Tentamen, p. 149 ; and
hart been previously described by Linnaeus as a Boa {B. Contortrix, xii. ed. p. 373). M. Schlegel, indeed, supposes that it is also the
Co iiber Constrictor of the great Swedish naturalist. The Boa just named is believed to be identical with the hog-nosed snake of Cates-
oy (Car. n. pi. 56), and may be identical with the preceding nominal species, none of which seem to exceed the size of our common
vlPpr ’ ’ut iff Constrictor of America is usually described as of different habits and much larger dimensions. It is the black snake
° , .n0 ' r V'- • U This,” observes that author, “ is a large and very long snake, some being six feet in length. Thev
are an over of a shining black, never changing their colour, and are very nimble and beneficial in killing rats, which they pursue
i i wonderful agility to the roofs and all parts of houses and barns, where rats are able to run, for which service they are preserved
oy most of the inhabitants. They are bold and furious, leaping at and biting those that attack them, though no harm ensues, their
one not being venomous. It is said in Carolina that they will attack and swallow rattle-snakes. It is certain most or all snakes will
ciour one another, not only of their own, but of other kinds, which I have often seen ; one, after a long struggle, swallowing another
nut little less than itself. They are the most numerous of all snakes.” “ Many ridiculous frights,” says Mr Pennant, “ have hap¬
pened from tins innocent reptile. As every one in America is full of the dread of the rattle-snake, they are apt to fly at the sight of
i10 s^rPen^ ihis pursues, soon overtakes, and twisting round the legs of the fugitive, soon brings him to the ground;
wdi it- iaPP . re.<'®lves no hurt, but what may result from the fright. All the mischief this species does is to the housewives, for it
wuiskm! their milk-pans of the cream, and rob their hen-roosts of all the eggs.” ( Arctic Zoology, Appendix, p. 92.)
6 I?epf»/eS, v. 353, pi. 70, figs. 3 and 4, and 60, fig. 25. ; H J
152 SERF
Venomous by a peculiar organ called the rattle, or prolonged into a
herpents. sbarpene[i point. There are four species, all peculiar to
J*~ N America. These are often confounded, even by systematic
writers; and it is by no means easy to apply the general at¬
tributes assigned by travellers to the proper species, which
no doubt differ from each other.
It seems ascertained, however, that the bite of all these
reptiles is extremely dangerous, the slightest prick of their
envenomed fangs, in any part of the body well supplied
with blood-vessels, being sufficient to kill almost any animal.
Laurenti says, that a person bitten by a Crotalus experiences
a swelling of the entire body, the tongue becomes prodi¬
giously inflamed, an unextinguishable thirst takes place,
the edges of the wound become gangrened, and the unfor¬
tunate victim dies in frightful agony in five or six minutes.
Different experiments made in Carolina by Captain Hall,
are related in the Philosophical Transactions. A rattle¬
snake, four feet long, was fastened to a stake, and being
made to bite three dogs, the first died in less than a quarter
of a minute ; the second, in convulsions, in about two hours ;
the third in about three hours. Four days after this, an¬
other dog was bitten by the same snake, and died in half a
minute; and then a second received the murderous fangs,
and died in four minutes. A common black snake, about
three feet long, and very vigorous, was next procured. The
reptiles bit each other,—the black snake dying in eight mi¬
nutes, the rattle-snake not seeming in any way affected by
its wound. Proceeding upon the supposition that “ none
but itself could be its parallel,” it was then made to inflict
a bite on its own body, and this suicidal deceit was followed
by the hoped-for consequence,—it died in less than twelve
minutes. The story is probably well known to all, though
not credited by so many, of a disagreeable kind of an heir¬
loom which once existed in an American family. A man
had been bitten through his boots by a rattle-snake, and
died. The boots afterwards descended into the successive
possession of two other persons, and killed them both,—an
envenomed fang having remained sticking in the leather.
As usual, we have contradictory accounts of the effects of
corresponding causes. We know that an Englishman who
was unfortunately bitten by a x'attle-snake at Rouen, in
1827, expired in eight hours; yet in the April of that
same year, at a meeting of the Academy of Sciences in
Paris, Professor Bose declared that he had seen more than
thirty persons who had been bitten by rattle-snakes, not
one of whom had died. According to Kalm, even the
largest animals, such as horses and oxen, die almost instant¬
ly. Dogs longer resist this fatal action. Most animals ex¬
hibit an instinctive horror on nearing one of these death¬
dealing creatures. “ I have often,” says M. Bose, “ amused
myself by trying to force my horse and dog to approach
one of these animals. But they would sooner have allowed
themselves to be knocked down upon the spot than have
come near them.” Yet Mr Audubon informs us that the
mocking-bird of America, so strong and overpowering is
the instinct of parental love, does not hesitate to attack the
rattle-snake when it approaches too near its nest,—that it
* will strike it on the head, pick out its eyes, and eventually
put it to death.
The so-called rattle of these reptiles consists of a series
of hollow, vertically flattened, scaly pieces, of which the
posterior portion of one fits into the anterior portion of
that which follows. They are thus mechanically and some¬
what loosely connected together, without being actually
joined, so that when shaken they make a rattling or rustling
noise, resembling that produced by rumpled parchment.
When young there is at first but a single horny portion at
the end of the tail, and attached to the last caudal verte-
E N T S.
bra. Another is formed on the renewal of the skin, push- Venom
ing its predecessor onwards, so that the first joint, which ®erP« |
is closed at the end, continues to be the terminal one. M. " vB
Bose is of opinion that an additional joint is formed every
year, and that if the parts in question were not so often
broken off accidentally, we might thus determine the age of
each individual. They are, however, extremely fragile; and
M. Palisot de Beauvois informs us, that he frequently found
these rattles lying detached, in the course of his travels in
the United States.1 Their amount sometimes exceeds
thirty, but usually ranges from one to thirteen. Some say
that the noise may be heard at the distance of a hundred
feet, while Bose and others allege that it is scarcely audible
beyond some twelve or fifteen paces. We shall now briefly
notice the different species, the names of which, as already
hinted, have been frequently transposed by naturalists.
Crotalus horridus inhabits South America, and is known
to the Portuguese by the name of Carcavela. Its muzzle
is covered by three or four pairs of plates. The scales, which
are lozenge-shaped, and surmounted by a cutting keel, are
disposed in twenty-nine ranges. Abdominal plates 145,
sub-caudal twenty-five. The colour of the upper parts is
yellowish brown, relieved upon the back by a range of
broad, lozenge-shaped spots. This species measures from
four to six feet in length, and, dwelling in a sultry clime,
continues in a state of activity throughout the year. Some
singular peculiarities in its manners are narrated by natu¬
ralists. For example, M. Palisot de Beauvois states, that
during one of his journeys he observed a rattle-snake lying
on the path, and approached it as quietly as possible. When
he wras about to strike it, it sprung its rattle, opened its
mouth very widely, and received into its throat five young
ones, each as thick as a goose’s quill. After ten minutes’
time, believing itself to be out of danger, it opened its mouth,
and allowed the exit of the young, which, however, re-en¬
tered on a fresh alarm. This curious fact has been testi¬
fied (if not confirmed) by another French gentleman, M.
Guillemart.
Crotalus durissus (Plate CCCCXLIII. figs. 6 and 10)
is a more northern species than the preceding, and to it we
may refer the numerous observations which have been made
by travellers and tourists on the rattle-snakes of North Ame¬
rica. It seems to inhabit from the southern side of the
Great Lakes as far as Mexico and California, extending
westwards to the foot of the Rocky Mountains, but not oc¬
curring to the north of the river St LawTence. It has
only one or two pair of plates upon the muzzle, and the keel
upon the scales is less developed ; the eyes are smaller, the
tints deeper, the spots frequently assume the form of bands,
and the tail is black. Abdominal plates 170, sub-caudal
twenty-two. As this species dwrells in districts subjected
during winter to the influence of rigorous cold, it creeps in
autumn into covered places, or, hiding itself beneath masses
of sphagnum, falls into a state of lethargic repose. An in¬
dividual killed by M. Bose, and which did not measure more
than four feet in length, w7as found to have a hare in its in¬
terior. Its usual food consists of rats, squirrels, and other
small Rodentia. This serpent, commonly called the striped
rattle-snake, is said to traverse rivers, and even lakes, by
inflating its body like a bladder. “ The largest rattle-snake,”
says Catesby, alluding to one or other of these species, “which
I ever saw, xvas about eight feet in length, and weighing
between eight and nine pounds. This monster was sliding
into the house of Colonel Blake of Carolina, and had cer¬
tainly taken up his abode there undisturbed, had not the
domestic animals alarmed the family with their repeated
outcries ; the hogs, dogs, and poultry united in their hatred
to him, showing the greatest consternation, by erecting their
1 Latreille, Eeptilcs, vi. 73.
SERPENTS.
omous bristles an(l feathers, and expressing their wrath and indig-
pents. nation, surrounded him, but carefully kept their distance,
ryW while he, regardless of their threats, glided slowly along.”
«It is not uncommon,” he adds, “ to have them come into
houses ; a very extraordinary instance of which occurred to
myself in the same gentleman’s house, in the month of
February 1723. The servant, in making the bed in a ground
room (but few minutes after I left it), on turning down the
sheets, discovered a rattle-snake coiled between the sheets
in the middle of the bed.” According to M. Audubon, the
skin of this species is used in making shoes.1 Mr Say in¬
forms us that it inhabits bare and sterile regions, and is
often found in the subterranean dwelling of a marmot, Arc-
tomys Ludoviciana.2 M. Becker of Darmstadt placed two
rabbits in a cage with this species, one of them being white,
the other reddish brown. The fierce reptile, which was ly¬
ing in a spiral form in the centre, sounded its rattle, and
raised and extended its head from time to time, but made
no attempt to seize its prey, although repeatedly provoked
by its keeper so to do. A black rabbit was then introdu¬
ced, which it bit instantaneously, and the victim was dead in
eight minutes.3
Crotalus miliaris is a small species of North America,
recognisable by its head clothed with nine well-developed
plates. The eyes are large, the general colour a reddish
brown, with three ranges of deeper spots. There are
twenty-three rows of scales, and the lower plates are, ab¬
dominal 131, sub-caudal twenty-six. This snake was ob¬
served by Catesby in Carolina, and is described by Mr Say
(under the title of Crot. tergeminus) as an inhabitant of
those lonely sterile plains which stretch between the Mis¬
sissippi and the Rocky Mountains. It is regarded as more
dangerous than the preceding; its small size and peculiar
colour prevent its attracting notice, and its rattle is too
feeble to be heard at any distance. People are thus apt to
tread or even to sit down upon it unawares, and the con¬
sequences are as easily imagined as described. It lives on
frogs and insects, is by no means timid, but is easily killed
by the slightest blow. It wras figured long ago both by
Seba4 and Catesby.5
Lastly, Crotalus mutus differs from the other species in
having the tail terminated by a hardened point instead of
rattle. Its head is clothed with scales. The back is keel¬
ed, and the scales are surmounted by a tubercular ridge.
Abdominal plates 227, sub-caudal forty-nine. This great
serpent inhabits Cayenne, Essequibo, Surinam, and other
parts of South America. It sometimes measures above ten
feet in length, and may be regarded as the most gigantic
of all poisonous reptiles. In its mode of life it somewhat
resembles Trigonocephalus (and is in fact described as a
species of that genus by Baron Cuvier6). But it is essen¬
tially a rattle-snake, though destitute of the particular part
from which these species derive their general name. It
seems the same as that described under the title of Curu-
cucu by Marcgrav.7 Its poison has been experimented on
by Dr Hering.8
Genus Vipera. Nasal pit wanting. Head usually co¬
vered by ridged lanceolated scales. General form thickish,
tapering towards each extremity. Tail short and conical.
The species of this genus, greatly restricted since the
time of Linnaeus, still exhibit a considerable diversity of
character when compared among each other. They inha¬
bit either open sandy plains, or desert heaths, where the
vegetation is not umbrageous. Hence their abundance in
153
Africa, and their comparative scarcity in other countries. Venomous
None occurs in America, a few are found in the drier dis- Serpents,
tricts of Asia, three inhabit Europe, and one (of a some-
what anomalous nature) is native to New Holland.
The common viper of Great Britain, and of most parts of the
Continent ( Vipera berus, Daudin—Coluber bents, Linn.),9
is the most poisonous of European reptiles. It rarely ex¬
ceeds two feet in length. The upper portion of the head
is protected by a few plate-like scales, somewhat larger than
the others. The usual colour is pale ashy brown above,
with a space between the eyes, and a patch on each side of
the occiput, deep brown or black. A zigzag band of black
(composed in some of confluent spots) extends along the
back from the nape to the tail; and there is also a parallel
row of small black spots on each side. The abdomen and
sub-caudal region are steel-blue, sometimes marbled by a
yellowish tint, sometimes uniform, or nearly black. The
abdominal plates are about a hundred and forty-five,—the
sub-caudal about thirty-five. This species is widely spread
over the central and northern parts of Europe, but some
uncertainty prevails regarding the so-called common viper
of Italy and other southern regions. M. Gistl describes
the viper of the environs of Munich as having an upturned
snout,10 which is a character of the aspic; and although
Metaxa enumerates Vipera berus and its varieties as occur¬
ring in the Roman territories,11 others are of opinion that
all its alleged localities are doubtful beyond the Alps.12 It
seems, however, to be found in the temperate parts of Si¬
beria, in Russia, Hungary, all Germany, parts of France,
Holland, Denmark, Sweden, and, we believe, Norway.
Though common in Great Britain, and many of the western
isles of Scotland, it is not indigenous in Ireland. Its verti¬
cal as well as horizontal range is considerable, for although
it affects the low wide heaths of Groninguen, Overyssel, and
Friesland, it also occurs on the summit of the Inselberg in
Thuringia, at an elevation of nearly three thousand feet
above the level of the sea. The viper preys chiefly on
mice and insects. A specimen, on the tail of which we
inadvertently tramped while crossing a moor in Glenmuick,
and which our friend Dr Greville struck down with his um¬
brella, was found on dissection to have a large field-mouse
in its abdomen.
The bite of this reptile is seldom fatal to animals of mo¬
derate size. We have several times seen sporting dogs bit¬
ten by vipers on the Scotch moors; and although the
cheek might swell, and a heaviness of spirits, and disincli¬
nation to distant ranging, usually ensued for a few hours, no
perceptible effect could be traced on the following day. A
sparrow, however, or even a pigeon, dies in a few minutes
after being bitten. Sheep usually escape without any seri¬
ous consequences. Fontana ascertained, that the hundredth
part of a grain of poison was sufficient to kill a sparrow, and
that a pigeon required six times that amount. From these
data he made a calculation, that it would take nearly three
grains to kill a man, and as a viper does not carry above two
grains of poison in its vesicles, and does not entirely exhaust
that quantity, even after many bites, it was concluded that
a human being might receive the bite of five or six vipers
without dying in consequence. Now this may be all ac¬
curately reasoned in its way, but as physiology is by no
means a science of calculation, we would not advise any
one to try the experiment. Several facts have been recently
adduced to prove, that the bite of this reptile is frequently
dangerous, and occasionally fatal. Dr Paulet, in his obser-
1 Edinburgh New Phil. Joum. iii. 21. 4 Thesaurus, ii. pi. 95. 7 Hist. Perum Nat. Brasilia:, lib. vi.
?• Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, p. 234 and 236. 5 Carolina, pi. 42. 8 Neuw. Beitrag. p. 465.
3 1828, p. 1132. 6 Trig, rhombifer, Begne Animal, ii. 90.
4 ip. berus of Cuvier, and of some other French naturalists, seems to be identical with the aspic, vipera aspis,—a species common in
France and Switzerland.
10 Isis for 1829, p. 1071. 11 Monograph of the Serpents of the Environs of Borne, p. 42. 12 Physiog. des Serpens, ii. 597*
SERPENTS.
154
Venomous vations on the viper of Fontainebleau, states, that an infant
^ ^“ts‘ 01 seven years and a half, which was bitten beneath the in-
* ternal malleolus of the right foot, died at the end of seven¬
teen hours,—while another infant, of only two years, which
was bitten in the cheek, took two days to die. Dr Hervez
de Chegoni mentions the case of a woman, aged sixty-five
years, in good health, and of a sound constitution, who
having been bitten in the thigh only once by a single viper,
expired under the most deplorable symptoms in thirty-seven
hours.
The aspic, Vipera aspis, is a species nearly allied to the
preceding, of which it is by some regarded as a variety, and
of which it seems to assume the place in the south-western
countries of Europe, extending as far as the island of Sicily.1
Its form is more slender, its head larger, its top covered by
irregularly formed scales, and the muzzle is slightly turned
up. The aspic is the species which served the experiments
of Redi, Charas, and Fontana. It inhabits the dry and
rocky countries of Italy, has been observed in Switzerland,
and is common in France from the 49th degree of north
latitude, spreading into Savoy, the Pyrenees, and the Medi¬
terranean shores. It is the viper of Fontainebleau, and is
also found in the forest of Montmorency; but in Burgundy,
and the more northern parts of France, it is replaced by
our common viper.
New Holland produces a rare and remarkable species,
which some class as generically distinct, under the title of
Acanthophis. It is of a thickened form, with a slender
hard-pointed tail, the upper part of the head protected by
nine plates. The eye is surrounded by plates, of which the
superciliary are elevated, and inclined towards the top of
the head. It is the Vipera acanthophis of M. Schlegel,—
Acanthophis cerastinus, Lacepede.2 See Plate CCCCXLIV.
fig. 8.
A still more remarkable and anomalous species is the
famous Vipera cerastes of Africa, figured and described by
Bruce the traveller,3 and also in the great Frenph work on
Egypt.4 Its head is very broad, and heart-shaped; its muz¬
zle broad, obtuse, and rounded; its nostrils rather narrow,
vertical and terminal; and its scales surmounted by a tu¬
bercular ridge. One of the superciliary scales on each side
is converted into a projecting born-like process, curved for¬
wards ; and the ancient name cerastes is no doubt derived
from this peculiar character,—the Greek word xsgctf signi¬
fying horn.
Cornua prsetendens immania fronte cerastes, Venon
Dum torquet spinam sibilat ecce vagus. Serpe:
It seldom much exceeds a foot in length, and inhabits the ^
sandy deserts of the north of Africa. Its description by
Bruce has been so often quoted, that we shall rest satisfied
by the reference already given to the writings of that im¬
pugned author.
We here close our sketch of this insidious order. But
there still remains the singular genus Ccecilia, with which
Baron Cuvier concludes his classification of Ophidian rep¬
tiles, although other naturalists, both prior to and since the
publication of his latest system,5 have arranged it in the
Batrachian order, or have even raised it, with the other
constituents of that order, to the rank of a distinct and se¬
parate class, called Amphibia.0 As we have already dis¬
cussed that so-called class in the article Reptilia of the
present work (see Encyc. Brit. vol. xix. p. 150), we shall
here subjoin the characters of the anomalous reptiles just
referred to, as given by the great French anatomist. They
form, under the name of Naked Serpents (Serpens nues),
the third and concluding family of his Ophidian order.
Genus Cecilia. Eyes extremely small, almost conceal¬
ed beneath the skin, sometimes wanting. Skin smooth,
viscous, furrowed by annular folds, apparently naked, but
exhibiting in its thickness certain slender scales, regularly
disposed on many transverse ridges between the wrinkles
of the skin. Head depressed, anus nearly terminal, tail
consequently short or almost wanting. Ribs too short to
surround the trunk. Vertebrae articulated by facets like
hollowed cones filled with gelatinous cartilage, as in fishes
and some Batrachia; the cranium united to the first ver¬
tebra by two tubercles, also as in Batrachian reptiles. The
orbits, covered by the maxillary bones, are only pierced by
a very small hole; and the bones of the temples cover the
temporal fossae, in such a way that the head exhibits supe¬
riorly nothing but a continuous bony buckler. (See Plate
CCCCXLIII. fig. \d.) The hyoid bone, composed of three
pair of arches, is so constructed as almost to lead to the
belief that in early age there were gills. The maxillary
and palatine teeth are ranged on two concentric lines, as
in the genus Proteus, but are frequently sharp and curved
backwards, as in true serpents. The nostrils open at the
back part of the palate, and the lower jaw has no moveable
pedicle, the tympanic bone being encased with the other
1 Although the title of Aspic has been applied to this species, it is not the reptile so named in ancient days, which was not a European
species, but more probably the JVaja haje of Africa.
2 Ann. du Mus. iv. 100. 4 Atlas, pi. 6, fig. 3, vol. xxv. 83.
3 Travels, v. pi. 41. 5 Regne Animal, 2d ed. 1829.
6 The separation above alluded to, although first precisely expressed by the word class, in the writings of M. de Blainville, and
subsequently followed in our own country by Messrs Gray, Bell, &c. had been practically effected by several other authors at an
earlier period. M. Dumeril seems to have been the first to indicate the propriety of placing the genus Ccecilia with the Batrachians,
and apart from the Ophidian order (Mtmoires de Zoologie et d'Anatomic comparee, 1807,—“ Sur la division des Reptiles Batraciens en
families naturelies”). In like manner, the Reptilia nuda of Oppel (as distinguished from his Reptilia Testudinata,—Turtles and Tor¬
toises,—and his Reptilia Squammata,—Crocodiles, Lizards, and Serpents) is composed of three primary divisions : 1st, Apoda (genus
Ccecilia); 2d, Caudata (gen. Siren, Proteus, Triton, Salamandra); 3d, Ecaudata (Frogs, Toads, &c.). His work, Die Ordnungen, Fa-
milien, und Gattungen, dcr Reptilien, als Prodrom einer Naturgeschichte dorselben, was published at Munich in 1811. Merrem, whose un¬
finished publication (Beitrcege zur Naturgeschichte der Amphibien) appeared at different periods from 1790 to 1821, published the first edi¬
tion of his Tentamen Systematis Amphibiorum in 1800, and a revisal of the same work in 1820. He first partitions his reptiles into two
great classes,— PumonoTa, containing all such as have the body protected by a corneous or coriaceous covering, and Batrachia, in¬
cluding the species of which the covering is soft, smooth, and mucous. He then proceeds to subdivide the latter into three great
groups,—Apoda, Samentia, and Gradentia,—which he makes constituently the same as Oppel’s Apoda, Ecaudata, and Cau¬
data. Then follows M. de Blainville, with his class Amphibiens, ou Nudipelliferes (as distinct from other reptiles), consisting
of the Batrachians commonly so called, and the genus Ccecilia,—the latter forming the Order Pseudophydiens. See Nouv. Bulle¬
tin des Sciences de la Soc. Phil, for July 1816, and the first volume of Principes d’Anatomic Comparee, 1822. Mr Gray also views the
Batrachian reptiles as a distinct class or great primary division of the Animal Kingdom, adding thereto the genus Ccecilia. Synopsis
Reptilinm, and Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. ix. Appendix, p. 99, 1831. Finally, Mr Bell has likewise arranged our Batrachian
reptiles, and the genus in question, in a separate class Amphibia, which he divides into the five following orders, 1st, Amphip-
neuRTA,—Sirens and Protei ; 2d, Anoura,—Frogs and Toads; 3d, Urodela,—Salamanders ; 4th, Abiianchia,—gen. Menopoma
and Amphiuma ; 5th, Afoda,—genus Ccecilia. Encyclopaedia of Anatomy and Physiology, part i. p. 91. It will be perceived that this
system differs chiefly from those now enounced, in the placing of two very peculiar American genera,—Menopoma and Amphiuma, cha¬
racterized by the absence of gills,—in a separate order, termed Auranchia, from the presumed peculiarity just alluded to. The
last-named arrangement is adopted by Mr 8 wain son, in Cabinet Cyclopaedia, vol. cxvi. pp, 83 and 339.
SERPENTS.
rpent. bones in the buckler of the cranium. The auricle of the
'-v'--' heart is not sufficiently divided to be described as double;
but the second lung is rudimentary, as among the genuine
Ophidians. The liver is divided into many transverse fo¬
liations.
We know nothing of the natural history or habits of the
animals of this genus. They are said to dwell in marshy
ground, several feet below the surface. They probably
prey on worms and insects, although vegetable matters,
mould, and sand, have been found in their intestines.
In certain species the muzzle is obtuse, the skin loose,
the folds conspicuous, and there are two small hairs near
the nostrils. To this section belongs Ccec. annulata of
Spix, a Brazilian species, of subterranean habits. It is of a
blackish hue, with upwards of eighty annular folds, and
155
circularly marked with white. The teeth are conical. Serpent.
Others have the folds more numerous, or rather in the   
form of serrated transverse striae. Such is Ccec. glutinosa,
Linn., from Ceylon, a blackish-coloured reptile, marked by
a longitudinal band of wffiite on either side, and charac¬
terized by 350 folds, which unite beneath in an acute
angle. We have figured a nearly allied species from Ame¬
rica, Ccec. biviltati of the French naturalists (see Plate
CCCCXLIY. fig. 3). Finally, a few have the folds almost
effaced, the body long and slender, and the muzzle pro¬
jecting. Ccec. lumbricoides, Daudin,1 is entirely blind, of
a blackish colour, two feet long, and not thicker than a
quill. Baron Cuvier possessed the skeleton of a Caecilia
more than six feet long.2 There were 225 vertebrae, but
the external characters were unknown. (t.)
INDEX.
Page
Acanthophis 154
Acontias 123
Acrochordus 146
Amphisbaena 123
AMPHISBiENID.® 1 23
ANGumaj 122
Anguis 123
Aspic 154
Blind-worms 123
Boa 144
Boas 142
Bungarus 147
Burrowing Serpents....\38
Csecilia 154
Calamaria 138
Cerastes 154
Coluber 139
Colubriform Serpents... 146
Coronella 138
Crotalus 151
Page
Dendrophis 140
Dipsas ....141
Dryophis 140
Elaps 147
Eryx 138
Fresh-water Serpents...\A\
H erpetodry as 140
Heterodon 138
Homalopsis 142
Hydrophis 150
 its poison... 129
Leposternon 123
Lycodon 139
Naja 147
Natrix 141
Non-venomous Ser.
pents 138
Page
Ophidian Reptiles,
see Serpents.
Ophisaurus 122
Poisonous Serpents 150
Psammophis 140
Pseudopus 122
Python 145
Rattle-snakes 151
Sea-serprnts 148
Serpents in general.... 121
their definition 122
properly so-called..124
Vertebrae, muscles,
&c 125
Teeth and poison-
glands 126
effects of their poi¬
son 127
theory of its action. 128
Page
Serpents.
their tongue 129
Alimentary canal...130
Digestion 130
Deglutition 130
Circulation 130
Respiration 130
Brain 131
General envelope.. 131
Colours 132
Production 132
Geographical dis¬
tribution 133
Europe 134
Africa 135
Asia 136
America 137
Burrowing 138
Fresh-water 141
Non-venomous 138
Poisonous 150
Sea 148
Terrestrial 138
Tree 140
True 123
Venomous 146
Worm-like 138
Slow-worms 122
Terrestrial Serpents....\3R
Tortrix 138
Tree-serpents 140
Trigonocephalus 150
Tropidonotus 141
True Serpents 123
Typhlops 123
Worm-like Ser pents...
Xenodon 138
Xenopeltis 138
Venomous Serpents 146
Viper 153
Vipera 153
Serpent, a powerful bass musical instrument of the wind
kind, invented by a French priest at Auxerre in 1590. See
the article Music.
Serpent, in Mythology, was a common symbol of the
sun, and he is represented biting his tail, and with his body
formed into a circle, in order to indicate the ordinary course
of this luminary. The serpent was also the symbol of Me¬
dicine, and of the gods which presided over it, as of Apollo
and Aesculapius; and this animal was the object of very
ancient and general worship, under various appellations and
characters. In most of the ancient rites we find some al¬
lusion to the serpent, under the several titles of Ob, Ops,
Python, and the like. This idolatry is alluded to by Moses.
The woman at Endor who had a familiar spirit is called
Oub, or Ob, which is interpreted Pythonissa. The place
where she resided, says Bryant, seems to have been named
from the worship there instituted ; for Endor is compound¬
ed of En-ador, and signifies fans Pythonis, “ the fountain
ol light,” the oracle of the god Ador, which oracle was pro¬
bably founded by the Canaanites, and had never been to¬
tally suppressed. His pillar was also called Abbadir or
Abadir, compounded of ab and adir, and meaning the ser¬
pent deity Addir, the same as Adorus.
In the orgies of Bacchus, the persons who partook of the
ceremony used to carry serpents in their hands, and with
horrid screams call upon Eva, being, according to the writer
just mentioned, the same as epha or opha, which the Greeks
rendered ophis, and by it denoted a serpent. These cere¬
monies and this symbolical worship began among the Magi,
who were the sons of Chus; and by them they were pro¬
pagated in various parts. Wherever the Ammonians found¬
ed any places of worship, and introduced their rites, there
was generally some story of a serpent. There was a legend
about a serpent at Colchis, at Thebes, at Delphi, and at
other places. The Greeks called Apollo himself Python,
which is the same as Opis, Oupis, and Oub.
In Egypt there was a serpent named Thermuthis, which
was looked upon as sacred ; and the natives are said to have
made use of it as a royal tiara, with which they ornamented
the statues of Isis. The kings of Egypt wore high bonnets,
terminating in a round ball, and surrounded with figures of
asps; and the priests had likewise the representation of ser¬
pents upon their bonnets.
Abadon, or Abaddon, mentioned in the Revelations (xx.
2), is supposed by Bryant to have been the name of the
Ophite god, with whose worship the world had been so long
infected. This worship began among the people of Chal-
daea, who built the city of Ophis upon the Tigris, and were
greatly addicted to divination and to the worship of the ser¬
pent. From Chaldaea the worship passed into Egypt, where
the serpent deity was called Canoph, Can-eph, and C-neph.
It had also the name of Ob or Oub, and was the same as
the Basiliscus or royal serpent, the same as the Thermu¬
this, and made use of by way of ornament to the statues of
Reptiles, viii. 92, 2.
2 Regne Animal, ii. 101, note.
156 S E R
Serpenta- their gods. The chief deity of Egypt is said to have been
rias Vulcan, who was styled Opas. He was the same as Osiris,
Serranus ^le ^un ’ ant* ^iere were pillars sacred to him, with curious
v cir^"u^' hieroglyphical inscriptions bearing the same name, whence,
among the Greeks, who copied from the Egyptians, every
thing gradually tapering to a point was styled obelos, or
obeliscus.
As the worship of the serpent began among the sons of
Chus, Bryant conjectures, that from thence they were de¬
nominated ./Ethiopians and Aithiopians, from Ath-ope or
Ath-opes, the god whom they worshipped, and not from
their complexion. The /Ethiopes brought these rites into
Greece, and called the island where they first established
them, Ellopia, Solis Serpentis insula, the same with Eubcea,
or Oubaia, “ the serpent island.” The same learned writer
discovers traces of the serpent-worship among the Hyper¬
boreans, at Rhodes, in Phrygia, and upon the Hellespont;
in the island Cyprus, in Crete, among the Athenians ; in
the name of Cecrops, among the natives of Thebes in Boeo-
tia, among the Lacedaemonians, in Italy, in Syria; and in
the names of many places, as well as of the people, where the
Ophites settled. One of the most early heresies introduced
into the Christian church was that of the Ophitae. (Bry¬
ant’s Analysis of Ancient Mythology, vol. i. p. 43 and 473.)
SERPENTARIUS, in Astronomy, a constellation of the
northern hemisphere, called also Ophiuchus, and anciently
/Esculapius. The stars in the constellation Serpentarius
are, in Ptolemy’s catalogue twenty-nine, in Tycho’s fifteen,
in Hevelius’s forty, and in the British catalogue seventy-
four.
SERPENTINE, in general, denotes any thing that re¬
sembles a serpent. Hence the worm or pipe of a still, twist¬
ed in a spiral manner, is termed a serpentine worm.
Serpentine Verses are such as begin and end with the
same word; as,
Ambo florentes setatibus, Arcades ambo.
Serpentine, in the Manege. A horse is said to have
a serpentine tongue, if it is always frisking and moving, and
sometimes passing over the bit, instead of keeping in the
void space called the liberty of the tongue.
SERPOOR, a town of Hindustan, province of Berar, in
the nizam’s territories, 104 miles south from Nagpoor.
Long. 80. 2. E. Lat. 19. 41. N.
SERPUCHOW, a city of European Russia, in the pro¬
vince of Moscow, the capital of a circle of the same name.
It stands at the junction of the rivers Nara and Serpeika,
which soon after fall into the Oka. It is a place of some
trade in corn, tallow, hemp, flax, and wool, which are sent
both to Moscow and to St Petersburg. It contains sixteen
churches, 780 houses, and 5740 inhabitants. Long. 37. 2.
E. Lat. 55. 51. N.
SERRA, a town of Italy, in the Neapolitan province of
Calabria Ulteriore L, containing 4830 inhabitants.
Serra di Falco, a town of the Island of Sicily, in the
province of Mazzara, situated in a moderately healthy plain,
sixty-four miles from Palermo. It contains 3800 inhabi¬
tants.
SERRAMANNU, a town of the island of Sardinia, in
the diocese of Cagliari. It is situated upon the unhealthy
plain of Ippis, and contains 1820 inhabitants.
SERRANUS, Joannes, or John de Serves, a learned
French Protestant, was born about the middle of the six¬
teenth century. He acquired the Greek and Latin lan¬
guages at Lausanne, and devoted himself to the study of
the philosophy of Aristotle and of Plato. On his return to
France he studied divinity, and in 1574 he began to dis¬
tinguish himself by his writings, but was obliged to forsake
his country after the dreadful massacre of St Bartholomew.
He became minister of Nismes in 1582, but was never re¬
garded as a very zealous Calvinist; he has even been sus-
S E R
pected, though without reason, of having actually abjured Serrate
the Protestant religion. He was one of the tour clergymen II
whom Henry IV. consulted about the Catholic religion, and
who returned for answer, “ that Catholics might be saved.
He wrote afterwards a treatise in order to reconcile the two
communions, entitled “ De Fide Catholica, sive de Princi-
piis Religionis Christianse, communi omnium Christianorum
consensu, semper et ubique ratis.” 4 his work was dislik¬
ed by the Catholics, and received with such indignation
by the Calvinists of Geneva, that many writers have affirm¬
ed that they poisoned the author. It is certain at least that
he died at Geneva in 1598, at the age of fifty. His prin¬
cipal works are, 1. A Latin translation of Plato, published
by Henry Stephens; 2. A treatise on the Immortality of the
Soul; 3. De Statu Religionis et Republic® in Francia; 4.
Memoire de laTroisieme Guerre Civile et derniers Troubles
de France sous Charles IX. &c.; 5. Inventaire General de
1’Histoire de France, illustre par le Conference de 1’Eglise
et de 1’Empire; 6. Recueil des Choses Memorables avenues
en France sous Henri II., Franyois II., Charles IX., Henri
III. These three historical treatises have been justly ac¬
cused of partiality and passion ; faults which it is next to
impossible for a contemporary writer to avoid, especially if
he bore any part in the transactions which he describes.
His style is exceedingly incorrect and inelegant; his mis¬
takes and mistatements of facts also are very numerous.
SERRATED, in general, something indented or notch¬
ed in the manner of a saw; a term much used in the de¬
scription of the leaves of plants.
SERRA-VALLE, a town of Italy, in the kingdom of
Sardinia, in the province of Turin. It is situated on the
river Scrivia, has an old castle, four churches, and four mo¬
nasteries, and a college formerly occupied by the Jesuits.
It contains 5420 inhabitants.
SERRA VALLE, a city of the delegation of Treviso, in
the Austrian kingdom of Lombardy. It stands on the river
Maschio, between two mountains; is the seat of a bishop,
has a cathedral and several churches and monasteries, and
5630 inhabitants employed in the silk and woollen manu¬
factories, and some trade in corn, wine, and oil.
SERRIS, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Bahar,
eighty miles south-west by south from Patna. Long. 84.
18. E. Lat. 24. 50. N.
SERT, a town of Kurdistan, in Asiatic Turkey, the
ancient capital of Tigranes, which was plundered by the
Romans under Lucullus, but retained its consequence till
after the Saracen invasion. It is now only a large village,
containing about 3000 inhabitants, partly Mahommedans
and partly Armenian Christians, for whose accommodation
there are three small mosques, a college, and an Armenian
church. It is situated in a small plain, surrounded by
mountains, and is washed by the river Kabour. The chief
is a powerful feudal lord. It is seventy-five miles south-east
of Diarbekir.
SERVANDONI, John Nicholas, a celebrated archi¬
tect, wras born at Florence in 1695. He rendered himself
famous by his exquisite taste in architecture, and by his
genius for decorations, fetes, and building. He was em¬
ployed and rewarded by most of the princes in Europe. In
Portugal he was honoured with the order of Christ. In
France he was architect and painter to the king, and mem¬
ber of the different academies established for the advance¬
ment of these arts. He received the same titles from the
kings of Britain, Spain, Poland, and from the Duke of W ir-
temberg. Notwithstanding these advantages, his want of
economy was so great, that he left nothing behind him.
He died at Paris in 1766. Paris is indebted to him for many
of its ornaments. He made decorations for the theatres of
London and Dresden. The French king’s theatre, called
La Salle des Machines, was under his management for some
time. He was permitted to exhibit certain shows, consist-
S E R
vant jng of simple decorations. Some of these were astonish¬
ingly sublime ; his Descent of ^Eneas into Hell in particu-
ji etus. ja1? ancj his Enchanted Forest, are well known. He built
■ • v—/ and embellished a theatre at Chamber for Marshal Saxe,
and furnished the plan and the model of the theatre-royal
at Dresden. His genius for fetes was remarkable ; and he
had the management of a great number in Paris, and even
in London. He conducted one at Lisbon, given on account
of a victory gained by the Duke of Cumberland. He was
employed frequently by the king of Portugal, to whom he
presented several elegant plans and models. The Prince
of Wales, too, the father of George III. engaged him in his
service ; but the death of that prince prevented the execu¬
tion of the designs which had been projected. He presided
at the magnificent fete given at Vienna on account of the
marriage of the Archduke Joseph and the Infanta of Parma.
But it would be endless to attempt an enumeration of all
his performances and exhibitions.
SERVANT, a term of relation, signifying a person who
owes and pays obedience for a certain time to another in
quality of a master.
The first sort of servants acknowledged by the laws of
England are menial servants, so called from being intra
mcenia, or domestics. The contract between them and their
masters arises upon the hiring.
Another species of servants are called apprentices, from
apprendre, to learn ; and are usually bound for a term of
years, by deed indented, or indentures, to serve their mas¬
ters, and be maintained and instructed by them.
A third species of servants are labourers, who are only
hired by the day or the week, and do not live intra mcenia,
as part of the family.
There is yet a fourth species of servants, if they may be
so called, being rather in a superior or ministerial capacity,
such as stewards, factors, and bailiffs; whom, however, the
law considers as servants pro tempore, with regard to such
of their acts as affect their master’s or employer’s property.
SERVETISTS, a name given to the modern Antitrini-
tarians, from their being supposed to be the followers of
Michael Servetus, wrho, in the year 1553, was burned at
Geneva, together with his books.
SERVETUS, Michael, a learned Spanish physician,
was born at Villanueva in A ragon, in 1509. He was sent
to the university of Toulouse to study the civil law. The
Reformation, which had awakened the most polished nations
of Europe, directed the attention of thinking men to the
errors of the Romish church, and to the study of the Scrip¬
tures. Among the rest Servetus applied to this study.
From the love of novelty, or the love of truth, he carried
his inquiries far beyond the other reformers, and not only
renounced the false opinions of the Roman Catholics, but
went so far as to question the doctrine of the Trinity. Ac¬
cordingly, after spending two or three years at Toulouse,
he determined to go into Germany to propagate his new
opinions, where he could do it with most safety. At Basel
he had some conferences with CEcolampadius. He went
next to Strasburg to visit Bucer and Capito, two eminent
reformers of that town. From Strasburg he went to Hage-
nau, where, in 1531, he printed a book entitled J)e Trinita-
tis Erroribus. The ensuing year he published other two
treatises on the same subject. In an advertisement to this
work he informs the reader that it was not his intention to
retract any of his former sentiments, but only to state them
in a more distinct and accurate manner. To these two
publications he had the courage to put his name, not sus¬
pecting that, in an age when liberty of opinion was asserted,
the exercise of that liberty would be attended with danger.
After publishing these books he left Germany, probably
finding his doctrines not so cordially received as he ex¬
pected. He went first to Basel, and thence to Lyons, where
he lived two or three years. He then removed to Paris,
S E R 157
where he studied medicine under Sylvius, Fermelius, and Servetus.
other professors, and took the degrees of master of arts ^
and doctor of medicine. His love of controversy involved
him in a serious dispute with the physicians of Paris ; and
he wrote an Apology, which wras suppressed by an edict of
the parliament. The misunderstanding which this dispute
produced with his colleagues, and the chagrin which so un¬
favourable a termination occasioned, made him leave Paris
in disgust. He settled two or three years in Lyons, and
engaged with the Frellons, eminent printers of that age, as
a corrector of the press. At Lyons he met with Pierre
Palmier, the archbishop of Vienne, with whom he had been
acquainted at Paris. That prelate, who was a great en-
courager of learned men, pressed him to accompany him to
Vienne, offering him at the same time an apartment in his
palace. Servetus accepted the offer, and might have lived
a tranquil and happy life at Vienne, if he could have con¬
fined his attention to medicine and literature. But the love
of controversy, and an eagerness to establish his opinions,
always possessed him. At this time Calvin was at the head
of the reformed church of Geneva. With Servetus he had
been acquainted at Paris, and had there opposed his opi¬
nions. For sixteen years Calvin kept up a correspondence
with him, endeavouring to reclaim him from his errors.
Servetus had read the works of Calvin, but did not think
that they merited the high eulogies of the reformers, nor
were they sufficient to convince him of his errors. He con¬
tinued, however, to consult him ; and for this purpose sent
from Lyons to Geneva three questions, wLich respected
the divinity of Jesus Christ, regeneration, and the necessity
of baptism. To these Calvin returned a civil answer. Ser¬
vetus treated the answer with contempt, and Calvin replied
with warmth. From reasoning he had recourse to abusive
language ; and this produced a polemical hatred, the most
implacable disposition in the world. Calvin having obtain¬
ed some of Servetus’s papers, by means, it is said, not very
honourable, sent them to Vienne along with the private let¬
ters which he had received in the course of their correspon¬
dence. The consequence was, that Servetus was arrested ;
but having escaped from prison, he resolved to retire to
Naples, where he hoped to practise medicine with the same
reputation which he had so long enjoyed at Vienne. Fie
imprudently took his route through Geneva, though he
could not but know that Calvin was his mortal enemy.
Calvin informed the magistrates of his arrival; Servetus
was apprehended, and appointed to stand trial for heresy
and blasphemy. It was a law at Geneva that every accuser
should surrender himself a prisoner, that if the charge should
be found false, the accuser should suffer the punishment in
which he meant to involve the accused. Calvin not choos¬
ing to go to prison himself, sent one of his domestics to
present the impeachment against Servetus. The articles
brought against him were collected from his writings with
great care, an employment which took up three days. One
of these articles was, “ that Servetus had denied that Judaea
was a beautiful, rich, and fertile country ; and affirmed, on
the authority of travellers, that it was poor, barren, and dis¬
agreeable.” He was also charged with “ corrupting the
Latin Bible which he was employed to correct at Lyons,
by introducing impertinent, trifling, whimsical, and impious
notes of his own through every page.” But the main ar¬
ticle, which was certainly fatal to him, was, “ that in the
person of Mr Calvin, minister of the word of God in the
church of Geneva, he had defamed the doctrine that is
preached, uttering all imaginable injurious and blasphemous
words against it.”
Calvin visited Servetus in prison, and had frequent con¬
ferences with him ; but finding that, in opposition to all
the arguments he could employ, the prisoner remained in¬
flexible in his opinions, he left him to his fate. Before sen¬
tence was passed, the magistrates of Geneva consulted the
158 S E R
Servia ministers of Basel, of Berne, and Zurich, and, as another ac-
Servic • count informs us, the magistrates of the Protestant cantons
Choral.' Switzerland. And to enable them to form a judgment
of the criminality of Servetus, they transmitted the writings
of Calvin, with his answers. The general opinion was, that
Servetus ought to be condemned to death for blasphemy.
He was accordingly sentenced to be burned alive on the
27th of October 1553. As he continued alive in the midst
of the flames more than two hours, it is said, finding his
torment thus protracted, he exclaimed, “ Unhappy wretch
that I am, will the flames be insufficient to terminate my
misery ? What, then, will the hundred pieces of gold, and
the rich collar, which they took from me, not purchase
wood enough to consume me more quickly ?” Though the
sentence of death was passed against Servetus by the ma¬
gistrates of Geneva, with the approbation of a great num¬
ber of the magistrates and ministers of Switzerland, yet it
is the opinion of many historians that this dreadful sentence
was pronounced at the instigation of Calvin. This act of se¬
verity for holding a speculative opinion, however erroneous
and absurd, has left a stain on the character of the illus¬
trious reformer, which will attend the name of Calvin as
long as history shall preserve it from oblivion. The address
which he used in apprehending Servetus, as well as his
harshness towards him during his trial, proves that he was
as much influenced by personal hatred as by a desire to
support the intei’est of religion, though, no doubt, he be¬
lieved he was performing a very praiseworthy action. In
what practical school were the principles of toleration to
be then studied ? This intolerant spirit of Calvin and the
magistrates of Geneva gave the Papists a favourable op¬
portunity to accuse the Protestants of inconsistency in their
principles, which they did not fail to embrace. “ How
could the magistrates,” says the author of the Dictionnaire
des Heresies, “ who acknowledged no infallible interpreta¬
tion of the Scriptures, condemn Servetus to death because
he explained them differently from Calvin ; since every
man has the privilege to expound the Scripture according
to his own judgment, without having recourse to the
church ? It is a great injustice to condemn a man be¬
cause he will not submit to the judgment of an enthusiast,
who may be wrong as well as himself.”
Servetus was a man of great acuteness and learning, and
well versed in the arts and sciences. In his own profes¬
sion his genius exerted itself with success. In his tract
entitled Christianismi Restitutio, published in 1553, he re¬
marks, that the whole mass of blood passes through the
lungs by the pulmonary artery and vein, in opposition to
the opinion which wras then universally entertained, that
the blood passes through the partition which divides the
two ventricles. This was an important step towards the
discovery of the circulation of the blood.
His works consist of controversial writings concerning
the Trinity; an edition .of Pagninus’s version of the Bible,
with a preface and notes; an Apology to the Physicians
of Paris ; and a book entitled Ratio Syruporum. Mosheim
has written in Latin an elaborate history of the heresy and
misfortunes of Servetus, which was published at Helmstadt
in 1728, 4to.
SERVIA, a province of Turkey in Europe, bounded on
the north by the rivers Danube and Save, which separate it
from Hungary; on the east it is bounded by Bulgaria; on the
west by Bosnia; and on the south by Albania and Macedonia.
It is about 190 miles in length from east to west, ninety-five
in breadth from north to south, and it is divided into four
sangiacates. Two of these were ceded to the Christians
in 1718, who united them into one. This continued till
1739, when the Turks were victorious, and then they were
abandoned to the Turks by the treaty of Belgrade. Bel¬
grade is the capital town.
SERVICE, Choral, in the Romish church, &c. consists
S E S
of a certain order of antiphonies and psalms sung to what Servi; 1
is called canto fermo in Italian, canto llano in Spanish, and ii
plain chant in French. This kind of chant, in its simplest ^esosj I r
form, consists of slow sounds of equal duration, and without ~"'Y1 1
any embellishment, sung in unisons and octaves. In other
cases the canto fermo is accompanied by Parts in harmony,
but always with due regard to a certain ayitique and very
simple style of melody and of harmony, which is founded
upon the peculiar tonality and cadences of the canto fermo,
and without which it loses its characteristic effects. The
canto corale, or choral chant, is often particularly named
canto Gregoriano, or Gregorian chant, from the great pains
taken by St Gregory, in the sixth century, to improve and
to teach to his pupils the oriental church chants derived
from the Greeks. St Ambrose before him had introduced
the oriental choral chants into the western church of Italy.
We believe that there is yet much curious matter for in¬
vestigation regarding the probable origin of the melodies
that constituted the older canto fermo, and the nature and
character of oriental scales and melodies. See Music.
With regard to the tunes introduced into the early reform¬
ed church in the time of Luther and Calvin, some curious
particulars are to be found in Bayle’s Dictionaire His-
torique et Critique, article Marot. The Puritans in
England suppressed the church choral service, and permit¬
ted psalm-singing only. Charles II. revived the choral ser¬
vice in England. For minute accounts of the origin, pro¬
gress, and revolutions of this species of music in various
Christian churches, the reader may consult Gerbert, De
Cantu et Musica Sacra, Padre Martini’s Sloria, Hawkins
and Burney’s Histories of Music. For technicalities, &c.
consult, among other works, A. E. Choron’s Methode de
Plain-Chant, &c. Paris, 1818; and his Principespour ap-
prendre le Plain-Chant, Paris, 1818.
SERVITES, a religious order in the church of Rome,
founded about the year 1233, by seven Florentine mer¬
chants, who, with the approbation of the bishop of Florence,
renounced the world, and lived together in a religious com¬
munity on Mount Senar, two leagues from that city.
SERVITOR, in the university of Oxford, a student who
attends on another for his maintenance and learning.
SERVIUS, Maurus Honoratus, a celebrated gramma¬
rian and critic of antiquity, who flourished about the time
of Arcadius and Honorius. He is now chiefly known by
his Commentaries on Virgil. There is also extant a piece
of Servius upon the feet of verses and the quantity of syl¬
lables, called Centimetrum.
SERWEL, a small district in the province of Caubul, be¬
tween the 34th and 35th degrees of north latitude. The
country is but little known, it never having been explored
by Europeans.
SESOSTRIS, Sesoosis, or Sesonchis, the fifteenth so¬
vereign of the eighteenth dynasty of the Egyptians, is called
Rameses by Eusebius, and is said to have reigned during
the sixteenth century before the Christian era. At his
birth his father is said to have collected all the children
born at the same time with him, and to have subjected them
to an education which he thought best fitted to render them
able to assist his son in his future career. When they had
reached the age of puberty, he sent them, under the com¬
mand of his son, to subdue the inhabitants of Arabia, and
afterwards to Libya. On his accession to the throne, he
first devoted his attention to the internal affairs of his king¬
dom, and after having divided it into thirty-six nomi, and ap¬
pointed governors, he commenced a military career, which
only ended when he had subdued the greater part of the
world. The ^Ethiopians, the Gangetic Indians, the Scy¬
thians, and the Thracians, with the whole of Asia Minor,
acknowledged his sway ; and, as memorials of his victories,
he erected pillars in the various countries he subdued, some
of which were seen by Herodotus. On his return to Egypt
S E S
S E S
159
ui he narrowly escaped being burnt to death by the treachery
of his brother, who was Danaus of Greece. He brought
ce’ home a large body of captives, whom he employed in the
erection of public works, and more particularly in construct¬
ing canals. He erected two statues representing himself
and his wife before the temple of Hephaestos, which were
forty-five feet high ; and four representing his sons, which
were thirty feet high. At his death he was succeeded by
his son Pheros.
SESQUI, a Latin particle, signifying a whole and a half.
When joined with altera^ terza, quarta, &c. it is much used
in the Italian music to express a kind of ratios, particularly
several species of triples.
SESQ.UIALTER, in Music, the ratio of 3 : 2 in the nu¬
merical calculation of musical intervals. This, and many
other old pedantic terms, such as super-particular and super-
partient, &c., employed to express ratios very simple, and
easily intelligible under other terms, had better be aban¬
doned entirely in musical nomenclature, which has long
been overloaded with such jargon.
Sesqui-alterate, in Geometry and Arithmetic, is a ratio
between two lines, two numbers, or the like, where one of
them contains the other once, with the addition of a half.
Thus 6 and 9 are in a sesqui-alterate ratio, since 9 con¬
tains 6 once, and 3, which is half of 6, over; and 20 and
30 are in the same, as 30 contains 20 and half 20, or 10.
Sesqui-duplicate Ratio is when of two terms the greater
contains the less twice, and half the less remains; as 15
and 6, 50 and 20.
Sesqui-tertional Proportion is when any number or
quantity contains another once and one third.
SESSION, in general, denotes each sitting or assembly
of a council, or other body.
Session of Parliament is the season or space from its
meeting to its prorogation.
Kirk-Session, the name of a petty ecclesiastical court
in Scotland.
Sessions for weights and measures. In London, four
justices, from among the mayor, recorder, and aldermen,
may hold a session to inquire into the oflTences of selling
by false weights and measures, contrary to the statutes;
and to receive indictments and punish offenders.
Court of Session. See Scotland.
Court of Quarter-Sessions, an English court that must
be held in every county once in every quarter of a year.
SESTERCE, Sestertius, a silver coin in use among
the ancient Romans, called also simply nummus, and some¬
times nummus sestertius. The sestertius was the fourth
part of the denarius, and originally contained two asses and
a half. It was at first denoted by LLS, the two Ls signi¬
fying two librae, and the S half. But the librarii, after¬
wards converting the two Ls into an H, expressed the ses¬
tertius by HS. The word sestertius was first introduced by
way of abbreviation for semistertius, which signifies two and
a half of a third, or, literally, only half a third; for in ex¬
pressing half a third, it w as understood that there were two
before.
Some authors make two kinds of sesterces, the less, call¬
ed sestertius, in the masculine gender, and the great one,
called sestertium, in the neuter; the former we have already
described, the latter containing a thousand of the other.
Others maintain that any such distinction of great and little
sesterces was unknown to the Romans. Sestertius, say they,
was an adjective, and signified, as sestertius, or two asses
and a half; and when used in the plural, as in quinqua-
ginta sestertium, or sestertia, it was only by way of abbre-
viation, and there was also understood centena millia, &c.
This matter has been accurately stated by Mr Raper, in
t e follovying manner. The substantive to which sestertius
referred is either as or pondus; and sestertius as is two
asses and a half; sestertium pondus, two pondera and a half,
or two hundred and fifty denarii. When the denarius pass- Sestet
ed for ten asses, the sestertius of two asses and a half was il
the quarter of it; and the Romans continued to keep their ^telmen.
accounts in these sesterces long after the denarius passed v v—•—J
for sixteen asses, till, growing rich, they found it more con¬
venient to reckon by quarters of the denarius, which they
called nummi, and used the words nummus and sestertius
indifferently, as synonymous terms, and sometimes both
together, as sestertius nummus. In this case the word ses¬
tertius, having lost its original signification, was used as a
substantive ; for sestertius nummus was not two nummi and
a half, but a single nummus of four asses. They called
any sum under two thousand sesterces so many sestertii in
the masculine gender; two thousand sesterces they called
duo or hina sestertia, in the neuter, so many quarters mak¬
ing five hundred denarii, which was twice the sestertium ;
and they said dena, vicena, Sfc. sestertia, till the sum
amounted to a thousand sestertia, which was a million of
sesterces. But, to avoid ambiguity, they did not use the
neuter sestertium in the singular number when the whole
sum amounted to no more than a thousand sesterces, or one
sestertium. They called a million of sesterces decies num-
mum, or decies sestertium, for decies centena millia nummo-
rum, or sestertiorum, in the masculine gender, omitting
centena millia for the sake of brevity. They likewise call¬
ed the same sum decies sestertium, in the neuter gender, for
decies centies sestertium, omitting centies for the same rea¬
son ; or simply decies, omitting centena millia. sestertium,
or centies sestertium ; and with the numeral adverbs decies,
vicies, centies, millies, and the like, either centena mil¬
lia or centies was always understood. These were their
most usual forms of expression, though for hina, dena, vi¬
cena sestertia, they frequently said hina, dena, vicena millia
nummum. If the consular denarius contained sixty troy
grains of fine silver, it was worth something more than
eightpence farthing and a half sterling ; and the as, of six¬
teen to the denarius, a little more than a halfpenny. To
reduce the ancient sesterces of two asses and a half, when
the denarius passed for sixteen, to pounds sterling, multi¬
ply the given number by 5454, and cut off six figures on
the right hand for decimals. To reduce nummi sestertii,
or quarters of the denarius, to pounds sterling; if the given
sum be consular money, multiply it by 8727, and cut off
six figures on the right hand for decimals ; but for imperial
money diminish the said product by one eighth of itself.
To be qualified for a Roman knight, an estate of 400,000
sesterces was required; and for a senator, one of 800,000.
SESTET, Italian Sestetto, a piece of vocal or instru¬
mental music for six voices or six instruments.
SESTOS, a fortress of European Turkey, situated at
the entrance of the Hellespont or Dardanelles, twenty-four
miles south-west of Gallipoli. This place is famous for the
loves of Hero and Leander, sung by the poet Musaeus.
SET, or Sets, a term used by the farmers and gardeners
to express the young plants of the white thorn and other
shrubs, with which they used to raise their quick or quick-
set hedges. The white thorn is the best of all trees for
this purpose; and, under proper regulations, its sets seldom
fail to answer the farmer’s utmost expectations.
SETCHEOU, a city of China, of the first rank, in the
province of Koeitchoo. The inhabitants are extremely rude
and ignorant. Long. 108. E. Lat. 27. 10. N.
SETCHING, a city of China, of the first rank, in the
province of Quangsee, bordering on Yunan. Long. 105.
54. E. Lat. 24. 17. N.
SETCHUEN, a province of China, on the western fron¬
tier. It has on the north Chen si, on the east and south
Houquang and Yunan, and on the west Thibet. It is
mountainous, but is fertilized by the great river Yang-tse-
kiang. It produces the sugar-cane, silk, orange and lemon
trees, and the best rhubarb in China; while in the moon-
160
Setli
II
Setuval.
SET
tains are found iron, tin, lead, loadstone, and lapis lazuli.
It breeds a small but handsome race of horses. 1 he popu-
, lation is estimated by Sir George Staunton at twenty-seven
millions.
SETH, the third son of Adam, the father of Enoch,
was born 3874 before Christ, and lived 912 years.
SETHIANS, \i\ Ecclesiastical History, Christian heretics,
who were so called because they paid divine w'orship to Seth,
whom they looked upon as Jesus Christ the son ot God, but
who was made by a third divinity, and substituted in the room
of the two families of Abel and Cain, which had been de¬
stroyed by the deluge. These heretics appeared in Egypt
in the second century ; and as they were addicted to all
sorts of debauchery, they did not want followers, and con¬
tinued in Egypt above two hundred years.
SETON, in Surgery, a few horse hairs, small threads, or
large packthread, drawn through the skin, chiefly the neck,
by means of a large needle or probe, with a view to restore
or preserve health.
Experience shows that setons are useful in catarrhs, in¬
flammations, and other disorders, and particularly those of
the eyes; to which may be added, severe headachs, with
stupor, drowsiness, epilepsies, and even apoplexy itself.
SETTEE, in sea-language, a vessel very common in the
Mediterranean, with one deck and a long sharp prow. I hey
carry some two masts, and some of them three, without
top-masts. They have generally two masts, equipped with
triangular sails, commonly called lateen sails. Ihe least
of them are of sixty tons burden. They serve to transport
cannon and provisions for ships of war, and the like. I hese
vessels are peculiar to the Mediterranean Sea, and are usual¬
ly navigated by Italians, Greeks, or Mahommedans.
* SETTING, in Astronomy, the withdrawing of a star or
planet, or its sinking below the horizon. Astronomers and
poets make three different kinds of setting of the stars, viz.
the cosmical, acronycal, and heliacal.
Setting, in nautical language. To set the land or the
sun by the compass, is to observe how the land bears on
any point of the compass, or on what point of the compass
the sun is ; also, when two ships sail in sight of each other,
to mark on what point the chased bears, is termed setting
the chase by the compass.
SETTLE, a town of the parish of Giggleswick, in the
wapentake of Staincliff and Ewcross, in the wrest riding of
the county of York, 253 miles from London. Its situation
is very romantic, on the river Kibble, among the hills that
separate the counties of York and Lancaster. There is a
large market-place, well attended on Ihursdays. Near
the town is the curious phenomenon of an ebbing and flow ¬
ing well. In the neighbourhood are some curious Homan
antiquities. The population amounted in 1821 to 1508,
and in 1831 to 1627.
SETUVAL, or St Ubes, as it is called by the English
and Dutch sailors that repair to it. This city is a seaport
in the province of Estremadura, and the corregimento of
its own name, in the kingdom of Portugal. The harbour
is five leagues to the eastward of Cape Espichel. It has a
shoal-bar, which extends outwards to the distance ot half a
league. On the western side of the entrance is a peaked
height, 1350 feet above the level of the sea. The eastern
side is low, with a very narrow passage, so that no written
notices can be sufficient to guide the mariner ; but the ser¬
vices of a pilot are indispensable, though when entered it
is the best harbour in the whole kingdom.
The possession taken of this place by the fleet of the Em¬
peror of Brazil, in the late war of succession in Portugal, led
to the conquest of Lisbon, the capital, and then to the sub¬
mission of the rest of the kingdom.
The chief article of export is salt, from the evaporation
of the sea-water by the heat of the sun. There are more
than 500 pits on the banks of the river Jabo, where this
SeJ
8ts.
S E V
salt is formed by the hand of nature. The quantity annually Seva= j^
collected amounts to about 200,000 tons, nearly one half of
which is sent to Ireland, Sweden, Denmark, and Russia.
It is stated that from 400 to 500 foreign vessels enter the
port annually. Good wine, to the extent of 1800 pipes,
is made in the neighbourhood, one half of which is ex¬
ported. Oranges and lemons also afford articles for foreign
trade.
The city contained, a few years ago, five churches, eleven
monasteries, a hospital, a poor-house, about 3000 dwelling-
houses, and 14,820 inhabitants.
SEVASTOPOL, known formerly by the Turkish name
Achtiar, an important naval arsenal and city belonging to
Russia, in the peninsula of the Crimea. It is situated at
the south-west point, has an extensive and commodious
port, and its depth renders it secure at all seasons and
during all winds. By a decree of 1804, it was declared that
Sevastopol was to be considered thereafter as a port ex¬
clusively for the use of the imperial navy; merchant-ships
are therefore not admitted, unless forced in by stress of
weather, or when requiring repairs from accidents. The
fortifications do not surround the city, but it is defended
by six strong batteries towards the sea, and has commonly
a garrison of 4000 men.
The fleet, whose head-quarters is at this pkce, consist¬
ed in 1793 of eight ships of the line and twelve frigates
and smaller vessels; in the year 1817 it had reached twelve
ships of the line, carrying 918 guns, four frigates with 164
guns, seventeen brigs, and eighteen smaller vessels; in
1823 it consisted of fourteen ships of the line, ten frigates,
and a number of small craft; and in 1838 it had been aug¬
mented to sixteen ships of the line, with a large number of
frigates, gun-boats, &c.
The city has the appearance of an amphitheatre on the
south side of the port: its white walls and gaudy domes,
rising amid green trees, give it a peculiarly lively look.
The streets are wide and regular, and intersect each other
at right angles, but none of them have any pavement. The
houses have of late been increasing in number, and are
built in the modern style of Italian architecture. A pub¬
lic garden, with terraces rising one above the other, has
been lately formed upon a rising elevation in the middle
of the town, and has a very pleasing effect.
The place is well supplied with the necessaries, and even
the luxuries, of life ; but good water is not abundant, and
fuel is scarce. The population, ten years ago, amounted
to 22,000 persons; not more than one tenth were civil
inhabitants. Since that period, with the increase of the
marine, the numbers have probably been augmented.
The lazaretto is situated in long. 33. 29. E. and lat. 44.
35. N.
SEVEN Islands, a cluster of very small isles, ex¬
tending along the north coast of the island of Banca, trom
which they are separated by a navigable channel. Long.
105. 20. E. Lat. 1. 10. S.
SEVENOAKS, a town of the county of Kent, in the
lathe of Sutton-at-Hone, and hundred of Codsheath, twenty-
three and a half miles from London. It is pleasantly situ¬
ated on the side and top of a hill. It has a good grammar-
school. There is a good market on Saturdays. Adjoin¬
ing to the town is the magnificent castle and park of Knowle,
the ancient seat of the Dukes of Dorset, but now the pro¬
perty of the Earl of Plymouth. The population, includ¬
ing Riverhead and Weald, amounted in 1821 to 3942, and
in 1831 to 4709.
SEVEN Stars, a common denomination given to the
cluster of stars in the neck of the sign Taurus, the bull,
and properly called the Pleiades. They are so called from
their number, seven, which appear to the naked eye, though
some eyes can discover only six of them; but by the aid
of telescopes there appears to be a great multitude of them.
S E V
nth SEVENTH, in Music, an interval called by the Greeks
, heptachordon.
‘jl|s s SEVERN, a river of England, which rises near Plinlira-
‘ mon Hill, in Montgomeryshire, and before it enters Shrop¬
shire receives about thirty streams, and passes down to
Laudring, where it receives the Morda, that flows from
Oswestrey. When it arrives at Monford, it receives the
river Mon, passing on to Shrewsbury, which it almost sur¬
rounds, and then to Bridgeworth; afterwards it runs through
the skirts of Staffordshire, enters Worcestershire, and passes
by Worcester ; then it runs to Tewkesbury, where it joins
the Avon, and from thence to Gloucester, keeping a north¬
westerly course, till it falls into the Bristol Channel. It
begins to be navigable for boats at Welchpool, in Mont¬
gomeryshire, and takes in several other rivers in its course,
besides those already mentioned, and is the second in Eng¬
land. By means of inland navigation, it has communica¬
tion with the rivers Mersey, Dee, Kibble, Ouse, Trent,
Derwent, Humber, Thames, and Avon ; which navigation,
including its windings, extends above five hundred miles in
the counties of Lincoln, Nottingham, York, Lancaster,
Westmoreland, Chester, Stafford, Warwick, Leicester, Ox¬
ford, and Worcester. A canal from Stroudwater, a branch
of the Severn, to join the Thames, was projected and exe¬
cuted for the purpose of conveying a tunnel sixteen feet
high and sixteen feet wide, under Sapperton Hill and Hay-
ley Wood, for two miles and a quarter in length, through
a very hard rock, which was lined and arched with brick.
This stupendous undertaking was completed, and boats
passed through it the 21st of May 1789. By this opening
a communication is made between the river Severn at Fra-
miload and the Thames near Lechlade, and is continued
over the Thames near Inglesham, into deep water in the
Thames below St John Bridge, and so to Oxford and Lon¬
don, for conveyance of coals and goods.
SEVERNDROOG, a small rocky island of Hindustan,
on the coast of the Concan, joined to the continent by a
reef of rocks, which forms a safe bay for vessels on the south
side. This place was taken by the Mahrattas from the king
of Bejapore; but his admiral revolting from their autho¬
rity, it became the head-quarters of a gang of pirates. It
was taken by the British in 1756. Long. 73. 13. E. Lat.
17. 47. N.
SEVERUS, Cornelius, an ancient Latin poet of the
Augustan age, whose JEtna, together with a fragment De
Morte Ciceronis, were published, with notes and a prose
interpretation, by Le Clerc, Amsterdam, 1703, in 12mo.
They were before inserted among the Catalecta Virgilii,
published by Scaliger, whose notes, with others, Le Clerc
has received among his own.
Severus’s Wall, in British topography, the fourth and
last barrier erected by the Romans against the incursions
of the North Britons.
We learn from several hints in the Roman historians,
that the country between the walls of Hadrian and Anto¬
ninus continued to be a scene of perpetual war and con¬
tention between the Romans and Britons, from the begin¬
ning of the reign of Commodus to the arrival of the Em¬
peror Septimius Severus in Britain, in the year 206. This
last emperor having subdued the Maeatae, and repulsed the
Caledonians, determined to erect a stronger and more im¬
penetrable barrier than any of the former, against their fu¬
ture incursions.
Though neither Dio nor Herodian make any mention of
a wall built by Severus in Britain for the protection of the
Roman province, yet we have abundant evidence from other
writers of equal authority that he really built such a wall.
“ He fortified Britain,” says Spartian, “ writh a wall drawn
cross the island from sea to sea, which is the greatest glory
of his reign. After the wall was finished, he retired to the
next station (York), not only a conqueror, but the founder
VOL. xx.
S E V 161
of an eternal peace.” To the same purpose Aurelius Vic- Severus’s
tor and Orosius, to say nothing of Eutropius and Cassiodo- Wal¬
rus : “ Having repelled the enemy in Britain, he fortified v-*”-''
the country, which was suited to that purpose, with a wall
drawn cross the island from sea to sea.” “ Severus drew a
great ditch, and built a strong wall, fortified with several
turrets, from sea to sea, to protect that part of the island
which he had recovered from the yet unconquered na¬
tions.” As the residence of the Emperor Severus in Bri¬
tain was not quite four years, it is probable that the two
last of them were employed in building this wall; according
to which account, it was begun in the year 209, and finished
in the year 211.
This wall of Severus was built nearly on the same track
with Hadrian’s rampart, at the distance only of a few paces
north. The length of this wall, from Cousin’s House, near
the mouth of the river Tyne on the east, to Boulncss on
the Solway Frith on the west, has been found, from two
actual mensurations, to be a little more than sixty-eight
English miles, and a little less than seventy-four Roman
miles. To the north of the wall was a broad and deep
ditch, the original dimensions of which cannot now be ascer¬
tained, only it seems to have been larger than that of Ha¬
drian. The wall itself, which stood on the south brink of
the ditch, was built of freestone ; and where the foundation
was not good, it is built on piles of oak. The interstices
between the two faces of this wall are filled with broad thin
stones, placed not perpendicularly, but obliquely on their
edges; and the running mortar or cement was then poured
upon them, which, by its great strength and tenacity, bound
the whole together, and made it firm as a rock. But though
these materials are sufficiently known, it is not easy to guess
where they were procured, for many parts of the wall are at
a great distance from any quarry of freestone ; and though
stone of another kind was within reach, yet it does not ap¬
pear to have been anywhere used. The height of this wall
was twelve feet besides the parapet, and its breadth eight
feet, according to Bede, who lived only at a small distance
from the east end of it, and in whose time it was in many
places almost quite entire. Such was the wall erected by
the command and under the direction of the Emperor Se ¬
verus in the north of England ; and, considering the length,
breadth, height, and solidity, it was certainly a work of
great magnificence and prodigious labour. But the wall
itself was but a part, and not the most extraordinary part,
of this work. The great number and different kinds of for¬
tresses which were built along the line of it for its defence,
and the military ways with which it was attended, are still
more worthy of our admiration, and come now to be de¬
scribed.
The fortresses which were erected along the line of Se¬
verus’s wall for its defence were of three different kinds,
and three different degrees of strength ; and were called by
three different Latin words, which may be translated sta¬
tions, castles, and turrets. Of each of these in their order.
The stationes, stations, were so called from their stabili¬
ty, and the stated residence of garrisons. They were also
called castra, which has been converted into chestres, a
name which many of them still bear. These were by far
the largest, strongest, and most magnificent of the fortresses
which were built upon the wall, and were designed for the
head-quarters of the cohorts of troops which were placed
there in garrison, and whence detachments were sent into
the adjoining castles and turrets. These stations, as ap¬
pears from the vestiges of them which are still visible, were
not all exactly of the same figure nor of the same dimen¬
sions ; some of them being exactly squares, and others ob¬
long, and some, again, a little larger than others. These
variations were no doubt occasioned by the difference of
situation, and other circumstances. The stations were for¬
tified with deep ditches and strong walls, the wall itself eoin-
x
162
S E V
Severus’s cicling with and forming the north wall of each station.
^ Within the stations were lodgings for the officers and sol-
Y ^" diers in garrison ; the smallest of them being sufficient to
contain a cohort, or six hundred men. Without the walls
of each station was a town, inhabited by labourers, artifi¬
cers, and others, both Romans and Britons, who chose to
dwell under the protection of these fortresses. The number
of the stations upon the wall was eighteen ; and if they had
been placed at equal distances, the interval between every
two of them would have been four miles and a few paces.
But the intervention of rivers, marshes, and mountains, the
conveniency of situations for strength, prospect, and water,
and many other circumstances to us unknown, determined
them to place these stations at unequal distances. The si¬
tuation which was always chosen by the Romans, both here
and everywhere else in Britain where they could obtain it,
was the gentle declivity of a hill, near a river, and facing
the meridian sun. Such was the situation of the far great¬
est part of the stations on this wall. In general, we may
observe, that the stations stood thickest near the two ends
and in the middle, probably because the danger of invasion
was greatest in these places. But the reader will form a
clearer idea of the number of these stations, their Latin and
English names, their situation and distance from one an¬
other, by inspecting the following table, than we can give
with equal brevity in any other way. The first column con¬
tains the number of the station, reckoning from east to west;
the second contains its Latin, and the third its English
name; and the three last its distance from the next station
to the west of it, in miles, furlongs, and chains.
No.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
Latin Name.
Segedunum...
Pons iElii 
Condercum...
Vindobala 
Hunnum 
Cilurnum 
Procolitia 
Borcovicus...
Vindolana..
dSsica 
Magna 
Amboglana...
Petriana...
Aballaba 
Congavata....
Axelodunum.
Gabrosentum
Tunnocelum.
English Name.
Cousin’s House....
Newcastle  
Benwell Hill  
Rutch ester 
Halton-chesters...
Walwick-chesters
Carrawbrugh 
Housesteeds 
Little Chesters....
Great Chesters....
Carrvoran 
Burdoswald 
Cambeck 
Watch cross 
Stanwix 
Brugh    
Brumbrugh 
Boulness 
M.
Length of the wall 68 3 3
F. C.
I2
9
5
H
7
8
8
4
0
8
6
9
4
9
l
0
The caslella, or castles, were the second kind of fortifica¬
tions which were built along the line of this wall for its de¬
fence. These castles were neither so large nor so strong as
the stations, but much more numerous, being no fewer than
eighty-one. The shape and dimensions of the castles, as
appears from the foundations of many of them which are
still visible, were exact squares of sixty-six feet every way.
They were fortified on every side with thick and lofty walls,
but without any ditch, except on the north side, on which
the wall itself, raised much above its usual height, with the
ditch attending it, formed the fortification. The castles
were situated in the intervals between the stations, at the
distance of about seven furlongs from each other, though
particular circumstances sometimes occasioned a little varia¬
tion. In these castles guards were constantly kept, by a com¬
petent number of men detached from the nearest stations.
The turres, or turrets, were the third and last kind of for-
S E V
tifications on the wall. These were still much smaller than
the castles, and formed only a square of about twelve feet,
standing out of the wall, on its south side. Being so small,
they are more entirely ruined than the stations and castles,
which makes it difficult to discover their exact number.
They stood in the intervals between the castles; and from
the faint vestiges of a few of them, it is conjectured that
there were four of them between every two castles, at the
distance of about three hundred yards from one another.
According to this conjecture, the number of the turrets
amounted to three hundred and twenty-four. I hey were
designed for watch-towers and places for sentinels, who, be¬
ing within hearing of one another, could convey an alarm
or piece of intelligence to all parts of the wall in a very little
time.
Such were the stations, castles, and turrets, on the wall
of Severus; and a very considerable body of troops was
constantly quartered in them for its defence. The usual
complement allowed for this service was as follows :
1. Twelve cohorts of foot, consisting of 600 men each..7,200
2. One cohort of mariners in the station at Boulness... 600
3. One detachment of Moors, probably equal to a co¬
hort  600
4. Four alse or wings of horse, consisting, at the lowest
computation, of 400 each 1,600
10,000
For the conveniency of marching these troops from one
part of the wall to another, with the greater ease and expe¬
dition, on any service, it was attended with two military
ways, paved with square stones, in the most solid and beau¬
tiful manner. One of these ways was smaller, and the other
larger. The smaller military way run close along the south
side of the wall, from turret to turret, and castle to castle,
for the use of the soldiers in relieving their guards and sen¬
tinels, and such services. The larger way did not keep so
near the wall, nor touch at the turrets or castles, but pur¬
sued the most direct course from one station to another,
and was designed for the convenience of marching larger
bodies of troops.
It is to be regretted that we cannot gratify the reader’s
curiosity, by informing him by what particular bodies of
Roman troops the several parts of this great work were exe¬
cuted, as we were enabled to do from inscriptions with re¬
gard to the wall of Antoninus Pius. For though it is pro¬
bable that there were stones with inscriptions of the same
kind, mentioning the several bodies of troops, and the quan¬
tity of work performed by each of them, originally inserted
in the face of this wall, yet none of them are now to be
found. There have indeed been discovered, in or near the
ruins of this wall, a great number of small square stones,
with very short, and generally imperfect, inscriptions upon
them, mentioning particular legions, cohorts, and centuries,
but without directly asserting that they had built any part
of the wall, or naming any number of paces. Of these
inscriptions the reader may see no fewer than twenty-nine
among the Northumberland and Cumberland inscriptions
in Horsley’s Britannia Romana. As the stones on which
these inscriptions are cut are of the same shape and size
with the other facing-stones of this wall, it is almost certain
that they have been originally placed in the face of it. It
is equally certain, from the uniformity of these inscriptions,
that they were all intended to intimate some one thing, and
nothing so probable as that the adjacent wall was built by
the troops mentioned in them. This was perhaps so well
understood, that it was not thought necessary to be ex¬
pressed ; and the distance of these inscriptions from one
another showed the quantity of work performed. If this
was really the case, we know in general that this great
work was executed by the second and sixth legions, these
being the only legions mentioned in these inscriptions.
S E V
I igne. Now, if this prodigious wall, with all its appendages of
srmm/ ditches, stations, castles, turrets, and military ways, was
executed in the space of two years by two legions only,
which, when most complete, required no less than 12,000
men, how greatly must we admire the skill, the industry,
and excellent discipline of the Roman soldiers, who were
not only the valiant guardians of the empire in times of war,
but its most active and useful members in times of peace ?
This wall of Severus, and its fortresses, proved an im¬
penetrable barrier to the Roman territories for nearly two
hundred years. But about the beginning of the fifth cen¬
tury, the Roman empire being assaulted on all sides, and
the bulk of their forces withdrawn from Britain, the Maeatae
and Caledonians, now called Scots and Piets, became more
daring ; and some of them breaking through the wall, and
others sailing round the ends of it, they carried their ra¬
vages into the very heart of provincial Britain. These in¬
vaders were indeed several times repulsed after this, by
the Roman legions sent to the relief of the Britons. The
last of these legions, under the command of Gallic of Ra¬
venna, having, with the assistance of the Britons, thoroughly
repaired the breaches of Severus’s wall and its fortresses,
and exhorted the Britons to make a brave defence, took
their final farewell of Britain. It soon appeared that the
strongest walls and ramparts are no security to an undis¬
ciplined and dastardly rabble, as the unhappy Britons then
were. The Scots and Piets met with little resistance in
breaking through the wall, while the towns and castles were
tamely abandoned to their destructive rage. In many places
they levelled it with the ground, that it might prove no ob¬
struction to their future inroads. From this time no at¬
tempts were ever made to repair this noble work. Its beau¬
ty and grandeur procured it no respect in the dark and
tasteless ages which succeeded. It became the common
quarry, for more than a thousand years, out of w hich all the
towns and villages around were built; and is now so en¬
tirely ruined, that the penetrating eyes of the most poring
and patient antiquary can hardly trace its vanishing foun¬
dations.
SEVIGNE', Marie de Rabutin, Marquise de, a French
lady, was born in 1626. When only a year old she lost her
father, who was killed in the descent of the English on the
isle of Rhe, where he commanded a company of volunteers.
In 1644 she married the Marquis of Sevigne, who was slain
in a duel by the Chevalier d’Albret, in 1651. She had by
him a son and a daughter, to the education of whom she
afterwards religiously devoted herself. Her daughter was
married in 1669 to the Count de Grignan, who conducted
her to Provence. Madame de Sevigne consoled herself by
writing frequent letters to her daughter, but she fell at last
the victim to her maternal tenderness. In one of her visits
to Grignan, she fatigued herself so much during the sick¬
ness of her daughter, that she was seized with a fever,
which carried her off on the 14th of January 1696. We
have two portraits of Madame de Sevigne ; the one by the
Comte de Bussi, and the other by Madame de la Fayette.
The first exhibits her defects, the second her excellencies.
Bussi describes her as a lively gay coquette, a lover of flat¬
tery, fond of titles, honour, and distinction ; M. de la Fay¬
ette, as a w'oman of wit and good sense, as possessed of a
I noble soul, formed for dispensing benefits, incapable of de¬
basing herself by avarice, and blessed with a generous, ob¬
liging, and faithful heart. Both these portraits are in some
measure just. That she was vain-glorious, appears evident
from her own letters, which, on the other hand, exhibit un¬
doubted proofs of her virtue and goodness of heart.
This illustrious lady was acquainted with all the wits of
her age. It is said that she decided the famous dispute
between Perrault and Boileau concerning the preference
of the ancients to the moderns. She left behind her a most
valuable collection of letters, the best edition of which is
S E V 163
that of 1775, in eight volumes 12mo. “ These letters,” Seville,
says Voltaire, “ are filled with anecdotes, written with free-
dom, and in a natural and animated style ; are an excellent
criticism on studied letters of wit, and still more on those
fictitious letters which aim at the epistolary style, by a re¬
cital of false sentiments and feigned adventures to an ima¬
ginary correspondent.” It were to be wished that a pro¬
per selection had been made of these letters. It is difficult
to read eight volumes of letters, which, though inimitably
written, present frequent repetitions, and are often filled
with trifles. What makes them in general perhaps so in¬
teresting is, that they are in part historical. They may be
looked on as a relation of the manners, the tone, the ge¬
nius, the fashions, the etiquette, which reigned in the court
of Louis XIV. They also contain many curious anecdotes
nowhere else to be found. But these excellencies would
be still more striking, were they sometimes stripped of that
multitude of domestic affairs and minute incidents which
ought naturally to have died with the mother and the
daughter. A volume entitled Sevigniana was published at
Paris in 1756, which is nothing more than a collection of
the fine sentiments, literary and historical anecdotes, and
moral apophthegms scattered throughout these letters.
SEVILLE, the largest, the richest, and most populous
of the four kingdoms or provinces of Andalusia, in Spain.
Its extent is 752 square miles, and its population amounts
to 970,087 souls. It is bounded on the east by Granada
and Cordova, on the north by Estremadura, on the west
by Portugal, and on the south by the Mediterranean Sea.
The principal river of this province is the Guadalquivir,
which, rising in the southern part of New Castille, passes
through the whole of the province. This river is navigable
for small ships up to the centre of the capital, and much
higher for boats and small craft. Below Seville the Gua¬
dalquivir is divided into three branches, forming large
islands between them, after passing which it unites and en¬
ters the ocean at St Lucar.
A great portion of this province is very mountainous.
Next to the mountains of Ronda, the loftiest and most pic¬
turesque are the Trocha, to the westward of Algesiras, and
those on which the city of Medina is situated, and a part
of the Sierra Morena. Although these mountains are for
the most part uninhabited and uncultivated, yet they afford
excellent pasture for sheep during the winter season, when
all is bare in the north of Spain. In the valleys is found
the most extensive plains of the richest alluvial land, which,
though frequently so burnt up by the heat of the summer
sun as to display no traces of vegetation, yet, after two or
three days of autumnal rain, produce the very richest pas¬
ture. As no hay is made in any part of Andalusia, the
greatest distress is experienced by the farmers in keeping
their cattle through the summer months, and at that period
they feed mostly on broken straw, and become very lean ;
but after the autumnal rains the verdure is abundant, and
the cattle become fat. Though the province of Seville does
not grow corn sufficient for its own consumption, yet con¬
siderable quantities of wheat and barley are produced.
The former grain is generally sown after a fallow, which
may be made by about three ploughings in the summer
months. Where they have manure, as is the case near the
large towns, the increase is very great; and where they have
not, the fallow alone will produce a very fair crop. The
rotation of crops is little attended to. Clover and turnips
are not cultivated. The harvest generally takes place in
the latter end of June or beginning of July, when the wea¬
ther is invariably fine. As soon as the wheat is cut, it is
thrashed in the field where it is grown. This is done by
piling the sheaves on a floor of round pebbles in the open
air ; and a number of unbroken mares, with a long rein held
by a driver, are galloped in a circle over the sheaves. By
this operation, from the dry state of the corn, it is easily
161 S E V
‘Seville, separated, and the straw is broken into small fragments.
' They then wait till the wind rises, when the breeze per¬
forms the operation of separating the grain from the chaff
and broken straw. The former is sent to the granary in a
kind of rush paniers on the backs of asses, and the latter is
made into a clumsy stack in the field, and kept there for
food in the dry season. The barley sown in the spring is
most rapid in its growth: sometimes in less than twelve
weeks from the period of its being sown, it is cut, thrashed,
and fit for the market. But grain is not the most import¬
ant branch of rural economy in this province. Oil, the
substitute for butter in warm climates, is the chief depen¬
dence of the Andalusian farmer, and the cultivation of it
is more congenial to the indolent habits of the natives.
The trees only require planting, and will then yield their
produce for ages, with but little attention on the part of the
proprietors. The oil, though an important article, and the
chief source of the wealth of the province, is not made with
much attention either to its cleanliness or its sweetness.
The oils of Spain are inferior to those of France and Italy,
though the olives from which they are made are decidedly
superior. Wines are made to a considerable extent in this
province, but not sufficient for its consumption.
Few articles of husbandry are of more universal attention
than garlic, which grows in prodigious quantities, and forms
in all the markets of Andalusia the most prominent object.
The capsicum, or pimento, is also much in demand, and is
used in almost every culinary preparation. Instead of hedges
formed by thorn bushes, the enclosures are secured by the
aloe plant, which makes excellent fences, and, by their sharp
points, are a security against all cattle. Instead of orchards
of apples and pears, nothing is seen but oranges, lemons,
pomegranates, and other fruits of a southern climate.
One production, not alimentary, is of vast importance, and
is sedulously cultivated, the Spanish broom or esparto, which
is made into a variety of articles for domestic uses.
The breed of horses in Andalusia has at all times been
very highly esteemed; they have in them a considerable
mixture of the Arabian breed. As cows are not kept for
the purposes of the dairy, they are rather neglected, and
the breed is by no means good. The sheep are numerous;
those of the merino kind are migratory, and belong rather
to the whole kingdom of Spain than to this particular pro¬
vince. There are, however, large flocks on the mountains;
but as their propagation is left in a great measure to nature,
neither their flesh nor their wool is very good.
Some of the largest estates in the province belong to
convents, cathedrals, or municipal corporations: they are
frequently let to tenants, who pay rent in a portion of the
produce. The richer inhabitants in all parts of the pe¬
ninsula prefer mules to horses for drawing their carriages ;
and they are used by the corps of artillery in the military
service, where they can be procured, in preference to horses.
Besides its agricultural riches, this province is stored with
mineral wealth to a great degree. It is well known that
the Romans drew from this district, then called Betica, a
great portion of their silver; and it continued equally pro¬
ductive during the power of the Arabian race; but the dis¬
covery of America, an event contemporaneous with the fi¬
nal extinction of the Moorish government, rendered the in¬
dustry applied to mining less productive, and in consequence
it has greatly diminished. There are, however, mines of
silver, copper, mercury, lead, and iron, still worked. The
commerce and manufactures of this province are almost
wholly confined to the cities of Cadiz and Seville. The
inhabitants are estimated at 746,221. It possesses the laws
and privileges of Castille. The captain-general resides at
Puerto Maria, but there is a royal audienza at Seville.
Seville, a city of Spain, the capital of the province
of the same name, and formerly the capital of the an¬
cient kingdom of Aragon. Its origin is unknown ; but, un-
S E V
der the Roman government, it was a place of considerable Sevilj
note under the name Hispalis. It enjoys a most delightful i
climate, and is surrounded by a fruitful country. It con¬
tains about 100,000 inhabitants, exclusive of the suburb
Triana, divided from it by the river. The population of the
latter is about 15,000.
Seville abounds with ancient buildings, both Roman and
Moorish, and with numerous modern structures of great ex¬
tent and magnificence. The golden tower, on the banks of
the river, is said to have been the work of Julius Caesar. It
is in perfect repair, and, before Cadiz rose to its present im¬
portance, the gold and silver transmitted from America was
landed here, and deposited in this tower, on account of its
strength and security. The aqueduct which supplies the city
with spring-water is the work of the same people. It is still
in perfect repair, and now, after the lapse of ages, serves the
purpose for which it was originally constructed. In the vi¬
cinity of the city, at the ancient town of Italica, the birth¬
place of the Emperor Trajan, are the remains of an ancient
amphitheatre, which, though partly in ruins, is sufficiently
perfect to show its plan and extent; and from the rows of
benches for spectators, which remain, it may be calculated
that it would seat about ten thousand persons. Its dilapi¬
dated condition is the result of an earthquake, and has not
been occasioned by the regular decay of time.
The chief building of the Moorish period that remains is
the alcazar or palace: the date of its origin is not ascertained.
A considerable part was added by Peter the Cruel, between
the years 1353 and 1364. In the addition, the Arabian style
of building is so closely imitated, that it is impossible to de¬
termine which part was built first. Though the exterior is
mean, like all the Arabian buildings, yet the inside is beau¬
tifully filled up with noble staircases, marble halls, and courts
with fountains of pure and cool water. Before the French
entered Andalusia, the central junta occupied the palace
after their dispersion. Joseph Bonaparte held his court
in it.
Some of the houses of this city, belonging to individuals,
have the most entire specimens of the exquisite stucco
workmanship with which the rich Moors adorned the inte¬
rior of their houses. In some of the most obscure streets
of the city are found houses with the exterior appearance
of a prison, with no windows towards the town, and only
an entrance through massy doors studded or plated with
iron ; but the visiter, on entering, is surprised with the view
of arcades surrounded with marble courts and sparkling
fountains, and the whole adorned with that durable kind of
stucco, in the composition of which the Moors so greatly
excelled.
The buildings erected in Seville since the extirpation of
the Moors are materially different in their style of archi¬
tecture. One of these is the cathedral, with its tower, the
Giralda, 360 feet in height. The length of this church is
398, and the breadth 290; but its choir and principal altar
being in the centre, they take off very considerably from
the effect of its dimensions. The different specimens of
architecture which in successive periods have prevailed in
Spain, may all be seen in this extraordinary church. The
tower, and a part called the orange court, Patio de las Na-
rangas, was built about the year 1000, by the Moors, and
in their peculiar style; another part, built 200 years later, is
in the Gothic taste, which was then introduced into Spain;
whilst the part which completed it, and which was finished
about the year 1520, is in a style denominated by Spanish
artists platareca, or the imitation of the silver ornaments of
a Catholic church. Though this last fashion is a most gross
perversion of taste, yet the contrast with the Gothic is not
unpleasing ; and, viewed as a whole, the cathedral is perhaps
one of the grandest of all the modern edifices in the Penin¬
sula.
La Lonja, or the Exchange, for it was designed, though
S E V
'ille. never used, for that purpose, was completed in 1598, and is
> & most extensive and chaste building, now used as a depo¬
sitory for state-papers, in which are collected all the origi¬
nal despatches from America at the period of its discovery,
and the library of the son of Columbus. The college of the
Jesuits, since converted into the inquisition, is a most beau¬
tiful pile of building, with a handsome church, a hall of
judgment, and various cells for the reception of prisoners.
This city abounds in convents, monasteries, and other re¬
ligious establishments, most of them richly endowed; and
their chapels are the repositories of the finest specimens of
the art of painting, at the period which produced better
artists in Spain than in any other part of Europe. The
works of the native artists Murillo, Velasquez, Zubaran,
Spanioletti, Morales, Cano, and others, as well as of Titian,
Rubens, Michel Angelo, and other foreigners, are preserv¬
ed in the cathedral, and in several of the other churches,
chapels, and convents.
There is a university, though the building is gloomy and
tasteless, and the professors neither enlightened or learned;
the number of pupils is very considerable, and most of them
are destined for the ecclesiastical profession. It is said that
two thirds of the houses in this city are either the property
of the cathedral or other ecclesiastical bodies, who receive
the rents of them in some cases weekly, and in others
monthly.
In this city the edifices belonging to the government are
numerous and extensive. The mint is one of them, in which
the whole process of coining money is conducted. There
is a foundery for cannon, a manufactory for muskets, swords,
and other military accoutrements; but the largest establish¬
ment is the manufactory of tobacco, which, being a royal
monopoly, can be sold only by the crown, either in the form
of snuff, or in cigars or smaller particles for smoking.
The manufactures of this city are not great in proportion
to the whole number of the population. But a large propor¬
tion of the inhabitants are ecclesiastics; and a much larger
portion are paupers, who have no inducement to work, be¬
cause they can obtain bare necessaries by going the rounds
of different convents, where food is gratuitously bestowed
on them, or by receiving from the episcopal palace a share
of the alms which are daily dispensed. There are, however,
fifteen hundred looms employed in making silk goods of
various descriptions. Very little silk is raised in the vicinity
of the city, it being principally drawn from Valencia and
Murcia, where mulberry-trees abound. There are some ma¬
nufactories of cloths, serges, hats, stockings, and other more
minute articles. There is a very extensive establishment
for currying leather, and every part of the process, from the
first currying to the conversion into boots, shoes, saddles,
bridles, gloves, and other articles, is carried on upon a large
scale. The bark of the cork-trees is used for tanning, which,
though not so strong as the common oak-bark, is yet in
larger quantities found to be equally efficacious.
The foreign trade of Seville is but small, the harbour
of Cadiz being more commodious for large vessels. The
principal exports are, oil, goat and kid skins, quicksilver,
liquorice, shumac, cork, and olives. The imports are al¬
most wholly made through Cadiz.
The streets of Seville are in general so narrow as to for¬
bid the passage of carriages through most of them; and some,
in which frequently the best houses are to be found, are so
close, that a person standing in the middle and extending
both arms may touch the walls on the opposite sides.
There is, however, what compensates for this, a fine public
walk on the banks of the Guadalquivir, where all that is
fashionable of the city may be seen enjoying the cool of the
evening. This city was the birthplace of the Emperors Tra¬
jan, Adrian, and Theodosius; of Juan de la Cueva, of Diego
Velasquez de Silva, and of Francis de Herrara. It is si¬
tuated in long. 5.18. W. and lat. 37. 24. N.
SEW 165
SEVRES, Deux, a department of France, formed out of Sevres,
the ancient province of the Lower Poitou. It extends from Deux
1. 37.'east, to 0. 8. west longitude, and from 46. 0. to 47.12. ge^et.
north latitude. It is bounded on the north by the depart-. ^ ' ,
ment of the Maine and Loire, on the east by that of Vienne,
on the south by the Charente, on the south-west by the
Lower Charente, and on the west by Vendee. It compre¬
hends 21351 square miles, or 607,350 hectares, equal to
1,366,538 English acres. In 1834, of this land, 369,297
hectares were under the plough, 18,896 were vineyards,
7280 gardens, 17,466 moors, heaths, pasture, &c., 29,806
woods, and the remainder the sites of towns, rivers, mo¬
rasses, and uncultivated lands. It is divided into four arron-
dissements, thirty-one cantons, and 356 communes. Its
population in 1836 amounted to 304,105. The surface is
generally level, except that a chain of hills, the highest
point of which does not exceed 450 feet, extends through
the department from north-west to south-east. The chief
rivers are the two streams from whence the department
takes its name. The Sevres-Nantaise receives the waters
of the Louine and the Chambron, and passes into Vendee ;
and the Sevres-Niortaise receives the streams Lamdon and
Guerande, and becomes navigable at Niort, and then enters
Vendee. There are a great number of smaller streams, most
of which reach the sea by the Loire. The agriculture is in
a backward state, the oxen are used for the plough, and
much of the land is in fallow. The greater part of the cul¬
tivators are metayers, dividing the produce with the pro¬
prietors. The fertility is such that nearly one half the corn
grown is supplied to other districts; and much hay and clover
are furnished to the departments that are contiguous. The
manufacturing industry is almost exclusively confined to
providing necessaries for home consumption. The breed
of horses is good, and many of them, as well as of a strong
breed of asses, and some mules, are articles of commerce.
The only mines are of iron, the ore of which is sent into
Charente to be manufactured. There are quarries from
which excellent millstones are obtained. The department
elects two deputies to the legislative chamber. The capi¬
tal is the city of Niort, with a population in 1836 of 18,197.
SEW AD, an extensive district in Afghanistan, situated
about the thirty-fourth degree of north latitude, and partly
bounded by the Indus. The country rises to a great ele¬
vation, consisting of snow-clad mountains, interspersed
with fertile valleys producing all the finest fruits of Europe.
It is about seventy miles in length by forty in breadth, and
contains twenty-five valleys, each watered by a separate
stream. It is principally inhabited by the tribe of the Yu-
sufzies, who, taking advantage of the difficult passes and
strong situations abounding in the country, have not only
held themselves independent of the Mogul sovereigns, but
have made inroads into their territories. They are a brave and
independent people, ready to contribute their quota of troops
to any plundering expedition, or in defence of the country.
SEWALIC Mountains. This chain of mountains, which
reaches a considerable elevation, divides the province of
Delhi from Serinagur, in Northern Hindustan. It is through
these mountains that the Ganges enters on the plains of
Hindustan, at a place called Hurdwar. The hills, which
rise with a moderate though unequal slope from the plains,
are skirted with deep forests, which abound with valuable
timber, and afford shelter to elephants. These, however,
seldom exceed seven feet in height, and hence are not con¬
sidered so valuable as those caught nearer the sea.
SEWAN, a town of Hindustan, province of Bahar, sixty-
six miles north-west from Patna. Long. 84. 25. E. Lat.
26. 11. N.
SEWEE, a district in the province of Beloochistan, si¬
tuated about the thirty-first degree of north latitude, and
bounded on the east by a mountainous ridge of hard black
rock..
166
Se\v<
Sex.
SEX
SEWER, in the household, an officer who arranged on
the table the dishes of a king or nobleman.
Sewer is also a passage or gutter made to carry water
into the sea or a river, and thereby to preserve the land
from inundations and other annoyances.
Common Sewers, in Rome, were executed at a great
expense. It was proposed that they should be of sufficient
dimensions to admit a waggon loaded with hay. When these
common sewers came to be obstructed, or out of repair,
under the republic, the censors contracted to pay a thousand
talents, or about L.193,000, for clearing and repairing them.
They were again in disrepair at the accession of Augustus
Caesar, and the reinstating of them is mentioned among the
great works of Agrippa. He is said to have turned the
course of seven rivers into these subterraneous passages, to
have made them navigable, and to have actually passed in
barges under the streets and buildings of Rome. These
works are still supposed to remain ; but as they exceed the
power and resources of the present city to keep them in
repair, they are quite concealed, except at one or two places.
They were, in the midst of the Roman greatness, and still
are, reckoned among the wonders of the world; and yet they
are said to have been works of the elder Tarquin, a prince
whose territory did not extend in any direction above six¬
teen miles; and, on this supposition, they must have been
made to accommodate a city that was calculated chiefly for
the reception of cattle, herdsmen, and banditti. Rude na¬
tions sometimes execute works of great magnificence, as
fortresses and temples, for the purposes of war and super¬
stition ; but seldom palaces, and still more seldom works of
mere convenience and cleanliness, in which, for the most
part, they are long defective. It is not unreasonable, there¬
fore, to question the authority of tradition in respect to
this singular monument of antiquity, which so greatly ex¬
ceeds what the best accommodated city of modern Europe
could undertake for its own convenience. And as those
works are still entire, and may continue so for thousands
of years, it may be suspected that they were even prior to
the settlement of Romulus, and may have been the remains
of a more ancient city, on the ruins of which the followers
of Romulus settled, as the Arabs now encamp on the ruins
of Palmyra and Baalbeck. Livy owns, that the common
sewers were not accommodated to the plan of Rome as it
was laid out in his time; they were carried in directions
across the streets, and passed under buildings of the greatest
antiquity. This derangement, indeed, he imputes to the
hasty rebuilding of the city after its destruction by the
Gauls; but haste, it is probable, would have determined
the people to build on their old foundations, or at least not
to change them so much as to cross the direction of former
cfrppfG.
SEWISTAN. See Seistan.
SEWURI, an oriental kind of guitar.
SEX, the property by wffiich any animal is male or female.
“ The primary matter of which wmmen are constituted
Sextj
SEX
man. Man receives a ray of light single ; woman delights Sexu
to view it through a prism in all its dazzling colours.” na
In determining the comparative merit of the two sexes,
it is no derogation from female excellency that it differs in
kind from that which distinguishes the male part of our
species ; and if, in general, it shall be found that wTomen fill
up their appointed circle of action with greater regularity than
men, the claim of preference cannot justly be decided in
our favour. In the prudential and economical parts of life,
it is undeniable that they rise far above us; and if true
fortitude of mind is best discovered by a cheerful resigna¬
tion to the measures of Providence, we shall find little rea¬
son to claim that exalted virtue as our peculiar privilege.
But whatever real difference there may be between the mo¬
ral or intellectual powers of the male and female mind, na¬
ture does not seem to have marked the distinction so strongly
as our vanity is willing to imagine; and after all, perhaps,
education will be found to occasion the chief distinction.
SEXAGENARY, something relating to the number
sixty. Thus sexagenary or sexagesimal arithmetic is a
method of computation proceeding by sixties, such as that
used in the division of a degree into sixty minutes, of the
minute into sixty seconds, and of the second into sixty
thirds. Sexagenary tables are also tables of proportional
parts, showing the product of two sexagenaries that are to be
multiplied, or the quotient of the tw o that are to be divided.
SEXAGESIMA, the second Sunday before Lent, or the
next to Shrove Sunday ; so called as being about the six¬
tieth day before Easter.
SEXAGESIMALS, or Sexagesimal Fractions, frac¬
tions whose denominators proceed in a sexagecuple ratio;
that is, a prime, or the first minute = ^; a second »
a third = ^TcWo- Anciently there were no other than
sexagesimals used in astronomy; and they are still retain¬
ed in many cases, though decimal arithmetic has come into
use now in astronomical calculations. In these fractions,
which some call astronomical fractions, the denominator,
being always 60, or a multiple of that number, is usually
omitted, and the numerator only written down. Thus 4°,
59', 32", 50"7, 16"", is to be read, 4 degrees, 59 minutes,
32 seconds, 50 thirds, and 16 fourths.
SEXTANS, Sextant, a sixth part of certain things.
The Romans having divided their as into twrelve ounces or
uncia, the sixth part of that, or two ounces, w as the sextans.
Sextans was also a measure which contained tw o ounces
of liquor, or two cyathi.
Sextans, in Astronomy, a constellation of the southern
hemisphere, made by Hevelius out of unformed stars. In
Hevelius’s catalogue it contains eleven, but in the British
forty-one stars.
SEXTANT, in Mathematics, denotes the sixth part of
a circle, or an arch comprehending sixty degrees.
The word sextant is more particularly used for an astro¬
nomical instrument made like a quadrant, excepting that
its limb only comprehends sixty degrees. The use and ap-
appears to be more flexible, irritable, and elastic, than that plication of the sextant is the same with that of the quadrant,
of man. They are formed to maternal mildness and af- SEXTILE, Sextilis, the position or aspect of two pla-
fection ; all their organs are tender, yielding, easily wound- nets when at sixty degrees distance, or at the distance of
ed, sensible, and receptible.” ' two signs from one another. It is marked thus (*).
“ The female thinks not profoundly; profound thought SEXTIUS, Quintus, a Pythagorean philosopher, who
is the power of the man. Women feel more. Sensibility flourished in the time of Augustus. He seemed formed to
is the power of woman. They often rule more effectually, rise in the republic ; but he shrunk from civil honours, and
more sovereignly, than man. They rule with tender looks, declined accepting the rank of senator when it was offered
tears, and sighs, but not with passion and threats.” him by Julius Caesar, that he might have time to apply to
« Men embrace the whole, women remark individually, philosophy. It appears that he wished to establish a school
and take more delight in selecting the minutiae which at Rome, and that his tenets, though chiefly drawn from
form the whole. Man hears the bursting thunder, views the doctrines of Pythagoras, in some particulars resembled
the destructive bolt, with serene aspect, and stands erect those of the Stoics.
amidst the fearful majesty of the streaming clouds. Wo- He soon found himself involved in many difficulties. His
man trembles at the lightning, and the voice of distant laws were tinctured with great severity, and in an early pe-
thunder, and shrinks into herself, or sinks into the arms of riod of this establishment he found his mind so harassed,
SKA
ton and the harshness of the doctrines which he wished to es-
II tablish so repulsive, that he had nearly resolved to put a
period to his existence.
Of the school of Sextius were Fabianus, Sotion, Flavi-
anus, Crassitius, and Celsus. Of his works only a few frag¬
ments remain ; and whether any of them formed a part of
the work which Seneca admired so much, cannot now be
determined. Some of his maxims are valuable. He re¬
commended an examination of the actions of the day to his
scholars when they retired to rest; and he taught, that the
road to heaven was by frugality, temperance, and fortitude.
He used to recommend holding a looking-glass before per¬
sons disordered with passion. He enjoined his scholars to
abstain from animal food.
SEXTON, a church-officer, thus called by corruption of
the Latin, sacrista, or Saxon, segerstone, which denotes the
same thing. His office is to take care of the vessels, vest¬
ments, and other things belonging to the church; and to
attend the minister, church-warden, and others at church.
He is usually chosen by the parson only. Sextons, as well
as parish-clerks, are regarded by the common law as per¬
sons who have a freehold in their offices; and, therefore,
though they may be punished, yet they cannot be deprived
by ecclesiastical censures.
The office of sexton in the pope’s chapel is appropriated
to the order of the hermits of St Augustin. He is generally
a bishop, though sometimes the pope only gives a bishopric
in partibus to him on whom he confers the post. He takes
the title of Prefect of the Pope’s Sacristy, and has the keep¬
ing of the vessels of gold and silver, the relics, and so forth.
When the pope says mass, the sexton always tastes the
bread and wine first. If it be in private he says mass, his
holiness, of two wafers, gives him one to eat; and if in pub¬
lic, the cardinal, who assists the pope in quality of deacon,
of three wafers, gives him one to eat. When the pope is
desperately sick, he administers to him the sacrament of
extreme unction, and enters the conclave in quality of first
conclavist.
The office of sexton in Sweden is sometimes singular.
During M. Outhier’s stay at Stockholm in 1736, he visited
the church of St Clara, and during divine service he ob¬
served a sexton going about with a long rod, waking those
persons who had fallen asleep.
SEXTUPLE, in Music, denotes a mixed sort of triple,
which is beaten in double time.
SEXTUS Empiricus, a famous Pyrrhonian philosopher,
who lived in the second century, under the reign of Anto¬
ninus. He was a physician of the sect of the Empirics, and
is said to have been one of the preceptors of Antoninus the
Philosopher. There are still extant his Pyrrhonian Insti¬
tutions, and a large work against the mathematicians. The
best edition of Sextus Empiricus is that of Fabricius in
Greek and Latin, printed at Leipsic in 1718, folio.
SEXUALIST7E, among botanical writers, those who
have established the classes of plants upon the differences
of the sexes and parts of fructification in plants, according
to the modern method.
SEYNE, La, a city of France, in the department of the
Var, and the arrondissement of Toulon. It is a port on a
small bay or roadstead, about three miles from Toulon. It is
well built, has good quays, and an establishment for build¬
ing vessels. It contains 5230 inhabitants, many of whom
are occupied in fishing for sardinias and tunnies.
SEYSUMAH, a towm of the Mahratta territories, in Hin¬
dustan, province of Malwah, situated on the east side of the
Chumbul. It is twenty miles south-west from Kotah. Loner.
75. 37. E. Lat. 24. 55. N.
8EZAW UL, a Hindu word, used in Bengal to express an
officer employed at a monthly salary to collect the revenue.
SHACK, in ancient customs, a liberty of winter-pastur¬
age. In the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, the lord of
s H A 167
the manor has shack, that is, a liberty of feeding his sheep Shackles
at pleasure in his tenants’ lands during the six winter months. II
In Norfolk, shack also extends to the common for hogs, in ^hadweil.
all men’s grounds, from the end of harvest till seed-time. "
Hence to go a-shack is to feed at large.
SHACKLES, aboard a ship, are those oblong iron rings,
bigger at one end than at the other, with which the ports
are shut fast, by thrusting the wooden bar of the port through
them. There is also a sort of shackles to lift up the hatches
with, of a like figure, but smaller. They are fastened at the
corners of the hatches.
SHADOW, in Optics, a privation or diminution of light,
by the interposition of an opaque body; or a plane where
the light is either altogether obstructed, or greatly weakened,
by the interposition of some opaque body between it and
the luminary.
Shadow, in Perspective. The appearance of an opaque
body, and a luminous one whose rays diverge, being given ;
to find the just appearance of the shadow, according to the
laws of perspective. The method is this. From the lu¬
minous body, which is here considered as a point, let fall a
perpendicular to the perspective plane or table, that is, find
the appearance of a point upon which a perpendicular, drawn
from the middle of the luminary, falls on the perspective
plane; and from the several angles, or raised points of the
body, let fall perpendiculars to the plane. These points, on
which the perpendiculars fall, connect by right lines with
the point upon which the perpendicular let fall from the
luminary falls, and continue the lines to the side opposite
to the luminary. Lastly, through the raised points draw
lines through the centre of the luminary, intersecting the
former; the points of intersection are the terms or bounds
of the shadow.
SHADOWRAH, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta
territories, province of Malwah, forty miles north by west
from Seronge. Long. 77. 47. E. Lat. 24. 20. N.
SHADWEL, Thomas, descended of an ancient family
in Staffordshire, was born in 1640, and educated at Caius
College, Cambridge. He was then placed in the Middle
Temple to study the laws; and having spent some time
there, he travelled abroad. Upon his return home, he be¬
came acquainted with the most celebrated persons of wit in
that age. He applied himself chiefly to dramatic writing,
in which he had great success, and upon the Revolution
was made poet laureat and historiographer to King William
and Queen Mary, in the room of Mr Dryden. These em¬
ployments he enjoyed till his death, which happened in
1692. Besides his dramatic writings, he composed several
other pieces of poetry, the chief of which are his congratu¬
latory poem on the Prince of Orange’s coming to England,
another on Queen Mary, and his translation of Juvenal’s
tenth satire. Mr Dryden treats him with great contempt, in
his satire called JFac/ifecrao. The best judges of that age, how ¬
ever, gave their testimony in favour of his comedies, which
have in them fine strokes of humour; the characters are
often original, strongly marked, and well sustained. An edi¬
tion of his works, with some account of his life and writings
prefixed, was published in 1720, in four vols. 8vo.
SHADWELL, a large village of the county of Middle¬
sex, in the hundred of Ossulston, touching on the city of
London, but lower down on the same bank of the Thames,
two miles and a half from St Paul’s church. It is within
the bills of mortality, and is a parish of itself. The popu¬
lation consists chiefly of sea-faring people, and of such as
are connected with the building and equipment of shipping.
The parish church is a large and handsome building, dedi¬
cated to St Paul. The inhabitants amounted in 1821 to
9557, and in 1831 to 9544. Many of the smaller houses,
more than two hundred, have been taken down to make
space for the docks that have been built, which accounts for
the decrease in the population.
168
S H A
S II A
Shafras
Sha?reen.
SHAFRAS, or Suffras, Gregory Savarof, an Arme- grained leather prepared of the skin of a species of squalus, Shalt; [
nian merchant, remarkable only as the person who sold the and much used in covering cases, books, and other articles. II
large and celebrated diamond which is now set in the impe- The best is that which is brought from Constantinople, N lailJ
rial sceptre of Russia. Shah Nadir, an Indian prince, had two and is of a brownish colour ; the white is the worst. It is |
principal diamonds in his throne, one of them denominated extremely hard, yet, when steeped in water, it becomes
the Sun of the Sea, and the other the Moon of the Moun- very soft and pliable; and hence it is of great use among
tain. When that prince was assassinated, many precious case-makers. It takes any colour that is given to it, red,
ornaments belonging to the crown were pillaged, and pri- green, yellow, or black. It is frequently counterfeited, by
vately disposed of by the soldiers who shared the plunder, using morocco formed like shagreen ; but this last is dis-
Shafras, who was called Millionshik at Astrakhan, had tinguished by its peeling off, which the first does not.
then his residence at Bassora, with two of his brothers. A SHAHABAD, an extensive town and district of Hin-
chief of the Afghans one day applied to him, and proposed dustan, province of Bahar, most advantageously situated
between the rivers Soane and Ganges. It is fertile and ,
to sell the diamond already mentioned for a very moderate
sum (probably the Moon of the Mountain), together with a
very large emerald, a ruby of considerable size, and other
precious stones of less value. Shafras was astonished at the
offer; and giving out that he had not a sufficient sum to
purchase them, he requested time to consult with his bro¬
thers on the subject. The vender did not again make his
appearance, probably from suspicious motives. Shafras,
with the approbation of his brothers, went directly in search
of the stranger with the jewels, but by that time he had
left Bassora. Shafras, however, accidentally met him at
Bagdad, and paid him 50,000 piastres (L.8958. 6s. 8d.) for
all his jewels. Shafras and his brothers, being well aware
that the most profound secrecy was absolutely necessary,
resolved to remain at Bassora.
At the expiration of twelve years, Shafras set off with the
tolerably well cultivated, and produces barley, wheat, to¬
bacco, and some pease of a small kind. It is estimated to
contain more than a million of inhabitants, in the proportion
of nineteen Hindus to one Mahommedan. Its chief towns
are Chunar, Boujepore, and Arrah. The town is situated
on the east side of the Gurrah river, in the district of
Khyrabad. It was formerly a large place, but has now fal¬
len greatly to decay. Long. 79. 55 E. Lat. 27. 39. N.
There is another town of this name, in the province of Del¬
hi, belonging to the Sikhs, which has also fallen into decay.
It is 105 miles north by west from Delhi. Long. 76. 28.
E. Lat. 30. 12. N.
SHAHJEHANPOOR, a considerable town of Hindustan,
in the Mahratta territories, province of Malwah, situated on
the banks of the Sagormutty river, forty miles north-north-
largest of the jewels, directing his route through Sham and east from Oojain. Long. 76. 18. E. Lat. 23. 28. N. There
Constantinople, and afterwards through Hungary and Sile- is another town of the same name, in the province of Delhi,
sia to the city of Amsterdam by land, where he publicly of- district of Bareilly, situated on the Gurrah river, ninety-five
fered them for sale. miles north-east from Lucknow. Long. 79. 53. E. Lat. 27.
It is reported that the British government was among the 51. N. Both these towns are called after Shah Jehan, who
bidders. The Russian court sent for the large diamond, reigned in the middle of the seventeenth century.
with an offer to reimburse all reasonable expenses if the
price could not be agreed on. When the diamond arrived,
Count Panin, the Russian minister, made the following
offer to Shafras. Besides the patent of hereditary nobility,
which the vender demanded, he was to receive an annual
pension of 6000 roubles during life, 500,000 roubles in cash
SHAHNOOR, Sanore, Sevanore, or Savanook, a
town of Hindustan, in the province of Bejapoor, fifty miles
south-south-east from Darwar, and capital of a district of the
same name. It was formerly a fortified town, and contain¬
ed a palace and many good buildings, the greater part of
which are now in ruins. It is a place of no strength, though
(L.l 12,500 sterling), one fifth of which was to be payable it is enclosed by a wall and ditch. Outside the wall to the
on demand, and the remainder by instalments in the course northward are several long streets of houses, mostly unin-
of ten years. He also claimed the order of nobility for his habited. This place was conquered from the Hindus by
brothers, persisting so obstinately in his demands, that the the Bhamenee sovereigns in 1397 ; it afterwards became
diamond was returned. the capital of a small Patan state, its hereditary possessor
Shafras was now very much perplexed. He had involv- receiving the title of nabob. Abdul Hakeem Khan, the
ed himself in expenses, was forced to pay interest for con- seventh lineal descendant, reigned in 1792, and was tribu-
siderable sums of borrowed money, and he saw no prospect
of selling the jewel to advantage. The negociation was
recommenced with Russia by Count Gregory Grigorevitsh
Orlof, afterwards created a prince of the empire ; and the
diamond was purchased for 450,000 roubles (L. 105,250)
ready money, together with a grant of Russian nobility. We
are informed that 120,000 roubles (L.27,000) fell to the
share of the
lar expenses.   .
which by inheritance devolved to his daughters, have been SHAHPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
in a great measure dissipated by the extravagance of his Berar, in the Nagpoor rajah’s territories, seventy miles
sons-in-law. north by west from Ellichpoor. Long. 78. 23. E. Lat. 22.
SHAFTESBURY, a town in the hundred of Rudland, 19. N. There is another Shahpoor in the province of Be-
in the county of Dorset, 101 miles from London. It stands rar, sixty-five miles north-east from Jalnapoor. Long. 78
negociators for commission, interest, and simi- government for an equivalent in Bundelcund.
. Shafras settled at Astrakhan ; and his riches, 22. E. Lat. 15. 1. N.
tary to Tippoo till 1784, when he accepted the protection
of the Mahrattas, on which his territories were ravaged by
the armies of Tippoo, the palaces and public buildings were
destroyed and razed, and the whole country was laid waste.
In 1792 it was wrested from him and restored to the nabob.
The district is now under the peishwa’s government, being
part of the territory received in exchange from the British
~ ‘ ' ‘ Long. 75.
on a hill, is not well supplied with water, and the houses
are generally of an humble character. It contains three pa¬
rishes, with their respective churches. It is an ancient
town, supposed to have been founded by Alfred. It is a
borough, with a mayor, recorder, and twelve burgesses,
and returned two members to parliament till 1832, but now
elects only one. The chief trade is making shirt-buttons.
The population in 1821 amounted to 2903, and in 1831 to
8061.
SHAGREEN, or Chagreen, in Commerce, a kind of
1. E. Lat. 19. 49. N. Also one in the Sikh territories, pro¬
vince of Lahore, situated on the east side of the Ravey
river, sixty miles north-east from the city of Lahore. Long.
74. 45. E. Lat. 32. 19. N. There are various other towns
in Hindustan of this name, which signifies King’s Town,
many of them of too little consequence to merit any parti¬
cular notice.
SHAIRGHUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Delhi, twenty-six miles north from Bareillv. Long. 79.
21. E. Lat. 28. 40. N.
169
SHAKSPEARE.'
k- William Shakspeare, the protagonist on the great arena
“K* of modern poetry, and the glory of the human intellect, was
born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in the county of Warwick,
in the year 1564, and upon some day, not precisely as¬
certained, in the month of April. It is certain that he was
baptized on the 25th ; and from that fact, combined with
some shadow of a tradition, Malone has inferred that he
was born on the 23d. There is doubtless, on the one
hand, no absolute necessity deducible from law or custom,
as either operated in those times, which obliges us to adopt
such a conclusion; for children might be baptized, and
were baptized, at various distances from their birth: yet,
on the other hand, the 23d is as likely to have been the
day as any other; and more likely than any earlier day,
upon two arguments. First, because there was probably a
tradition floating in the seventeenth century, that Shak-
speare died upon his birth-day: now it is beyond a doubt
that he died upon the 23d of April. Secondly, because it
is a reasonable presumption, that no parents, living in a
simple community, tenderly alive to the pieties of house¬
hold duty, and in an age still clinging reverentially to the
ceremonial ordinances of religion, would much delay the
adoption of their child into the great family of Christ.
Considering the extreme frailty of an infant’s life during
its two earliest years, to delay would often be to disinherit
the child of its Christian privileges ; privileges not the less
eloquent to the feelings from being profoundly mysterious,
and, in the English church, forced not only upon the at¬
tention, but even upon the eye, of the most thoughtless.
According to the discipline of the English church, the un¬
baptized are buried with “ maimed rites,” shorn of their
obsequies, and sternly denied that “ sweet and solemn fare¬
well” by which otherwise the church expresses her final
charity with all men; and not only so, but they are even
locally separated and sequestrated. Ground the most hal¬
lowed, and populous with Christian burials of households,
That died in peace with one another,
Father, sister, son, and brother.
opens to receive the vilest malefactor ; by which the church
symbolically expresses her maternal willingness to gather
back into her fold those even of her flock who have strayed ghak-
from her by the most memorable aberrations; and yet, speare.
with all this indulgence, she banishes to unhallowed grounds'——y—
the innocent bodies of the unbaptized. To them and to
suicides she turns a face of wrath. With this gloomy fact of¬
fered to the very external senses, it is difficult to suppose that
any parents would risk their own reproaches by putting the
fulfilment of so grave a duty on the hazard of a convulsion
fit. The case of royal children is different; their baptisms,
it is true, were often delayed for weeks ; but the household
chaplains of the palace were always at hand, night and day,
to baptize them in the very agonies of death.2 We must
presume, therefore, that William Shakspeare was born on
some day very little anterior to that of his baptism ; and
the more so because the season of the year was lovely
and genial, the 23d of April in 1564 corresponding in fact
with what w e now call the 3d of May, so that, whether
the child was to be carried abroad, or the clergyman to be
summoned, no hindrance wrould arise from the weather.
One only argument has sometimes struck us for supposing
that the 22d might be the day, and not the 23d ; which is,
that Shakspeare’s sole grand-daughter, Lady Barnard, was
married on the 22d of April 1626, ten years exactly from
the poet’s death ; and the reason for choosing this day might
have had a reference to her illustrious grandfather’s birth¬
day ; which, there is good reason for thinking, would be
celebrated as a festival in the family for generations. Still
this choice may have been an accident, or governed merely
by reason of convenience. And, on the whole, it is as well
perhaps to acquiesce in the old belief, that Shakspeare was
born and died on the 23d of April. We cannot do wrong
if we drink to his memory on both 22d and 23d.
On a first review of the circumstances, we have reason
to feel no little perplexity in finding the materials for a life
of this transcendent writer so meagre and so few; and
amongst them the larger part of doubtful authority. All
the energy of curiosity directed upon this subject, through
a period of one hundred and fifty years (for so long it is since
Betterton the actor began to make researches) has availed
us little or nothing. Neither the local traditions of his pro¬
vincial birth-place, though sharing with London through half
peare, Shackspeare, Shakspeare and Shakspere •” to WOr^Sl. 0kscr.vf3 that “the poet’s name has been variously written Shax-
mise, published in 1836. But’the fact is ^hat bv comhin^nJ^+L68!!^!? ,r«-e added .ShagsPere. from the Worcester Marriage Li-
hng the second, more than twenty-five distinct varieties of W1 a11 t 'f <ilfferen^e® *n spelling the first syllable, all those in spel-
eurious in mis-spelling. Above all thines those virieBet ^ ^ f.. expanded (llke an algebraic series), for the choice of the
before the final syllabi *pear\ can nevefbe overlooked hv^ T" °m ^ mtei:calatl0n of the middle * (that is, the e immediately
question about the orthography of Shakspear^s OTme a^l^ W*u re™mber’ at the °Pening °f the Dunciad, the note upon this very
ther it ought not to have been the DunceSe seH™ that n Upor?,the otber Sreat fl“stlon about the title of the immortal Satire, Whe-
r. Meantime we must remark, that the first three of Mr rSOl’J, pro?®ni0r’ T,?0t Posslbly dispense with the letter
ly incapable of signing their own names The samiwlf /l? a hehishop s secretary for having been so misled by two varlets, professed-
to treat the matter itthsTriOusOessSfr FreditekMadden h ^ ^ ^ ^ bride’S narae ^atharcayinto Hathur,. Finally,
himself in all probability w“^ 111 ^^ent tetter to the Society of Antiquaries, that the poet
sally, was very unsettled up to a period lomr subsequent t ography, both of proper names, of appellatives, and of words univer.
variously and laxly by otffis would be written m^^ hvlb ShilksPeare- ^ ? mast dually have happened that names written
names frequently; and bv liteSv T>CK^maHy by those owners who had occasion to sign their
Shakspeare is now too familiar to the eve for anv alteration to he t* i'.6! as c?nsci®usly> directed to the proprieties of spelling,
in stating the poet’s own signature to have been^mifnrml v/ i H cl,T1PV’d ’ bld ^ 18 pretty certain that Sir Frederick Madden is right
tenon a blankleaf of FteSEnglilh translaZnldAZLi 'T"'- lt ^"written twice in the course of his will, and it is so writ-
tor a hundred guineas. ^ ° ^iontaigne s Essays ; a book recently discovered, and sold, on account of its autograph,
VI. the only son of HenryVlIE was^orn^tC^^tlfdav^FouT^ ?ot *bou&bt P1®^8 toA “ tempt God,” as it were, by delay, Edward
sors, since the birth was not in London. Yet how littlp tbn+ ,ctober 111 tbe .vear jd3<. And there was a delay on account of the spon-
°f the night, the day was Friday • and vet in snifp nf n i i 'vas imule, may be seen by this fact: The birth took place in the dead
day. And Prince Arthur, the elder brother oflfeiirvVni ^ * e christening was most pompously celebrated on the succeeding Mon-
.taniW an inevitable .el’ay, to his birth, notwith¬
standing an inevitable delav occasioned hv thp r;c+ ^ -was christened on the very next Sunday succeeding to his birth, notw
the
h
Y
170
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak-
speare.
a century the honour of his familiar presence, nor the recol¬
lections of that brilliant literary circle with whom he lived
in the metropolis, have yielded much more than such an
outline of his history as is oftentimes to be gathered from
the penurious records of a grave-stone. That he lived, and
that he died, and that he was “ a little lower than the an¬
gels —these make up pretty nearly the amount of our un¬
disputed report. It may be doubted indeed whether/at this
day we are as accurately acquainted with the life of Shak-
speare as with that of Chaucer, though divided from each
other by an interval of two centuries, and (what should have
been more effectual towards oblivion) by the wars ot the two
roses. And yet the traditional memory of a rural and a syl¬
van region, such as Warwickshire at that time was, is usually
exact as well as tenacious ; and, with respect to Shakspeare
in particular, we may presume it to have been full and cir¬
cumstantial through the generation succeeding to his own,
not only from the curiosity, and perhaps something of a
scandalous interest, which would pursue the motions of one
living so large a part of his life at a distance from his wife,
but also from the final reverence and honour which would
settle upon the memory of a poet so pre-eminently success¬
ful ; of one who, in a space of five-and-twenty years, after
running a bright career in the capital city of his native land,
and challenging notice from the throne, had retired with an
ample fortune, created by his personal efforts, and by la¬
bours purely intellectual.
How are we to account, then, for that deluge, as if from
Lethe, which has swept away so entirely the traditional
memorials of one so illustrious? Such is the fatality of er¬
ror which overclouds every question connected with Shak¬
speare, that two of his principal critics, Steevens and Ma¬
lone, have endeavoured to solve the difficulty by cutting it
with a falsehood. They deny in effect that he was illus¬
trious in the century succeeding to his own, however much
he has since become so. We shall first produce their state¬
ments in their own words, and we shall then briefly review
them.
Steevens delivers his opinion in the following terms :—
“ How little Shakspeare was once read, may be understood
from Tate, who, in his dedication to the altered play of
King Lear, speaks of the original as an obscure piece, re¬
commended to his notice by a friend; and the author of
the Tatler, having occasion to quote a few lines out of
Macbeth, was content to receive them from Davenant’s
alteration of that celebrated drama, in which almost every
original beauty is either awkwardly disguised or arbitrarily
omitted.” Another critic, who cites this passage from Stee¬
vens, pursues the hypothesis as follows :—■“ In fifty years al¬
ter his death, Dry den mentions that he was then become a
little obsolete. In the beginning of the last century, Lord
Shaftesbury complains of his rude unpolished style, and his
antiquated phrase and wit. It is certain that, for nearly a
hundred years after his death, partly owing to the imme¬
diate revolution and rebellion, and partly to the licentious
taste encouraged in Charles II.’s time, and perhaps partly
to the incorrect state of his works, he was almost entire¬
ly neglected.” This critic then goes on to quote with
approbation the opinion of Malone,—“ that if he had been
read, admired, studied, and imitated, in the same degree as
he is now, the enthusiasm of some one or other of his ad¬
mirers in the last age would have induced him to make some
inquiries concerning the history of his theatrical career, and
the anecdotes of his private life.” After which this enlight¬
ened writer re-affirms and clenches the judgment he has
quoted by saying,—“ His admirers, however, if he had ad¬
mirers in that age, possessed no portion of such enthu¬
siasm.
It may perhaps be an instructive lesson to young read¬
ers, if we now show them, by a short sifting of these con¬
fident dogmatists, how easy it is for a careless or a half-read
man to circulate the most absolute falsehoods under the Ski
semblance of truth ; falsehoods which impose upon himself sp^
as much as they do upon others. We believe that not onev-“‘YJ
word or illustration is uttered in the sentences cited from
these three critics, which is not virtually in the very teeth
of the truth.
To begin with Mr Nahum Tate:—This poor grub oflite-
ratuie, if he did really speak of Lear as “ an obscure piece,
recommended to his notice by a friend,” of which we must
be allowed to doubt, was then uttering a conscious false¬
hood. It happens that Lear was one of the few Shakspearian
dramas which had kept the stage unaltered. But it is easy
to see a mercenary motive in such an artifice as this. Mr
Nahum Tate is not of a class of whom it can be safe to say
that they are “ well known:” they and their desperate
tricks are essentially obscure, and good reason he has to
exult in the felicity of such obscurity ; for else this same
vilest of travesties, Mr Nahum’s Lear, would consecrate his
name to everlasting scorn. For himself, he belonged to
the age of Dryden rather than of Pope : he “ flourished,”
if we can use such a phrase of one who was always wither¬
ing, about the era of the Revolution ; and his Lear, wre be¬
lieve, w7as arranged in the year 1682. But the family to
which he belongs is abundantly recorded in the Dunciad ;
and his own name will be found amongst its catalogues of
heroes.
With respect to the author of the Tatler, a very differ¬
ent explanation is requisite. Steevens means the reader
to understand Addison; but it does not follow that the
particular paper in question was from his pen. Nothing,
however, could be more natural than to quote from the
common form of the play as then in possession of the stage.
It was there, beyond a doubt, that a fine gentleman living
upon town, and not professing any deep scholastic know¬
ledge of literature (a light in which we are always to re¬
gard the writers of the Spectator, Guardian, &c.), would
be likely to have learned anything he quoted from Mac¬
beth. This we say generally of the writers in those perio¬
dical papers ; but, with reference to Addison in particular,
it is time to correct the popular notion of his literary cha¬
racter, or at least to mark it by severer lines of distinc¬
tion. It is already pretty well known, that Addison had
no very intimate acquaintance with the literature of his own
country. It is known also, that he did not think such an
acquaintance any ways essential to the character of an ele¬
gant scholar and litterateur. Quite enough he found it,
and more than enough for the time he had to spare, if he
could maintain a tolerable familiarity with the foremost La¬
tin poets, and a very slender one indeed with the Grecian.
How slender, wre can see in his “ Travels.” Of modern
authors, none as yet had been published with notes, com¬
mentaries, or critical collations of the text; and, accord¬
ingly, Addison looked upon all of them, except those few
who professed themselves followers in the retinue and equi¬
page of the ancients, as creatures of a lower race. Boileau,
as a mere imitator and propagator of Horace, he read, and
probably little else, amongst the French classics. Hence it
arose that he took upon himself, to speak sneeringly of
Tasso. To this, which was a bold act for his timid mind,
he was emboldened by the countenance of Boileau. Of the
elder Italian authors, such as Ariosto, and, a fortiori, Dante,
he knew absolutely nothing. Passing to our own literature,
it is certain that Addison was profoundly ignorant of Chau¬
cer and of Spenser. Milton only,—and why ? simply be¬
cause he wras a brilliant scholar, and stands like a bridge
between the Christian literature and the Pagan,—Addison
had read and esteemed. There was also in the very constitu¬
tion of Milton’s mind, in the majestic regularity and plane¬
tary solemnity of its epic movements, something which he
could understand and appreciate: as to the meteoric and
incalculable eccentricities of the dramatic mind, as it ms-
S H A K S
k- played itself in the heroic age of our drama, amongst the Ti-
ie- tans of 1590-1630, they confounded and overwhelmed him.
In particular, with regard to Shakspeare, we shall now
proclaim a discovery which we made some twenty years
aszu. We, like others, from seeing frequent references to
Shakspeare in the Spectator, had acquiesced in the com¬
mon belief, that, although Addison was no doubt pro¬
foundly unlearned in Shakspeare’s language, and thorough¬
ly unable to do him justice (and this we might well assume,
since his great rival Pope, who had expressly studied Shak¬
speare, was, after all, so memorably deficient in the appro¬
priate knowledge),—yet, that of course he had a vague
popular knowledge of the mighty poet’s cardinal dramas.
Accident only led us into a discovery of our mistake. Twice
or thrice we had observed, that if Shakspeare were quoted,
that paper turned out not to be Addison’s ; and at length,
by express examination, we ascertained the curious fact,
that Addison has never in one instance quoted or made any
reference to Shakspeare. But was this, as Steevens most
disingenuously pretends, to be taken as an exponent of the
public feeling towards Shakspeare ? Was Addison’s ne¬
glect representative of a general neglect ? If so, whence
came Rowe’s edition, Pope’s, Theobald’s, Sir Thomas Han-
mer’s, Bishop Warburton’s, all upon the heels of one another ?
With such facts staring him in the face, how shameless must
be that critic who could, in support of such a thesis, refer to
“ the author of the Toiler,” contemporary with all these edi¬
tors. The truth is, Addison was well aware of Shakspeare’s
hold on the popular mind ; too well aware of it. The fee¬
ble constitution of the poetic faculty, as existing in himself,
forbade his sympathising with Shakspeare ; the proportions
were too colossal for his delicate vision ; and yet, as one
who sought popularity himself, he durst not shock what per¬
haps he viewed as a national prejudice. Those who have
happened, like ourselves, to see the effect of passionate mu¬
sic and “ deep-inwoven harmonics” upon the feeling of an
idiot,1 may conceive what wre mean. Such music does not
utterly revolt the idiot; on the contrary, it has a strange
but a horrid fascination for him : it alarms, irritates, dis¬
turbs, makes him profoundly unhappy; and chiefly by un¬
locking imperfect glimpses of thoughts and slumbering in¬
stincts, wdiicb it is for his peace to have entirely obscured,
because for him they can be revealed only partially, and
with the sad effect of throwing a baleful gleam upon his
blighted condition. Do we mean, then, to compare Addi¬
son with an idiot ? Not generally, by any means. Nobody
can more sincerely admire him where he was a man of real
genius, viz. in his delineations of character and manners, or
in the exquisite delicacies of his humour. But assuredly
Addison, as a poet, was amongst the sons of the feeble;
and between the authors of Cato and of King Lear there
was a gulf never to be bridged over.2
But Dryden, we are told, pronounced Shakspeare already
in his day “ a little obsolete.” Here now we have wilful,
deliberate falsehood. Obsolete, in Dryden’s meaning, does
not imply that he was so with regard to his popularity (the
question then at issue), but with regard to his diction and
choice of words. To cite Dryden as a witness for any pur¬
pose against Shakspeare,—Dryden, who of all men had the
most ransacked wit and exhausted language in celebrating
the supremacy of Shakspeare’s genius, does indeed require
as much shamelessness in feeling as mendacity in principle.
PEAR E.
171
But then Lord Shaftesbury, who may be taken as half
way between Dryden and Pope (Dryden died in 1700, Pope
was then twelve years old, and Lord S. wrote chiefly, we
believe, between 1700 and 1710), “ complains,” it seems,
“ of his rude unpolished style, and his antiquated phrase and
wit.” What if he does ? Let the whole truth be told, and
then we shall see how much stress is to be laid upon such
a judgment. The second Lord Shaftesbury, the author of
the Characteristics, was the grandson of that famous politi¬
cal agitator, the Chancellor Shaftesbury, who passed his
whole life in storms of his own creation. The second Lord
Shaftesbury was a man of crazy constitution, querulous from
ill health, and had received an eccentric education from his
eccentric grandfather. He was practised daily in talking
Latin, to which afterwards he added a competent study of
the Greek; and finally he became unusually learned for his
rank, but the most absolute and undistinguishing pedant
that perhaps literature has to show. He sneers continually
at the regular-built academic pedant; but he himself, though
no academic, was essentially the very impersonation of pe¬
dantry. No thought however beautiful, no image however
magnificent, could conciliate his praise as long as it was
clothed in English ; but present him with the most trivial
common-places in Greek, and he unaffectedly fancied them
divine; mistaking the pleasurable sense of his own power
in a difficult and rare accomplishment for some peculiar
force or beauty in the passage. Such was the outline of
his literary taste. And was it upon Shakspeare only, or up¬
on him chiefly, that he lavished his pedantry? Far from it.
He attacked Milton with no less fervour ; he attacked Dry¬
den with a thousand times more. Jeremy Taylor he quoted
only to ridicule ; and even Locke, the confidential friend of
his grandfather, he never alludes to without a sneer. As to
Shakspeare, so far from Lord Shaftesbury’s censures arguing
his deficient reputation, the very fact of his noticing him at
all proves his enormous popularity ; for upon system he no¬
ticed those only who ruled the public taste. The insipidity
of his objections to Shakspeare may be judged from this,
that he comments in a spirit of absolute puerility upon the
name Desdemona, as though intentionally formed from the
Greek. word for superstition. In fact, he had evidently
read little beyond the list of names in Shakspeare ; yet
there is proof enough that the irresistible beauty of what
little he had read was too much for all his pedantry, and
startled him exceedingly; for ever afterwards he speaks
of Shakspeare as one who, with a little aid from Grecian
sources, really had something great and promising about
him. As to modern authors, neither this Lord Shaftes¬
bury nor Addison read anything for the latter years of their
life but Bayle’s Dictionary. And most of the little scin¬
tillations of erudition which may be found in the notes to
the Characteristics, and in the Essays of Addison, are de¬
rived, almost without exception, and uniformly without ac¬
knowledgment, from Bayle.3
Finally, with regard to the sweeping assertion, that “ for
nearly a hundred years after his death Shakspeare was al¬
most entirely neglected,” we shall meet this scandalous false¬
hood by a rapid view of his fortunes during the century in
question. The tradition has always been, that Shakspeare
was honoured by the especial notice of Queen Elizabeth, as
well as by that of James I. At one time we were disposed to
question the truth of this tradition ; but that was for want of
1 A great modern poet refers to this very case of music entering “ the mouldy chambers of the dull idiot’s brainbut in support
of what seems to us a baseless hypothesis.
2 Probably Addison’s fear of the national feeling was a good deal strengthened by his awe of Milton and of Dryden, both of whom
had expressed a homage towards Shakspeare which language cannot transcend. Amongst his political friends also were many intense
admirers of Shakspeare. . ■
i Wk° wea^ enough to kick and spurn his own native literature, even if it were done with more knowledge than is shown by
liOrd Shaftesbury, will usually be kicked and spurned in his turn; and accordingly it has been often remarked, that the Characteris¬
tics are unjustly neglected in our days. For Lord Shaftesbury, with all his pedantry, was a man of great talents. Leibnitz had the
sagacityto see this through the mists of a translation.
SHAKSPEARE.
172
Slmk- having read attentively the lines of Ben Jonson to the me-
v clH;iUe- mory of Shakspeare, those generous lines which have so
~~'v absurdly been taxed with faint praise. Jonson could make
no mistake on this point: he, as one of Shakspeare’s fami¬
liar companions, must have witnessed at the very time, and
accompanied with friendly sympathy, every motion of royal
favour towards Shakspeare. Now he, in words which leave
no room for doubt, exclaims
Sweet swan of Avon, what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear ;
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames
That so did take Elisa and our James.
These princes, then, were taken, were fascinated, with
some of Shakspeare’s dramas. In Elizabeth the approba¬
tion would probably be sincere. In James we can readily
suppose it to have been assumed; for he was a pedant in
a different sense from Lord Shaftesbury; not from under¬
valuing modern poetry, but from caring little or nothing for
any poetry, although he wrote about its mechanic rules. Still
the royal imprimatur would be influential and serviceable no
less when offered hypocritically than in full sincerity. Next
let us consider, at the very moment of Shakspeare’s death,
who were the leaders of the British youth, the principes ju-
ventutis, in the two fields, equally important to a great poet’s
fame, of rank and of genius ? The Prince of Wales and John
Milton; the first being then about sixteen years old, the other
about eight. Now these two great powers, as we may call
them, these presiding stars over all that was English in thought
and action, were both impassioned admirers of Shakspeare.
Each of them counts for many thousands. The Prince of
Wales1 had learned to appreciate Shakspeare, not originally
from reading him, but from witnessing the court represen¬
tations of his plays at Whitehall. Afterwards we know that
he made Shakspeare his closet companion, for he was re¬
proached with doing so by Milton. And we know also, from
the just criticism pronounced upon the character and diction
of Caliban by one of Charles’s confidential counsellors, Lord
Falkland, that the king’s admiration of Shakspeare had im¬
pressed a determination upon the court reading. As to Milton,
by double prejudices, puritanical and classical, his mind had
been preoccupied against the full impressions of Shakspeare.
And we know that there is such a thing as keeping the sym¬
pathies of love and admiration in a dormant state, or state of
abeyance ; an effort of self-conquest realized in more cases
than one by the ancient fathers, both Greek and Latin, with
regard to the profane classics. Intellectually they admired,
and would not belie their admiration; but they did not give
their hearts cordially, they did not abandon themselves to
their natural impulses. They averted their eyes and wean¬
ed their attention from the dazzling object. Such, proba¬
bly, was Milton’s state of feeling towards Shakspeare after
1642, when the theatres were suppressed, and the fanati¬
cal fervour in its noontide heat. Yet even then he did not
belie his reverence intellectually for Shakspeare ; and in his
younger days we know that he had spoken more enthusias¬
tically of Shakspeare than he ever did again of any unin¬
spired author. Not only did he address a sonnet to his me¬
mory, in which he declares that kings would wish to die, if
by dying they could obtain such a monument in the hearts
of men ; but he also speaks of him in his II Pemeroso as
the tutelary genius of the English stage. In this transmis¬
sion of the torch (Xa/wraclopog/a) Dryden succeeds to Mil-
ton ; he was born nearly thirty years later; about thirty
years they were contemporaries; and by thirty years, or SI*
nearly, Dryden survived his great leader. Dryden, in lact, sPef
lived out the seventeenth century. And we have now ar-''“’‘'/i*
rived within nine years of the era when the critical editions
started in hot succession to one another. The names we have
mentioned were the great influential names of the century.
But of inferior homage there was no end. How came Bet¬
terton the actor, how came Davenant, how came Rowe, or
Pope, by their intense (if not always sound) admiration for
Shakspeare, unless they had found it fuming upwards like
incense to the Pagan deities in ancient times from altars
erected at every turning upon all the paths of men ?
But it is objected that inferior dramatists were sometimes
preferred to Shakspeare; and again, that vile travesties of
Shakspeare were preferred to the authentic dramas. As to
the first argument, let it be remembered, that if the saints
of the chapel are always in the same honour, because there
men are simply dischai'ging a duty, which once due will be
due for ever; the saints of the theatre, on the other hand,
must bend to the local genius, and to the very reasons for
having a theatre at all. Men go thither for amusement:
this is the paramount purpose ; and even acknowledged
merit or absolute superiority must give way to it. Does
a man at Paris expect to see Moliere reproduced in pro¬
portion to his admitted precedency in the French drama?
On the contrary, that very precedency argues such a fami¬
liarization with his works, that those who are in quest of re¬
laxation will reasonably prefer any recent drama to that
which, having lost all its novelty, has lost much of its ex¬
citement. We speak of ordinary minds; but in cases of
public entertainments, deriving part of their power from
scenery and stage pomp, novelty is for all minds an essen¬
tial condition of attraction. Moreover, in some departments
of the comic, Beaumont and Fletcher, when writing in com¬
bination, really had a freedom and breadth of manner which
excels the comedy of Shakspeare. As to the altered Shak¬
speare as taking precedency of the genuine Shakspeare, no
argument can be so frivolous. The public were never allow¬
ed a choice; the great majority of an audience even now
cannot be expected to carry the real Shakspeare in their
mind, so as to pursue a comparison between that and the
alteration. Their comparisons must be exclusively amongst
what they have opportunities of seeing; that is, between
the various pieces presented to them by the managers of
theatres. Further than this it is impossible for them to ex¬
tend their office of judging and collating ; and the degene¬
rate taste which substituted the caprices of Davenant, the
rants of Dryden, or the filth of Tate, for the jewellery of
Shakspeare, cannot with any justice be charged upon the
public, not one in a thousand of whom was furnished with
any means of comparing, but exclusively upon those (viz.
theatrical managers) who had the very amplest. Yet even
in excuse for them much may be said. The very length of
some plays compelled them to make alterations. The best
of Shakspeare’s dramas, King Lear, is the least fitted for
representation ; and, even for the vilest alteration, it ought
in candour to be considered that possession is nine points
of the law. He who would not have introduced, was often
obliged to retain.
Finally, it is urged, that the small number of editions
through which Shakspeare passed in the seventeenth cen¬
tury, furnishes a separate argument, and a conclusive one,
against his popularity. We answer, that, considering the
1 Perhaps the most bitter political enemy of Charles I. will have the candour to allow that, for a prince of those times, he was trulv
and eminently accomplished. His knowledge of the arts was considerable ; and, as a patron of art, he stands foremost amongst all
British sovereigns to this hour. He said truly of himself, and wisely as to the principle, that he understood English law as well
as a gentleman ought to understand it; meaning that an attorney's minute knowledge of forms and technical niceties was illiberal.
Speaking of him as an author, we must remember that the Eikon Basilike is still unappropriated ; that question is still open. But
supposing the king’s claim negatived, still, in his controversy with Henderson, in his negotiations at the Isle of Wight and elsewhere,
he discovered a power of argument, a learning, and a strength of memory, which are truly admirable ; whilst the whole of his accom¬
plishments are recommended by a modesty and a humility as rare as they are unaffected.
SHAK SPEAR E.
173
nk- bulk of his plays collectively, the editions were not few:
■are. compared with any known case, the copies sold of Shak-
' speare were quite as many as could be expected under the
circumstances. Ten or fifteen times as much considera¬
tion went to the purchase of one great folio like Shakspeare,
as would attend the purchase of a little volume like Waller
or Donne. Without reviews, or newspapers, or advertise¬
ments to diffuse the knowledge of books, the progress of
literature was necessarily slow, and its expansion narrow.
But this is a topic which has always been treated unfairly,
not with regard to Shakspeare only, but to Milton, as well
as many others. The truth is, we have not facts enough
to guide us; for the number of editions often tells nothing
accurately as to the number of copies. With respect to
Shakspeare it is certain, that, had his masterpieces been
gathered into small volumes, Shakspeare would have had
a most extensive sale. As it was, there can be no doubt,
that from his own generation, throughout the seventeenth
century, and until the eighteenth began to accommodate,
not any greater popularity in Atm, but a greater taste for
reading in the public, his fame never ceased to be viewed
as a national trophy of honour ; and the most illustrious
men of the seventeenth century were no whit less fervent
in their admiration than those of the eighteenth and the
nineteenth, either as respected its strength and sincerity,
or as respected its open profession.1
It is therefore a false notion, that the general sympathy
with the merits of Shakspeare ever beat with a languid or
intermitting pulse. Undoubtedly, in times when the func¬
tions of critical journals and of newspapers were not at hand
to diffuse or to strengthen the impressions which emanated
from the capital, all opinions must have travelled slowly
into the provinces. But even then, whilst the perfect or¬
gans of communication were wanting, indirect substitutes
were supplied by the necessities of the times, or by the in¬
stincts of political zeal. Two channels especially lay open
between the great central organ of the national mind, and Shak-
the remotest provinces. Parliaments were occasionally sl)eare.
summoned (for the judges’ circuits were too brief to pro- ''■“—'v—■
duce much effect); and during their longest suspensions,
the nobility, with large retinues, continually resorted to the
court. But an intercourse more constant and more com¬
prehensive was maintained through the agency of the two
universities. Already, in the time of James I., the grow ing-
importance of the gentry, and the consequent birth of a
new interest in political questions, had begun to express it¬
self at Oxford, and still more so at Cambridge. Academic
persons stationed themselves as sentinels at London, for the
purpose of watching the court and the course of public af¬
fairs. These persons wrote letters, like those of the cele¬
brated Joseph Mede, which we find in Ellis’s Historical
Collections, reporting to their fellow-collegians all the no¬
velties of public life as they arose, or personally carried
down such reports, and thus conducted the general feelings
at the centre into lesser centres, from which again they
w ere diffused into the ten thousand parishes of England ;
for (with a very few exceptions in favour of poor benefices,
Welch or Cumbrian), every parish priest must unavoidably
have spent his three years at one or other of the English
universities. And by this mode of diffusion it is that we
can explain the strength with which Shakspeare’s thoughts
and diction impressed themselves from a very early period
upon the national literature, and even more generally upon
the national thinking and conversation.2 * * * * *
The question therefore revolves upon us in threefold dif¬
ficulty, How, having stepped thus prematurely into this in¬
heritance of fame, leaping, as it were, thus abruptly into
the favour alike of princes and the enemies of princes, had
it become possible that in his native place (honoured still
more in the final testimonies of his preference when found¬
ing a family mansion), such a man’s history, and the per¬
sonal recollections w hich cling so affectionately to the great
1 he necessity of compression obliges us to omit many arguments and references by which we could demonstrate the fact, that
Shakspeare s reputation was always in a progressive state ; allowing only for the interruption of about seventeen years, which this
poet, in common with all others, sustained, not so much from the state ot war (which did not fully occupy four of those years), as from
the triumph of a gloomy fanaticism. Deduct the twenty-three years of the seventeenth century which had elapsed before the
first folio appeared, to this space add seventeen years of fanatical madness, during fourteen of which a/l dramatic entertainments were
suppressed, the remainder is sixty years. And surely the sale of four editions of a vast folio in that space of time was an expres¬
sion of an abiding interest. JVo other poet, except Spenser, continued to sell throughout the century. Besides, in arguing the case of a
dramatic poet, we must bear in mind, that although readers of learned books might be diffused over the face of the land, the readers
of poetry would be chiefly concentred in the metropolis; and such persons would have no need to buy what they heard at the
theatres. But then comes the question, whether Shakspeare kept possession of the theatres. And we are really humiliated by the
gross want of sense which has been shown, by Malone chiefly, but also by many others, in discussing this question. From the Re¬
storation to 1682, says Malone, no more than four plays of Shakspeare’s were performed by a principal company in London. “ Such
was the lamentable taste of those times, that the plays of Fletcher, Jonson, and Shirley, were much oftener exhibited than those of
our author.” What cant is this ! If that taste were “ lamentable;’’ what are we to think of our own times, when plays a thousand
times below those of Fletcher, or even of Shirley, continually displace Shakspeare ? Shakspeare would himself have exulted in find¬
ing that he gave way only to dramatists so excellent. And, as we have before observed, both then and now, it is the very familiaritv
with Shakspeare which often banishes him from audiences honestly in quest of relaxation and amusement. Novelty is the very soul
of such relaxation ; but in our closets, when we are not unbending, when our minds are in a state of tension from intellectual cravings,
then it is that we resort to Shakspeare ; and oftentimes those who honour him most, like ourselves, are the most impatient of seeing
ms divine scenes disfigured by unequal representation (good, perhaps, in a single personation, bad in all the rest); or to hear his
divine thoughts mangled in the recitation ; or (which is worst of all) to hear them dishonoured and defeated by imperfect apprehen¬
sion in the audience, or by defective sympathy. Meantime, if one theatre played only four of Shakspeare’s dramas, another played
at least seven. But the grossest folly of Malone is, in fancying the numerous alterations so many insults to Shakspeare, whereas
they expressed as much homage to his memory as if the unaltered dramas had been retained. The substance -was retained. The
changes were merely concessions to the changing views of scenical propriety; sometimes, no doubt, made with a simple view to the
revolution effected by Davenant at the restoration, in bringing scenes (in the painter’s sense) upon the stage; sometimes also with
a view to the altered fashions of the audience during the suspensions of the action, or perhaps to the introduction of after.pieces,
by which, of course, the time was abridged for the main performance. A volume might be written upon this subject. Meantime
e us never be told, that a poet was losing, or had lost his ground, who found in his lowest depression, amongst his almost idola¬
trous supporters, a great king distracted by civil wars, a mighty republican poet distracted by puritanical fanaticism, the greatest
successor by far of that great poet, a papist and a bigoted royalist, and finally, the leading actor of the century, who gave and re¬
flected the ruling impulses of his age. ^ 8
One of the profoundest tests by which we can measure the congeniality of an author with the national genius and temper, is the
uegree in which his thoughts or his phrases interweave themselves with our daily conversation, and pass into the currency of the
anguage. Few French authors, if any, have imparted one phrase to the colloquial idiom ; with respect to Shakspeare, a large dictionary might,
e ma e of such phrases as “ win golden opinions,” “ in my mind’s eye,” “ patience on a monument,” o’erstep the modesty of
id ure, more honour d in the breach than in the observance,” “ palmy state,” “ my poverty and not my will consents,” and so
or , without end. This reinforcement of the general language, by aids from the mintage of Shakspeare, had already commenced in
the seventeenth century. n c -■ „ e j j
174
SHAK SPEAR E.
Siiak-
epeare.
intellectual potentates who have recommended themselves
by gracious manners, could so soon and so utterly have
been obliterated ?
Malone, with childish irreflection, ascribes the loss of
such memorials to the want of enthusiasm in his admirers.
Local researches into private history had not then com¬
menced. Such a taste, often petty enough in its manage¬
ment, was the growth of after-ages. Else how came Spen¬
ser’s life and fortunes to be so utterly overwhelmed in ob¬
livion ? No poet of a high order could be more popular.
The answer we believe to be this: Twenty-six years after
Shakspeare’s death commenced the great parliamentary war:
this it was, and the local feuds arising to divide family from
family, brother from brother, upon which we must charge
the extinction of traditions and memorials, doubtless abun¬
dant up to that era. The parliamentary contest, it will be
said, did not last above three years; the king’s standard
having been first raised at Nottingham in August 164-2,
and the battle of Naseby (which terminated the open war¬
fare) having been fought in June 1645. Or even it we ex¬
tend its duration to the surrender of the last garrison, that
war terminated in the spring of 1646. And the brief explo¬
sions of insurrection or of Scottish invasion which occurred
on subsequent occasions were all locally confined; and none
came near to Warwickshire, except the battle of W orcester,
more than five years after. This is true ; but a short war will
do much to efface recent and merely personal memorials.
And the following circumstances of the w ar were even more
important than the general fact.
First of all, the very mansion founded by Shakspeare be¬
came the military head-quarters for the queen in 1644, when
marching from the eastern coast of England to join the king
in Oxford; and one such special visitation would be likely
to do more serious mischief in the way of extinction, than
many years of general warfare. Secondly, as a fact, perhaps,
equally important, Birmingham, the chieftown of Warwick¬
shire, and the adjacent district, the seat of our hardware ma¬
nufactures, was the very focus of disaffection towards the
royal cause. Not only/therefore, would this whole region
suffer more from internal and spontaneous agitation, but
it would be the more frequently traversed vindictively from
without, and harassed by flying parties from Oxford, or
others of the king’s garrisons. Thirdly, even apart from the
political aspects of Warwickshire, this county happens to be
the central one of England, as regards the roads between
the north and south; and Birmingham has long been the
great central axis,1 in which all the radii from the four
angles of England proper meet and intersect. Mere acci¬
dent, therefore, of local position, much more when united
with that avowed inveteracy of malignant feeling, which
was bitter enough to rouse a re-action of bitterness in the
mind of Lord Clarendon, would go far to account for the
wreck of many memorials relating to Shakspeare, as well
as for the subversion of that quiet and security for humble
life, in which the traditional memory finds its best nidus.
Thus we obtain one solution, and perhaps the main one,
of the otherwise mysterious oblivion which had swept away
all traces of the mighty poet, by the time when those
quiet days revolved upon England, in which again the so¬
litary agent of learned research might roam in security
from house to house, gleaning those personal remembran¬
ces which, even in the fury of civil strife, might long have
lingered by the chimney corner. But the fierce furnace
of war had probably, by its local ravages, scorched this
field of natural tradition, and thinned the gleaner’s inheri¬
tance by three parts out of four. This, we repeat, may
be one part of the solution to this difficult problem.
And if another is still demanded, possibly it may be found
in the fact, hostile to the perfect consecration of Shakspeare’s
memory, that after all he was a player. Many a coarse-mind¬
ed country gentleman, or village pastor, who would have
held his town glorified by the distinction of having sent forth
a great judge or an eminent bishop, might disdain to cherish
the personal recollections which surrounded one whom cus¬
tom regarded as little above a mountebank, and the illiberal
law as a vagabond. The same degrading appreciation at¬
tached both to the actor in plays and to their author. 1 he
contemptuous appellation of “ play book, served as readily
to degrade the mighty volume which contained Lear and
Hamlet, as that of “ play-actor,” or “ player-man,” has al¬
ways served with the illiberal or tbe fanatical to dishonour
the persons of Roscius or of Garrick, of Talma or of Sid-
dons. Nobody, indeed, was better aware of this than the
noble-minded Shakspeare; and feelingly he has breathed
forth in his sonnets this conscious oppression under which
he lay of public opinion, unfavourable by a double title to
his own pretensions; for, being both dramatic author and
dramatic performer, he found himself heir to a two-fold op¬
probrium, and at an era of English society when the weight
of that opprobrium was heaviest. In reality, there was at
this period a collision of forces acting in opposite directions
upon the estimation of the stage and scenical art, and there¬
fore of all the ministers in its equipage. Puritanism frowned
upon these pursuits, as ruinous to public morals; on the
other hand, loyalty could not but tolerate what was patro¬
nized by the sovereign; and it happened that Elizabeth,
James, and Charles I., were all alike lovers and promoters
of theatrical amusements, which were indeed more indis¬
pensable to the relief of court ceremony, and the monotony
of aulic pomp, than in any other region of life. This royal
support, and the consciousness that any brilliant success in
these arts implied an unusual share of natural endowments,
did something in mitigation of a scorn which must else have
been intolerable to all generous natures.
But whatever prejudice might thus operate against the
perfect sanctity of Shakspeare’s posthumous reputation, it
is certain that the splendour of his worldly success must
have done much to obliterate that effect; his admirable col¬
loquial talents a good deal, and his gracious affability still
more. The wonder therefore will still remain, that Better-
ton, in less than a century from his death, should have
been able to glean so little. And for the solution of this
wonder we must throw ourselves chiefly upon the expla¬
nations we have made as to the parliamentary war, and
the local ravages of its progress in the very district, of the
very town, and the very house.
If further arguments are still wanted to explain this mys¬
terious abolition, we may refer the reader to the following
succession of disastrous events, by which it should seem
that a perfect malice of misfortune pursued the vestiges of
the mighty poet’s steps. In 1613, the Globe theatre, with
which he liad been so long connected, was burned to the
ground. Soon afterwards a great fire occurred in Stratford;
and next (without counting upon the fire of London, just
fifty years after his death, which, however, would consume
many an important record from periods far more remote),
the house of Ben Jonson, in which probably, as Mr Camp¬
bell suggests, might be parts of his correspondence, was
also burned. Finally, there was an old tradition that Lady
Barnard, the sole grand-daughter of Shakspeare, had carried
off many of his papers from Stratford; and these papers have
never since been traced.
In many of the elder lives it has been asserted, that
John Shakspeare, the father of the poet, was a butcher,
1 In fact bv way of representing to himself the system or scheme of the English roads, the reader has only to imagine one grea
letter X, or a" St Andrew’s cross, laid down from north to south, and decussating at Birmingham. Even Coventry, which makes
a slight variation for one or two roads, and so far disturbs this decussation, by shifting it eastwards, is still in Warwickshire.
S H A K S P E A R E.
!3bak-
peare.
and in others that he was a woolstapler. It is now settled
beyond dispute that he was a glover. This was his pro-
"'fessed occupation in Stratford, though it is certain that,
with this leading trade, from which he took his denomina¬
tion, he combined some collateral pursuits ; and it is possi¬
ble enough that, as openings offered, he may have meddled
with many. In that age, and in a provincial town, nothing
like the exquisite subdivision of labour was attempted which
we now see realized in the great cities of Christendom.
And one trade is often found to play into another with so
much reciprocal advantage, that even in our own days we
do not much wonder at an enterprising man, in country
places, who combines several in his own person. Accord¬
ingly John Shakspeare is known to have united with his
town calling the rural and miscellaneous occupations of a
farmer.
Meantime his avowed business stood upon a very differ¬
ent footing from the same trade as it is exercised in mo¬
dern times. Gloves were in that age an article of dress
more costly by much, and more elaborately decorated,
than in our own. They were a customary present from
some cities to the judges of assize, and to other official per¬
sons ; a custom of ancient standing, and in some places, w e
believe, still subsisting; and in such cases it is reasonable
to suppose that the gloves must originally have been more
valuable than the trivial modern article of the same name.
So also, perhaps, in their origin, of the gloves given at fu¬
nerals. In reality, whenever the simplicity of an age makes
it difficult to renew the parts of a wardrobe except in capi¬
tal towns of difficult access, prudence suggests that such
wares should be manufactured of more durable materials ;
and, being so, they become obviously susceptible of more
lavish ornament. But it will not follow, from this essential
difference in the gloves of Shakspeare’s age, that the glo¬
ver’s occupation was more lucrative. Doubtless he sold
more costly gloves, and upon each pair had a larger profit
but for that very reason he sold fewer. Two or three gen¬
tlemen “ of worship” in the neighbourhood might occa¬
sionally require a pair of gloves, but it is very doubtful
whether any inhabitant of Stratford would ever call for so
mere a luxury.
The practical result, at all events, of John Shakspeare’s
various pursuits does not appear permanently to have met
the demands of his establishment; and in his maturer years
there are indications still surviving that he was under a
cloud of embarrassment. He certainly lost at one time
his social position in the town of Stratford ; but there is a
strong presumption, in oi/fr construction of the case, that
lie finally retrieved it; and for this retrieval of a station
which he had forfeited by personal misfortunes or neglect,
he was altogether indebted to the filial piety of his immor¬
tal son.
Meantime the earlier years of the elder Shakspeare wore
the aspect of rising prosperity, however unsound might be
the basis on which it rested. There can be little doubt
that William Shakspeare, from his birth up to his tenth or
perhaps his eleventh year, lived in careless plenty, and saw
notning in his father’s house but that style of liberal house¬
keeping which has ever distinguished the upper yeomanry
and the rural gentry of England. Probable enough it is
t lat the resources for meeting this liberality wrere not strict-
y commensurate with the family income, but were some¬
times allowed to entrench, by means of loans or mortgages,
upon capital funds. The stress upon the family finances
was perhaps at times severe ; and that it was borne at all,
must be imputed to the large and even splendid portion
winch John Shakspeare received with his wife.
I his lady, for such she really was in an eminent sense,
by birth as well as by connections, bore the beautiful name
of Mary Arden, a name derived from the ancient forest
district1 of the county ; and doubtless she merits a more ela¬
borate notice than our slender materials will furnish. To
have been the mother of Shakspeare,—how august a title to
the reverence of infinite generations, and of centuries be¬
yond the vision of prophecy. A plausible hypothesis has
been started in modern times, that the facial structure, and
that the intellectual conformation, may be deduced more
frequently from the corresponding characteristics in the
mother than in the father. It is certain that no very great
man has ever existed, but that his greatness has been re¬
hearsed and predicted in one or other of his parents. And
it cannot be denied, that in the most eminent men, where
we have had the means of pursuing the investigation, the
mother has more frequently been repeated and reproduced
than the father. We have known cases where the mother
has furnished all the intellect, and the father all the moral
sensibility; upon which assumption, the wonder ceases that
Cicero, Lord Chesterfield, and other brilliant men, who
took the utmost pains with their sons, should have failed so
conspicuously; for possibly the mothers had been women
of excessive and even exemplary stupidity. In the case of
Shakspeare, each parent, if we had any means of recover¬
ing their characteristics, could not fail to furnish a study
of the most profound interest; and w ith regard to his mo¬
ther in particular, if the modern hypothesis be true, and if
we are indeed to deduce from her the stupendous intellect
of her son, in that case she must have been a benefactress
to her husband’s family beyond the promises of fairyland or
the dreams of romance ; for it is certain that to her chiefly
this family was also indebted for their worldly comfort.
Mary Arden was the youngest daughter and the heiress
of Robert Arden of Wilmecote, Esq. in the county of War¬
wick. Ihe family of Arden was even then of great anti-
quity. About one century and a quarter before the birth
of V\ illiam Shakspeare, a person bearing the same name
as his maternal grandfather had been returned by the
commissioners in their list of the Warwickshire gentry ; he
was there styled Robert Arden, Esq. of Bromich. This
was m 1433, or the 12th year of Henry VI. In Henry
\ II.’s reign, the Ardens received a grant of lands from
the crown ; and in 1568, four years after the birth of
William Shakspeare, Edward Arden, of the same family,
wras sheriff of the county. Mary Arden was therefore a
young lady of excellent descent and connections, and an
heiress of considerable wealth. She brought to her hus¬
band, as her marriage portion, the landed estate of As-
bies, which, upon any just valuation, must be considered as
a handsome dowry for a woman of her station. As this point
has been contested, and as it goes a great way towards de¬
termining the exact social position of the poet’s parents,
let us be excused for sifting it a little more narrowly than
might else seem warranted by the proportions of our pre¬
sent life. Every question which it can be reasonable to
raise at all, it must be reasonable to treat with at least so
much of minute research as may justify the conclusions
which it is made to support.
1 he estate of Asbies contained fifty acres of arable land,
six of meadow, and a right of commonage. What may we
assume to have been the value of its fee-simple ? Malone,
w ho allows the total fortune of Mary Arden to have been
L. 110. 13s. 4d., is sure that the value of Asbies could not
have been more than one hundred pounds. But why ? Be¬
cause, says he, the “ average” rent of land at that time was
no more than three shillings per acre. This we deny; but
1 fD
Simk-
S(>eare.
for eter\^'n!oSf AC?edi- buV ?°mt. remote ancestor who had emigrated from the forest of Ardennes, in the Netherlands, and
ntmoraule to Anghsh ears from its proximity to Waterloo.
176
SHAK SPEAR E.
Shak-
speare.
upon that assumption, the total yearly rent of fifty-six
acres would be exactly eight guineas.1 And therefore, in
assigning the value of Asbies at one hundred pounds, it
appears that Malone must have estimated the land at no
more than twelve years’ purchase, which would carry the
value to L.100. 16s. “ Even at this estimate,” as the latest
annotator2 on this subject justly observes, “ Mary Arden s
portion was a larger one than was usually given to a land¬
ed gentleman’s daughter.” But this writer objects to Ma¬
lone’s principle of valuation. “We find,” says he, “ that
John Shakspeare also farmed the meadow of lugton, con¬
taining sixteen acres, at the rate of eleven shillings per
acre. Now what proof has Mr Malone adduced that the
acres of Asbies were not as valuable as those of Tug-
ton ? And if they were so, the former estate must-have
been worth between three and four hundred pounds. In
the main drift of his objections we concur with Mr Camp¬
bell. But as they are liable to some criticism, let us clear
the ground of all plausible cavils, and then see what will be
the result. Malone, had he been alive, would probably
have answered, that Tugton was a farm specially privileged
by nature ; and that if any man contended for so unusual
a rent as eleven shillings an acre for land not known to
him, the onus probandi would lie upon him. Be it so ;
eleven shillings is certainly above the ordinary level of
rent, but three shillings is below it. We contend, that for
tolerably good land, situated advantageously, that is, with
a ready access to good markets and good fairs, such as
those of Coventry, Birmingham, Gloucester, Worcester,
Shrewsbury, &c., one noble might be assumed as the an¬
nual rent; and that in such situations twenty years’ pur¬
chase was not a valuation, even in Elizabeth’s reign, very
unusual. Let us, however, assume the rent at only five
shillings, and land at sixteen years’ purchase: upon this
basis, the rent would be L.IT, and the value of the fee-
simple L.224. Now, if it were required to equate that sum
with its present value, a very operose3 calculation might be
requisite. But contenting ourselves with the gross me¬
thod of making such equations between 1560 and the cur¬
rent century, that is, multiplying by five, we shall find the
capital value of the estate to be eleven hundred and twen¬
ty pounds, whilst the annual rent would be exactly seven¬
ty. But if the estate had been sold, and the purchase-
money lent upon mortgage (the only safe mode of invest¬
ing money at that time), the annual interest would have
reached L.28, equal to L.140 of modern money; for mort¬
gages in Elizabeth’s age readily produced ten per cent.
A woman who should bring at this day an annual income
of L.I40 to a provincial tradesman, living in a sort of rus in
urbe, according to the simple fashions of rustic life, would
assuredly be considered as an excellent match. And there
can be little doubt that Mary Arden’s dowry it was which,
for some ten or a dozen years succeeding to his marriage,
raised her husband to so much social consideration in Strat¬
ford. In 1550 John Shakspeare is supposed to have first
settled in Stratford, having migrated from some Other part
of Warwickshire. In 1557 he married Mary Arden ; in
1565, the year subsequent to the birth of his son William,
his third child, he was elected one of the aldermen ; and in
the year 1568 he became first magistrate of the town, by
the title of high bailiff. This year we may assume to have
been that in which the prosperity of this family reached its
zenith; for in this year it was, over and above the presump¬
tions furnished by his civic honours, that he obtained a
grant of arms from Clarencieux of the Heralds College.
On this occasion he declared himself worth five hundred
pounds derived from his ancestors. And we really cannot
understand the right by which critics, living, nearly three
centuries from his time, undertake to know his affaiis bet¬
ter than himself, and to tax him with either inaccuracy or
falsehood. No man would be at leisure to court heraldic
honours when he knew himself to be embarrassed, or ap¬
prehended that he soon might be so. A man whose anxie¬
ties had been fixed at all upon his daily livelihood would,
by this chase after the aerial honours of heraldry, have
made himself a butt for ridicule such as no fortitude could
enable him to sustain.
In 1568, therefore, when his son William would be mov¬
ing through his fifth year, John Shakspeare (now honour¬
ed by the designation of Master) would be found at times
in the society of the neighbouring gentry. Ten years in
advance of this period he was already in difficulties. But
there is no proof that these difficulties had then reached a
point of degradation, or of memorable distress. The sole
positive indications of his decaying condition are, that in
1578 he received an exemption from the small weekly as¬
sessment levied upon the aldermen of Strattord for the re¬
lief of the poor; and that in the following year, 1579, he
is found enrolled amongst the defaulters in the payment of
taxes. The latter fact undoubtedly goes to prove that, like
every man who is falling back in the world, he was occa¬
sionally in arrears. Paying taxes is not like the honours
awarded or the processions regulated by Clarencieux ; no
man is ambitious of precedency there; and if a laggard
pace in that duty is to be received as evidence of pauper¬
ism, nine tenths of the English people might occasionally
be classed as paupers. With respect to his liberation from
the weekly assessment, that may bear a construction dif¬
ferent from the one which it has received. This payment,
which could never have been regarded as a burthen, not
amounting to five pounds annually of our present mone),
may have been held up as an exponent of wealth and con¬
sideration ; and John Shakspeare may have been required
to resign it as an honourable distinction, not suitable to the
circumstances of an embarrassed man. Finally, the fact ot
his being indebted to Robert Sadler, a baker, in the sum
of five pounds, and his being under the necessity of bring¬
ing a friend as security for the payment, proves nothing at
I T At not the reader impute to us the gross anachronism of making an estimate for Shakspeare’s days in a coin which did not exist
1-ffoAnt,,rv wRHn a cSunle of years, after Shakspeare’s birth, and did not settle to the value of twenty-one shillings until a century
and ’^it^o^could’such
r Thomas Campbell the poet, in his eloquent Remarks on the Life and Writings of William Shakspeare, piefixe o a pop
el^ alf theTas^istance^given^o sJch^quationsbetween different times or different places by Sir George Shuckborough’s tables,
1 u Similar investigations it is still a very difficult problem, complex, and, after all, merely tentative in the results, to assign
the true value in such cases; not only for the obvious reason, that the powers of money have varied in diff!^nt ^rv
tne true va . , • a;frprpnt decrees where the direction has on the whole continued the same, but because tne verj
'Sts to be Sei indetermhiate^and vary so much, not only as regards century and century, kingdom and
objects to be taken into compmauo^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ as regards rank and rank. That which is a mere necessary to
kl,eSC s a’luxurious superfluity to another. And, in order to ascertain these differences, it is an indispensable qualification to hav
studied the habits am’ customs of the several classes concerned, together with the variations of those habits and customs.
S H A K S F E A R E.
isk- all. There is not a town in Europe in which opulent men
eare. cannot be found that are backward in the payment of their
[•v—' debts. And the probability is, that Master Sadler acted
like most people who, when they suppose a man to be
•roing down in the world, feel their respect for him sen¬
sibly decaying, and think it wise to trample him under foot,
provided only in that act of trampling they can squeeze out
of him their own individual debt. Like that terrific chorus
in Spohr’s oratorio of St Paul, “ stone him to death” is the
cry of the selfish and the illiberal amongst creditors, alike
towards the just and the unjust amongst debtors.
It was the wise and beautiful prayer of Agar, “ Give me
neither poverty nor riches and, doubtless, for quiet, for
peace, and the latentis semita vitae, that is the happiest dis¬
pensation. But, perhaps, with a view to a school of disci¬
pline and of moral fortitude, it might be a more salutary
prayer, “ Give me riches and poverty, and afterwards nei¬
ther.” For the transitional state between riches and po¬
verty will teach a lesson both as to the baseness and the
goodness of human nature, and will impress that lesson with
a searching force, such as no borrowed experience ever can
approach. Most probable it is that Shakspeare drew- some
of his powerful scenes in the Timon of Athens, those
w'hich exhibit the vileness of ingratitude and the impas¬
sioned frenzy of misanthropy, from his personal recollec¬
tions connected with the case of his own father. Possibly,
though a cloud of 270 years now veils it, this very Master
Sadler, who was so urgent for his five pounds, and who so
little apprehended that he should be called over the coals
for it in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, may have sate for the
portrait of that Lucullus who says of Timon—
Alas, good lord! a noble gentle¬
man ’tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and
often I have dined with him, and told him on’t; and come again to
supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less: and yet he would
embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man
has his fault, and honesty is his; I have told him on’t, but I could
never get him from it.
For certain years, perhaps, John Shakspeare moved on
in darkness and sorrow :
His familiars from his buried fortunes
Slunk all away ; left their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick’d: and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn’d poverty,
Walk’d, like contempt, alone.
We, however, at this day are chiefly interested in the
case as it bears upon the education and youthful happiness
of the poet. Now if we suppose that from 1568, the high
noon of the family prosperity, to 1578, the first year of
their mature embarrassments, one half the interval was
passed in stationary sunshine, and the latter half in the gra¬
dual twilight of declension, it will follow that the young
William had completed his tenth year before he heard the
first signals of distress; and for so long a period his edu¬
cation would probably be conducted on as liberal a scale as
the resources of Stratford would allow. Through this earli¬
est section of his life he would undoubtedly rank as a gen¬
tleman’s son, possibly as the leader of his class, in Stratford.
But what rank he held through the next ten years, or, more
generally, what was the standing in society of Shakspeare
until he had created a new station for himself by his own
exertions in the metropolis, is a question yet unsettled, but
which has been debated as keenly as if it had some great
dependencies. Upon this we shall observe, that could we
by possibility be called to settle beforehand what rank were
best for favouring the development of intellectual powers,
the question might wear a face of deep practical import¬
ance ; but when the question is simply as to a matter of
fact, what was the rank held by a man whose intellectual
development has long ago been completed, this becomes a
VOL. xx.
177
mere question of curiosity. The tree has fallen ; it is con- Shak-
fessedly the noblest of all the forest; and we must there- speare.
fore conclude that the soil in which it flourished was either
the best possible, or, if not so, that any thing bad in its pro¬
perties had been disarmed and neutralized by the vital .i
forces of the plant, or by the benignity of nature. If any
future Shakspeare were likely to arise, it might be a pro¬
blem of great interest to agitate, whether the condition of
a poor man or of a gentleman were best fitted to nurse and
stimulate his faculties. But for the actual Shakspeare, since
what he was he was, and since nothing greater can be ima¬
gined, it is now become a matter of little moment whether
his course lay for fifteen or twenty years through the hu¬
milities of absolute poverty, or through the chequered paths
of gentry lying in the shade. Whatever was, must, in this
case at least, have been the best, since it terminated in pro¬
ducing Shakspeare ; and thus far we must all be optimists.
Yet still, it will be urged, the curiosity is not illiberal
which would seek to ascertain the precise career through
which Shakspeare ran. This vve readily concede ; and we
are anxious ourselves to contribute any thing in our power
to the settlement of a point so obscure. What we have
wished to protest against is the spirit of partisanship in
which this question has too generally been discussed. For,
whilst some with a foolish affectation of plebeian sympathies
overwhelm us with the insipid commonplaces about birth
and ancient descent, as honours containing nothing merito¬
rious, and rush eagerly into an ostentatious exhibition of all
the circumstances which favour the notion of a humble sta¬
tion and humble connections ; others, with equal forgetful¬
ness of true dignity, plead with the intemperance and par¬
tiality of a legal advocate for the pretensions of Shakspeare
to the hereditary rank of gentleman. Both parties violate
the majesty of the subject. When we are seeking for the
sources of the Euphrates or the St Lawrence, we look for
no proportions to the mighty volume of waters in that par¬
ticular summit amongst the chain of mountains which em¬
bosoms its earliest fountains, nor are we shocked at the
obscurity of these fountains. Pursuing the career of Ma-
hommed, or of any man who has memorably impressed his
own mind or agency upon the revolutions of mankind, w^e
feel solicitude about the circumstances which might sur¬
round his cradle to be altogether unseasonable and imperti¬
nent. Whether he were born in a hovel or a palace, whe¬
ther he passed his infancy in squalid poverty, or hedged
around by the glittering spears of body-guards, as mere
questions of fact may be interesting; but, in the light of
either accessories or counteragencies to the native majesty
of the subject, are trivial and below all philosophic valuation.
So w ith regard to the creator of Lear and Hamlet, of Othel¬
lo and Macbeth; to him from whose golden urns the na¬
tions beyond the far Atlantic, the multitude of the isles,
and the generations unborn in Australian climes, even to
the realms ot the rising sun (the umrohat ^sX/c/o), must in
every age draw perennial streams of intellectual life, we feel
that the little accidents of birth and social condition are so
unspeakably below the grandeur of the theme, are so irrele¬
vant and disproportioned to the real interest at issue, so in¬
commensurable with any of its relations, that a biographer
of Shakspeare at once denounces himself as below his sub¬
ject if he can entertain such a question as seriously affecting
the glory of the poet. In some legends of saints, we find
that they were born with a lambent circle or golden aureola
about their heads. This angelic coronet shed light alike upon
the chambers of a cottage or a palace, upon the gloomy limits
of a dungeon or the vast expansion of a cathedral; but the
cottage, the palace, the dungeon, the cathedral, were all
equally incapable of adding one ray of colour or one pencil
of light to the supernatural halo.
Having therefore thus pointedly guarded ourselves from
misconstruction, and consenting to entertain the question
SHAKSPEARE.
178
Shak- as one in which we, the worshippers of Shakspeare, have an
speare. interest of curiosity, but in which he, the object of our wor-
^ Y~"^ship, has no interest of glory, we proceed to state what ap¬
pears to us the result of the scanty facts surviving when
collated with each other.
By his mother’s side, Shakspeare was an authentic gen¬
tleman. By his father’s he would have stood in a more
dubious position ; but the effect of municipal honours to
raise and illustrate an equivocal rank has always been ac¬
knowledged under the popular tendencies of our English
political system. From the sort of lead, therefore, which
John Shakspeare took at one time amongst his fellow-towns¬
men, and from his rank of first magistrate, we may pre¬
sume that, about the year 1568, he had placed himself at
the head of the Stratford community. Afterwards he con¬
tinued for some years to descend from this altitude; and
the question is, at what point this gradual degradation may
be supposed to have settled. Now we shall avow it as our
opinion, that the composition of society in Stratford was
such that, even had the Shakspeare family maintained their
superiority, the main body of their daily associates must
still have been found amongst persons below the rank of
gentry. The poet must inevitably have mixed chiefly
with mechanics and humble tradesmen, for such people
composed perhaps the total community. But had there
even been a gentry in Stratford, since they would have
marked the distinctions of their rank chiefly by greater re¬
serve of manners, it is probable that, after all, Shakspeare,
with his enormity of delight in exhibitions of human na¬
ture, would have mostly cultivated that class of society in
which the feelings are more elementary and simple, in
which the thoughts speak a plainer language, and in which
the restraints of factitious or conventional decorum are ex¬
changed for the restraints of mere sexual decency. It is a
noticeable fact to all who have looked upon human life w ith
an eye of strict attention, that the abstract image of wo¬
manhood, in its loveliness, its delicacy, and its modesty,
nowhere makes itself more impressive or more advanta¬
geously felt than in the humblest cottages, because it is
there brought into immediate juxtaposition with the gross¬
ness of manners and the careless license of language inci¬
dent to the fathers and brothers of the house. And this is
more especially true in a nation of unaffected sexual gal¬
lantry,1 * * * such as the English and the Gothic races in gene¬
ral ; since, under the immunity which their women enjoy
from all servile labours of a coarse or out-of-doors order, by
as much lower as they descend in the scale of rank, by so
much more do they benefit under the force of contrast with
the men of their own level. A young man of that class,
however noble in appearance, is somewhat degraded in the
eyes of women, by the necessity which his indigence im¬
poses of working under a master; but a beautiful young
woman, in the very poorest family, unless she enters upon Sta;
a life of domestic servitude (in which case her labours are sPe®
light, suited to her sex, and withdrawn from the public eye), V'“"v
so long in fact as she stays under her father’s roof, is as per¬
fectly her own mistress and sui juris as the daughter of an
earl. This personal dignity, brought into stronger relief by
the mercenary employments of her male connections, and
the feminine gentleness of her voice and manners, exhibit¬
ed under the same advantages of contrast, oftentimes com¬
bine to make a young cottage beauty as fascinating an ob¬
ject as any woman of any station.
Hence we may in part account for the great event of
Shakspeare’s early manhood, his premature marriage. It
has always been known, or at least traditionally received for
a fact, that Shakspeare had married whilst yet a boy ; and
that his wife was unaccountably older than himself. In the
very earliest biographical sketch of the poet, compiled by
Rowe, from materials collected by Betterton the actor, it
was stated (and that statement is now ascertained to have
been correct), that he had married Anne Hathaway, “ the
daughter of a substantial yeoman.” Further than this no¬
thing was known. But in September 1836 was published a
very remarkable document, which gives the assurance of
law to the time and fact of this event, yet still, unless col¬
lated with another record, does nothing to lessen the mys¬
tery which had previously surrounded its circumstances.
This document consists of two parts: the first, and princi¬
pal, according to the logic of the case, though second ac¬
cording to the arrangement, being a licetise for the marriage
of William Shakspeare with Anne Hathaway, under the ,
condition “ of once asking of the bannes of matrimony,”
that is, in effect, dispensing with two out of the three cus¬
tomary askings ; the second or subordinate part of the do¬
cument being a bond entered into by two sureties, viz. Fulke
Sandells and John Rychardson, both described as agricolce
or yeomen, and both marksmen (that is, incapable of writing,
and therefore subscribing by means of marks), for the pay¬
ment of forty pounds sterling, in the event of Shakspeare,
yet a minor, and incapable of binding himself, failing to
fulfil the conditions of the license. In the bond, drawn up
in Latin, there is no mention of Shakspeare’s name ; but in
the license, which is altogether English, his name, of course,
stands foremost; and as it may gratify the reader to see
the very words and orthography of the original, we here
extract the operative part of this document, prefacing only,
that the license is attached by way of explanation to the
bond. “ The condition of this obligation is suche, that if
herafter there shall not appere any lawfull letter impediment,
by reason of any precontract, &c., but that Willm. Shag-
spere, one thone ptie” [on the one party), “ and Anne
Hathwey of Stratford, in the diocess of Worcester, maiden,
may lawfully solemnize matrimony together; and in the
1 Never was the esse quam videri in any point more strongly discriminated than in this very point of gallantry to the female sex,
as between England and France. In France, the verbal homage to woman is so excessive as to betray its real purpose, viz. that
it is a mask for secret contempt. In England, little is said; but, in the mean time, we allow our sovereign ruler to be a woman ;
which in France is impossible. Even that fact is of some importance, but less so than what follows. In every country whatso¬
ever, if any principle has a deep root in the moral feelings of the people, we may rely upon its showing itself, by a thousand evi¬
dences, amongst the very lowest ranks, and in their daily intercourse, and their undress manners. Now in England there is, and
always has been, a manly feeling, most widely diffused, of unwillingness to see labours of a coarse order, or requiring muscular
exertions, thrown upon women. Pauperism, amongst other evil effects, has sometimes locally disturbed this predominating sentiment
of Englishmen ; but never at any time with such depth as to kill the root of the old hereditary manliness. Sometimes at this day a
gentleman, either from carelessness, or from over-ruling force of convenience, or from real defect of gallantry, will allow a female
servant to carry his portmanteau for him ; though, after all, that spectacle is a rare one. And everywhere women of all ages engage
in the pleasant, nay elegant, labours of the hay field ; but in Great Britain women are never suffered to mow, which is a most ath¬
letic and exhausting labour, nor to load a cart, nor to drive a plough or hold it. In France, on the other hand, before the Revolution
(at which period thejiseudo-homage, the lip-honour, was far more ostentatiously professed towards the female sex than at present),
a Frenchman of credit, and vouching for his statement by the whole weight of his name and personal responsibility (M. Simond,
now an American citizen), records the following abominable scene as one of no uncommon occurrence : A woman was in some pro¬
vinces yoked side by side with an ass to the plough or the harrow ; and M. Simond protests that it excited no horror to see the driver
distributing his lashes impartially between the woman and her brute yoke-fellow. So much for the wordy pomps of French gallantry.
In England, we trust, and we believe, that any man, caught in such a situation, and in such an abuse of his power (supposing the case
otherwise a possible one), would be killed on the spot.
SHAK SPEAR E.
same afterwards remaine and continew like man and wiffe.
And, moreover, if the said Willm. Shagspere do not pro¬
ceed to solemnization of mariadg with the said Anne Hath-
wey, without the consent of hir frinds ;—then the said obli¬
gation” [viz. to pay forty pounds] “ to be voyd and of none
effect, or els to stand & abide in full force and vertue.”
What are we to think of this document ? Trepidation
and anxiety are written upon its face. The parties are not
to be married by a special license; not even by an ordi¬
nary license ; in that case no proclamation of banns, no
public asking at all, would have been requisite. Economi-*
cal scruples are consulted; and yet the regular movement of
the marriage “ through the bell-ropes”1 is disturbed. Econo¬
my, which retards the marriage, is here evidently in colli¬
sion with some opposite principle which precipitates it. How
is all this to be explained ? Much light is afforded by the
date when illustrated by another document. The bond bears
date on the 28th day of November in the 25th year of our
lady the queen, that is, in 1582. Now the baptism of Shak-
speare’s eldest child, Susanna, is registered on the 26th of
May in the year following. Suppose, therefore, that his
marriage was solemnized on the 1 st day of December; it
was barely possible that it could be earlier, considering that
the sureties, drinking, perhaps, at Worcester throughout the
28th of November, would require the 29th, in so dreary a
season, for their return to Stratford ; after which some pre¬
paration might be requisite to the bride, since the marriage
was not celebrated at Stratford. Next suppose the birth
of Miss Susanna to have occurred, like her father’s, two
days before her baptism, viz. on the 24th of May. From
December the 1st to May the 24th, both days inclusively,
are 175 days; which, divided by seven, gives precisely
twenty-five weeks, that is to say, six months short by one
week. Oh, fie, Miss Susanna, you came rather before you
were wanted.
Mr Campbell’s comment upon the affair is, that “ if this
was the case,” viz. if the baptism were really solemnized on
the 26th of May, “ the poet’s first child wmuld appear to
have been born only six months and eleven days after the
bond was entered into.” And he then concludes that, on
this assumption, “ Miss Susanna Shakspeare came into the
world a little prematurely.” But this is to doubt where
there never was any ground for doubting ; the baptism was
certainly on the 26th of May; and, in the next place, the
calculation of six months and eleven days is sustained by
substituting lunar months for calendar, and then only by
supposing the marriage to have been celebrated on the very
day of subscribing the bond in Worcester, and the baptism
to have been coincident with the birth; of which supposi¬
tions the latter is improbable, and the former, considering
the situation of Worcester, impossible.
Strange it is, that, whilst all biographers have worked
with so much zeal upon the most barren dates or most
baseless traditions in the great poet’s life, realising in a man¬
ner the chimeras of Laputa, and endeavouring “ to extract
sunbeams from cucumbers,” such a story with regard to such
an event, no fiction of village scandal, but involved in legal
documents, a story so significant and so eloquent to the in¬
telligent, should formerly have been dismissed without no¬
tice of any kind, and even now, after the discovery of 1836,
with nothing beyond a slight conjectural insinuation. For
our parts, we should have been the last amongst the biogra¬
phers to unearth any forgotten scandal, or, after so vast a
lapse of time, and when the grave had shut out all but charit¬
able thoughts, to point any moral censures at a simple case of
natural frailty, youthful precipitancy of passion, of all tres¬
passes the most venial, where the final intentions are honour¬
able. But in this case there seems to have been something
more in motion than passion or the ardour of youth. “ I
like not,” says Parson Evans (alluding to Falstaff in mas¬
querade), “ I like not when a w oman has a great peard; I
spy a great peard under her muffler.” Neither do we like
the spectacle of a mature young woman, five years past her
majority, wearing the semblance of having been led astray
by a boy who had still two years and a half to run of his
minority. Shakspeare himself, looking back on this part of
his youthful history from his maturest years, breathes forth
pathetic counsels against the errors into which his own in¬
experience had been ensnared. The disparity of years be¬
tween himself and his wife he notices in a beautiful scene of
the Twelfth Night. The Duke Orsino, observing the sensi¬
bility which the pretended Cesario had betrayed on hearing
some touching old snatches of a love strain, swears that his
beardless page must have felt the passion of love, which
the other admits. Upon this the dialogue proceeds thus:
Duke. What kind of woman is’t ?
Viola. Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee then :—What years ?
Viola. I’ faith,
About your years, my lord.
Duke. Too old, by heaven. Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him.
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and ur.firm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women’s are.
Viola. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself.
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent;
For women are as roses, whose fair flower,
Being once display’d, doth fall that very hour.
These counsels were uttered nearly twenty years after
the event in his ow n life to which they probably look back;
for this play is supposed to have been written in Shak-
speare’s thirty-eighth year. And we may read an earnest¬
ness in pressing the point as to the inverted disparity of
years, which indicates pretty clearly an appeal to the les¬
sons of his personal experience. But his other indiscretion,
in having yielded so far to passion and opportunity as to
crop by prelibation, and before they were hallowed, those
flowers of paradise which belonged to his marriage-day ;
this he adverts to with even more solemnity of sorrow, and
with more pointed energy of moral reproof, in the very last
drama which is supposed to have proceeded from his pen,
and therefore with the force and sanctity of testamentary
counsel. The Tempest is all but ascertained to have been
composed in 1611, that is, about five years before the poet’s
death; and indeed could not have been composed much
earlier; for the very incident which suggested the basis of
the plot, and of the local scene, viz. the shipwTeck of Sir
George Somers on the Bermudas (which were in consequence
denominated the Somers’ Islands), did not occur until the
year 1609. In the opening of the fourth act, Prospero for¬
mally betrothes his daughter to Ferdinand ; and in doing
so he pays the prince a well-merited compliment of having
“ worthily purchas’d” this rich jewel, by the patience with
which, for her sake, he had supported harsh usage, and other
painful circumstances of his trial. But, he adds solemnly.
If thou dost break her virgin knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister’d ;
niongst people of humble rank in England, who only were ever asked in church, until the new-fangled systems of marriage
( Iprn ^ “Z6 last fen or fifteen years, during the currency of the three Sundays on which the banns were proclaimed by the
tho ; man r°1|1 the reading desk, the young couple elect were said jocosely to be “hanging in the bell-ropesalluding perhaps to
e joyous peal contingent on the final completion of the marriage.
SHAK SPEAR E.
180 ,
Shak- in that case what would follow ?
v sPeare~ j No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall,
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-ey'd disdain and discord, shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed,
As Hymen’s lamps shall light you.
The young prince assures him in reply, that no strength
of opportunity, concurring with the uttermost temptation,
not
the murkiest den, i
The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestion
Our worser genius can 
should ever prevail to lay asleep his jealousy of self-control,
so as to take any advantage of Miranda’s innocence. And
he adds an argument for this abstinence, by way of reminding
Prospero, that not honour only, but even prudential care of
his own happiness, is interested in the observance of his
promise. Any unhallowed anticipation would, as he insi¬
nuates,
take away
The edge of that day’s celebration,
When I shall think, or Phoebus’ steeds are founder’d,
Or night kept chain’d below;
that is, when even the winged hours would seem to move
too slowly. Even thus Prospero is not quite satisfied : du¬
ring his subsequent dialogue with Ariel, we are to suppose
that Ferdinand, in conversing apart with Miranda, betrays
more impassioned ardour than the wise magician altoge¬
ther approves. The prince’s caresses have not been unob¬
served ; and thus Prospero renews his warning:
Look thou be true : do not give dalliance
Too much the rein ; the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else—good night your vow.
The royal lover re-assures him of his loyalty to his engage¬
ments ; and again the wise father, so honourably jealous for
his daughter, professes himself satisfied with the prince’s
pledges.
Now in all these emphatic warnings, uttering the lan¬
guage “ of that sad wisdom folly leaves behind,” who can
avoid reading, as in subtile hieroglyphics, the secret record
of Shakspeare’s own nuptial disappointments ? We, indeed,
that is, universal posterity through every age, have reason
to rejoice in these disappointments; for to them, past all
doubt, we are indebted for Shakspeare’s subsequent migra¬
tion to London, and his public occupation, which, giving
him a deep pecuniary interest in the productions of his pen,
such as no other literary application of his powers could
have approached in that day, were eventually the means of
drawing forth those divine works which have survived their
author for our everlasting benefit.
Our own reading and deciphering of the whole case is
as follows. The Shakspeares were a handsome family,
both father and sons. This we assume upon the following
grounds: First, on the presumption arising out of John
Shakspeare’s having won the favour of a young heiress
higher in rank than himself; secondly, on the presumption
involved in the fact of three amongst his four sons having
gone upon the stage, to which the most obvious (and per¬
haps in those days a sine qua non) recommendation would
be a good person and a pleasing countenance ; thirdly, on
the direct evidence of Aubrey, who assures us that Wil¬
liam Shakspeare was a handsome and a well-shaped man ;
fourthly, on the implicit evidence of the Stratford monu¬
ment, which exhibits a man of good figure and noble coun¬
tenance ; fifthly, on the confirmation of this evidence by
the Chandos portrait, which exhibits noble features, illus¬
trated by the utmost sweetness of expression; sixthly,
on the selection of theatrical parts, which it is known
that Shakspeare personated, most of them being such as
required some dignity of form, viz. kings, the athletic Shai
(though aged) follower of an athletic young man, and su- spear
pernatural beings. On these grounds, direct or circumstan- ''"“v*
tial, we believe ourselves warranted in assuming that Wil¬
liam Shakspeare was a handsome and even noble-looking
boy. Miss Anne Hathaway had herself probably some per¬
sonal attractions; and, if an indigent girl, who looked for no
pecuniary advantages, would probably have been early sought
in marriage. But as the daughter of “ a substantial yeo¬
man,” who would expect some fortune in his daughter’s sui¬
tors, she had, to speak coarsely, a little outlived her market.
Time she had none to lose. William Shakspeare pleased
her eye; and the gentleness of his nature made him an apt
subject for female blandishments, possibly for female arts.
Without imputing, however, to this Anne Hathaway any
thing so hateful as a settled plot for ensnaring him, it was
easy enough for a mature woman, armed with such inevi¬
table advantages of experience and of self-possession, to
draw onward a blushing novice; and, without directly
creating opportunities, to place him in the way of turning
to account such as naturally offered. Young boys are ge¬
nerally flattered by the condescending notice of grown-up
women ; and perhaps Shakspeare’s own lines upon a simi¬
lar situation, to a young boy adorned with the same natu¬
ral gifts as himself, may give us the key to the result:
Gentle thou art, and therefore to he won ;
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assail’d;
And, when a woman woos, what woman’s son
Will sourly leave her till he have prevail’d ?
Once, indeed, entangled in such a pursuit, any person
of manly feelings would be sensible that he had no re¬
treat : that would be—to insult a woman, grievously to
wound her sexual pride, and to insure her lasting scorn and
hatred. These were consequences which the gentle-mind¬
ed Shakspeare could not face: he pursued his good for¬
tunes, half perhaps in heedlessness, half in desperation, un¬
til he was roused by the clamorous displeasure of her fa¬
mily upon first discovering the situation of their kinswo¬
man. For such a situation there could be but one atone¬
ment, and that was hurried forward by both parties; whilst,
out of delicacy towards the bride, the wedding was not ce¬
lebrated in Stratford (where the register contains no no¬
tice of such an event) ; nor, as Malone imagined, in Weston-
upon-Avon, that being in the diocese of Gloucester; but
in some parish, as yet undiscovered, in the diocese of Wor¬
cester.
But now arose a serious question as to the future main¬
tenance of the young people. John Shakspeare was de¬
pressed in his circumstances, and he had other children
besides William, viz. three sons and a daughter. The elder
lives have represented him as burdened with ten ; but this
was an error, arising out of the confusion between John
Shakspeare the glover and John Shakspeare a shoemaker.
This error has been thus far of use, that, by exposing the
fact of two John Shakspeares (not kinsmen) residing in
Stratford-upon-Avon, it has satisfactorily proved the name
to be amongst those which are locally indigenous to War¬
wickshire. Meantime it is now ascertained that John Shak¬
speare the glover had only eight children, viz. four daughters
and four sons. The order of their succession was this:
Joan, Margaret, William, Gilbert, a second Joan, Anne,
Richard, and Edmund. Three of the daughters, viz. the
two eldest of the family, Joan and Margaret, together with
Anne, died in childhood : all the rest attained mature ages,
and of these William was the eldest. This might give him
some advantage in his father’s regard; but in a question ol
pecuniary provision precedency amongst the children of an
insolvent is nearly nominal. For the present John Shak¬
speare could do little for his son ; and, under these circum¬
stances, perhaps the father of Anne Hathaway would come
forward to assist the new-married couple. This condition
SHAK SPEAR E.
iak- of dependency would furnish matter for painful feelings and
i*are. irritating words: the youthful husband, whose mind would
V 'r~' be expanding as rapidly as the leaves and blossoms of
spring-time in polar latitudes, would soon come to appreci¬
ate the sort of wiles by which he had been caught. The
female mind is quick, and almost gifted with the power of
witchcraft, to decipher what is passing in the thoughts of
familiar companions. Silent and forbearing as William
Shakspeare might be, Anne, his staid wife, would read
his secret reproaches; ill would she dissemble her w rath,
and the less so from the consciousness of having deserved
them. It is no uncommon case for wromen to feel anger
in connection with one subject, and to express it in connec¬
tion with another ; which other, perhaps (except as a ser¬
viceable mask), would have been a matter of indifference
to their feelings. Anne would therefore reply to those
inevitable reproaches which her own sense must presume
to be lurking in her husband’s heart, by others equally
stinging, on his inability to support his family, and on his
obligations to her father’s purse. Shakspeare, we may be
sure, would be ruminating every hour on the means of his
deliverance from so painful a dependency; and at length,
alter four years’ conjugal discord, he would resolve upon
that plan of solitary emigration to the metropolis, which, at
the same time that it released him from the humiliation
of domestic feuds, succeeded so splendidly for his worldly
prosperity, and with a train of consequences so vast for all
future ages.
Such, we are persuaded, was the real course of Shak-
speare’s transition from school-boy pursuits to his public
career: and upon the known temperament of Shakspeare,
his genial disposition to enjoy life without, disturbing his
enjoyment by fretting anxieties, we build the conclusion,
that had his friends furnished him with ampler funds, and
had his marriage been well assorted or happy, we the
world of posterity—should have lost the whole benefit and
delight which we have since reaped from his matchless fa¬
culties. The motives which drove him from Stratford are
clear enough ; but what motives determined his course to
London, and especially to the stage, still remains to be ex¬
plained. Stratford-upon-Avon, lying in the high road from
London through Oxford to Birmingham (or more gene¬
rally to the north), had been continually visited by some
of the best comedians during Shakspeare’s childhood. One
or two of the most respectable metropolitan actors were
natives of Stratford. These would be well known to the
elder Shakspeare. But, apart from that accident, it is no¬
torious that mere legal necessity and usage would compel
all companies of actors, upon coming into any town, to
seek, in the first place, from the chief magistrate, a license
for opening a theatre, and next, over and above this public
sanction, to seek his personal favour and patronage. As an
alderman, therefore, but still more whilst clothed with the
otticial powers of chief magistrate, the poet’s father would
nave opportunities of doing essential services to many per¬
sons connected with the London stage. The conversation
ot comedians acquainted with books, fresh from the keen
and sparkling circles of the metropolis, and filled with racy
anecdotes of the court, as well as of public life generally,
could not but have been fascinating, by comparison with Shak-
the stagnant society of Stratford. Hospitalities on a liberal speare.
scale would be offered to these men : not impossibly this fact' v-~-
might be one principal key to those dilapidations which the
family estate had suffered. These actors, on their ^axt, would
retain a grateful sense of the kindness they had received, and
would seek to repay it to John Shakspeare, now that he was
depressed in his fortunes, as opportunities might offer. His
eldest son, growing up a handsome young man, and beyond
all doubt from his earliest days of most splendid colloquial
powers (for assuredly of him it may be taken for granted,
Nec licuit populis parvum te, Nile, videre),
would be often reproached in a friendly way for burying
himself in a country life. These overtures, prompted alike
by gratitude to the father, and a real selfish interest in the
talents of the son, would at length take a definite shape;
and, upon some clear understanding as to the terms of such
an arrangement, William Shakspeare would at length (about
158G, according to the received account, that is, in the
fifth year of his married life, and the twenty-third or twen¬
ty-fourth of his age), unaccompanied by wife or children,
translate himself to London. Later than 1586 it could not
well be ; for already in 1589 it has been recently ascertain¬
ed that he held a share in the property of a leading theatre.
We must here stop to notice, and the reader will allow
us to notice with summary indignation, the slanderous and
idle tale which represents Shakspeare as having fled to
London in the character of a criminal, from the persecu¬
tions of Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot. This tale has long
been propagated under two separate impulses: chiefly, per¬
haps, under the vulgar love of pointed and glaring contrasts;
the splendour of the man was in this instance brought into
a sort of epigrammatic antithesis with the humility of his
fortunes; secondly, under a baser impulse, the malicious
pleasure of seeing a great man degraded. Accordingly, as
in the case of Milton,1 it has been affirmed that Shakspeare
had suffered corporal chastisement, in fact (we abhor to
lutei such words), that he had been judicially whipped.
Now, first of all, let us mark the inconsistency of this tale :
the poet was whipped, that is, he was punished most
disproportionately, and yet he fled to avoid punishment.
Next, we are informed that his offence was deer-stealing,
and from the park of Sir Thomas Lucy. And it has
been well ascertained that Sir Thomas had no deer, and
had no park. Moreover, deer-stealing was regarded by our
ancestors exactly as poaching is regarded by us. Deer
ran wild in all the great forests ; and no offence was look¬
ed upon as so venial, none so compatible with a noble Ro¬
bin-Hood style of character, as this very trespass upon
what were regarded as ferce naturce, and not at all as do¬
mestic pxoperty. But had it been otherwise, a trespass
was not punishable with whipping; nor had Sir Thomas
Lucy the power to irritate a whole community like Strat¬
ford-upon-Avon, by branding with permanent disgrace a
young man so closely connected with three at least of the
best families in the neighbourhood. Besides, had Shak¬
speare suffered any dishonour of that kind, the scandal
would infallibly have pursued him at his very heels to Lon-
abridged shape, he took occasion to remark UP S°m? yearS a^° for a Public society> al‘d which is printed in an
some others, had supposed Milton himself to havt Wh0 'T niCan/an™us to revive this slander against Milton, as well a>
where, speaking of CaSidS and declarm. tW £ flaSel atl0n in mind, and indirectly to confess it, in one of his Latin poems,
g ^amt)ridge, and declaring that he has no longer any pleasure in the thoughts of revisiting that university, be says,
•Nee dun libet usque mmas perferre magistri,
This last linn r • ,, Caeteraque ingenio non subeunda meo.”
* of tie SSKV ^ “T.T^rable *° * ■»<*«* But,« „ then observ
oal chastisement the sense of honour of ner nn.Td^°I'f 1 U r°-n’ 'v 11 K 18 *be mora/ constitution that suffers degradation from perso-
tbe word ingcnlum there cannot lie a dnnht £ J,U*tlCf’ &c/ Indo1^ is the proper term for this latter idea; and in using
bis fine poetical genius. If therefore the vile t * • 11 a lu(led to the dry scholastic disputations, which were shocking and odious to
be pretended that any countenance to «„ i, n i* °P lb stlF ^ be up 111 or(b‘r t0 dishonour a great man, at any rate let it not in future
u mat any countenance to such a slander can be drawn from the confessions of the poet himself.
182
S II A K S P E A R E.
Shak-
spcare.
don ; and in that case Greene, who has left on record, in a
posthumous work of 1592, his malicious feelings towards
Shakspeare, could not have failed to notice it. For, be it
remembered, that a judicial flagellation contains a twofold
ignominy: flagellation is ignominious in its own nature, even
though unjustly inflicted, and by a ruffian ; secondly, any
judicial punishment is ignominious, even though not wear¬
ing a shade of personal degradation. Now a judicial flagel¬
lation includes both features of dishonour. And is it to
be imagined that an enemy, searching with the diligence
of malice for matter against Shakspeare, should have failed,
six years after the event, to hear of that very memorable
disgrace which had exiled him from Stratford, and was the
very occasion of his first resorting to London; or that a
leading company of players in the metropolis, one of whom,
and a chief one, was his own townsman, should cheerfully
adopt into their society, as an honoured partner, a young
man yet flagrant from the lash of the executioner or the
beadle ?
This tale is fabulous, and rotten to its core ; yet even this
does less dishonour to Shakspeare’s memory than the sequel
attached to it. A sort of scurrilous rondeau, consisting of
nine lines, so loathsome in its brutal stupidity, and so vul¬
gar in its expression, that we shall not pollute our pages by
transcribing it, has been imputed to Shakspeare ever since
the days of the credulous Rowe. The total point of this
idiot’s drivel consists in calling Sir Thomas “ an asse and
well it justifies the poet’s own remark, Let there be gall
enough in thy ink, no matter though thou write with a
goose pen.” Our own belief is, that these lines were a pro¬
duction of Charles II.’s reign, and applied to a Sir Thomas
Lucy, not very far removed, if at all, from the age of him
who first picked up the precious filth : the phrase “ parlia¬
ment member," we believe to be quite unknown in the col¬
loquial use of Queen Elizabeth’s reign.
But, that we may rid ourselves once and for ever of this
outrageous calumny upon Shakspeare’s memory, we shall
pursue the story to its final stage. Even Malone has been
thoughtless enough to accredit this closing chapter, which
contains, in fact, such a superfetation of folly as the annals
of human dulness do not exceed. Let us recapitulate the
points of the story. A baronet, who has no deer and no
park, is supposed to persecute a poet for stealing these
aerial deer out of this aerial park, both lying in nephelo-
coccygia. The poet sleeps upon this wrong for eighteen
years; but at length, hearing that his persecutor is dead
and buried, he conceives bloody thoughts of revenge. And
this revenge he purposes to execute by picking a hole in
his dead enemy’s coat-of-arms. Is this coat-of-arms, then,
Sir Thomas Lucy’s ? Why, no: Malone admits that it
is not. For the poet, suddenly recollecting that this ridi¬
cule would settle upon the son of his enemy, selects ano¬
ther coat-of-arms, with which his dead enemy never had
any connection, and he spends his thunder and lightning
upon this irrelevant object; and, after all, the ridicule itself
lies in a Welchman’s mispronouncing one single heraldic
term—a WTlchman who mispronounces all words. The
last act of the poet’s malice recalls to us a sort of jest-book
story of an Irishman, the vulgarity of which the reader will
ardon in consideration of its relevancy. The Irishman
aving lost a pair of silk stockings, mentions to a friend
that he has taken steps for recovering them by an adver¬
tisement, offering a reward to the finder. His friend ob¬
jects that the costs of advertising, and the reward, would
eat out the full value of the silk stockings. But to this
the Irishman replies, with a knowing air, that he is not so
green as to have overlooked that; and that, to keep down
the reward, he had advertised the stockings as worsted.
Not at all less flagrant is the bull ascribed to Shakspeare,
when he is made to punish a dead man by personalities
meant for his exclusive ear, through his coat-of-arms, but
at the same time, with the express purpose of blunting and Shat
defeating the edge of his own scurrility, is made to substi- ^ sPea
tute for the real arms some others which had no more re-
lation to the dead enemy than they had to the poet him¬
self. This is the very sublime of folly, beyond which hu¬
man dotage cannot advance.
It is painful, indeed, and dishonourable to human nature,
that whenever men of vulgar habits and of poor education
wish to impress us with a feeling of respect for a man s ta¬
lents, they are sure to cite, by way of evidence, some gross
instance of malignity. Power, in their minds, is best illus¬
trated by malice or by the infliction of pain. To this un¬
welcome fact we have some evidence in the wretched tale
which we have just dismissed ; and there is another of the
same description to be found in all lives of Shakspeare,
which we will expose to the contempt of the reader whilst
we are in this field of discussion, that we may not after¬
wards have to resume so disgusting a subject.
This poet, who was a model of gracious benignity in his
manners, and of whom, amidst our general ignorance, thus
much is perfectly established, that the term gentle was al¬
most as generally and by prescriptive right associated with
his name as the affix of venerable with Bede, or judicious
with Hooker, is alleged to have insulted a friend by an
imaginary epitaph beginning “ Ten in the Hundred, and
supposing him to be damned, yet without wit enough
(which surely the Stratford bellman could have furnished)
for devising any, even fanciful, reason for such a supposi¬
tion ; upon which the comment of some foolish critic is,
“ The sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man
so much that he never forgave it.” We have heard of the
sting in the tail atoning for the brainless head ; but in this
doggerel the tail is surely as stingless as the head is brain¬
less. For, 1 st, Ten in the Hundred could be no reproach
in Shakspeare’s time, any more than to call a man Three-
and-a-half-per-cent, in this present year lb38 ; except, in¬
deed, amongst those foolish persons who built their mora¬
lity upon the Jewish ceremonial law. Shakspeare himself
took ten per cent. ‘Idly, It happens that John Combe, so
far from being the object of the poet’s scurrility, or viewing
the poet as an object of implacable resentment, was a Strat¬
ford friend; that one of his family was affectionately remem¬
bered in Shakspeare's will by the bequest of his sword; and
that John Combe himself recorded his perfect charity with
Shakspeare by leaving him a legacy of L.5 sterling. And
in this lies the key to the whole story. For, ?>dly, the four
lines were written and printed before Shakspeare was
born. The name Combe is a common one ; and some stu¬
pid fellow, who had seen the name in Shakspeare s will,
and happened also to have seen the lines in a collection of
epigrams, chose to connect the cases by attributing an
identity to the two John Combes, though at war with chro¬
nology.
Finally, there is another specimen of doggerel attributed
to Shakspeare, which is not equally unworthy of him, be¬
cause not equally malignant, but otherwise equally below
his intellect, no less than his scholarship; we mean the in¬
scription on his grave-stone. This, as a sort of siste viator
appeal to future sextons, is worthy of the grave-digger or
the parish-clerk, who was probably its author. Or it may
have been an antique formula, like the vulgar record of
ownership in books—
Anthony Timothy Dolthead’s book,
God give him grace therein to look.
Thus far the matter is of little importance ; and it might
have been supposed that malignity itself could hardly have
imputed such trash to Shakspeare. But when we find,
even in this short compass, scarcely wider than the posy of
a ring, room found for traducing the poet’s memory, it be¬
comes important to say, that the leading sentiment, the
SHAKSPEARE.
183
horror expressed at any disturbance offered to his bones, is
not one to which Shakspeare could have attached the
' slightest weight; far less could have outraged the sanctities
of place and subject, by affixing to any sentiment whatever
(and, according to the fiction of the case, his farewell sen¬
timent) the sanction of a curse.
Filial veneration' and piety towards the memory of this
great man have led us into a digression that might have
been unseasonable in any cause less weighty than one hav¬
ing for its object to deliver his honoured name from a load
of the most brutal malignity. Never more, we hope and
venture to believe, will any thoughtless biographer impute
to Shakspeare the asinine doggerel with which the uncri¬
tical blundering of his earliest biographer has caused his
name to be dishonoured. We now resume the thread of
our biography. The stream of history is centuries in work¬
ing itself clear of any calumny with which it has once been
polluted.
Most readers will be aware of an old story, according to
which Shakspeare gained his livelihood for some time after
coming to London by holding the horses of those who rode
to the play. This legend is as idle as any one of those
which we have just exposed. No custom ever existed of
riding on horseback to the play. Gentlemen, who rode
valuable horses, would assuredly not expose them syste¬
matically to the injury of standing exposed to cold for two
or even four hours ; and persons of inferior rank would not
ride on horseback in the town. Besides, had such a cus¬
tom ever existed, stables (or sheds at least) would soon
have arisen to meet the public wants ; and in some of the
dramatic sketches of the day, which noticed every fashion
as it arose, this would not have been overlooked. The
story is traced originally to Sir William Davenant. Better-
ton the actor, who professed to have received it from
him, passed it onwards to Rowe, he to Pope, Pope to Bi¬
shop Newton the editor of Milton, and Newton to Dr
Johnson. This pedigree of the fable, however, adds no¬
thing to its credit, and multiplies the chances of some mis¬
take. Another fable, not much less absurd, represents
Shakspeare as having from the very first been borne upon
the establishment of the theatre, and so far contradicts the
other fable, but originally in the very humble character of
call-boy or deputy prompter, whose business it was to sum¬
mon each performer according to his order of coming upon
the stage. This story, however, quite as much as the
other, is irreconcileable with the discovery recently made
by Mr Collier, that in 1589 Shakspeare was a shareholder
in the important property of a principal London theatre.
It seems destined that all the undoubted facts of Shak-
speare’s life should come to us through the channel of legal
documents, which are better evidence even than imperial
medals; whilst, on the other hand, all the fabulous anec¬
dotes, not having an attorney’s seal to them, seem to have
been the fictions of the wonder-maker. The plain pre¬
sumption from the record of Shakspeare’s situation in 1589,
coupled with the fact that his first arrival in London was
possibly not until 1587, but according to the earliest ac¬
count not before 1586, a space of time which leaves but little
room for any remarkable changes of situation, seems to be,
that, either in requital of services done to the players by the
poet’s family, or in consideration of money advanced by
his father-in-law, or on account of Shakspeare’s personal
accomplishments as an actor, and as an adapter of dramatic
works to the stage ; for one of these reasons, or for all of
them united, William Shakspeare, about the 23d year of
uis age, was adopted into the partnership of a respectable his¬
trionic company, possessing a first-rate theatre in the metro- Shak-
polis. If 1586 were the year in wdiich he came up to Lon- sPeare.
don, it seems probable enough that his immediate motive
to that step was the increasing distress of his father; for
in that year John Shakspeare resigned the office of aider-
man. There is, however, a bare possibility that Shak¬
speare might have gone to London about the time when
he completed his twenty- first year, that is, in the spring of
1585, but not earlier. Nearly two years after the birth
of his eldest daughter Susanna, his wife lay in for a second
and a last time ; but she then brought her husband twins,
a son and a daughter. These children were baptized in
February of the year 1585 ; so that Shakspeare’s whole fa¬
mily of three children were born and baptized two months
before he completed his majority. The twins were bap¬
tized by the names of Hamnet and Judith, those being the
names of two amongst their sponsors, viz. Mr Sadler and
his wife. Hamnet, which is a remarkable name in itself,
becomes still more so from its resemblance to the immortal
name of Hamlet1 the Dane ; it was, however, the real baptismal
name of Mr Sadler, a friend of Shakspeare’s, about four¬
teen years older than himself. Shakspeare’s son must then
have been most interesting to his heart, both as a twin child
and as his only boy. He died in 1596, when he was about
eleven years old. Both daughters survived their father;
both married; both left issue, and thus gave a chance for-
continuing the succession from the great poet. But all the
four grandchildren died without offspring.
Of Shakspeare personally, at least of Shakspeare the
man, as distinguished from the author, there remains little
more to record. Already in 1592, Greene, in his posthu¬
mous Groat’s-worth of Wit, had expressed the earliest vo¬
cation of Shakspeare in the following sentence:—“ There is
an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers ; in his own
conceit the only Shakscene in a country!” This alludes to
Shakspeare’s office of re-casting, and even re-composing,
dramatic works, so as to fit them for representation ; and
Master Greene, it is probable, had suffered in his self-esti¬
mation, or in his purse, by the alterations in some piece of
his own which the duty of Shakspeare to the general inte¬
rests of the theatre had obliged him to make. In 1591 it
has been supposed that Shakspeare wrote his first drama,
the Two Gentlemen of Verona; the least characteristi¬
cally marked of all his plays, and, with the exception of
Love’s Labour’s Lost, the least interesting.
From this year, 1591 to that of 1611, are just twenty
years, within which space lie the whole dramatic creations
of Shakspeare, averaging nearly one for every six months.
In 1611 was written the Tempest, which is supposed to
have been the last of all Shakspeare’s works. Even on
that account, as Mr Campbell feelingly observes, it has
“ a sort of sacrednessand it is a most remarkable fact,
and one calculated to make a man superstitious, that in
this play the great enchanter Prospero, in whom, “ as if
conscious,” says Mr Campbell, “ that this would be his
last work, the poet has been inspired to typify himself as
a wise, potent, and benevolent magician,” of whom, indeed,
as of Shakspeare himself, it may be said, that “ within
that circle” (the circle of his own art) “ none durst tread
but he,” solemnly and for ever renounces his mysterious
functions, symbolically breaks his enchanter’s wand, and
declares that he will bury his books, his science, and his
secrets
Deeper than did ever plummet sound.
Nay, it is even ominous, that in this play, and from the
And singular enough it is, as well as interesting, that Shakspeare had so entirely superseded to his own ear and memory
the name Hamhet by the dramatic name of Hamlet, that in writing his will, he actually mis-spells the name of his friend Sadler,
and calls him Hamlet. His son, however, who should have familiarized the true name to his ear, had then been dead for twenty
years.
SHAKSPEARE.
184
Shak- voice of Prospero, issues that magnificent prophecy of the
speare.- ^ total destruction which should one day swallow up
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all which it inherit.
And this prophecy is followed immediately by a most pro¬
found ejaculation, gathering into one pathetic abstraction
the total philosophy of life :
We are such stuff
As dreams are made of; and our little life
Is rounded by a sleep;
that is, in effect, our life is a little tract of feverish vigils,
surrounded and islanded by a shoreless ocean of sleep—
sleep before birtb, sleep after death.
These remarkable passages were probably not unde¬
signed ; but if we suppose them to have been thrown off
without conscious notice of their tendencies, then, accord¬
ing to the superstition of the ancient Grecians, they would
have been regarded as prefiguring words, prompted by the
secret genius that accompanies every man, such as insure
along with them their own accomplishment. With or
without intention, however, it is believed that Shakspeare
wrote nothing more after this exquisite romantic drama.
With respect to the remainder of his personal history, Dr
Drake and others have supposed, that during the twenty
years from 1591 to 1611, he visited Stratford often, and
latterly once a year.
In 1589 he had possessed some share in a tl eatre; in
1596 he had a considerable share. Through Lord South¬
ampton, as a surviving friend of Lord Essex, who was viewed
as the martyr to his Scottish politics, there can be no doubt
that Shakspeare had acquired the favour of James I.; and
accordingly, on the 29th of May 1603, about two months
after the king’s accession to the throne of England, a patent
was granted to the company of players who possessed the
Globe theatre; in which patent Shakspeare’s name stands
second. This patent raised the company to the rank of
his majesty’s servants, whereas previously they are sup¬
posed to have been simply the servants of the Lord Cham¬
berlain, Perhaps it was in grateful acknowledgment of
this royal favour that Shakspeare afterwards, in 1606, paid
that sublime compliment to the house of Stuart which is
involved in the vision shown to Macbeth. This vision is
managed with exquisite skill: it was impossible to display the
whole series of princes from Macbeth to James I.; but he
beholds the posterity of Banquo, one “ gold-bound brow”
succeeding to another, until he comes to an eighth appari¬
tion of a Scottish king,
Who bears a glass
Which shows him many more ; and some he sees
Who twofold balls and treble sceptres carry ;
thus bringing down without tedium the long succession to
the very person of James I. by the symbolic image of the
two crowns united on one head.
About the beginning of the century Shakspeare had
become rich enough to purchase the best house in Stratford, Shs
called The Great House, which name he altered to New speg !
Place ; and in 1602 he bought 107 acres adjacent to this ^ y 1
house for a sum (L.320) corresponding to about 1500 gui¬
neas of modern money. Malone thinks that he purchased
the house as early as 1597; and it is certain that about
that time he was able to assist his father in obtaining a
renewed grant of arms from the Heralds’ College, and there¬
fore, of course, to re-establish his father’s fortunes. Ten
years of well-directed industry, viz. from 1591 to 1601, and
the prosperity of the theatre in which he was a proprietor,
had raised him to affluence; and after another ten years,
improved with the same success, he was able to retire with
an income of L.300, or (according to the customary com¬
putations) in modern money of L.1500, per annum. Shak¬
speare was in fact the first man of letters, Pope the second,
and Sir Walter Scott the third, who, in Great Britain, has
ever realized a large fortune by literature ; or in Christen¬
dom, if we except Voltaire, and two dubious cases in Italy.
The four or five latter years of his life Shakspeare passed
in dignified ease, in profound meditation, we may be sure,
and in universal respect, at his native town of Stratford; i
and there he died, on the 23d of April 1616.1
His daughter Susanna had been married on the 5th of June
of the year 1607, to Dr John Hall,2 a physician in Stratford.
The doctor died in November 1635, aged sixty; his wife,
at the age of sixty-six, on July 11, 1640. They had one
child, a daughter, named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married
April 22, 1626, to Thomas Nashe, Esq. left a widow in
1647, and subsequently remarried to Sir John Barnard ; but
this Lady Barnard, the sole grand-daughter of the poet, had
no children by either marriage. The other daughter Ju¬
dith, on February 10, 1616 (about ten weeks before her
father’s death) married Mr Thomas Quiney of Stratford, by
whom she had three sons, Shakspeare, Richard, and Tho¬
mas. Judith was about thirty-one years old at the time of
her marriage ; and living just forty-six years afterwards, she
died in February 1662, at the age of seventy-seven. Her
three sons died without issue ; and thus, in the direct lineal
descent, it is certain that no representative has survived
of this transcendent poet, the most august amongst created
intellects.
After this review of Shakspeare’s life, it becomes our duty
to take a summary survey of his works, of his intellectual
powers, and of his station in literature, a station which is
now irrevocably settled, not so much (which happens in
other cases) by a vast overbalance of favourable suffrages,
as by acclamation ; not so much by the voices of those who
admire him up to the verge of idolatry, as by the acts of
those who everywhere seek for his works among the pri¬
mal necessities of life, demand them, and crave them as
they do their daily bread ; not so much by eulogy open¬
ly proclaiming itself, as by the silent homage recorded
in the endless multiplication of what he has bequeathed us;
not so much by his own compatriots, who, with regard to
almost every other author,3 compose the total amount of his
: “ l have heard that Mr Shakspeare was a natural wit, without any art at all. Hee frequented the plays all his younger time, but
in his elder days lived at Startford, and supplied the stage with two plays every year, and for itt had an allowance so large, that he
spent at the rate of 1,000/. a-year, as I have heard. Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Jonson, had a merie meeting, and it seems drank
too hard, for Shakespear died of a feavour there contracted.’’ (Diary of the liev. John Ward, A. M. Vicar of Stratford-upon-Avon,
extending from 1648 to 1679, p. 183. Lond. 1839, 8vo.)
2 It is naturally to be supposed that Dr Hall would attend the sick-bed of his father-in-law; and the discovery of this gentle¬
man’s medical diary promised some gratification to our curiosity as to the cause of Shakspeare’s death. Unfortunately, it does not
commence until the year 1617-
3 An exception ought perhaps to be made for Sir Walter Scott and for Cervantes; but with regard to all other writers, Dante,
suppose, or Ariosto amongst Italians, Camoens amongst those of Portugal, Schiller amongst Germans, however ably they may have
been naturalized in foreign languages, as all of those here mentioned (excepting only Ariosto) have in one part of their works been
most powerfully naturalized in English, it still remains true (and the very sale of the books is proof sufficient) that an alien author
never does take root in the general sympathies out of his own country; he takes his station in libraries, he is read by the man ot
learned leisure, he is known and valued by the refined and the elegant, but he is not (what Shakspeare is for Germany and America)
in any proper sense a.popular favourite.
SHAKSPEARE.
effective audience, as by the unanimous “ all hail!” of in- her cruel immolation, refused to forget, by a single indeco-
tellectual Christendom ; finally, not by the hasty partisan- rous gesture, or so much as a moment’s neglect of her own
ship of his own generation, nor by the biassed judgment of princely descent, and that she herself was “ a lady in the
an age tiained m the same modes of feeling and of think- land.” These are fine marble groups, but they are not the
ing with Limseif, but by the solemn award of generation warm breathing realities of Shakspeare; there is “ no soe-
succeedmg to generation, of one age correcting the obli- culation” in their cold marble eyes; the breath of life* is
quities or peculiarities of another ; by the verdict of two not in their nostrils ; the fine pulses of womanly sensibili-
hundred and thirty years, which have now elapsed since ties are not throbbing in their bosoms. And besides this
the very latest of his creations, or of two hundred and for- immeasurable difference between the cold moony reflexes
185
ty-seven years if we date from the earliest; a verdict which
has been continually revived and re-opened, probed, search¬
ed, vexed, by criticism in every spirit, from the most genial
and intelligent, down to the most malignant and scurri-
lously hostile which feeble heads and great ignorance could
suggest when co-operating with impure hearts and narrow
sensibilities ; a verdict, in short, sustained and countersign¬
ed by a longer series of writers, many of them eminent for
wit or learning, than were ever before congregated upon any
inquest i elating to any author, be he who he might, ancient*
or modern, I agan or Christian. It was a most witty say¬
ing with respect to a piratical and knavish publisher, who
made a trade of insulting the memories of deceased authors
by forged writings, that he was “ among the new terrors
of death.. But in the gravest sense it may be affirmed of
Shakspeare, that he is among the modern luxuries of life;
that life, in fact, is a new thing, and one more to be coveted,
since Shakspeare has extended the domains of human con
of life, as exhibited by the power of Grecian art, and the
true sunny life of Shakspeare, it must be observed that the
Antigones, &c. of the antique put forward but one single
trait of character, like the aloe with its single blossom : this
solitary feature is presented to us as an abstraction, and as
an insulated quality ; whereas in Shakspeare all is presented
in the concrete ; that is to say, not brought forward in re¬
lief, as by some effort of an anatomical artist; but embo¬
died and imbedded, so to speak, as by the force of a creative
nature, in the complex system of a human life ; a life in which
all the elements move and play simultaneously, and with
something more than mere simultaneity or co-existence,
acting and re-acting each upon the other, nay, even acting
by each other and through each other. In Shakspeare’s
characters is felt for ever a real organic life, where each is
for the whole and in the whole, and where the whole is for
each and in each. They only are real incarnations.
The Greek poets could not exhibit any approximations to
and pushed ibdark frontiers into regions no, so /e^chamcteTwiZut vioiafeg L tmthof GrecSfe
much as dimlv descried or evon sncrt^i-o,; ° . L cl11 lue»
much as dimly descried or even suspected before his time,
fai less illuminated (as now they are) by beauty and tropi¬
ca) luxuriance of Ike. For instance,—a single instance, in¬
deed one which in itself is a world of new revelation,—the
possible beauty of the female character had not been seen
as in a dream before Shakspeare called into perfect life the
and shocking the feelings of the audience. The drama with
the Greeks, as with us, though much less than with us, was
a picture of human life ; and that which could not occur in
life could not wisely be exhibited on the stage. Now, in
ancient Greece, women were secluded from the society of
men. The conventual sequestration of the yuya/xwwr/j, or
“r f Imorne’ot Hr~f
leidua of Ophelia, of Muanda, and many others. The secration of its threshold against the ingress of males had
of these was an idedSed^ott11 T ^ than transP]anted from Asia int0 Greece thousands of vears
virgin puritv but ton * °A f ?noce?ce and PerhaPs before either convents or Mahommed existed. Thus
reality Imi as to tho Cr < ^ T* ^nre.a for a|d*ama1tlc barred from all open social intercourse, women could not
imagine for an instant t .t develoPe or exPress any character by word or action. Even
ei,"stant that any preftitypu ln this field of to have a character, violated, to a Grecian mind, the ideal
Sd rXiiniX ,rl0°ked , ‘'’“b The^r“ I™"™1 °f feminine excellence, whence, perh^ partly
“llechmcters L cS'l*”1;-8 T f t'"° leadlne ?e to° Seneric> t0° “e individualized, style of Grecian
spect burass'iiredlv^nnt mSICa • antl(imty offers to our re- beauty. But prominently to raymtss a character was im-
, assuredly not to our impassioned love, as disci- possible under the common tenor of Grecian life unless
SSn “0l °/ Shak5rre- They Cha|- "J™ hiSh ‘mg-1 catastrophes transcended the d_
tions of filS d nv i eVen Stertn’ aS, imPersona- ofthat tenor, or for a brief interval raised the curtain which
afflicted old m in ’ n in? to 1116 J'teps of a desolate and veiled it. Hence the subordinate part which women play
right, of RhmS ’ f S1Ster Y affectl0n’ maintaining the upon the Greek stage in all but some half dozen cases. In
tionand Lb h frdeJ Cir^mstances of peril, of deser- the paramount tragedy on that stage, the model tragedy,
thouXn^T y f Pu Ct Self-rKelrce‘ ^Senia, the CE’dipus Tyrannus of Sophocles, there is virtualfy no
nfr on hT not dramatlcally coming before us in her own woman at all ; for Jocasta is a party to the story merely as
we enu us Sn fin^sM 6 beautifu'T?f. °f a fcctator, the dead Laius or the self-murdered Sphinx was l party, viz.
fine "fetuesque model of heroic fortitude, by her contributions to the fatalities of the event, not by
and nfnno 1 71 y1 hciuil. juiuluul, uy nei contnoutions to tlie tatalities ot the event, not
young heart, even in the very agonies of any thing she does or says spontaneously. In fact,'
the
dearly and ludiorouX'bew'llfp’llvpl P5rt^aps Hoi”fr. ma.v furnish the sole exception to this sweeping assertion : any but Homer is
of their c h ieft a hi s °\v It pn 1 oi Ie competition ; but even Homer, « with his tail on” (as the Scottish Highlanders say
he it remembered tbit T-E 1 T ieir L‘fr.em°nia^ retinues), musters nothing like the force which already follows Shakspeare ; and
land and ^ ^ Home1r sleePs and has long slept as a subject of criticism or commentary, while in Germany as well as id
in fact, a great ddrsionTurrentifn?6^ t0Tthe Vast ^uiPage of Shakspeare is advancing in an accelerated^^ratio. There is,
tension of Holer tlisoithatsnX ih™ Innutjlerable references to Homer, and brief critical remarks on this or that pre-
dedicated to theleparate sendee o^Ho^er'wrphnft^388!^6’ f16 scatterf «ver literature ancient and modern; but the express works
the Scholia of Didymus &c • in French S? not,nl,an-v;, In Greek we have only the large Commentary of Eustathius, and
teemed “ elegant ” and the ^ c xl o n°thing before the prose translation of the seventeenth century, which Pope es-
faces (which, by the way becan as eolfv ns ^afjanie I^acier’La '\Iotte’ &c‘ ; 111 English, besides the various translations and their pre-
elaborate postsennt to the fMvs el lj ft ^ "0th,ln^muclJ importance until the elaborate preface of Pope to the Iliad, and his
the Life ami Genius of Honm^ O T)10 frtainl£ before that, and very little indeed since that, except Wood’s Essay on
siderable library might he formed?n EngllndTaSnolSln GeriTny811 ^ lllUStratl°n °r tn^estigation of Shakspeare, a very con-
house indudmg manTroomf’. ^ oh*erve’ in its \r^ and continental acceptation, as a division or compartment of a
S° ^rroneou,8l>r giveulo v%rd iS E^gTand? 18 partltl01ied ufi (as in palaces)> not a sinSle chaniber 5 a «^nse
2 A
Shak¬
speare.
186
SHAKSPEARE.
Shak-
speare.
Greek poet, if a wise poet, could not address himself geni¬
ally to a task in which he must begin by shocking the sen-
’ sibilities of his countrymen. And hence followed, not only
the dearth of female characters in the Grecian drama, but
also a second result still more favourable to the sense of a
new power evolved by Shakspeare. Whenever the com¬
mon law of Grecian life did give way, it was, as we have
observed, to the suspending force of some great convulsion
or tragical catastrophe. This for a moment (like an earth¬
quake in a nunnery) would set at liberty even the timid,
fluttering Grecian women, those doves of the dove-cot, and
would call some of them into action. But which ? Precisely
those of energetic and masculine minds; the timid and
feminine would but shrink the more from public gaze and
from tumult. Thus it happened, that such female charac¬
ters as were exhibited in Greece, could not but be the harsh
and the severe. If a gentle Ismene appeared for a moment
in contest with some energetic sister Antigone (and chiefly,
perhaps, by way of drawing out the fiercer character of that
sister), she was soon dismissed as unfit for scenical efiect.
So that not only were female characters few, but, moreover,
of these few the majority were but repetitions of mascu¬
line qualities in female persons. 1H emale agency being sel¬
dom summoned on the stage except when it had received
a sort of special dispensation from its sexual charactei, by
some terrific convulsions of the house or the city, naturally
it assumed the style ot action suited to these circumstances.
And hence it arose, that not woman as she differed from
man, but woman as she resembled man—woman, in short,
seen under circumstances so dreadful as to abolish the eftect
of sexual distinction, was the woman of the Greek tragedy.1
And hence generally arose for Shakspeare the wider field,
and the more astonishing by its perfect novelty, when he
first introduced female characters, not as mere varieties or
echoes of masculine characters, a Medea or Clytemnestra,
or a vindictive Hecuba, the mere tigress of the tragic ti¬
ger, but female characters that had the appropriate beauty
of female nature; woman no longer grand, terrific, and
repulsive, but woman “ after her kind”—the other he¬
misphere of the dramatic world ; woman running through
the vast gamut of womanly loveliness; woman as eman¬
cipated, exalted, ennobled, under a new law of Christian
morality ; woman the sister and co-equal of man, no lon¬
ger his slave, his prisoner, and sometimes his rebel. “ It
is a far cry to Loch Awe and from the Atiienian stage
to the stage of Shakspeare, it may be said, is a prodigious
interval. True; but prodigious as it is, there is really
nothing between them. The Roman stage, at least the
tragic stage, as is well known, was put out, as by an extin¬
guisher, by the cruel amphitheatre, just as a candle is made
pale and ridiculous by daylight. Those who were fresh
from the real murders of the bloody amphitheatre regarded
with contempt the mimic murders of the stage. Stimula¬
tion too coarse and too intense had its usual effect in mak¬
ing the sensibilities callous. Christian emperors arose at
length, who abolished the amphitheatre in its bloodier fea¬
tures. But by that time the genius of the tragic muse had
long slept the sleep of death. Apd that muse had no re¬
surrection until the age of Shakspeare. So that, notwith¬
standing a gulf of nineteen centuries and upwards sepa¬
rates Shakspeare from Euripides, the last of the surviving^
Greek tragedians, the one is still the nearest successor of
the other, just as Connaught and the islands in Clew Bay
are next neighbours to America, although three thousand
watery columns, each of a cubic mile in dimensions, divide
them from each other.
A second reason, which lends an emphasis of novelty and
effective power to Shakspeare’s female world, is a peculiar
fact of contrast which exists between that and his cor re*
spending world of men. Let us explain. The purpose and
the intention of the Grecian stage was not primarily to
develope human character, whether in men or in women;
human fates were its object; great tragic situations under
the mighty control of a vast cloudy destiny, dimly descried
at intervals, and brooding over human life by mysterious
agencies, and for mysterious ends. Man, no longer the re¬
presentative of an august will, man the passion-puppet of
fate, could not with any effect display what we call a cha¬
racter, which is a distinction between man and man, ema¬
nating originally from the will, and expressing its deter¬
minations, moving under the large variety of human im¬
pulses. The will is the central pivot of character; and
this was obliterated, thwarted, cancelled, by the dark fata¬
lism which brooded over the Grecian stage. That expla¬
nation will sufficiently clear up the reason why marked or
complex variety of character was slighted by the great
principles of the Greek tragedy. And every scholar who
has studied that grand drama of Greece with feeling,—that
drama, so magnificent, so regal, so stately,—and who has
thoughtfully investigated its principles, and its difference
from the English drama, will acknowledge that powerful
and elaborate character, character, for instance, that could
employ the fiftieth part of that profound analysis which has
been applied to Hamlet, to Falstaff, to Lear, to Othello,
and applied by Mrs Jamieson so admirably to the full de¬
velopment of the Shakspearian heroines, would have been
as much wasted, nay, would have been defeated, and in¬
terrupted the blind agencies of fate, just in the same way
as it would injure the shadowy grandeur of a ghost to indi¬
vidualize it too much. Milton’s angels are slightly touched,
superficially touched, with differences of character; but
they are such differences, so simple and general, as are
just sufficient to rescue them from the reproach applied to
Virgil’s “ fortemqve Gija/n, j^orterrupie Cloanthem ; just suf¬
ficient to make them knowable apart. Pliny speaks of
painters wbo painted in one or two colours; and, as respects
the angelic characters, Milton does so ; he is monochroma¬
tic. So, and for reasons resting upon the same ultimate
philosophy, were the mighty architects of the Greek tra¬
gedy. They also were monochromatic; they also, as to
the characters of their persons, painted in one colour. And
so far there might have been the same novelty in Shak-
speare’s men as in his wromen. There might have been;
but the reason why there is not, must be sought in the fact,
that History, the muse of History, had there even been no
such muse as Melpomene, would have forced us into an
acquaintance with human character. History, as the re¬
presentative of actual life, of real man, gives us powerful
delineations of character in its chief agents, that is, in men;
and therefore it is that Shakspeare, the absolute creator of
female character, was but the mightiest of all painters with
regard to male character. Take a single instance. The An¬
tony of Shakspeare, immortal for its execution, is found,
after all, as regards the primary conception, in history:
Shakspeare’s delineation is but the expansion of the germ
already pre-existing, by way of scattered fragments, in Ci¬
cero’s Philippics, in Cicero’s Letters, in Appian, &c. But
Cleopatra, equally fine, is a pure creation of art: the situa¬
tion and the scenic circumstances belong to history, but the
character belongs to Shakspeare.
In the great world therefore of woman, as the inter¬
preter of the shifting phases and the lunar varieties of that
Sha?
spea:
by parity of reason, under the opposite circumstances, under the circumstances which, instead of abolishing, most em-
forth the sexual d1stinctior.s, viz. in the comic aspects of social intercourse, the reason that we see no women on me
1 And hence,
phaticallv drew —   . , . „ _
Greek sta.«e ; the Greek comedy, unless when it affects the extravagant tun or farce, rejects women.
S H A K S P E A B. E.
ik- mighty changeable planet, that lovely satellite of man,
re. Shakspeare stands not the first only, not the original only,
but is yet the sole authentic oracle of truth. Woman,
therefore, the beauty of the female mind, this is one great
field of his power. The supernatural world, the world of
apparitions, that is another: for reasons which it would be
easy to give, reasons emanating from the gross mythology
of the ancients, no Grecian,1 no Roman, could have con¬
ceived a ghost. That shadowy conception, the protesting
apparition, the awful projection of the human conscience,
belongs to the Christian mind: and in all Christendom,
who, let us ask, who, who but Shakspeare has found the
power for effectually working this mysterious mode of being?
In summoning back to earth “ the majesty of buried Den¬
mark,” how like an awful necromancer does Shakspeare
appear! All the pomps and grandeurs which religion,
which the grave, which the popular superstition had ga¬
thered about the subject of apparitions, are here converted
to his purpose, and bend to one awful effect. The wormy
grave brought into antagonism with the scenting of the
early dawn; the trumpet of resurrection suggested, and
again as an antagonist idea to the crowing of the cock (a
bird ennobled in the Christian mythus by the part he is
made to play at the Crucifixion) ; its starting “ as a guilty
thing” placed in opposition to its majestic expression of of¬
fended dignity when struck at by the partisans of the sen¬
tinels; its awful allusions to the secrets of its prison-house;
its ubiquity, contrasted with its local presence; its aerial
substance, yet clothed in palpable armour; the heart-shak¬
ing solemnity of its language, and the appropriate scenery
of its haunt, viz. the ramparts of a capital fortress, with no
witnesses but a few gentlemen mounting guard at the dead
of night,—what a mist, what a mirage of vapour, is here
accumulated, through which the dreadful being in the centre
looms upon us in far larger proportions than could have hap¬
pened had it been insulated and left naked of this circum¬
stantial pomp ! In the Tempest, again, what new modes of
life, preternatural, yet far as the poles from the spiritualities of
religion. Ariel in antithesis to Caliban ! What is most ethe¬
real to what is most animal! A phantom of air, an abstraction
of the dawn and of vesper sun-lights, a bodiless sylph on the
one hand; on the other a gross carnal monster, like the Mil¬
tonic Asmodai, “ the fleshliest incubus” among the fiends,
and yet so far ennobled into interest by his intellectual
power, and by the grandeur of misanthropy !2 In the Mid¬
summer-Nights Dream, again, we have the old traditional
fairy, a lovely mode of preternatural life, remodified by
Shakspeare’s eternal talisman. Oberon and Titania remind
us at first glance of Ariel: they approach, but how far they
recede: they are like—“ like, but, oh, how different!” And
in no other exhibition of this dreamy population of the
moonlight forests and forest-lawns, are the circumstantial pro¬
prieties of fairy life so exquisitely imagined, sustained, or ex¬
pressed. The dialogue between Oberon and Titania is, of
itself, and taken separately from its connection, one of the
187
most delightful poetic scenes that literature affords. The Shak-
witches in Macbeth are another variety of supernatural life, sPeare-
in which Shakspeare’s power to enchant and to disenchant'
are alike portentous. The circumstances of the blasted
heath, the army at a distance, the withered attire of the
mysterious hags, and the choral litanies of their fiendish
Sabbath, are as finely imagined in their kind as those which
herald and which surround the ghost in Hamlet. There we
see the positive of Shakspeare’s superior power. But now
turn and look to the negative. At a time when the trials
of witches, the royal book on demonology, and popular su¬
perstition (all so far useful, as they prepared a basis of un¬
doubting faith for the poet’s serious use of such agencies)
had degraded and polluted the ideas of these mysteri¬
ous beings by many mean associations, Shakspeare does
not fear to employ them in high tragedy (a tragedy more¬
over which, though not the very greatest of his efforts
as an intellectual whole, nor as a struggle of passion, is
among the greatest in any view, and positively the great¬
est for scenical grandeur, and in that respect makes the
nearest approach of all English tragedies to the Grecian
model); he does not fear to introduce, for the same appal¬
ling effect as that for which ASschylus introduced the Eu-
menides, a triad of old women, concerning whom an Eng¬
lish wit has remarked this grotesque peculiarity in the
popular creed of that day,—that although potent over
winds and storms, in league with powers of darkness, they
yet stood in awe of the constable,—yet relying on his own
supreme power to disenchant as well as to enchant, to create
and to uncreate, he mixes these women and their dark machi¬
neries with the power of armies, with the agencies of kings,
and the fortunes of martial kingdoms. Such was the sove¬
reignty of this poet, so mighty its compass !
A third fund of Shakspeare’s peculiar power lies in his
teeming fertility of fine thoughts and sentiments. From
his works alone might be gathered a golden bead-roll of
thoughts the deepest, subtilest, most pathetic, and yet most
catholic and universally intelligible; the most characteristic,
also, and appropriate to the particular person, the situation,
and the case, yet, at the same time, applicable to the cir¬
cumstances of every human being, under all the accidents
of life, and all vicissitudes of fortune. But this subject
offers so vast a field of observation, it being so eminently
the prerogative of Shakspeare to have thought more finely
and more extensively than all other poets combined, that
we cannot wrong the dignity of such a theme by doing
more, in our narrow limits, than simply noticing it as one
of the emblazonries upon Shakspeare’s shield.
Fourthly, we shall indicate (and, as in the last case,
barely indicate, without attempting in so vast a field to offer
any inadequate illustrations) one mode of Shakspeare’s dra¬
matic excellence which hitherto has not attracted any spe¬
cial or separate notice. We allude to the forms of life, and
natural human passion, as apparent in the structure of his
dialogue. Among the many defects and infirmities of the
1 It may be thought, however, by some readers, that ASschylus, in his fine phantom of Darius, has approached the English ghost.
As a foreign ghost, we would wish (and we are sure that our excellent readers would wish) to show every courtesy and attention
to this apparition of Darius. It has the advantage of being royal, an advantage which it shares with the ghost of the royal Dane.
Yet how different, how removed by a total world, from that or any of Shakspeare’s ghosts ! Take that of Banquo, for instance : how
shadowy, how unreal, yet how real! Darius is a mere state ghost—a diplomatic ghost. But Banquo—he exists only for Macbeth ;
the guests do not see him, yet how solemn, how real, how heart-searching he is.
2 Caliban has not yet been thoroughly fathomed. For all Shakspeare’s great creations are like works of nature, subjects of unexhaustible
study. It was this character of whom Charles I. and some of his ministers expressed such fervent admiration ; and, among other
circumstances, most justly they admired the new language almost with which he is endowed, for the purpose of expressing his fiend¬
ish and yet carnal thoughts of hatred to his master. Caliban is evidently not meant for scorn, but for abomination mixed with fear
and partial respect. He is purposely brought into contrast with the drunken Trinculo and Stephano, with an advantageous result.
He is much more intellectual than either, uses a more elevated language, not disfigured by vulgarisms, and is not liable to the low
passion for plunder as they are. He is mortal, doubtless, as his “ dam” (for Shakspeare will not call her mother) Sycorax. But he
inherits from her such qualities of power as a witch could be supposed to bequeath. He trembles indeed before Prospero ; but that
is, as we are to understand, through the moral superiority of Prospero in Christian wisdom; tor when he finds himself in the presence
of dissolute and unprincipled men, he rises at once into the dignity of intellectual power.
188
S H A
S H A
Shallop French and of the Italian drama, indeed we may say of
n II the Greek, the dialogue proceeds always by independent
k 3111, speeches, replying indeed to each other, but never modified
in its several openings by the momentary effect of its seve¬
ral terminal forms immediately preceding. Now, in Shak-
speare, who first set an example of that most important in¬
novation, in all his impassioned dialogues, each reply or re¬
joinder seems the mere rebound of the previous speech.
Every form of natural interruption, breaking through the re¬
straints of ceremony under the impulses of tempestuous pas¬
sion ; every form of hasty interrogative, ardent reiteration
when a question has been evaded; every form of scornful
repetition of the hostile words; every impatient continua¬
tion of the hostile statement; in short, all modes and for¬
mulae by which anger, hurry, fretfulness, scorn, impatience,
or excitement under any movement whatever, can disturb
or modify or dislocate the formal bookish style of commence¬
ment,—these are as rife in Shakspeare’s dialogue as in life
itself; and how much vivacity, how profound a verisimili¬
tude, they add to the scenic effect as an imitation of human
passion and real life, we need not say. A volume might
be written illustrating the vast varieties of Shakspeare’s art
and power in this one field of improvement; another vo¬
lume might be dedicated to the exposure of the lifeless and
unnatural result from the opposite practice in the foreign
stages of France and Italy. And we may truly say, that
were Shakspeare distinguished from them by this single
feature of nature and propriety, he would on that account
alone have merited a great immortality. (w. w. w.)
The dramatic works of Shakspeare generally acknow¬
ledged to be genuine consist of thirty-five pieces. The
following is the chronological order in which they are sup¬
posed to have been written, according to Mr Malone as
given in his second edition of Shakspeare, and by Mr
George Chalmers in his Supplemental Apology for the
Believers in the Shakspeare Papers.
1. The Comedy of Errors,
2. Love’s Labour’s Lost,
3. Romeo and Juliet,
4. Henry VI. the First Part,
5. Henry VI. the Second Part,
6. Henry VI. the Third Part,
7. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 1595
8. Richard III. 1596
9. Richard II. 1596
Chalmers.
1591
1592
1592
1593
1595
1595
Malone.
1592
1594
1596
1589
1591
1591
1591
1593
1593
Chalmers. Malone, sba
10. rrhe Merry Wives of Windsor, 1596 1601 jl
11. Henry IV. the First Part, 1597 1597 Sha;
12. Henry IV. the Second Part, 1597 1599 hk
13. Henry V. 1597 1599
14. The Merchant of Venice, 1597 1594
15. Hamlet, 1598 1600
16. King John, 1598 1596
17. A Midsummer-Night’s Dream, 1598 1594
18. The Taming of the Shrew, 1599 1596
19. All’s Well that Ends Well, 1599 1606
20. Much Ado about Nothing, 1599 1600
21. As You Like It, 1602 1599
22. Troilus and Cressida, 1610 1602
23. Timon of Athens, 1611 1610
24. The Winter’s Tale, 1601 1611
25. Measure for Measure, 1604 1603
26. King Lear, 1605 1605
27. Cymbeline, 1606 1609
28. Macbeth, 1606 1606
29. Julius Caesar, 1607 1607
30. Antony and Cleopatra, 1608 1608
31. Coriolanus, 1619 1610
32. The Tempest, 1613 1611
33. The Twelfth Night, 1613 1607
34. Henry VIII. 1613 1603
35. Othello, 1614 1604
Porir'loc Einrl Titns Andrnrticns. althmurh insprtprl in all
the late editions of Shakspeare’s Plays, are omitted in the
above list, both by Malone and Chalmers, as not being
Shakspeare’s.
The first edition of the Works was published in 1623, in
a folio volume entitled Mr William Shakspeare’s Come¬
dies, Histories, and Tragedies. The second edition was
published in 1632, the third in 1664, and the fourth in
1685, all in folio ; but the edition of 1623 is considered the
most authentic. Rowe published an edition in seven vols.
8vo in 1709. Editions were published by Pope, in six
vols. 4to, in 1725 ; by Warburton, in eight vols. 8vo, in
1747; by Dr Johnson, in eight vols. 8vo, in 1765; by
Stevens, in four vols. 8vo, in 1766; by Malone, in ten vols.
8vo, in 1789 ; by Alexander Chalmers, in nine vols. 8vo, in
1811 ; by Johnson and Stevens, revised by Isaac Reed, in
twenty-one vols. 8vo, in 1813; and the Plays and Poems,
with notes by Malone, were edited by James Boswell, and
published in tw?enty-one vols. 8vo, in 1821. Besides these,
numerous editions have been published from time to time.
SHALLOP, Shalloop, or Sloop, is a light vessel,
with only a small main-mast and fore-mast, and lug-sails,
to haul up and let down on occasion. Shallops are com¬
monly good sailers, and are therefore often used as tenders
upon men-of-war.
SHAMANS are wizards or conjurers, in high repute
among several idolatrous nations inhabiting different parts ol
Russia. By their enchantments they pretend to cure dis¬
eases, to divert misfortunes, and to foretell futurity. They
are great observers of dreams, by the interpretation of
which they judge of good or bad fortune. They pretend
likewise to chiromancy, and to foretell a man’s good or ill
success by the lines of his hand. By these and such like
means they have a very great ascendency over the under¬
standings, and a great influence on the conduct, of those
people.
SHAMBLES, among miners, a sort of niches or land¬
ing places, left at such distances in the adits of the mines,
that the shovel-men may conveniently throw up the ore from
shamble to shamble, till it comes to the top of the mine.
SHAMLY, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Delhi. It is about two miles in circumference, and con¬
tains many handsome houses, with a large bazaar, and the
remains of a mint. The streets intersect each other at
right angles, and have separate gates, which are shut at
night. It is sixty miles north by east from Delhi. Long.
77. 10. E. Lat. 29. 33. N.
SHAMOIS, or Chamois, a kind of leather, either dress¬
ed in oil or tanned, much esteemed for its softness and
pliancy. It is prepared from the skin of the chamois, or
shamois, a kind of wild goat, called also isard, inhabiting
the mountains of Dauphine, Savoy, Piedmont, and the Py¬
renees. Besides the softness and warmth of the leather, it
has the faculty of bearing soap without damage, which ren¬
ders it very useful on many accounts.
SHANAVAZ, a tow n of the Afghan territories, in the
province of Mooltan, seventy-eight miles east from the city
of Mooltan. Long. 72. 39. E. Lat. 30. 41. N.
SHANDORAH, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Delhi, 120 miles from the city of Delhi. Long. 77. E.
Lat. 30. 26. N.
SHANK’S Island, in the South Pacific Ocean, about
S H A
S H A 189
fifteen miles from east to west, and eighteen from north to
south, discovered in 1802. Long. 163. E. Lat. 28. S.
SHANNON, the largest river in Ireland, and one of
, the finest in the British dominions, not only on account of
its running two hundred miles, but also of its great depth
in most places, and the gentleness of its current, by which
it might be made exceedingly serviceable to the improve¬
ment of the country, the communication of its inhabitants,
and consequently the promoting of inland trade through the
greater part of its long course. But the. peculiar preroga¬
tive of the Shannon is its situation, running from north to
south, and separating the province of Connaught from
Leinster and Munster, and of consequence dividing the
greater part of Ireland into that which lies on the east and
west of the river; watering in its passage the valuable
counties of Leitrim, Roscommon, Galway, and Clare ; the
small shire of Longford, King’s County, and Meath in
Leinster, Tipperary, Limerick, and Kerry in Munster; vi¬
siting ten counties in its passage, and having on its banks
Leitrim, Jamestown, Lanesborough, Athlone, Clonfert,
Killaloe, and Limerick. It at last joins its waters to the
sea, being navigable all this way for the largest vessels.
SHAPOORAH, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer and district of Harowty. It is a large and well-
built town, surrounded by a strong wall of stone and a
ditch. It is sixty-five miles south by east from the city of
Ajmeer. Long. 75. 9, E. Lat. 25. 43. N.
SHAPOUR, an ancient city of Persia, which existed
prior to the era of Alexander, but of which the former
magnificence is now only marked by masses of ruins. It is
situated immediately under a range of mountains, on the
banks of a small but rapid river, amid rocks and precipices,
many of which are decorated with sculpture.
SHARP, James, archbishop of St Andrews, was born
of a good family in Banffshire in the year 1618. He de¬
voted himself early to the church, and was educated for
that purpose in the university of Aberdeen. When the
solemn league and covenant was framed in 1638, the learn¬
ed men in that seminary, and young Sharp in particular,
declared themselves decidedly against it. To avoid the
insults and indignities to which he was subjected in conse¬
quence of this conduct, he retired to England, where he
contracted an acquaintance with some of the most cele¬
brated divines in that country.
At the commencement of the civil wars he returned to
Scotland. During his journey thither, he accidentally met
with Lord Oxenford, who was so charmed with his conver¬
sation that he invited him to his house. While he resided
with that nobleman, he became known to the Earl of Rothes,
who procured him a professorship at St Andrews. By the
interest of the Earl of Crawford, he was soon afterwards ap¬
pointed minister of Crail, where he conducted himself, it is
said, in an exemplary manner.
Sharp had always inclined to the cause of royalty, and
had for some time kept up a correspondence with his ex¬
iled prince. After this he began to declare himself more
openly, and seems to have enjoyed a great share of the
confidence of Monk, who was at that time planning the re¬
storation of Charles II. When that general marched to
London, the presbyterians sent Sharp to attend him, in
order to support their interests. At the request of Gene¬
ral Monk and the chief presbyterians in Scotland, Mr
Snarp was sent over to the king at Breda, to procure from
him, if possible, the establishment of presbytery. On his
return, he assured his friends that “ he had found the king
very affectionate to Scotland, and resolved not to wrong
the settled government of the church ; but he apprehended
they were mistaken who went about to establish the pres-
byterian government.”
Charles was soon afterwards restored without any terms.
AH the laws passed in Scotland since the year 1633 were
repealed ; the king and his ministers resolved at all hazards Sharp,
to restore prelacy. Mr Sharp, who had been commission- s—--V—'
ed by the Scotch presbyterians to manage their interests
with the king, was prevailed upon to abandon the party ;
and as a reward for his compliance, he was made archbi¬
shop of St Andrews. This conduct rendered him very
odious in Scotland. He was accused of treachery and
perfidy, and reproached by his old friends as a traitor and
renegade. The absurd and wanton cruelties which were
afterwards committed, and which were imputed in a great
measure to the archbishop, rendered him still more de¬
tested. Nor is it probable that these accusations were
without foundation. The very circumstance of his having
formerly been of the presbyterian party would induce him,
after forsaking them, to treat them with severity. Besides, it
is certain, that when, after the rout at Pentland Hills, he re¬
ceived an order from the king to stop the executions, he
kept it for some time beftwe he produced it to the council.
There was one Mitchell, a preacher, and a desperate fa¬
natic, who had formed the design of taking vengeance for
these cruelties by assassinating the archbishop. He fired
a pistol at him as he was sitting in his coach ; but the bi¬
shop of Orkney, lifting up his hand at the moment, inter¬
cepted the ball. Though this happened in the midst of
Edinburgh, the primate was so much detested, that nobody
stopped the assassin, who, having walked leisurely home,
and thrown off his disguise, returned, and mixed unsus¬
pected with the crowd. Some years afterwards, the arch¬
bishop observing a man eyeing him with keenness, sus¬
pected that he was the assassin, and ordered him to be
brought before him. It was Mitchell. Two loaded pistols
were found in his pocket. The primate offered him a par¬
don if he would confess the crime. The man complied ;
but Sharp, regardless of his promise, -conducted him to the
council. The council also gave him a solemn promise of
pardon if he would confess his guilt, and discover his ac¬
complices. They were much disappointed to hear that
only one man was privy to his purpose, who was since dead.
Mitchell was then brought before a court of justice, and
ordered to make a third confession, which he refused. He
was imprisoned for several years, and then tried. His own
confession was urged against him. It was in vain for him
to plead the illegality of that evidence, and to appeal to
the promise of pardon previously given. The council took
an oath that they had given no such promise, and Mitchell
was condemned. Lauderdale, who at that time governed
Scotland, would have pardoned him, but the primate in¬
sisted on his execution, observing, that if assassins were
permitted to go unpunished, his life must be continually in
danger. Mitchell was accordingly executed.
Sharp had a servant, one Carmichael, who by his cruelty
had rendered himself particularly odious to the zealots.
Nine men formed the resolution of waylaying him in Ma¬
gus Moor, about three miles from St Andrews. While
they were waiting for this man, the primate himself ap¬
peared, with very few attendants. This they looked
upon as a declaration of heaven in their favour; and call¬
ing out, “ the Lord has delivered him into our hands,” they
ran up to the carriage. They fired at him without effect; a
circumstance which was afterwards imputed to magic. They
then despatched him with their swords, regardless of the
tears and entreaties of his daughter, who accompanied him.
Thus fell Archbishop Sharp, whose memory is even at
present detested by the common people of Scotland. His
abilities were certainly good, and in the early part of his
life he appears with honour and dignity. But his conduct
afterwards was too cruel and insincere to merit approbation.
His treatment of Mitchell was mean and vindictive. How
far he contributed to the measures adopted against the pres¬
byterians is not certain. They were equally cruel and im¬
politic; nor did their effects cease with the measures them-
190 S H A
Sharp, selves. The unheard-of cruelties exercised by the minis-
^ v 'ters of Charles II. against the adherents of the covenant,
raised such a flame of enthusiasm and bigotry as is not yet
entirely extinguished.
Sharp, Dr John, Archbishop of York, was descended
from the Sharps of Little Norton, a family of Bradford
Dale in Yorkshire; and was son of an eminent tradesman
of Bradford, where he was born in 1644. He was educat¬
ed at Cambridge, and in 1667 entered into orders. The
same year he became domestic chaplain to Sir Heneage
Finch, then attorney-general. In 1672 he was collated to
the archdeaconry of Berkshire. In 1675 he was installed
a prebendary in the cathedral church of Norwich ; and the
year following was instituted into the rectory of St Bartho¬
lomew, near the Royal Exchange, London. In 1681 he was,
by the interest of his patron Sir Heneage Finch, then lord
high chancellor of England, made dean of Norwich, but
in 1686 was suspended for taking occasion, in some of his
sermons, to vindicate the doctrine of the Church of England
in opposition to Popery. In 1688 he was sworn chaplain
to James II. being then probably restored after his sus¬
pension ; for it is certain that he was chaplain to Charles
II. and attended as a court chaplain at the coronation of
James II. In 1689 he was declared dean of Canterbury,
but never could be persuaded to fill up any of the vacan¬
cies made by the deprived bishops. Upon the death of Dr
Lamplugh, he was promoted to the see of York. In 1702
he preached the sermon at the coronation of Queen Anne ;
and the same year he was sworn of the privy council, and
made lord almoner to her majesty. He died at Bath in
1713, and was interred in the cathedral of York, where a
monument was erected to his memory. His sermons were
collected after his death, and published in seven vols. 8vo.
Sharp, Abraham, an eminent English mathematician
and astronomer, was born at Little Horton, near Bradford,
in the year 1651. He was put as apprentice to a merchant
at Manchester ; but so strongly was he inclined to the study
of mathematics, that he soon found his situation both irk¬
some and disagreeable. By the mutual consent, therefore,
of his master and himself, he quitted the business of a mer¬
chant. Fie then removed to Liverpool, where he devoted
himself wholly to mathematical studies, and where, for a
subsistence, he taught writing and accounts.
Soon after this, a merchant from London, in whose house
the celebrated Flamsteed then lodged, engaged Sharp to
be his book-keeper. With this eminent astronomer he
soon contracted an intimate friendship, and by his recom¬
mendation he obtained a more profitable employment in
the dock-yard of Chatham, where he continued till his friend
and patron called him to his assistance. Mr Sharp was
chiefly employed in the construction of the mural arch,
which he finished in the course of fourteen months, so en¬
tirely to the satisfaction of Flamsteed, that he spoke of him
in terms of the highest praise. In the opinion of Smeaton,
this was the first good instrument of the kind, and Sharp
the first artist who cut delicate divisions on astronomical
instruments. When this instrument was constructed, Sharp
was but twenty-five and Flamsteed thirty years of age.
Mr Sharp assisted his friend in making a catalogue of nearly
three thousand fixed stars, with their longitudes and mag¬
nitudes, their right ascensions and polar distances, with the
variations of the same while they change their longitude by
one degree.
But, from the fatigue of constantly observing the stars by
night in a cold thin air, added to a weakly constitution, his
health was much impaired. For the recovery of it he re¬
quested leave to retire to his house at Horton, where, as
soon as he felt himself recovering, he began to fit up an ob¬
servatory of his own; and the telescopes he made use of
were all of his own construction, and the lenses ground and
adjusted with his own hands.
S H A
It was about this time that he assisted Flamsteed in cal- Shas
culating most of the tables in the second volume of his His- V'"“v |
toria Ccdestis, as appears by their letters, to be seen in the
hands of Sharp’s friends at Horton. The mathematician,
says Dr Hutton, meets with something extraordinary in
Sharp’s elaborate treatise of Geometry Improved; by a large
and accurate table of segments of circles, its construction
and various uses in the solution of several difficult problems,
with compendious tables for finding a true proportional part;
and their use in these or any other tables exemplified in
making logarithms, or their natural numbers, to sixty places
of figures, there being a table of them for all primes to 1100,
true to sixty-one figures. His concise treatise of Polyedra,
or solid bodies of many bases, both of the regular ones and
others, to which are added twelve new ones, with various
methods of forming them, and their exact dimensions in
surds and in numbers ; illustrated with a variety of copper¬
plates, neatly engraved by his own hands. Indeed few of
the mathematical instrument makers could exceed him in
exactly graduating or neatly engraving mathematical or as¬
tronomical instruments. He possessed a remarkably clear
head for contriving, and an extraordinary hand for execut¬
ing, any thing, not only in mechanics, but likewise in draw¬
ing, writing, and making the most beautiful figures, in all
his calculations and constructions.
The quadrature of the circle was undertaken by him for
his own amusement, in the year 1699, deduced from two
different series, by which the truth of it was proved to
seventy-two places of figures, as may be seen in Sherwin’s
Tables of Logarithms. In the same book may likewise be
seen his ingenious improvements on the making of lo¬
garithms, and the constructing of the natural sines, tangents,
and secants.
Mr Sharp kept up a correspondence with most of the
eminent mathematicians and astronomers of his time, as
Flamsteed, Newton, Halley, Wallis, Hodgson, the answers to
whose letters are all written on the backs or empty spaces
of the letters he received, in a short hand of his own inven¬
tion. Being one of the most accurate and indefatigable
computers who ever existed, he was many years the com¬
mon resource for Flamsteed, Sir Jonas Moor, Halley, and
others, in all sorts of troublesome and delicate calculations.
Sharp was never married, and spent his time as a hermit.
Fie was of a middle stature, very thin, of a weakly consti¬
tution, and remarkably feeble during the last three or four
years before his death, which happened on the 18th of July
1742, in the ninety-first year of his age.
He was very irregular as to his meals, and uncommonly
sparing in his diet. A little square hole, resembling a win¬
dow, formed a communication between the room where he
usually studied, and another where a servant could enter;
and before this hole he had contrived a sliding board. It
often happened, that the breakfast, dinner, and supper, have
remained untouched, when the servant had gone to remove
what was left, so deeply was he engaged in calculations.
Sharp, in Music. See Music.
SHASTER or Shastrah, the name of a sacred book, in
high estimation among the idolaters of Hindustan, contain¬
ing all the dogmas of the religion of the Brahmins, and all
the ceremonies of their worship, and serving as a commen¬
tary on the Vedam.
The term Shaster denotes science or system; and is ap¬
plied to other works of astronomy and philosophy, which
have no relation to the religion of the Indians. None but
the Brahmins and rajahs of India are allowed to read the
Vedam; the priests of the Banians, called Shuderis, may
read the Shaster; and the people in general are allowed to
read only the Paran or Pouran, which is a commentary on
the Shaster.
The Shaster is divided into three parts, the first contain¬
ing the moral law of the Indians; the second, the rites and
S H A
S II A
191
ceremonies of their religion ; and the third, the distribution
of the people into tribes or classes, with the duties pertain¬
ing to each class.
'The principal precepts of morality, contained in the first
part of the Shaster, are the following. That no animal be
killed, because the Indians attribute souls to brute animals
as well as to mankind; that they neither hear nor speak
evil, nor drink wine, nor eat flesh, nor touch any thing that
is unclean ; that they observe the feasts, prayers, and wash¬
ings which their law prescribes ; that they tell no lies, nor
be guilty of deceit in trade; that they neither oppress nor
offer violence to one another ; that they celebrate the so¬
lemn feasts and fasts, and appropriate certain hours of or¬
dinary sleep to cultivate a disposition for prayer ; and that
they do not steal or defraud one another.
The ceremonies, contained in the second part of the
Shaster, are these. That they wash often in the rivers,
thereby obtaining the pardon of their sins; that they mark
their forehead with red, in token of their relation to the
Deity; that they present offerings and prayers under cer¬
tain trees, set apart for this purpose ; that they pray in the
temples, make oblations to their pagodas or idols, sing
hymns, and make processions ; that they make pilgrimages
to distant rivers, and especially to the Ganges, there to
wash themselves and make offerings ; that they make vows
to particular saints, according to their respective depart¬
ments ; that they render homage to the Deity at the first
sight of the sun ; that they pay their respect to the sun
and moon, which are the two eyes of the Deity; and that
they treat with particular veneration those animals that are
deemed more pure than others, because the souls of men
have transmigrated into these animals.
The third part of the Shaster records the distribution of
the people into four classes; the first being that of the
Brahmins or priests, appointed to instruct the people; the
second, that of the kutteris or nobles, who are the magis¬
trates ; the third, that of the shudderis or merchants ; and
the fourth, that of the mechanics. Each person is required
to remain in the class in which he was born, and to pursue
the occupation assigned to him by the Shaster. According
to the Brahmins, the Shaster was imparted by God himself
to Brahma, and by him to the Brahmins, who communicat¬
ed the contents of it to the people.
Modern writers have given us very different accounts of
the antiquity and importance of the Shaster. Mr Hoi well,
who had made considerable progress in the translation of
this book, apprehends that the mythology as well as the
cosmogony of the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, was bor¬
rowed from the doctrines of the Brahmins contained in it,
even to the copying of the exteriors of worship, and the
distribution of their idols, though grossly mutilated and
adulterated. With respect to the Vedam and Shaster, or
scriptures, of the Gentoos, this writer informs us, that Ve¬
dam, in the Malabar language, signifies the same as Shaster
in the Sanscrit; and that the first book is followed by the
Gentoos of the Malabar and Coromandel coasts, and also
of the island of Ceylon. The Shaster is followed by the
Gentoos of the provinces of Bengal, and by all the Gentoos
of the rest of India, commonly called India Proper, along
the course of the rivers Ganges and Jumna, to the Indus.
Both these books, he says, contain the institutes of their
respective religion and worship, as well as the history of
their ancient rajahs and princes, often couched under alle¬
gory and fable. Their antiquity is contended for by the
partisans of each; but he thinks that the similitude of their
names, idols, and great part of their worship, leaves little
room to doubt, nay plainly evinces, that both these scrip¬
tures were originally one. He adds, if we compare the
great purity and chaste manners of the Shaster with the
great absurdities and impurities of the Vedam, we need not
hesitate to pronounce the latter a corruption of the former.
With regard to the high original of these scriptures, the Shaster.
account of the Brahmins is as follows. Brahma, or the 'v
Mighty Spirit, about 4866 years ago, assumed the form of
man, and the government of Hindustan. He translated the
divine law, designed for the restoration of mankind, who
had offended in a pre-existent state, and who are now' in
their last scene of probation, to the dignity from which they
were degraded, out of the language of angels, into the well-
known Sanscrit language, and called his translation the Six
Scriptures of Divine Words of the Mighty Spirit. He ap¬
pointed the Brahmins, deriving their name from him, to
preach the word of God ; and the doctrines of the Shaster
were accordingly preached in their original purity a thou¬
sand years. About this time there was published a para¬
phrase on the Chartah Bhade, or Six Scriptures ; and about
five hundred years afterwards a second exposition appeared,
called the Eighteen Books of Divine Words, written in a cha¬
racter compounded of the common Hindustan and the Sans¬
crit. This innovation produced a schism among the Gen¬
toos ; on which occasion, it is said, those of Coromandel and
Malabar formed a scripture of their own, which they pre¬
tended to be founded on the Chartah Bhade of Brahma,
and called it the Vedam of Birmah, or Divine Words of
the Mighty Spirit. The original Chartah Bhade was thrown
aside, and at length wholly unknown, except to a few fa¬
milies, who can still read and expound it in the Sanscrit
character. With the establishment of the Aughtorrah
Bhade and Vedam, which, according to the Gentoo ac¬
count, is 3366 years ago, their polytheism commenced ;
and the principles of religion became so obscure, and their
ceremonies so numerous, that every head of a family was
obliged to keep a Brahmin as a guide both in faith and
practice. Mr Holwell is of opinion that the Chartah Bhade,
or original scriptures, are not copied from any other system
of theology promulgated to or obtruded upon mankind.
The Gentoos do not attribute them to Zoroaster; and Mr
Holwell supposes that both Zoroaster and Pythagoras vi¬
sited Hindustan, not to instruct, but to be instructed.
From the account of Mr Dow, we learn that the books
which contain the religion and philosophy of the Hindus are
distinguished by the name of Vedas ; that they are four in
number, and, like the sacred writings of other nations, are said
to have been penned by the Divinity. Veda, he says, in the
Sanscrit language, literally signifies science; and these books
treat not only of religion and moral duties, but of every
branch of philosophical knowledge. The Brahmins main¬
tain that the Vedas are the divine laws which Brahma, at
the creation of the world, delivered for the instruction of
mankind ; but they affirm that their meaning was perverted
in the first age by the ignorance and wickedness of some
princes, whom they represent as evil spirits, who then
haunted the earth.
The first credible account w7e have of the Vedas is, that
about the commencement of the Cal Jug, of which era the
year 1768 was the 4886th year, they were written, or ra¬
ther collected, by a great philosopher and reputed prophet,
called Beiiss Muni, or Beiiss the Inspired.
The Hindus, says Mr Dow, are divided into two great
religious sects: the followers of the doctrine of Bedang,
which is the original Shaster or commentary upon the Ve¬
das ; and those who adhere to the principles of the Nea-
dirsen. The original Shaster is called Vedang, and is a
commentary upon the Vedas. This book, he says, is erro¬
neously called in Europe the Vedam. It is ascribed to
Beass Muni, and is said to have been revised some years
after by one Serrider Swami, since which time it has been
reckoned sacred, and not subject to any farther alterations.
Almost all the Hindus of the Deccan, and those of the
Malabar and Coromandel coasts, are of this sect. The fol¬
lowers of the Vedang Shaster do not allow that any physi¬
cal evil exists. They maintain that God created all things
192
S II A
S H A
Shat-ul- perfectly good ; but that man, being a free agent, may be
Arab guilty of moral evil, which may be injurious to himself, but
Shawls can no cletr'ment t° the general system of nature.
- _ _'u_. God, they say, being perfectly benevolent, never punished
the wicked otherwise than by the pain and affliction which
are the natural consequences of evil actions ; and hell,
therefore, is no other than a consciousness of evil.
The Neadirsen Shaster is said to have been written by
a philosopher called Goutam, nearly four thousand years
ago. The Brahmins, from Mr Dow’s account of their sa¬
cred books, appear to believe invariably in the unity, eter¬
nity, omniscience, and omnipotence of God ; and the poly¬
theism of which they have been accused is no more than a
symbolical worship of the divine attributes, which they di¬
vide into three classes. Under the name of Brahma, they
worship the wisdom and creative power of God; under the
appellation of Vishen, his providential and preserving qua¬
lity ; and under that of Shevah, that attribute which tends
to destroy.
SHAT-UL-ARAB, a large river, or rather canal, form¬
ed by the confluence of the Euphrates and the Tigris, be¬
fore they enter the Persian Gulf. It forms a broad and
splendid stream ; and as far as Bassora, seventy miles from
its mouth, it is navigable for vessels of 500 tons burden.
It is generally supposed to fall into the Persian Gulf by va¬
rious mouths ; but this Colonel Kinneir, in his Geographical
Memoir of the Persian Empire, shows to be a mistake, as
those streams, supposed to be the mouths of the Shat-ul-
Arab, are really the channels through which the great river
Karoon pours its waters into the Gulf. With these six
eastern channels the Shat-ul-Arab communicates by an ar¬
tificial cut, and receives the waters of the Karoon.
SHAW, Dr Thomas, known to the learned world by
his Travels to Barbary and the Levant, was born at Kendal,
in Westmoreland, about the year 1692. He was appointed
chaplain to the English consul at Algiers, in which station
he continued for several years ; and thence took proper op¬
portunities of travelling into different parts. He returned
in 1733, was elected fellow of the Royal Society, and pub¬
lished the account of his travels at Oxford, 1738, folio. In
1740 he was nominated principal of St Edmond Hall, which
he raised from a ruinous state by his munificence ; and was
regius professor of Greek at Oxford until his death, which
happened in 1751. Dr Clayton, bishop of Clogher, having
attacked these Travels in his Description of the East, Dr
Shaw published, by way of vindication, a supplement, which
is incorporated into the second edition ol his Travels, pre¬
pared by himself, and published in 1757, 4to.
SHA WABAD, a district of Hindustan, in the province of
Bahar, situated principally between the 25th and 26th degrees
of north latitude. It has the Ganges on the north. Rotas and
Bahar on the south, the district of Bahar on the east, and
Chunar and Rotas on the west. This is a populous and
fertile country, particularly in the northern quarter, which
is watered by the Ganges and the Soane. In answer to
queries circulated by the Marquis Wellesley to the collec¬
tors of the districts in 1801, it appeared that the population
amounted to two millions, in the proportion of one Mahom-
medan to twenty Hindus. The principal towns are Buxar,
Boujepoor, and Arrah ; and the chief rivers are the Ganges,
Soane, and Caramnassa.
SHAWLS, Figured. This article has, within less than
forty years, become a very considerable branch of our manu¬
factures. For a long period the district of Cashmere, a pro¬
vince of Hindustan, formerly subject to the king of Canda-
har, produced articles of this description in such perfection
as to make them highly prized both in Europe and in Asia.
The date at which this manufacture took its rise is not known;
but ever since the British established themselves in India, Shaw
Cashmere shawls have been considered as one of the most Lgm f
valuable manufactures of the East.
These shawls are made both long and square, the former
generally measuring fifty-four inches wide, and a hundred
and twenty-six long; the latter are from sixty-three to
seventy-two inches square. The finest of them are com¬
posed of a material exquisitely soft and warm, surpassing in
this respect probably any other material that has ever been
fabricated into clothing. It is recorded that, at the most
flourishing period of this manufacture, the district of Cash-
mere had not less than 40,000looms or frames employed
in it. This district produced also a fine article of cloth,
which has also been imitated in this country, and is in ex¬
tensive use, called Cashmeres or Cassimeres. These ma¬
nufactures were sufficient to draw to the district of Cash-
mere, merchants and commercial agents from Northern
India, Turkey, Persia, and Tartary; and the increasing
prosperity of this industrious and ingenious people was only
checked by the oppressions of their own government, or
the rapacity of the bordering states.
These shawls were not more prized for their fine, soft
texture, than for the chaste beautiful-coloured flowering
with which they were ornamented. Long practice, united
to a natural delicacy of taste, enabled the manufacturers to
dye the numerous colours of an unfading and brilliant hue,
and to arrange them in such a manner as to produce a har¬
mony and elegance such as no article made in Europe has
ever fully equalled. The value put upon them by the trad¬
ers who brought them to the different markets runs from
L.5 to L.100, and those of the finest texture and greatest
extent of figure sold for still higher prices. At a time when
there was a duty of eighty per cent, upon their importation
into this country (when, however, many were smuggled),
a celebrated dealer in the article in London possessed a
shawl for which he asked five hundred guineas.1
As this country became more and more engaged in a va¬
riety of manufactures, and the ingenuity of so many per¬
sons was put upon the stretch, it was but natural that at¬
tention should be turned to a manufacture at once so cu¬
rious and so much prized. It was long before the manu¬
facturers of this country ascertained the material of which
the Cashmerian shawls were made, or by what process
they were fabricated; and hence the first specimens that
were produced in imitation of them in this country were
very inferior. The merit of commencing, and bringing to
a high degree of perfection, British shawls, belongs exclu¬
sively to Edinburgh, and the principal seat of the manufac¬
ture all along has been in Scotland. About thirty-four
years ago the late Miss Bowie, who, with her father, had
for a number of years been engaged in the gold-lace manu¬
facture, attempted to make square shawls of the more sim¬
ple patterns, in imitation of the Cashmere, by means of the
sewing-needle, from a fabric made of silk, spun from the
waste made in reeling the finest Italian silk. This plan
was tedious and expensive, and in effect fell far short of the
originals.
The manufacture of damask had been carried on in Edin¬
burgh for a long period. The process by which the
figures are produced in this elegant fabric first suggested the
idea that a similar contrivance might produce a close imi¬
tation of the Indian shawls, both in the form of the figures
and the distribution of the colours attained. To accomplish
this, and to train children to insert the coloured yarn with
their fingers, were simultaneously attempted by several ma¬
nufacturers in Edinburgh ; but although this article was
manufactured by means of the fingers in Cashmere, it was
soon found that the higher price of labour in Britain ren-
1 The duty is now (1840) thirty per cent.
S H A
S H A
193
j dered it hopeless to establish the shawl-manufacture on
ifM- this principle. , , ,
„ ✓ -pj,e part of a loom termed a lay was at last constructed,
and fitted up with boxes to hold the number of shuttles for
the colours required. This the weaver managed by a sim¬
ple application of the thumb of his left hand, whereby he
was enabled, without stopping his loom, to throw in the
coloured yarn, and make it catch the threads of the warp
as they were raised by the draw-boy, and thus form the
intended figure. Patterns required from five to twelve dif¬
ferent colours, and consequently as many shuttles. The
loom being mounted on a plan similar to that employed
for weaving damask, required one, two, and sometimes three
boys, according to the extent of the pattern, to draw up the
threads in their order, the shuttle being driven through:
where not required to form the figure, the coloured yarn
remained loose and useless over the whole breadth of the
shawl, and required to be cut off with scissors. There was
thus a great waste of material; but as one weaver, with one
or two boys, could produce as much work in a single week,
as a Cashmerian, with still more hands, on his plan of
working, could produce in twelve months, the saving
was still very great. In place of using any thing like an
ordinary loom, the Cashmere manufacturer had the threads
called the warp placed in an upright frame, and the piece
worked with the fingers much in the same way as tapestry
used to be made. A single shawl of some of the most ex¬
tensive patterns occupied a whole family from one to two
years.
The material of which the finest shawls were made,
was procured from a goat found in the range of mountains
lying to the north and north-west of the district of Cash-
mere. This animal is called by them the Thibet-goat, af¬
ter the mountains they inhabit. The skins of these ani¬
mals are covered with a coat of strong hair five or six inches
in length ; at the roots of this hair is found, in small quanti¬
ties, the very soft woolly substance of which the shawls are
made. Napoleon caused a breed of these goats to be brought
to France, from the hair of which shawls were made ; and
it has now become an article of commerce, and is spun in
considerable quantities both in Britain and in France.
France spun and manufactured it for several years before
this country succeeded in importing or making it; and to
that country we are still indebted for a superior article of
yarn, which sells in this country, the doubled or warp at
48s. per pound weight, and the single or weft at 30s.
There are two circumstances which must at all times make
this article costly: the wool is obtained from the skin after
death, and not while the animal is alive; and the fine part
requires to be picked from the hairy part by the hand, no
machine having yet been found capable of performing the
separation adequately. It farther appears that these goats
are found, in their natural state, only in ranges of the highest
mountains; and as they do not yield a fleece like sheep, it
is manifest that the supply of the article must at all times
be very limited. During the earlier period of the manu¬
facture of shawls in this country, they were either compos¬
ed of silk spun from waste, or from a mixture of this article
with the finest Saxony wool, carded and spun together;
the flowering being composed of the same material, or of
worsted ; and some of the colours were of cotton only. In
this state of the manufacture, the makers in Edinburgh re¬
ceived from L.2 to L.10 sterling for each shawl; and for
several years the demand was good.
The shawl-manufacture was soon established in several
places, more particularly at Norwich, Glasgow, Paisley, and
at Lyons in France, and a variety of trials continued to be
made to lessen the expense of production. The plan of
mounting, at this stage of the manufacture, in preparing
the loom and figure, cost in many instances from L.40 to
L.50 before weaving was commenced ; each loom requiring
VOL, XX.
one, and some of the large patterns two and even three Shawls,
boys, to draw the cords during the process of weaving. Figured.
There was also the expense of clipping olf all the coloured
yarn except such as was taken up to form the figure. To
lessen these expenses various means had been tried, but
without success.
During the short peace of Amiens in 1802, a straw-hat
maker in Lyons, of the name of Jacquard, happened to see,
in an English newspaper, an advertisement offering a pre¬
mium to any one who should contrive a machine for mak¬
ing nets. This led him to turn his attention to the study
of mechanics, and after many fruitless trials he succeeded
in contriving a machine which fully answered the purpose.
He was sent for, on this account, by Napoleon, and while
at Paris, a superb shawl was about to be woven for the
Empress Josephine; and for its production they employed
a very costly and complicated loom, which had cost more
than 20,000 francs. It appeared to Mr Jacquard that
the same results might be produced by less complicated
machinery. Intense study and perseverance enabled him
to produce the machine that now bears his name. Mr
Jacquard was rewarded with a decoration of honour, and a
pension of a thousand crowns per annum, and sent with
his machine to Lyons, the seat of the shawl and figured silk
manufactures. This contrivance not only superseded the
use of the draw-boy, but also rendered a great deal of
tackling unnecessary; thus greatly simplifying and cheapen¬
ing the production, not only of shawls, but also that of
figured articles of every description.
It is a striking instance of the ignorance and shortsight¬
edness of the operatives of Lyons, that when Jacquard in¬
troduced his invention, the people broke out into open re¬
bellion. He was denounced as an enemy of the people,
and as the man who had been scheming the destruction of
their trade, and the starvation of themselves and their fami¬
lies. Three several plots were laid to assassinate him, and
twice he was in great danger of losing his life. So strong
was the tide of prejudice and indignation, that the machine
was ordered to be openly destroyed by the public authori¬
ties, and was accordingly broken in pieces in the great
square of the city.
The successful competition of foreigners, and the conse¬
quent decline of trade at a subsequent period, induced some
of the more intelligent manufacturers to think of the man
whose discovery was likely to bring some relief to the then
depressed manufacturers of Lyons. They made an expe¬
riment, and succeeded. Silks of the greatest beauty were
introduced at a lower cost, and now (1840) there is not a
mechanic, either in France or in Britain, who does not ac¬
knowledge the great importance of Mr Jacquard’s invention.
This may be fully conceived, from the fact, that not only
has it been very generally adopted by shawl-manufacturers,
but by makers of all kinds of damask, whether of silk or of
linen, in Britain. This improvement, together with a ma¬
chine which the French had also contrived about the same
time, for cutting off the spare yarn used in making the
figures (which completely superseded hand-labour), were
both adopted in France some time before they were intro¬
duced into Britain, which, with the advantage they de¬
rived from having good yarn from the wool of the Thibet-
goat, procured for the French manufactures a decided ad¬
vantage over the British for several years; and notwithstand¬
ing a nominal protecting duty of thirty per cent, (but in re¬
ality not affording more than twelve per cent, as facilities
for smuggling were such, that any one could have had an
insurance for goods being safely delivered in London, on
paying to the French merchant twelve per cent, extra), goods
were brought over in great quantities, which, together with
a general desire for foreign productions, had the effect of
ruining several British shawl-makers, as well as some ex¬
tensive dealers in the article. The improvements invented
2 b
194
S II E
Shaw-poor by the French, however, quickly found their way to this
11 country, and being applied with energy, soon produced a
otK-bbeare. re.actjon in favour of Scotch manufacturers, and caused the
French to suffer in their turn, from having made too large
quantities in the hopes of retaining the London trade. Bri¬
tish figured shawls are now manufactured equal, in point
of elegance, with any produced in France, and superior to
those of every other country in lowness of price. They are
manufactured from the wool of the Thibet-goat, which is as
soft as, and more perfect in figure than, the best Cashmere, and
probably less than a tenth part of the cost. The material,
however, used for the flowering, being finer, and the colours
being more durable in the manufactures of Cashmere, they
still retain a superiority over those of Europe.
Edinburgh, from the commencement of this manufacture,
has taken the lead in most of the improvements connected
with it, always producing the best goods of the kind; but from
the circumstance of labour of various kinds being lower in
Paisley and Glasgow, the manufacture has mostly been
transferred to these places. At one time there were about
a thousand hands employed in Edinburgh in this manufac¬
ture ; now it scarcely gives work to one hundred.
Shawls in imitation of Cashmere are made of a very great
variety of qualities. While some of those made of the finest
materials and richest patterns still sell for L.8 or L.10 each,
there are a great many made of a mixture of silk and cot¬
ton, silk and wool, cotton and wool, and some are made
wholly of cotton, so that figured shawls can be purchased at
five shillings each. It is computed that, at the present time,
this description of shawls gives employment to at least
20,000 hands. A great many are exported to America, as
well as to other parts of the world. See Weaving, (b. y.)
SHAWPOOR, a town of Hindustan, province of Gund-
waneh, situated on the Rhair, a considerable river, which
runs by the south side of the town, over a bed of rock,
which impedes its navigation. It is a straggling town, with
a small fort built of rubble-stone and mud. Long. 83. 23.
E. Lat. 23. 34. N. *
SHEATHING, in the nautical language, is the casing
of that part of a ship which is to be under water, with fir-
board an inch thick; first laying hair and tar mixed to-
SHE
could not forbear from exercising it on his master; but the Stef
chief marks for the arrows of his wit were the gentlemen oE
the corporation, some of whom laughed at such trifles, while v __et
such as were irritable often commenced prosecutions against
him, but without success. He was frequently summoned
to appear at the sessions, for daring to speak and write dis¬
respectfully of the magistrates ; but the laugh wras always
on the side of Shebbeare.
When his time was out, he set up for himself, then dis¬
covering a taste for chemistry; soon after which he mar¬
ried an amiable young woman with no fortune, but of re¬
spectable connections. Failing in business at Bideford, he
went to Bristol in 1736, entered into partnership with a
chemist, and never afterwards visited his native town.
He was at Paris in 1752, where he obtained, it is said,
the degree of doctor in medicine; a fact, how-ever, which
many are disposed to question.
His most celebrated performances were a series of letters
to the People of England, written in a vigorous and ener¬
getic style, well calculated to make an impression on com¬
mon readers. They galled the ministry, who at first were
too eager to punish the author. On the 12th of January
1758, Lord Holdernesse signed a general w-arrant for ap¬
prehending the author, printer, and publishers of a wicked,
audacious, and treasonable libel, entitled “A Sixth Letter to
the People of England, on the progress of National Ruin;
in which is shown that the present grandeur of France and
calamities of this nation are owing to the influence of Ha¬
nover on the councils of England and having found them,
to seize and apprehend them, together with their books and
papers.
Government having received information that a seventh
letter was in the press, all the copies w-ere seized and sup¬
pressed by virtue of another warrant, dated the 23d of Ja¬
nuary. In Easter term an information was filed against
him by the attorney-general, and on the 17th of June the
information was tried, when Shebbeare was found guilty;
and on the 28th of November he received sentence, by
which he was fined L.5, ordered to stand in the pillory on
the 5th of December at Charing Cross, to be confined three
years, and to give security for his good behaviour for seven
aether under the boards, and then nailing them on, in order years, himselt in L.500, and twro others in I..250 each,
to prevent worms from eating the ship’s bottom. Ships of During his confinement, he declared he never received as
war are now generally sheathed with copper; but copper
sheathing is liable to be corroded by the action of salt water,
and something is still wanting to effect this purpose. It is
very probable that tar might answer very well.
SHEATS, in a ship, are ropes bent to the clews of the
sails, serving in the lower sails to haul aft the clews of the
presents more than twenty guineas from all the world.
He was detained in prison during the whole time of the
sentence, and with some degree of rigour. At the termina¬
tion of his sentence, a new reign commenced; and shortly
afterwards, during Mr Grenville’s administration, a pension
of L.200 a year was granted him by the crown, through the
sail •’ but in topsails they serve to haul home the clew of the influence of Sir John Philips, and he ever after became de¬
sail close to the yard-arm. voted to the service of government. He was of course
SHEAVE, in Mechanics, a solid cylindrical wheel, fixed abused in almost every periodical work, which he seems m
in a channel, and moveable about an axis, being used to general to have had the good sense to neglect. Dr Smollett
raise or increase the mechanical powers applied to remove introduced him, in no very respectful light, under the name
any body. of Ferret, in Sir Launcelot Greaves; and Mr Hogarth made
SHEBBEARE, John, a political writer, was born at him one of the group in the third election print.
Bideford, in Devonshire, in the year 1709. He received His publications of a satirical, political, and medical^na-
the rudiments of his education at the free grammar-school
of Exeter. It has often been observed that the future life
ture amount to thirty-four, besides a novel, called Filial
Piety, in which hypocrisy and blustering courage are very
of a man may be gathered from his puerile character ; and properiy^chastised. ^ He died on the lst of August 1788
accordingly Shebbeare, while a boy at school, gave the strong- *
est indications of his future eminence in misanthropy and
learning, by the extraordinary tenaciousness of his memory
and the readiness of his wit, as well as the malignity of his
disposition. He was universally regarded as a young man „ .
of surprising genius, while at the same time he was de- river Medway forms its junction with the Thames, on the
spised for Ins malicious temper. right bank of the former river. It has been long a place
About the age of sixteen, Shebbeare was bound appren- of vast importance in a military point of view. The works
tice to an eminent surgeon in his native town, under whom having been suffered to fall into decay in the war with
he acquired a considerable share of medical knowledge. His Holland in the reign of Charles II., the Dutch fleet at¬
taint for lampoon appeared at this early period, and he tacked and destroyed the fortifications, and thus opened
SHEERGOTTA, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Bahar, eighty miles south by west from Patna. Long.
84. 55. E. Lat. 24. 32. N.
SHEERNESS, a town of the county of Kent, situated
on the island of Sheppey. It stands at the point where the
SHE
I eid. the way for an attack on the marine arsenal of Chatham.
. •-—''After the Dutch retired, the works were repaired, and
have been from time to time vastly strengthened. It is
now a complete marine fortress, and a powerful protection
to the important anchorage at the Nore, where, in time of
war, especially if the port of Antwerp should be in pos¬
session of an enemy, it is necessary always to have a strong
naval force ready to act. These fortifications were found
of great service during the mutiny of the fleet at the Nore
in the year 1796. Many of the crews were soon tired of
their state of rebellion, rose upon their committees, and
slipping their cables, ran under the guns of the forts, and
were protected from their associates.
It is now a regular marine arsenal, chiefly used for re¬
pairing ships, and well furnished with every necessary kind
of stores, and of late years well supplied with what was
previously scarce, good spring-water. It is a part of the
parish of Minster, the population of which amounted in 1801
to 5561, in 1811 to 7003, in 1821 to 8414, and in 1831 to
7983. The town itself has diminished from 1422 to sixty-
one inhabitants, as dwellings have been removed to make
space for ports. It has a market on Saturday, and there is
a chapel of ease to Minster church.
SHEFFIELD, an ancient, large, and flourishing market-
town in the west riding of the county of York, 160 miles
north-north-west from London. It derives its name from the
river Sheaf, which here flows into the Don. These rivers
descend from the boldly swelling hills west of the town, and
form, with their mountain-tributaries, interesting features
in that beautiful scenery for which the neighbourhood has
always been noted. The town itself, which used formerly
to be described as built upon a gentle hill, rising within an
ample valley, has long since stretched over the ascending
slopes on every side of its original site, particularly to the
west, which is a large suburb of beautiful villas. The in¬
equalities of the ground have not been compensated, either
by the regularity of the streets, or by any thing like uniform¬
ity in the buildings. The town has been said to be black;
and certainly the smoke emitted from upwards of one hun¬
dred steam-engine chimneys, and ten times that number of
forges, workshops, &c., to say nothing of what issues from so
many dwellings, in a place where coal is cheap, does occasion¬
ally form a considerable cloud; but the houses are not more
dingy, and the streets generally much cleaner, than in other
manufacturing towns of the same size. Fewpersons have ap¬
proached the town in any direction, without being struck with
the beauty of the surrounding neighbourhood, resembling,
in many respects, the varied character of a nobleman’s park;
and it would be difficult to find a single street from which
a glimpse of the landscape cannot be obtained. Many of the
neighbouring villas are built of a light-coloured stone, while
those in the town are mostly of a dark-red brick. A great
proportion of the latter, particularly in the newer streets, are
small, being the residences of the artisans and working classes
generally, almost every family living in a separate dwelling.
1 his independent occupancy, added to the fact that in few
cases are the labours of the workmen carried on at home,
bespeaks a degree of comfort and cleanliness scarcely to be
looked for in buildings where a single room serves at once
as the workshop of the industrious man and the residence
of his family.
Sheffield is the modern capital of a somewhat undefined
district, which for ages has been called Hallamshire, the
present Hallam, a hamlet west of the town, having been
considered the site of the ancient capital, where stood the
aula, or chief residence of the Saxon lord.
Since the sixteenth century, the records of the place show
a singularly rapid increase of the population. In 1615 the
town contained 2207 souls, in 1755 this number was mul¬
tiplied sixfold, in 1796 the census was 29,013, in 1821 the
population of the entire parish of Sheffield was 65,275, and
S H E 195
in 1831 the inhabitants were 91,692; at present they are Sheffield,
estimated at 110,000. Of these, about 96,000 may be said v—v—
to reside in the town and suburbs, the remainder in the out
townships. A proportionate increase has taken place in the
number of houses. These in 1831 were stated to be 19,700;
they are now 25,000.
Sheffield has no municipal head, no stipendiary magistrate,
or other paramount local governor. Some of the west-rid¬
ing magistrates, generally those nearest, for none of them
reside within the township, sit in the town-hall twice a
week for the current disposal of offenders and other busi¬
ness. In the same building is held the manor court for the
recovery of small debts ; and here too are the offices of a
night and day police. An attempt was made in 1838 to
obtain a corporation, in conformity with the recent act of
parliament; but a great majority of the inhabitants opposing
the design, it was abandoned.
The vicinity of Sheffield abounds with the natural ele¬
ments of prosperity; and of these the inhabitants were
prompt to avail themselves, long before the means of a per¬
fect intercommunication throughout the country had ge¬
neralized these advantages. On every side of the town coal
has been got, and actually within the town itself, the seams,
although wrought for centuries, appearing in some places al¬
most inexhaustible. With the coal is found ironstone, which
is smelted in the neighbourhood; while clay, slate, and sand¬
stone are abundant, and of excellent quality. A navigable
canal, opened in 1819, completed a water-communication
between Sheffield and the German Ocean; and in 1838,
a railway to Rotherham (six miles) was finished. The line
of a railway between Sheffield and Winchester is in pro¬
gress, including a tunnel of three miles under the English
Apennines. The number and rapid descent of the streams
west of the town afford innumerable waterfalls, on which
grinding establishments have been built, and in which, pre¬
vious to the introduction of steam power, all the edge-
tools and cutlery made in the district were ground and po¬
lished.
Sheffield has long been celebrated, not only throughout
Great Britain, but all over the world, for its cutlery manu¬
factures. The origin of this celebrity dates as far back as
the reign of Edward III., when “ Sheffield whittles,” as
certain common kinds of knives were then and afterwards
called, appear to have been in repute. As early as the
middle of the sixteenth century, the staple trade was fos¬
tered by the feudal lords of Hallamshire, there being still
extant the various “ acts and ordinances agreed upon by
the whole fellowship of cutlers, and by the assent of George
earl of Shrewsbury.” About a century afterwards, when,
in consequence of the growing reputation of the various ar¬
ticles manufactured at Sheffield, and the insufficiency of the
manor court to restrain the making and vending of spurious
wares, the credit of the trade was likely to be endangered,
an act of parliament was obtained, by which, under certain
regulations, the cutlers of Sheffield were constituted a body
corporate. This important act, which bears date April
1624, was designed “ for the good order and government
of the makers of knives, sickles, shears, scissors, and other
cutlery wares in Hallamshire, in the county of York, and
parts adjoiningthe latter words having reference to a
part of Derbyshire immediately south of Sheffield, where
vast quantities of scythes and sickles have been made ever
since the reign of Elizabeth.
The Cutlers’ Company consisted of a master elected an¬
nually, two warders, six searchers, twenty-four assistants,
and the commonalty. Their duties were generally to re¬
gister apprentices, grant corporate marks to be struck on
the wares of the members, and by other means to maintain
the integrity of the staple trades. This corporation conti¬
nued in force, with a slight modification, until the year
1814, when, by an act (54th Geo. III.), the local manufac-
196 SHE SHE
Sheffield, tures of Sheffield were placed on an entirely new footing; made of silver. Ihe silver-plating establishments are Sk ^
the liberty of engaging in any of the heretofore incorpo- among the most respectable in the town; their interests 'w' -
rated trades, either as masters or journeymen,being extended have also been the least fluctuating. These circumstances
indifferently to all persons, whether freemen or strangers, are due mainly to the fact, that in works of this kind a large
The act which thus abolished the old corporation influence capital must be sunk in stamps, dies, and other tools, add-
and jurisdiction still perpetuated its formal continuance, ed to which is the expense of creating new designs, and in-
with power to grant marks, &c., the “ master-cutler” being volving the consideration of taste as well as cost. Shef-
also the returning officer in the election of the two mem- field plate, for richness of design, the strength o its more
bers of parliament for the borough of Sheffield, under the precious material, and for excellence of workmanship, is
reform act. The corporation have a very handsome hall in everywhere in high estimation.
Church Street. Manufactures in Britannia metal, which are likewise in-
Although the throwing open the old corporate trades to digenous to the town, are carried on to a great extent, and
unrestrained competition had a considerable effect in mul- to a singular degree of perfection. Nearly every one of
tiplying manufacturers, yet the peculiar nature of the the articles made in silver-plate are elegantly imitated in
handicrafts generally limited in some degree the changes this cheap material; with the addition of vast quantities of
which, under other circumstances, might have resulted from spoons, which are first cast in metal moulds, and afterwards
the sudden rush of capital into a new channel. In the polished by brushing. _ . -
first place, a workmanlike expertness in any branch of cut- Latterly both the foregoing lucrative branches o trade
lery cannot be acquired without a considerable period of have encountered some competition from the use of what
probation. In the second place, the application of ma- has been termed German silver, a kind of brass, w nch
chinery could only be applied, except in the department of combines the colour, lustre, and durability of silver, at a cost
grinding, to a very limited extent; and, with this exception, not greatly above that of manufactured copper,
manual labour can hardly be said to be superseded, but Here are two or three large establishments for the ma-
rather assisted, by water or steam power. There are other nufacture of optical instruments, including especially cu-
circumstances which have operated in the same direction, rious w orks tor the grinding of spectacle-glasses, the greater
especially the division of labour in the production of a part of the trade throughout the country being supplied from
single article, which has given the artisans in one branch Sheffield. Several of the manufacturers have show-rooms
a control over the others. This has led the workmen ge- on their premises for the display of their brilliant wares,
nerally to act in concert in all questions touching their which are celebrated for the variety and beauty of the cut-
respective departments of labour, as wages, apprentices, lery-goods which they contain ; and visiters may here wit-
engagements with masters, See. To maintain what they ness the various operations carried on in the workshops,
have considered their rights, or at least their interests, re- The town of Sheffield, in every branch of its productive
course has been had to various compacts formed under industry, not only carries on a considerable home trade, but
the designation of “ Trades’Unions,” frequently exhibiting its leading wares find a market in every quarter of the
all the melancholy results of illegal combinations. Nor globe. It is, however, to the United States of Amenca
has the mischief of these confederations been confined to that the largest and most constant consignments are made;
portentous “ strikes,” contests between the masters and the and hence Sheffield participates very largely in every Hue-
journeymen ; but nonjuring or suspected individuals among tuation which affects Transatlantic mercantile interests,
the latter have sometimes become victims to the vigilance The inhabitants of Sheffield are largely provided with
and the vengeance of their banded fellows. What has been places for the promotion of religion, education, philan-
the entire effect of this system upon the trade of the town thropy, and intelligence. There are in the parish twelve
generally, and upon the present condition of the parties, it is churches, seven in the town and five in the rural townships,
not very easy to say. It may have kept up wages, but it has containing in all 15,160 sittings. Holy Trinity, or the
more certainly broken down that good understanding which parish church, is a noble Gothic structure, enclosing a pa-
formerly existed between masters and workmen, and driven rallelogram 240 feet in length by 130 feet in width, rrom
numerous customers to foreign markets. The number of near the centre rises a tower, containing ten very well-
persons employed in the cutlery workshops is about 10,000. tuned bells, and surmounted by a lofty spire of handsome
About 700 tons of Swedish iron are annually landed at proportions. I hat part of the church now used for divine
the canal wharf, which are converted in the town into the service was, in 1800, rebuilt from the foundation, and the
steel which is used in the manufacture of knives, scissors, interior fitted up in a solid, handsome, and commodious
razors, files, saws, axes, and various other cutting instru- manner, so that the chancel alone presents any traces o
ments. Of this really “ precious metal,” however, the antiquity.
greater part is exported to the United States in the form The living is a vicarage, two parties presenting in turn,
of tilted cast steel; that is, steel which, after carbonization as representatives of the original grantees ot the advowson
in the original bars, is broken up and melted in a crucible, in 1544. Independently of the vicarial patronage, three
afterwards cast into a mould, and then reduced at the forges assistant ministers are appointed and maintained by the
into rods of such sizes as the trade requires. Besides, three church burgesses.
or four thousand tons of British iron are annually brought In addition to the churches and chapels of the estabhsh-
into the town, and some portion of it converted into steel ment, the Methodists, Independents, Baptists, Quakers, an
for inferior purposes. There are several large establish- Roman Catholics, have respectively large, handsome, and
ments for the manufacture of the finer kinds of stoves, grates, commodious places of worship, in the whole not fewer than
and fenders. These articles are often executed in the twenty. Of these, six belong to the Wesleyans, and inclu c
most superb style, modellers and other artists being con- some of the largest and most ornamental chapels in the
stantly employed in devising new patterns. connection.
About a century ago, the art of plating upon copper with Here is an old endowed grammar-school; a collegiate
silver was discovered in Sheffield; and thus originated a school, recently built by shareholders, at an expense o
trade of immense importance to the town. For many years L.3000; and two charity schools, one for sixty boys, am
past the quantity of wares executed in this beautiful and the other for sixty girls, all conducted in conformity wit
comparatively cheap material has been very great, includ- the principles of the Church of England. The Wesleyan
ing particularly urns, salvers, dishes, epergnes, candelabras, Methodists have just erected, outside the town, and at a
and indeed almost every article which had formerly been cost of about L. 15,000, a splendid proprietary school, ca
SHE
fi field, pable of boarding and educating three hundred boys. Be-
in>- sides these establishments, all the religious denominations
. v—''have week-day and Sunday schools in different parts of the
town. A literary and philosophical society was instituted
in 1822; they have a museum in the music-hall, contain¬
ing handsome cabinets of fossils, minerals, objects of natu¬
ral history, apparatus, &c. and a capital full-length portrait
of the poet Montgomery, who has long been regarded as
one of the chief ornaments of the town.
There is a large theatre, erected in 1762 ; and under the
same roof a commodious assembly-room ; and adjacent, the
music-hall, in which concerts and public lectures are usu¬
ally delivered. A short distance outside the town, on the
west, are the botanical gardens, comprising a well-enclosed
plot of eighteen acres of ground, laid out in a style of ele¬
gance, and commanding an extensive prospect. The glazed
conservatories present a frontage of 300 feet. On the oppo¬
site slope is a beautiful cemetery.
The general infirmary, which was opened in 1797 for
“ the sick and lame poor of any nation,” is a large and hand¬
some edifice, on the north-west side of the town. A sub¬
scription of L.5000 has just been raised for the purpose of
adding a fever-hospital to this noble institution. Sheffield
has also a medical and anatomical school, a public dispen¬
sary, and a capital bath establishment. On a fine eminence,
just outside the town, stands the Shrewsbury Hospital, a
charity founded in 1673, and consisting of neat houses for
eighteen men and eighteen women, the former receiving ten
and the latter eight shillings a week, besides coals, coats,
&c. Holliss’s Hospital, in the town, contains sixteen houses
for poor cotters’ widows, who have each seven shillings a
week. There are various other smaller charities.
From the earliest period of authentic history, the Love-
tots, Furnivals, Talbots, and Howards, names of stirring
interest in English annals, were successively chiefs of Hal-
lamshire, the present Duke of Norfolk being lord of the
manor of Sheffield. With the transactions of these illus¬
trious families, the older records of their ample domain and
its industrious inhabitants are so intimately mixed up, that
it is hardly possible to give any history of the one without
involving details concerning the other. One circumstance
especially has given a universality of interest to this asso¬
ciation, namely, the committal of the unfortunate Mary
Queen of Scots to the custody of George the sixth earl of
Shrewsbury, and the fact that she spent the greater part of
fourteen years of her troubled life at Sheffield. The resi¬
dence of the royal prisoner here was chiefly at the castle,
a place of strength, formerly standing at the confluence of
the rivers Sheaf and Don, at the northern angle of the
town, but which was so utterly demolished after the civil
wars, that its situation is at present only indicated by the
historian, or by the ineffaceable names of adjacent localities.
The Talbots had likewise a summer residence, called the
“Manour,” built on a fine eminence in the ancient “ Lark,” a
mile east of the town: of this residence a shattered and
far-conspicuous fragment remains. And here, too, the ill-
fated Mary occasionally resided during her captivity; and
the spot is often visited by curious or sympathizing indivi¬
duals on that account. An enthusiastic admirer and apolo¬
gist of Mary, Samuel Roberts, Esq. has recently erected,
at an expense of several thousand pounds, and in a beau¬
tiful situation, in Sheffield Lark, a small castle, of the most
exquisite architecture, which he calls “ Queen’s Tower.”
The inhabitants of Sheffield are indebted for an elegant
and most elaborate history of the ancient and modern state
of their town and neighbourhood, to the Reverend Joseph
Hunter, a native of the place, wdio, in 1819, published his
“ Hallamshire,” in one volume folio.
Sheffield, John, Duke of Buckinghamshire, an eminent
writer of the seventeenth and eighteenth century, of great
personal bravery, and an able minister of state, was born
S H E 197
about 1650. He lost his father at nine years of age ; and Sheick.
his mother having married Lord Ossulston, the care of his''•“'■"v—
education was left entirely to a governor, who did not
greatly improve him in his studies. Finding that he was
deficient in many parts of literature, he resolved to devote
a certain number of hours every day to his studies; and
thereby improved himself to the degree of learning which
he afterwards attained. Though possessed of a good estate,
he did not abandon himself to pleasure and indolence, but
entered as a volunteer in the second Dutch war, and was
in that famous naval engagement where the Duke of York
commanded as admiral; upon which occasion his lordship
behaved so gallantly, that he was appointed commander of
the Royal Catharine. He afterwards made a campaign in
the French service under M. de Turenne. As Tangier was
in danger of being taken by the Moors, he offered to head
the forces which were sent to defend it, and accordingly was
appointed to command them. He was then Earl of Mul-
grave, and one of the lords of the bed-chamber to Charles
II. The Moors retired on the approach of his majesty’s
forces ; and the result of the expedition was the blowing up
of Tangier. He continued in several great posts during
the short reign of James II. tilhthat unfortunate prince was
dethroned. Lord Mulgrave, though he paid his respects to
King William before he was advanced to the throne, yet
did not accept of any post in the government until some
years afterwards. In the sixth year of William and Mary
he was created Marquis of Normanby in the county of Lin¬
coln. He was one of the most active and zealous opponents
of the bill which took away Sir John Fenwick’s life; and
exerted the utmost vigour in carrying through the Treason
Bill, and the bill for Triennial Parliaments. He enjoyed
some considerable posts under King William, and possessed
much of his favour and confidence. In 1702 he was sworn
lord privy-seal; and in the same year was appointed one of
the commissioners to treat of an union between England
and Scotland. In 1703 he was created Duke of Normanby,
and soon after Duke of Buckinghamshire. In 1711 he was
made steward of her majesty’s household, and president of
the council. During Queen Anne’s reign he was but once
out of employment; and then he voluntarily resigned, be¬
ing attached to what were called the Tory Principles. Her
majesty offered to make him lord chancellor, but he de¬
clined the office. He was instrumental in the change of
the ministry in 1710. A circumstance that reflects the
highest honour on him, is the vigour with which he acted
in favour of the unhappy Catalans, who were afterwards so
inhumanly sacrificed. He was survived by only one legi¬
timate son, who died at Rome in 1735; but he left several
natural children. Fie died in 1721. He was admired by
the poets of his age; by Dryden, Prior, and Garth. His
Essay on Poetry was applauded by Addison, and his Re¬
hearsal is still read with pleasure. His writings were splen¬
didly printed in 1723, in two volumes 4to, and have since
been reprinted in 1729, in two volumes 8vo. The first
contains his poems on various subjects ; the second, his prose
works, consisting of historical memoirs, speeches in parlia¬
ment, characters, dialogues, critical observations, essays, and
letters. It may be proper to observe, that the edition of
1729 is castrated; some particulars relating to the revolu¬
tion having given offence.
SFIEICK, in the oriental customs, the person who has
the care of the mosques in Egypt: his duty is the same as
that of the imams at Constantinople. There are more or
fewer of these to every mosque, according to its size or re¬
venue. One of them is head over the rest, and answers to
a parish priest with us, and has under him, in large mosques,
the readers, and people who cry out to go to prayers; but
in small mosques the sheick is obliged to do all this himself.
In such it is their business to open the mosque, to cry to
prayers, and to begin their short devotions at the head of
198
$ H E
S H E
Sheikpoor the congregation, who stand rank and file in great order,
^ and make all their motions together. Every Friday the
. *Sheick makes an harangue to his congregation.
SHEIKPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Bahar, fifty miles south-east from Patna. Long. 85. 54<. E.
Eat. 25. 8. N.
SHEKARPOOR, a town in the province of Sewistan or
Seistan, situated on the west side of the Indus. It is a
large town, with seven gates. The Hindu merchants who
visit this country leave their wives and relatives here for
security. It is governed by a Mahommedan chief, who
pays tribute both to the Afghans and Ameers of Sinde.
Long. 69. 49. E. Lat. 28. 47. N.
SHEKEL, the name of a weight and coin current among
the ancient Jews. Dr Arbuthnot makes the weight of the
shekel equal to 9 pennyweights 2£ grains troy weight, and
the value equal to 2s. 3|d. sterling. The golden shekel was
worth L.L 16s. 6d.
SHEKOABAD, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Agra, thirty-five miles east-south-east from the city of
Agra. Long. 78. 32. E. Lat. 27. 6. N.
SHELLAM, a town and district of the Upper Carnatic,
in the south of India, between the 11th and 12th degrees
of north latitude. The town is generally called the Great
Shellam, to distinguish it from a smaller town. It is sixty
miles west-north-west from Pondicherry. Long. 78. 33. E.
Lat. 11.39. N.
SHELLIUM, a town of Hindustan, in the Carnatic, sixty-
five miles west from Madras. Long. 79. 27. E. Lat 13. 8. N.
SHELTON, a township and chapelry in the county of
Stafford, in the hundred of North Pirehill, formerly a divi¬
sion of the parish of Stoke-upon-Trent. It is two miles
east-north-east from Newcastle-under-Line, and is situated
on the Trent and Mersey Canal, by which its trade is much
facilitated. In this township are the potteries of the vil¬
lage of Etruria, erected by the scientific Mr Wedgewood,
w ho has a villa in it remarkable for the beauty of its situa¬
tion, and the classical arrangement of its architectural de¬
tails. There are more than thirty manufactories in the town,
which give occupation to above 5000 of the inhabitants.
The place is well paved, and lighted with gas. It has a
church, the patronage of which is in the rector of Stoke, in
whose parish it was previous to the division of that large
living. There are two dissenting places of worship, with
Sunday schools, in which 600 children are instructed. The
population amounted in 1811 to 5487, in 1821 to 7325, and
in 1831 to 9267.
SHENSTONE, William, an admired English poet, the
eldest son of a plain country gentleman, who farmed his
own estate in Shropshire, was born in November 1714. He
learned to read of an old dame, whom his poem of the
School-Mistress has delivered to posterity; and he soon re¬
ceived such delight from books, that he was always calling
for new entertainment, and expected that, when any of the
family went to market, a new book should be brought him,
which, when it came, was in fondness carried to bed, and
laid beside him. It is said, that wdien his request had been
neglected, his mother wrapped up a piece of wood of the
same form, and pacified him for the night. As he grew
older, he went for a while to the grammar-school in Hales-
Owen, and was placed afterwards with Mr Crumpton, an
eminent schoolmaster at Solihul, where he distinguished
himself by the quickness of his progress. When he was
young (June 1724), he was deprived of his father, and soon
afterwards (August 1726) of his grandfather ; and, with his
brother, who died afterwards unmarried, he was left to the
care of his grandmother, who managed the estate. From
school he was sent, in 1732, to Pembroke College, Oxford,
a society which has for a long time been eminent for Eng¬
lish poetry and elegant literature. Here it appears that he
found delight and advantage; for he continued his name
there ten years, though he took no degree. After the first
four years he put on the civilian’s gown, but without show¬
ing any intention to engage in the profession. About the
time when he went to Oxford, the death of his grandmother
devolved the care of his aftairs on the Reverend Mr Dolman,
of Brome, in Staffordshire, whose attention he always men¬
tioned with gratitude. At Oxford he applied to English
poetry, and in 1737 published a small Miscellany, without
his name. He then for a time wandered about to acquaint
himself with life, and was sometimes at London, sometimes
at Bath, or any place of public resort; but he did not for¬
get his poetry. He published, in 1740, his Judgment of
Hercules, addressed to Mr Lyttleton, whose interest he
supported with great warmth at an election. This was two
years afterwards followed by the School-Mistress. Mr Dol¬
man, to whose care he was indebted for his ease and leisure,
died in 1745, and the care of his fortune now fell upon
himself. He tried to escape it a while, and lived at his
house with his tenants, who were distantly related; but
finding that imperfect possession inconvenient, he took the
whole estate into his own hands, an event which rather im¬
proved its beauty than increased its produce. Now began
his delight in rural pleasures, and his passion for rural ele¬
gance ; but in time his expenses occasioned clamours that
overpowered the bleat of the lamb and song of the linnet,
and his groves wrere haunted by beings very different from
fauns or fairies. He spent his estate in adorning it, and
his death was probably hastened by his anxieties. He was
a lamp that spent its oil in blazing. It is said, that if he
had lived a little longer, he would have been assisted by a
pension. Such bounty could not have been more pro¬
perly bestowed ; but that it was ever asked is not certain,
and it is too certain that it never was enjoyed. He died at
the Leasowcs, of a putrid fever, on the 11th of February
1763, and was buried by the side of his brother, in the
churchyard of Hales-Owen.
In his private opinions, Shenstone adhered to no parti¬
cular sect, and hated all religious disputes. Tenderness,
in every sense of the word, was his peculiar characteristic;
and his friends, domestics, and poor neighbours, daily ex¬
perienced the effects of his benevolence. This virtue he
carried to an excess that seemed to border upon weakness;
yet if any of his friends treated him ungenerously, he was
not easily reconciled. On such occasions, however, he
used to say, “ I never will be a revengeful enemy; but I
cannot, it is not in my nature, to be half a friend.” He was
no economist; for the generosity of his temper prevented
his paying a proper regard to the use of money, and there¬
fore he exceeded the bounds of his paternal fortune. But
if we consider the perfect paradise into wdiich he had con¬
verted his estate, the hospitality with which he lived, his
charities to the indigent, and all out of an estate that did
not exceed L.300 a year, one should rather wonder that he
left any thing behind him, than blame his want of eco¬
nomy. He yet left more than sufficient to pay all his debts,
and by his will appropriated his whole estate to that pur¬
pose. Though he had a high opinion of many of the fair
sex, he forbore to marry. A passion he entertained in his
youth was with difficulty surmounted. The lady was the
subject of that admirable pastoral, in four parts, which has
been so universally read and admired, and which, one would
have thought, must have softened the proudest and most ob¬
durate heart. His works have been published by Mr Dods-
ley, in three volumes 8vo. The first volume contains his
poetical works, which are particularly distinguished by an
amiable elegance and beautiful simplicity ; the second vo¬
lume contains his prose works; the third his letters and
other pieces.
SHEPOORY, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Agra, thirty-five miles north-west from Narwar. Long.
77. 10. E. Lat. 25. 25. N.
SHE
SHE
199
erton SHEPPERTON, a village of the county of Middlesex,
I in the hundred of Spelthorne. It stands on the banks of
urn• the Thames, eighteen miles from London. The course of
the river having been changed, a small part of the parish
is now in the county of Surrey. There is a bridge here
over the river, near to which are a number of piles, called
Cowey Stakes, said to have been driven into the stream by
the Britons, to prevent the army of Caesar from fording the
river. It is commonly asserted that the learned Erasmus
passed much of his time, when in England, at the parsonage-
house, with the incumbent, who was his intimate friend.
There are many fine and pleasantly situated houses looking
on the river in this place. The population amounted in
1821 to 782, and in 1831 to 847.
SHEPPEY, Isle of, an island, being part of the county
of Kent, situated at the mouth of the Thames and Medway,
and separated from the mainland by an arm of the sea,
called the Swale, which is navigable for vessels of 200 tons
burden, extending about eleven miles in length. Nearly
four fifths of the island consist of rich marsh and pasture
land, and the rest of very productive corn and clover lands.
The best wheat of England is grown on this island, the
land being well manured by the large flocks of sheep on
the uplands, and by the cows and oxen on the rich mea¬
dows. Though fertile, it is deemed unhealthy ; and there
is a scarcity of good water, though that has been of late
partially remedied by a well sunk 330 feet.
The island is in none of the hundreds of Kent, but is a
liberty of itself. It contains 18,340 acres of land, has with¬
in it the towns of Sheerness and Queenborough, four pa¬
rishes, and, in 1831, a population of 9867, of whom 4833
were males, and 5034 were females.
SHEPTON-MALLET, a town of the county of Somer¬
set, in the hundred of Whitestone, 116 miles from London.
It is situated on the Mendip Hills, in a district abundantly
supplied with coal, to which it is principally indebted for
its prosperity. It is a place of considerable woollen manu¬
facture, chiefly of broad cloths and cassimeres. The streets
are narrow and ill built. It has a large parish church ; and
in the centre of the town a curious market-cross, erected in
the year 1500, consisting of five arches, supported by that
number of pentagonal columns. The manor of Shepton-
Mallet is a portion of the duchy of Cornwall. There is a
well-supplied market on Fridays. The population amount¬
ed in 1821 to 5021, and in 1831 to 5330.
SHER, a town in the Mahratta territories, in the province
of Malwah, ninety miles north-east from Oojain. Long.
78. 55. E. Lat. 23. 58. N.
SHERBET, or Sherbit, a compound drink, first brought
into England from Turkey and Persia, consisting of water,
lemon-juice, and sugar, in which are dissolved perfumed
cakes made of excellent Damascus fruit, containing an in¬
fusion of some drops of rose-water. Another kind of it is
made of violets, honey, and juice of raisins.
SHERBORNE, a town in the hundred of its name, in
the county of Dorset, 117 miles from London. It was for¬
merly a city, the see of a bishop, i*emoved to Salisbury in
the eleventh century. It is situated at the foot of a hill,
with narrow and ill-built streets, and has no striking object
except the old cathedral, now the parish church, one of the
finest in the west of England. The only branch of indus¬
try is the silk trade, the throwing of which is carried on by
machinery. Adjoining to the town is the magnificent seat
of the Earl of Digby, Sherborne Castle, which w as once the
residence of Sir Walter Raleigh. The town is supplied
with water by the river Ivel. There are markets on Tues¬
day, Thursday, and Saturday. The population amounted
in 1821 to 3622, and in 1831 to 4075.
SHERBURN, a town of the west riding of the county
of \ork, in the wapentake of Barkston Ash. It is situated
on the great road from Doncaster to York, 185 miles from
London. It was once a place of more importance than it Sheregur
is at present, having been the seat of an archbishop, of II.
whose palace no vestige now remains; but there is a fine Sheridan,
old church. The place is celebrated for its cherry-orchards,
and for a peculiar kind of plums. The population of the town
amounted in 1821 to 1144, and in 1831 to 1155; but the
parish extends over six other townships, whose aggregate
population amounted in 1821 to 2916, and in 1831 to 3068.
SHEREGUR, a town of the Sikh territories, in the pro¬
vince of Mooltan, seventy miles south-south-west from La¬
hore. Long. 73. 24. E‘. Lat. 30. 55. N.
SHERIBON. See Cheribon.
SHERIDAN, Thomas, D.D., the intimate friend of
Dean Swift, is said by Shield, in Cibber’s Lives of the
Poets, to have been born about 1684, in the county of Ca¬
van, where, according to the same authority, his parents
lived in no very elevated state. They are described as
being unable to afford their son the advantages of a liberal
education; but he, being observed to give early indications
of genius, attracted the notice of a friend of his family, who
sent him to the college of Dublin, and contributed towards
his support while he remained there. He afterwards en¬
tered into orders, and set up a school in Dublin, which long
maintained a very high reputation, as w'ell for the attention
bestowed on the morals of the scholars, as for their profi¬
ciency in literature. So great was the estimation which
this seminary enjoyed, that it is asserted to have produced
in some years the sum of L.1000. It does not appear that
he had any considerable preferment; but his intimacy with
Swift procured for him, in 1725, a living in the south of
Ireland, worth about L.150 a year, which he went to take
possession of, and, by an act of inadvertence, destroyed all
his future expectations of rising in the church; for, being
at Cork on the 1st of August, the anniversary of King
George’s birth-day, he preached a sermon which had for
its text, “ Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” On
this being known, he was struck out of the list of chaplains
to the lord lieutenant, and forbidden the Castle.
This living Dr Sheridan afterwards changed for that of
Dunboyne, which, by the knavery of the farmers, and the
power of the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, fell so low-
as L.80 per annum. He gave it up for the free school of
Cavan, where he might have lived well in so cheap a coun¬
try on a salary of L.80 a year, besides his scholars; but the air
being, as he said, too moist and unwholesome, and being
disgusted with some persons wffio lived there, he sold the
school for about L.400 ; and having soon spent the money,
he fell into bad health, and died on the 10th of September
1738, in his fifty-fifth year.
Lord Cork has given the following character of him.
“ Dr Sheridan was a schoolmaster, and in many instances
perfectly well adapted for that station. He was deeply
versed in the Greek and Roman languages, and in their
customs and antiquities. He had that kind of good nature
which absence of mind, indolence of body, and carelessness
of fortune, produce; and although not over strict in his
owm conduct, yet he took care.of the morality of his scho¬
lars, whom he sent to the university remarkably well found¬
ed in all kinds of classical learning, and not ill instructed
in the social duties of life. He w'as slovenly, indigent, and
cheerful. He knew books much better than men; and he
knew the value of money least of all. In this situation, and
with this disposition, Swift fastened upon him as upon a
prey with which he intended to regale himself whenever
his appetite should prompt him.” His lordship then men¬
tions the event of the unlucky sermon, and adds, “ This
ill-starred, good-natured, improvident man returned to
Dublin, unhinged from all favour at court, and even ba¬
nished from the Castle. But still he remained a punster,
a quibbler, a fiddler, and a wot. Not a day passed without
a rebus, an anagram, or a madrigal.”
200 S H E
Sheridan. One of the volumes of Swift’s miscellanies consists al-
most entirely of letters between him and the dean. He
published a prose translation of Persius ; to which he added
the best notes of former editors, together with many judi¬
cious ones of his own. This work was printed at London,
1739, inlSmo.
• Sheridan, Mrs Frances, wife of Thomas Sheridan, A. M.
was born in Ireland about the year 1724, but descended
from a good English family which had removed thither.
Her maiden name was Chamberlaine, and she was grand¬
daughter of Sir Oliver Chamberlaine. The first literary
performance by which she distinguished herself, was a little
pamphlet at the time of a violent party-dispute relative to
the theatre, in which Mr Sheridan had newly embarked his
fortune. So well-timed a work exciting the attention of
Mr Sheridan, he by an accident discovered his fair patroness
SHE
owe all to nature, was found as impracticable a pupil at Sherifl
home as at school. But, however inattentive to his studies
he may have been at Harrow, it is evident, from a letter of
his school-fellow, Mr Halhed, that he had already distin¬
guished himself in poetry, and, in conjunction with his
friend, had translated the seventh Idyl, and many of the les¬
ser poems of Theocritus. In the year 1770, when Halhed
was at Oxford, and Sheridan with his father at Bath, they
commenced a correspondence (of which Halhed’s share only
remains), and, with all the hope and spirit of young adven¬
turers, began and prosecuted several works, of which none
but their translation of Aristsenetus ever saw the light.
In this copartnership of genius, their first joint proauc¬
tion was a play in three acts, called Jupiter, written in imi¬
tation of the burletta of Midas. Of this piece Halhed, who
had furnished the burlesque scenes, entertained great hopes;
to whom he wras soon afterwards married. She was a per- nor were those of Sheridan less earnest and sanguine, yet
son of the most amiable character in every relation of life, that habit of dilatoriness, which is too often attendant upon
with the most engaging manners. After lingering some genius, and which, throughout life, was remarkable in the
years in a very weak state of health, she died at Blois, in character of Mr Sheridan, prevailed so far, that though he
the south of France, in the year 1767. Her Sidney Bid- received from his friend the sketch of this piece in 1770,
dulph may be ranked with the first productions of that class it was not till May next year that the probability of the ar-
in ours or in any other language. She also wrote a little rival of the manuscript was announced to Mr Foote. An-
romance, in one volume, called Nourjahad, in which there is other of their projects was a periodical miscellany, the idea
a great deal of imagination, productive of an admirable mo- of which originated with Sheridan. The title intended by
ral. She was likewise the authoress of two comedies, The him for this paper was Hernan’s Miscellany, to which Hal-
Discovery, and The Dupe. hed objected, and proposed The Reformer, as a newer and
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, a distinguished dramatist better name. But this paper, for want of auxiliaries, never
and politician, was born at Dublin in the month of Septem- proceeded beyond the first number, which was written J)y
ber 1757, and baptized in St Mary’s Church on the fourth
of the following month. His grandfather and father each
attained a celebrity, by the friendship with which the for¬
mer was honoured by Swift, and by the competition, and
even rivalry, which the latter so long maintained with Gar¬
rick. His mother, too, was a woman of considerable ta-
Sheridan. It is the characteristic of fools to be always be¬
ginning ; and this is not the only point in which folly and
genius resemble each other. Amongst the many literary
works projected by Sheridan at this period, were a collec¬
tion of Occasional Poems, and a volume of Crazy Tales, to
the former of which Halhed suggests, that “ the old things
lents. Her affecting novel, Sidney Biddulph, could boast they did at Harrow, out of Theocritus,” might form a useful
amongst its panegyrists Mr Fox and Lord North; and in
the tale of Nourjahad she employed the graces of oriental
fiction to deceive her readers into a taste for true happiness
and virtue.
At the age of seven years, Richard Brinsley Sheridan
was, with his eldest brother Charles Francis, placed under the
tuition of Mr Samuel Whyte of Grafton Street, Dublin; and
after being little more than a year under his care, they'were
removed to England, where Mr and Mrs Sheridan had lately
gone to reside. In the year 1762, Richard was sent to
Harrow, Charles being kept at home as a fitter subject for
the instructions of the father. At that time, Dr Sumner
was at the head of the school, and Dr Parr, who to the
massy erudition of a former age joined the free and en-
contribution. But neither of these came to any thing; and
the translation of Aristsenetus was the only fruit of their
literary alliance that, as we have already stated, ever arrived
at sufficient maturity for publication.
The passion, however, that now began to take possession
of his heart was little favourable to his advancement in se¬
rious studies. In the neighbourhood of Miss Linley, the
arts and the sciences wTere suffered to fall asleep, and even
the translation of Aristsenetus itself proceeded but slowly.
After various fortune, however, it at length made its appear¬
ance in August 1771, contrary to the advice of the book¬
seller, and, as it might have been expected, from the unpro-
pitious season at which it appeared, complete failure was
the consequence. The disappointment of the authors was
lightened intelligence of the present, was one of the under no doubt proportioned to the sanguine expectations they had
masters. Both he and Dr Sumner endeavoured, by all pos- indulged. But as to Mr Sheridan, he sought for consola-
sible means, to awaken in Sheridan a consciousness of those tion in the society of Miss Linley, who had now become the
powers which he manifestly possessed; but remonstrance star of his attraction, and the centre round which revolved
and encouragement were equally thrown away upon the all his hopes. This lady, indeed, notwithstanding the draw-
good-humoured indifference of their pupil. One of the back of her profession as a singer, appears to have spread
most valuable acquisitions he derived from Harrow, how- her gentle conquests to an extent almost unparalleled in
ever, was that friendship with Dr Parr, which lasted through- the annals of beauty. “ Her personal charms, the exqui¬
siteness of her musical talents, and the full light of publicity
which her profession threw upon both,” says Mr Moore,
“ naturally attracted round her a crowd of admirers, in whom
the sympathy of common pursuit soon kindled into rivalry,
till she became at length an object of vanity as well as of
love. Her extreme youth, too (for she was little more than
sixteen when Sheridan first met her), must have removed,
   ,      ^   even from minds the most fastidious and delicate, that re-
as a physician; and they also attended the fencing and pugnance they might have justly felt to her profession, it
riding schools of Mr Angelo, at the same time receiving she had lived much longer under its tarnishing influence, or
from their father instructions in English grammar and ora- lost, by frequent exhibitions before the public, that fine gloss
tory. Of this advantage, however, the elder son appears of feminine modesty, for whose absence not all the talents
alone to have availed himself; and Richard, determined to and accomplishments of the whole sex can atone.”
out his life, and which identity of political opinion tended
not a little to invigorate.
On his leaving Harrow, where he continued until about
his eighteenth year, he was brought home by his father,
who, with the elder son, Charles, fiad lately returned from
France, and taken a house in London. Here the two
brothers for some time received private tuition from Mr
Lewis Kerr, an Irish gentleman, who had formerly practised
S II E R I D A N.
201
I dan. Even at this early age, she had been on the point of mar- a desperate encounter ensued, in which Mr Sheridan’s sword Sheridan.
—^ riage with Mr Long, an old gentleman of considerable for- was broken, and himself severely wounded. A narrative of'^-^v^-'
tune in Wiltshire ; but, on her secretly representing to him, this affair, drawn up by Mr Barnett, and sanctioned by the
that she never could be happy as his wdfe, he generously concurrence of Captain Paumier (Sheridan’s friend) in the
took upon himself the whole blame of breaking off the al- truth of its material facts, was soon afterwards published ;
liance, and even indemnified the father by settling L.3000 whilst the comments which Sheridan thought it necessary
upon his daughter. Mr Sheridan, who owed to this liber- to make have been found in an unfinished state amongst
ality not only the possession of the woman he loved, but the his papers. As soon as Sheridan was sufficiently recovered
means of supporting her during the first years of their mar- of his wounds, his father sent him to pass some months at
riage, uniformly spoke of Mr Long with all the kindness Waltham Abbey, Essex, where he continued, with but a
and respect which such a disinterested character merited, few short intervals of absence, from August or September
Meanwhile, in love, as in all besides, the power of a mind 1772, till the spring of the following year,
like feheiidans made itself felt through all obstacles; and During this period, he evinced considerable industry,
he won the entire affections of the Syren, though the num- particularly in an abstract which he made of the History of
her and wealth of his rivals, amongst whom were a brother England, and in a collection of remarks on Sir William
and friend, the ambitious views of the father, and the temp- Temple’s works, especially his essay on Popular Discon-
tations to which she was hourly exposed, kept his fears and tents, on which his observations are tasteful and just. Still
jealousies continually on the watch. But, whilst this was his situation was at this time singularly perplexing. He
the case, a new and unexpected difficulty awaited him. had won the heart, and even the hand, of the woman he
Captain Mathews, a married man, and intimate with loved, yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off than
Miss Linley s family, had for some time harassed her with ever. H<? had twice risked his life against an unworthy
those disci editable addresses, which it is equally painful to antagonist, yet found the vindication of his honour incom-
disclose and intolerable to endure, lo the threat of self- plete. He felt within himself all the proud consciousness
clestiaction, he is said to have added the still more unman- of genius, yet, thrown upon the world without a profession,
ly menace of ruining her reputation, if he could not un- he looked in vain for a channel through which to direct
dermine her virtue. Terrified by his perseverance, she its energies. Even the precarious hope which his father’s
confided hei distresses to Sheridan, who lost no time in favour held out had been purchased by an act of duplicity,
expostulating with him upon the cruelty, libertinism, and which his conscience condemned; for he not only had pro¬
hopelessness of his pursuit. Such a remonstrance, how- mised that he would instantly abandon the pursuit, but had
ever, was but Intle calculated to conciliate the forbearance even taken an oath that he would never marry Miss Linley.
of this professed man of gallantry; so that, early in 1772, To a mind so young and so ardent, the pressure of these
Miss Linley adopted the resolution of flying to France, and various anxieties must, of course, have been great; in fact
taking refuge in a convent. At this time Sheridan was they could only have been adequately described by him who
little more than twenty, and Miss Linley just entering her felt them ; and there still exist some letters, written by him
eighteenth year. Landing at Dunkirk, they proceeded to during this time, which betray a sadness and despondency,
Lisle, where theypiocured an apartment in a convent, with sometimes breaking out into aspirings of ambition, some-
the intention of remaining there until Sheridan should have times rising even into a tone of cheerfulness, that ill con-
the means of supporting her as his w ife. On the first dis- cealed the melancholy underneath. But it was impossible
covery of the elopement, Mathews busied himself making that Sheridan could be always under a cloud. Misunder-
inquiries into the affair. During the four or five weeks standings there no doubt were, arising probably from those
that the young couple were absent, he never ceased to paroxysms of jealousy into which he must have been con-
haunt the Sheridan family with all sorts of exaggerated tinually thrown; but reconcilement was with no great dif-
rumours; and at length, urged on by the restlessness of ficulty effected; and at length Mr Linley, convinced that
revenge, he inserted a violent and inflammatory advertise- it was impossible to keep them much longer asunder, con-
ment in the Bath Chronicle, in which he publicly posted sented to their union, which took place on the 13th of April
Mr Sheridan as a scoundrel and a liar. The consequences 1773.
of this were such as might have been expected. Ihe A few weeks previous to his marriage, Sheridan had
party now returned from the Continent, and, without loss been entered a student of the Middle Temple. It was not
of time, Sheridan called out Mathews. His second on the to be expected, however, that talents like his would submit
occasion was Mi Ewart, and the particulars of tlm duel, to toil for the distant and dearly-earned emoluments which
w hich was fought with swords, are stated by himself in a a life of labour in this profession might secure; nor, indeed,
etter aedressed to Captain Knight, the second of Mathews, did his circumstances admit of any such patient speculation,
from this it appears that Mathews, being worsted, was ob- A part of the sum which Mr Long had settled upon Miss
iged to beg his life ; after which he signed an ample apo- Linley, and occasional assistance from her father, were now
°§y> "hich he retracted the expressions he had made the only resources left him, besides his ow n talents. Mrs
use of, as ‘ the effects of passion and misrepresentation,” Sheridan’s celebrity as a singer was a ready source of wealth,
anc bagged pardon for his advertisement in the Bath Chro- and offers of the most advantageous kind were pressed upon
_ them by the managers of concerts, both in town and coiki-
ith the odour of this transaction fresh about him, Mr try. But her husband at once rejected all thoughts of al-
Mathews retired to his estate in Wales, and there found lowing her to re-appear in public, and, instead of profiting
j imse universally snunned. An apology may be, accord- by the display of his wife’s talents, adopted the manlier re-
mg to circumstances, either the noblest effort of manliness, solution of seeking independence by his own. How do¬
or the last resource of fear ; and, from the reception which cided his mind was upon the subject, appears by a letter
ns gent eman everywhere experienced, it is evident that written to Mr Linley about a month after the marriage,
o t ie atter class of cases his late retraction had been re- At East Burnham, whence this letter is dated, they were
erre . In this crisis, a Mr Barnett, who had but lately now living in a small cottage, to which they had retired im-
come to reside in his neighbourhood, took upon himself mediately on their marriage; and.to it they often looked back
ie uty of uiging a second meeting with Sheridan, as the with a sigh, in after times, when they were more prosper-
°* mCanS 0^remov'n® ^’e s^&rna ky °fiferm£> ous and less happy. Towards winter they wTent to lodge
a it, same time, to be the bearer of the challenge. 1 his for a short time with Storace, the intimate friend of Mr
o er was accepted, and the parties met at Kingsdown, where Linley, and in the following year attained that first step
VOL. XX. O „
202
SHERIDAN.
Sheridan, towards independence, a house to themselves. During the
summer of 1774, they passed some time at Mr Canning’s and
Lord Coventry’s; but so little did these visits interfere with
the literary industry of Mr Sheridan, that he had not only
at that time finished his play of the Rivals, but was on the
point of “ sending a book to press.”
On the 17th of January 1775, the comedy of the Rivals
was brought out at Covent Garden. This play failed on
its first representation, chiefly owing to the bad acting of
Mr Lee in Sir Lucius O’Trigger. Another actor was, how¬
ever, substituted in his stead, and the play being lightened
of this and some other incumbrances, rose at once in pub¬
lic favour and patronage. The best comment on this live¬
ly play is to be found in the many smiling faces that are
lighted up whenever it appears. With much less wit, it
exhibits more humour than the School for Scandal, and the
dialogue is more natural, as coming nearer the current of
ordinary conversation. The characters, however, are not
such as occur very commonly in the world, and for our
knowledge of them we are indebted to their confessions
rather than to their actions. Lydia Languish, in proclaim¬
ing the extravagance of her own romantic notions, pre¬
pares us for events much more ludicrous and eccentric than
those in which she is concerned ; in the composition of Sir
Lucius O’Trigger, his love of fighting is the only charac¬
teristic strongly brought out; and the wayward, captious
jealousy of Falkland, though so highly coloured in his own
representation, is productive of nothing answerable to such
an announcement. The character of Sir Anthony Absolute
is perhaps the best sustained and most natural of any, and
the scenes between him and Captain Absolute are genuinely
dramatic. Mrs Malaprop’s mistakes have often been ob¬
jected as improbable f rom a woman in her rank of life; but
though some of them are extravagant and farcical, they are
almost all amusing; and the luckiness of her simile, 44 as
headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile, ’ has been
acknowledged by all whose taste is not too refined to be
moved by the genuine comic.
Mr Sheridan now employed the summer recess in writing
the Duenna, whilst his father-in-law, Mr Linley, assisted in
selecting and composing the music for it. In hands so will¬
ing, the work made speedy progress, and, on the 21st Novem¬
ber, the Duenna was performed at Covent Garden. The run
of this opera has, we believe, no parallel in the annals of the
drama. The Beggar’s Opera had a career of sixty-three
nights; but the Duenna, more fortunate, was acted no less
than seventy-five times during the season, the only inter¬
missions being a few days at Christmas, and the Fridays
in every week. In order to counteract this great success
of the rival house, Garrick found it necessary to bring for¬
ward all the weight of his best characters ; and he had even
recourse to the expedient of playing oft the mother against
the son, by reviving Mrs Frances Sheridan’s comedy of the
Discovery, and acting the leading character in it himself.
The Duenna, in fact, is one of the very few operas in our
language which combine the merits of legitimate comedy
with the attractions of poetry and song. The 44 sovereign
of the soul,” as Gray calls music, always loses by being made
exclusive sovereign; and the division of her empire with
poetry and wit, as in the instance of the Duenna, doubles
her real power. The intrigue of this piece is constructed
and managed with considerable adroitness, having just ma¬
terial enough to form three acts, without being encumbered
by too much intricacy, or weakened by too much exten¬
sion. And as to the wit of the dialogue, except in one or
two instances, it is of that accessible kind which lies near
the surface, and which, as it is produced without effort, may
be enjoyed without wonder.
Towards the close of the year 1775, Garrick intending
to part with his moiety of the patent of Drury Lane theatre,
and retire from the stage, Mr Sheridan made him an offer
as purchaser, and eventually became patentee and manager. Sherid,
The progress of the negociation cannot be better related
than in some of Sheridan’s own letters, addressed to Mr
Linley, which Mr Moore has printed. It appears, indeed,
that the contract was perfected in June 1776 ; and in a paper-
drawn up by Mr Sheridan many years afterwards, the shares
of the respective purchasers are thus stated, viz. Mr Sheri¬
dan, two fourteenths of the whole, L. 10,000; Mr Linley, the
same, L. 10,000 ; and Dr Ford, three fourteenths, L.l5,000.
Whence Mr Sheridan’s supply came, or to whom he was
indebted for this seasonable aid, has never been known.
Not even to Mr Linley, whilst entering into all other details,
does he hint at the fountain-head from which it was to
come ; and, indeed, there was something mysterious about
all his acquisitions, whether in love or in learning, in wit or
in wealth. Finally, in reference to this subject, the first
contribution which the new manager furnished to the stock
of the theatre was an alteration of Vanburgh’s comedy, the
Relapse, which was brought out on the 24th of February
1777, under the title of a Trip to Scarborough.
Mr Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his
dramatic fame. He had already produced the best opera
in the language, and there now remained for him the glory
of writing also the best comedy. As this is a species of
composition which, more perhaps than any other, seems to
require a knowledge of human nature and the world, it is
not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate co¬
medies should have been the productions of very young
men. Those of Congreve were all written before he was
five-and-twenty. Farquhar produced the Constant Couple
in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. Vanburgh
was a young ensign when he sketched out the Relapse and
the Provoked Wife ; and Sheridan crowned his reputation
with the School for Scandal at six-and-twenty. And it is
still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us,
that works, which we might suppose to have been the off¬
spring of a careless but vigorous fancy, should, on the con¬
trary, have been the slow result of many doubtful experi¬
ments, gradually unfolding beauties unseen even by him who
produced them, and at length arriving step by step at per¬
fection. That the School for Scandal was produced by this
tardy process, is evident from the sketches of its plan and
dialogue which Mr Moore has pi-oduced, and which serve
to throw a remarkable light on the first slow workings ot
genius, out of which its finest transmutations arise. The
reader who may feel curious on this subject is referred to
Mr Moore’s clear and masterly exposition. Suffice it to
mention, that there are two distinct sketches, in the second
of which particularly, is shown the condensing process which
his wit must have gone through before it attained its present
proof and flavour. There appear also to have been originally
two plots, which the author incorporated into one; yet, even
in the details of the new- plan, considerable alterations were
subsequently made, entire scenes suppressed or transposed,
and the dialogue of some completely rewritten.
This play was produced on tire 8th of May 1777, and its
success was decided and triumphant. Indeed, long after its
first uninterrupted run, it continued to be played regularly
two or three times a week ; and on comparing the receipts
of the first twelve nights with those of a later period, it will
appear how little the attraction of the piece had abated by
repetition. The beauties of this comedy are so universally
known, that it cannot be necessary to dwell upon them.
With but little interest in the plot, no very profound or in¬
genious development of character, and a group ot person¬
ages, not one of whom has any legitimate claims upon either
our affection or esteem, it yet, by the admirable skill with
which its materials are managed, the happy contrivance ot
the situations, that perpetual play of wit which never tires,
and a finish almost faultless, it unites the suffrages at once
of the refined and the simple, and is not less successful in
S H E R
j ian. satisfying the tastes of the one, than in ministering to the
enjoyment of the other. And this is the true triumph of
genius in all the arts. In painting, sculpture, music, or litera¬
ture, those works which have pleased the greatest number for
the longest space of time, may be pronounced the best; for,
however mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of
the few, the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the
many. The defects of the School for Scandal, if they can
be allowed to amount to defects, are in a great measure
traceable to the amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of
which the piece was formed. From this cause has devolved
that excessive opulence with which the dialogue is almost
overloaded, and which Sheridan himself used to mention as
a fault which he was conscious of in his work. From be¬
ginning to end, it is a continued sparkling of point and po¬
lish ; and the whole of the characters might be compre¬
hended under one common designation of wits, even Trip,
the servant, being as shining and brilliant as the rest. “ In
short,” says Mr Moore, “ the entire comedy is a sort of El
Dorado of wit, where the precious metal is thrown about
by all classes, as carelessly as if they had not the least idea
of its value.”
Soon after the appearance of this comedy, Sheridan made
a further purchase of theatrical property, amounting to
L.17,000; and amongst the visible signs of his increased
influence in the affairs of the house, was the appointment,
this year, of his father to be manager. At the beginning
of the year 1779, Garrick died, and Sheridan, who had fol¬
lowed his body to the grave, wrote a monody to his me¬
mory, which was recited after the play in the month of
March following. In the course of the same year he pro¬
duced the entertainment of the Critic, which was his last
legitimate offering at the shrine of the dramatic muse. In
this incomparable farce, we have a striking instance of the
privilege which genius assumes of taking up subjects that
had passed through other hands, and giving them new value
and currency. The plan of the Rehearsal was first adopted
for the purpose of ridiculing Dryden ; but although there
is much laughable humour in some of the dialogue, the salt
was not of a very conservative nature, and the piece con¬
tinued to be served up to the public long after it had lost
its relish. Fielding tried the same plan in a variety of pro¬
ductions, but without much success, except, perhaps, in the
comedy of Pasquin. It was reserved for Sheridan to give
vitality to this form of dramatic humour, and to invest even
his satirical portraits with a generic, which, without weak¬
ening the particular resemblance, makes them representa¬
tives of the whole class to which the original belonged.
Bayes, on the other hand, is a caricature made up of little
more than personal peculiarities, but may amuse as long as
reference may be had to the prototype, but fall lifeless the
moment the individual that supplied them is no more.
Having terminated his dramatic career, in which he had
been eminently successful, Sheridan now prepared to act a
part in a widely different scene. His thoughts had been gra¬
dually drawn to the seducing subject of politics, on which
he had tried his hand at some very fair remarks on absen¬
teeism ; he had also rendered some service to the party with
which he had connected himself, by taking an active share
in a periodical publication called the Englishman ; and his
| first appearance before the public was made in conjunction
with Mr Fox, at the beginning of 1780, when the Resolu¬
tions on the State of the Representation, together with a
Report on the same subject, were laid before the public.
I he dissolution of parliament, which took place in the
a«tumn of 1780, at length afforded the opportunity to
which his ambition had so eagerly looked forward; and
Stafford was destined to have the honour of first choosing
him for its representative. It is not our intention, how-
ever, to investigate his political with the same minuteness
as 18 hterary life; and this is the less necessary, seeing
203
that the amplest narrative would probably be the heaviest, Sheridan,
and that the masterly pen of Lord Brougham has sketched s—v—
an outline which must be fully sufficient to satisfy the in¬
quiries of the most curious and inquisitive.
“ His first effort,” says Lord Brougham, “ was unambi¬
tious, and it was unsuccessful. Aiming at but a low flight,
he failed in that humble attempt. An experienced judge,
Woodfall, told him it would never do; and counselled him
to seek again the more congenial atmosphere of Drury
Lane. But he was resolved that it should do; he had
taken his part; and as he felt the matter was in him, he
vowed not to desist till he had brought it out. What he
wanted in acquired learning*and natural quickness, he made
up by indefatigable industry. Within given limits, towards
a present object, no labour could daunt him ; no man could
work for a season with more steady and unwearied appli¬
cation. By constant practice in small matters, or before
private committees, by diligent attendance upon all debates,
by habitual intercourse with all dealers in political wares,
from the chiefs of parties and their more refined coteries,
to the providers of daily discussion for the public, and the
chroniclers of parliamentary speeches, he trained himself to
a facility of speaking, absolutely essential to all but first-
rate genius, and all but necessary even to that; and he ac¬
quired what acquaintance with the science of politics he ever
possessed, or his speeches ever betrayed. By these steps
he rose to the rank of a first-rate speaker, and as great a
debater as a want of readiness, and need for preparation,
would permit.
“ He had some qualities which led him to this rank, and
which only required the habit of speech to bring them out
into successful exhibition; a warm imagination, though more
prone to repeat with variations the combinations of others,
or to combine anew their creations, than to bring forth
original productions; a fierce, dauntless spirit of attack; a
familiarity, acquired from his dramatic studies, with the feel¬
ings of the heart and the ways to touch its chords; a faci¬
lity of epigram and point, the yet more direct gift of the
same theatrical apprenticeship ; an excellent manner, not
unconnected with that experience; and a depth of voice
which perfectly suited the tone of his declamation, be it in¬
vective, or be it descriptive, or be it impassioned. His wit,
derived from the same source, or sharpened by the same
previous habits, was eminently brilliant, and almost always
successful. It was, like all his speaking, exceedingly pre¬
pared, but it was skilfully introduced, and happily applied ;
and it was well mingled also with humour, occasionally de¬
scending to farce. How little it was the inspiration of the
moment, all men were aware who knew his habits; but a
singular proof of this was presented by Mr Moore when he
came to write his life; for we there find given to the world,
with a frankness which must almost have made the author
shake in his grave, the secret note-books of this famous wit;
and are thus enabled to trace his jokes, in embryo, with which
he had so often made the walls of St Stephen’s shake, in a
merriment excited by the happy appearance of sudden un¬
premeditated effusion.
“ The adroitness with which he turned to account sud¬
den occasions of popular excitement, and often at the ex¬
pense of the Whig party, generally too indifferent to such
advantages, and too insensible to the damage they thus sus¬
tained in public estimation, is well known. On the mutiny
in the fleet, he was beyond all question right; on the
French invasion, and on the attacks upon Napoleon, he was
almost as certainly wrong; but these appeals to the people,
and to the national feelings of the House, tended to make
the orator well received, if they added little to the states¬
man’s reputation; and of the latter character he was not
ambitious. His most celebrated speech was certainly the
one upon the Begum charge, in the proceedings against
Hastings; and nothing can exceed the accounts left us of
ID AN.
204 SHE SHE
Sheridan, its unprecedented success. Not only the practice then first
  v'—'began, which has gradually increased till it greets every
good speech, of cheering, on the speaker resuming his seat,
but the minister besought the House to adjourn the deci¬
sion of the question, as being incapacitated from forming a
just judgment under the influence of such powerful elo¬
quence ; whilst all men on all sides vied with each other in
extolling so wonderful a performance. Nevertheless, the
opinion has now become greatly prevalent, that a portion
of this success was owing to the speech having so greatly
surpassed all the speaker’s former efforts, to the extreme
interest of the topics which the subject naturally presented,
and to the artist-like elaboration and beautiful delivery of
certain fine passages, rather than to the merits of the whole.
Certain it is, that the repetition of great part of it, present¬
ed in the short-hand notes of the speech on the same charge,
in Westminster Hall, disppoints every reader who has
heard of the success which attended the earlier effort. In
truth, Mr Sheridan’s taste was very far from being chaste,
or even moderately correct. He delighted in gaudy figures ;
he was attracted by glare, and cared not whether the bril¬
liancy came from tinsel or gold, from broken glass or pure
diamond; he overlaid his thoughts with epigrammatic dic¬
tion ; he ‘ played to the galleries,’ and indulged them, of
course, with an endless succession of claptraps. His worst
passages by far were those which he evidently preferred
himself, full of imagery, often far-fetched, oftener gorgeous,
and loaded with point that drew the attention of the hearer
away from the thoughts to the words ; and his best by far
were those where he declaimed, with his deep clear voice,^
though somewhat thick utterance, with a fierce defiance of
some adversary, or an unappeasable vengeance against some
oppressive act; or reasoned rapidly, in the like tone, upon
some plain matter of fact, or exposed as plainly to homely
ridicule some puerile sophism ; and in all this his admirable
manner was aided by an eye singularly piercing,1 and a
countenance which, though coarse, and even in some features
gross, was yet animated and expressive, and could easily as¬
sume the figure of both rage, and menace, and scorn. The
few sentences with which he thrilled the House, on the liber¬
ty of the press, in 1810, were worth, perhaps, more than ail
his elaborated epigrams and forced flowers on the Begum
charge, or all his denunciations of Napoleon, ‘ whose morn¬
ing orisons and evening prayers are for the conquest of
England, whether he bends to the God of Battles or wor¬
ships the Goddess of Reason ;’ certainly far better than such
pictures of his power, as his having s thrones for his watch-
towers, kings for his sentinels, and for the palisades of his castle
sceptres stuck with crowns.’ ‘ Give them,’ said he in 1810,
and in a far higher strain of eloquence, ‘ a corrupt House
of Lords; give them a venal House of Commons ; give
them a tyrannical prince; give them a truckling court,—and
let me but have an unfettered press; l will defy them to
encroach a hair’s breadth upon the liberties of England.’
OS all his speeches, there can be little doubt that the most
powerful, as the most chaste, was his reply, in 1805, upon
the motion which he had made for repealing the Defence
Act. Mr Pitt had unwarily thrown out a sneer at his sup¬
port of Mr Addington, as though it was insidious. Such a
stone, cast by a person whose house, on that aspect, was
one pane of glass, could not fail to call down a shower of
missiles; and they who witnessed the looks and gestures
of the aggressor, under the pitiless pelting of the tempest
which he had provoked, represent it as certain that there
were moments when he intended to fasten a personal quar¬
rel upon the vehement and implacable declaimer.
“ When the just tribute of extraordinary admiration has
been bestowed upon this great orator, the whole of his
praise has been exhausted. As a statesman, he is without
a place in any class, or of any rank; it would be incorrect SViot
and flattering to call him a bad, or a hurtful, or a short-
sighted, or a middling statesman ; he was no statesman at
all. As a party man, his character stood lower than it de¬
served, chiefly from certain personal dislikes towards him ;
for, with the perhaps doubtful exception of his courting
popularity at his party’s expense, on the two occasions al¬
ready mentioned, and the much more serious charge against
him of betraying his party in the Carlton House negocia-
tion of 1812, followed by his extraordinary denial of the
facts when he last appeared in parliament, there can no¬
thing be laid to his charge as inconsistent with the rules of
the strictest party duty and honour ; although he made as
large sacrifices as any unprofessional man ever did to the
cause of a long and hopeless opposition, and was often
treated with unmerited coldness and disrespect by his co¬
adjutors. But as a man his character stood confessedly
low. His intemperate habits, and his pecuniary embarrass¬
ments, did not merely tend to imprudent conduct, by
which himself alone might be the sufferer; they involved
his family in the same fate ; and they also undermined those
principles of honesty which are so seldom found to survive
fallen fortunes, and hardly ever can continue the ornament
and the stay of ruined circumstances, when the tastes and
the propensities engendered in prosperous times survive
through the ungenial season of adversity.”
Sheridan was indeed most unfortunate. Whilst death was
fast gaining on him, the miseries of life were thickening
around him ; nor did the last corner where he now lay
down to die, afford him any asylum from the clamours of
his legal pursuers. Writs and executions came in rapid
succession, and bailiffs at length got possession of the house.
A sheriff’s officer arrested the dying man in his bed, and
was about to carry him off in his blankets to a spunging
house, when he was prevented by an intimation of the re¬
sponsibility he must incur, if, as was but too probable,
his prisoner should expire on the way. In the mean time,
the attention and sympathy of the public were awakened
to the desolate condition of Sheridan, by an article which
appeared in the Morning Post, written, it seems, by a gen¬
tleman who, though on no very cordial terms with him,
forgot every other feeling in a generous pity for his fate,
and in honest indignation against those who had deserted
him. But it was now too late. Its effect, indeed, was
soon visible in the calls made at Sheridan’s door, amongst
which the Duke of York and the Duke of Argyll appeared
as visiters; but the spirit that these unavailing tributes
might once have comforted was fast losing the conscious¬
ness of every thing earthly ; and, after a succession of
shivering fits, he fell into a state of exhaustion, which
continued till his death. He expired on Sunday, the 7th
of July 1816, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and was
buried on the Saturday following, many royal and noble
persons crowding round his insensible clay, whose notice,
had it been earlier, might have soothed and comforted his
death-bed, and saved his heart from breaking. (a.)
SHERLOCK, William, a learned English divine in
the seventeenth century, wras born in 1641, and educated
at Eton school, where he distinguished himself by the vi¬
gour of his genius and his application to study. From this
he wras removed to Cambridge, where he took his degrees.
In 1669 he became rector of the parish of St George, Bo-
tolph Lane, in London; and in 1681 was collated to the
fwebend of Pancras, in the cathedral of St Paul’s. He was
ikewise chosen master of the Temple, and had the rectory
of Therfield, in Hertfordshire. After the Revolution he
was suspended from his preferment, for refusing the oaths
to William and Mary ; but at last he took them, and pub¬
licly justified what he had done. In 1691 he was installed
1 It had the singularity of never winking.
SHE SHI 205
ock as dean of St Paul’s. His Vindication of the Doctrine of
the Trinity engaged him in a warm controversy with Dr
iff- South and others. Bishop Burnet tells us he was “ a clear,
““^a polite, and a strong writer ; but apt to assume too much
to himself, and to treat his adversaries with contempt.”
He died in 1707. His works are very numerous, among
which are, 1. A Discourse concerning the Knowledge of
Jesus Christ, against Dr Owen; 2. Several pieces against
the Papists, the Socinians, and Dissenters; 3. A Practical
Treatise on Death ; 4. A Practical Discourse on Provi¬
dence; 5. A Practical Discourse on the Future Judgment;
and many other works.
Sherlock, Dr Thomas, bishop of London, was the son
of the preceding, and was born in 1678. He was educated
in Catharine Hall, Cambridge, where he took his degrees,
and of which he became master. He was made master of the
Temple when very young, on the resignation of his father;
and it is remarkable, that this mastership was held by fa¬
ther and son successively for more than seventy years.
He was at the head of the opposition against Dr Hoadley,
bishop of Bangor, during which contest he published a
great number of pieces. He attacked Collins’s Grounds
and Reasons of the Christian Religion, in a course of six
sermons, preached at the Temple Church, which he entitled
The Use and Intent of Prophecy in the Several Ages of
the World. In 1728, Dr Sherlock was promoted to the
bishopric of Bangor, and was translated to Salisbury in
1734. In 1747 he refused the archbishopric of Canter¬
bury, on account of his ill state of health ; but recovering
in a good degree, he accepted the see of London the fol¬
lowing year. On occasion of the earthquakes in 1750, he
published an excellent Pastoral Letter to the clergy and
inhabitants of London and Westminster, of which it is
said there were printed, in quarto five thousand, in octavo
twenty thousand, and in duodecimo about thirty thousand,
besides pirated editions, of which not less than fifty thou¬
sand were supposed to have been sold. Under the weak
state of body in which he lay for several years, he revised
and published four volumes of Sermons, in octavo, which
are particularly admired lor their ingenuity and elegance.
He died in 1762, worth L. 150,000. “ His leaiming,” says
Dr Nieholls, “ was very extensive. God had given him a
great and an understanding mind, a quick comprehension,
and a solid judgment. These advantages of nature he im¬
proved by much industry and application. His skill in the
civil and canon law was very considerable; to which he
had added such a knowledge of the common law of Eng¬
land as few clergymen attain to. This it was that gave
him that influence in all causes wdiere the church was con¬
cerned, as knowing precisely what it had to claim from its
constitutions and canons, and what from the common law
of the land.” Dr Nicholls then mentions his constant and
exemplary piety, his warm and fervent zeal in preaching
the duties and maintaining the doctrines of Christianity,
and his large and diffusive munificence and charity; particu¬
larly by his having given large sums of money to the corpo¬
ration of clergymen’s sons, to several of the hospitals, and
to the society for propagating the gospel in foreign parts,
and also bequeathing to Catharine Hall, in Cambridge, the
place of his education, his valuable library of books, and
his donations for the founding a librarian’s place and a scho¬
larship, to the amount of several thousand pounds.
SHERON, a village of Persia, in Irak, fifteen miles east
from Kermanshaw'.
SHERRIFF of Mecca, the title of the descendants of
Mahommed by Hassan Ibn Ali. These are divided into
several branches, of which the family of Ali Bunemi, con¬
sisting at least of three hundred individuals, enjoy the sole
right to the throne of Mecca. The Ali Bunemi are again
subdivided into two subordinate branches, Darii Sajid and
Darii Barkad, of whom sometimes the one, sometimes the
other, have given sovereigns to Mecca and Medina, when Shevsigunga
these were separate states. , II
SHETLAND. See Zetland. „ SluJ1<i; ,
SHEVAGUNGA, a polygar town and district of South- v
ern India, in the province of the Carnatic, and district of
Little Marawar. This country, according to the custom
of the Nairs, was ruled by females until about sixty years
ago, when the government was usurped by two brothers of
low caste. They were expelled by the nabob of Arcot,
with the aid of the British troops, who afterwards rein¬
stated them. They were again expelled, and being pur¬
sued and captured by the British, they were condemned
and executed, and the country given to a relation of the
former female sovereigns. Long, of the town 78. 30. E.
Lat. 9. 54. N.
SHEVAGURRY, a town of the south of India, in the
district of Tinnevelly, a hundred miles north from Cape
Comorin. Long. 77. 32. E. Lat. 9. 23. N.
SFIEVELPATORE, a town of the south of India, in
tne province of the Carnatic, 110 miles north from Cape
Comorin. Long. 77. 43. E. Lat. 9. 31. N.
SHIELD, an ancient weapon of defence, in the form of
a light buckler, borne on the arm to fend off lances, darts,
and other weapons. The form of the shield is represented
by the escutcheon in coats of arms. The shield was that
part of the ancient armour on which the persons of distinc¬
tion in the field of battle always had their arms painted;
and most of the words used at this time to express the space
that holds the arms of families are derived from the Latin
word scutum. The F'rench escu and escussion, and the Eng¬
lish word escutcheon or scutcheon, are evidently from this
origin ; and the Italian scudo signifies both the shield of
arms and that used in war. The Latin name clypeus, for
the same thing, seems also to be derived from the Greek
word ykvfeiv, to engrave ; and it had this name from the
several figures engraved on it, as marks of distinction of the
person who wore it.
The shield in war, among the Greeks and Romans, was
not only useful in defence, but it was also a badge of honour
to the wearer; and he who returned from battle without it
was always treated afterwards with infamy. People have
at all times thought this honourable piece of the armour
the properest place to engrave or figure on the signs of
dignity of the possessor of it; and hence, when arms came
to be painted for families in aftertimes, the heralds always
chose to represent them upon the figure of a shield, but
with several exterior additions and ornaments, as the helmet,
supporters, and the rest.
The form of the shield has not only been found different
in various nations, but even the people of the same nation,
at different times, have varied its form extremely ; and
among several nations there have been shields of several
forms and sizes in use, at the same period of time, and suit¬
ed to different occasions. The most ancient and universal
form of shields, in the earlier ages, seems to have been the
triangular. This we see instances of in all the monuments
and gems of antiquity. Our own early monuments show' it
to have been the most antique shape also with us, and the
heralds have found it the most convenient for their pur¬
poses, when they had any odd number of figures to repre¬
sent ; as if three, then two in the broad bottom part, and
one in the narrow upper end, it held them very well; or if
five, they stood as conveniently, as three below and two
above. The other form of a shield, now universally used,
is square, rounded, and pointed at the bottom. This is
taken from the figure of the Samnitic shield used by the
Romans, and since copied very generally by the English,
French, and Germans.
The Spaniards and Portuguese have the like general
form of shields, but they are round at the bottom, without
the point; and the Germans, besides the Samnite shield,
206 SHI SHI
Shields, have two others pretty much in use. These are, first, the
North, bulging shield, distinguished by its swelling or bulging out
at the flanks; and, secondly, the indented shield, or shield
chancree, which has a number of notches and indentings all
round its sides. The use of the ancient shield of this form
was, that the notches served to rest the lance upon, that it
might be firm while it gave the thrust; but this form being
less proper for the receiving armorial figures, the two former
have been much more used in the heraldry of that nation.
Besides this different form of the shields in heraldry, we
find them also often distinguished by their different posi¬
tions, some of them standing erect, and others slanting va¬
rious ways and in different degrees. This the heralds ex¬
press by the word pendant) “ hanging,” because they seem
to be hung up, not by the centre, but by the right or left
corner. The French call these ecu pendant, and the com¬
mon antique triangular ones ecu ancien. The Italians call
it scuto pendente; and the reason given for exhibiting the
shield in these figures in heraldry is, that in the ancient tilts
and tournaments, they who were to joust at these military
exercises were obliged to hang their shields, with their ar¬
mories, or coats of arms, on them, out at the windows and
balconies of the houses near the place, or upon trees, pavi¬
lions, or the barriers of the ground, if the exercise was to be
performed in the field.
Those who were to fight on foot, according to Columbier,
had their shields hung up by the right corner, and those
who were to fight on horseback had theirs hung up by the
left. This position of the shields in heraldry is called couche
by some writers, though by the generality pendant.
It was very frequent in all parts of Europe, in arms given
between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries; but it is
to be observed that the hanging by the left corner, as it was
the token of the owner’s being to fight on horseback, so it
was esteemed the most honourable and noble situation ; and
all the pendant shields of the sons of the royal family of
Scotland and England, and of our nobility, at the time, are
represented thus hanging from the left corner. The hang¬
ing from this corner was a token of the owner’s being of
noble birth, and having fought in the tournaments before;
but no sovereign ever had a shield pendant any way, but
always erect, as they never formally entered the lists of the
tournament.
The Italians generally have their shields of arms of an
oval form. This seems to be done in imitation of those of
the popes and other dignified clergy ; but their herald, Petro
Sancto, seems to regret the use of this figure of the shield,
as an innovation brought in by the painters and engravers,
as most convenient for holding the figures, but derogatory
to the honour of the possessor, as not representing either
antiquity or honours won in war, but rather the honours of
some citizen or person of learning. Some have carried it
so far as to say, that those who either have no ancient title
to nobility, or who have sullied it by any unworthy action,
cannot any longer wear their arms in shields properly figured,
but are obliged to have them painted in an oval or round
shield. In Flanders, where this author lived, the round and
oval shields are in the disrepute he speaks of; but in Italy,
besides the popes and dignified prelates, many of the first
families of the laity have them.
The secular princes, in many other countries, also retain
this form of the shield, as the most ancient and truly ex¬
pressive of the Roman clypeus.
Shield, in Heraldry, the escutcheon or field on which
the bearings of coats of arms are placed.
Shield Cape, a low point on the coast of New Holland,
in the Gulf of Carpentaria, which projects six miles into the
sea. Long. 136. 23. E. Lat. 13. 19. N.
SHIELDS, North, a township of the parish of Tyne¬
mouth, in the county of Northumberland, 233 miles from
London and eight from Newcastle, situated on the north
bank of the Tyne. It has gradually grown from a dirty Stof*
fishing village to a town of great extent and wealth, from Sou;
the coal trade. The population amounted in 1831 to 6744. „J
Shields, South, a township of the parish of Jarrow, in
the county of Durham. It stands on the river Tyne, oppo¬
site to North Shields, and, like it, has risen chiefly from the
coal trade, but has, besides, extensive salt-works. There are
also large establishments for making glass, and for ship-build¬
ing. It consists for the most part of one street, extending
nearly two miles along the bank of the river. The popula¬
tion amounted in 1821 to 8885, and in 1831 to 9682.
SHIFFNAL, a town of the hundred of Brimstrey, in
the county of Salop, 143 miles from London. It is a small
place, of no trade except that arising from its being on the
great post-road from London to Holyhead. There is a mar¬
ket on Friday. The population amounted in 1821 to 4411,
and in 1831 to 4779.
SHIJASHROTAN, one of the Kurile Islands, at the
eastern extremity of Asiatic Russia, in the ocean south of
Kamtschatka. Long. 154. 39. E. Lat. 49. 15. N.
SHILLING, an English silver coin, equal to twelve
pence, or the twentieth part of a pound.
Freherus derives the Saxon scilling, whence our shilling,
from a corruption of siliqua ; proving the derivation by se¬
veral texts of law, and, among others, by the twenty-sixth
law, De annuls legatis. Skinner deduces it from the Saxon
scild, “ shield,” by reason of the escutcheon of arms which
it has upon it.
Bishop Hooper derives it from the Arabic scheele, signi¬
fying a weight; but others, with greater probability, de¬
duce it from the Latin sicilicus, which signified in that lan¬
guage a quarter of an ounce, or the forty-eighth part of a
Roman pound. In confirmation of this etymology, it is al¬
leged that the shilling kept its original signification, and
bore the same proportion to the Saxon pound as sicilicus
did to the Roman and the Greek, being exactly the forty-
eighth part of the Saxon pound.
However, the Saxon law reckons the pound in the round
number at fifty shillings, but they really coined out of it
only forty-eight. The value of the shilling was fivepence,
but it was reduced to fourpence above a century before the
Conquest; for several of the Saxon laws, made in Athel-
stan’s reign, oblige us to take this estimate. Thus it con¬
tinued to the Norman times, as one of the Conqueror’s laws
sufficiently ascertains; and it seems to have been the com¬
mon coin by which the English payments were adjusted.
After the Conquest, the French solidus of twelvepence,
which was in use among the Normans, was called by the
English name of shilling ; and the Saxon shilling of four-
pence took a Norman name, and was called the groat, or
great coin, because it was the largest English coin then
known in England.
It was the opinion of Bishops Fleetwood and Gibson,
and of the antiquaries in general, that, though the method
of reckoning by pounds, marks, and shillings, as well as by
pence and farthings, had been in constant use even from
the Saxon times, long before the Norman conquest, there
was never such a coin in England as either a pound or a
mark, nor any shilling, till the year 1504 or 1505, when a
few silver shillings or twelvepences were coined, which have
long since been solely confined to the cabinets of collectors.
Mr Clarke combats this opinion, alleging that some coins
mentioned by Mr Folkes, under Edward I. were probably
Saxon shillings new minted, and that Archbishop Adfric
expressly says that the Saxons had three names for their
money: mancuses, shillings, and pennies. He also urges
the different value of the Saxon shilling at different times,
and its uniform proportion to the pound, as an argument
that their shilling was a coin; and the testimony ot the
Saxon gospels, in which the word we have translated pieces
of silver is rendered shillings, which, he says, they would
.K,
S H I
hardly have done if there had been no such coin as a shil-
ling then in use. Accordingly the Saxons expressed their
shilling in Latin by siclus and argenteus. He further adds,
that the Saxon shilling was never expressed by solidus till
after the Norman settlements in England ; and howsoever
it altered during the long period that elapsed from the Con¬
quest to the time of Henry VII. it was the most constant
denomination of money in all payments, though it was then
only a species of account, or the twentieth part of the pound
sterling; and when it was again revived as a coin, it lessen¬
ed gradually as the pound sterling lessened, from the 28th
of Edward III. to the 4-3d of Elizabeth.
In the year 1560 there was a peculiar sort of shilling
struck in Ireland, of the value of ninepence English, which
passed in Ireland for twelvepence. The motto on the re¬
verse was, posui Deum adjutorem meum. Eighty-two of
these shillings, according to Malynes, went to the pound.
They weighed therefore twenty grains one fourth each,
which is somewhat heavier in proportion than the English
shilling of that time, sixty-two of which went to the pound,
each weighing ninety-two grains seven eighths; and the
Irish shilling being valued at the Tower at ninepence Eng¬
lish, that is, one fourth part less than the English shilling,
it should therefore proportionally weigh one fourth part less,
and its full weight be somewhat more than sixty-two grains.
But some of them found at this time, though much worn,
weighed sixty-nine grains. In 1598, five different pieces
of money of this kind were struck in England for the service
of the kingdom of Ireland. These were shillings to be cur¬
rent in Ireland at twelvepence each, half shillings to be
current at sixpence, and quarter shillings at threepence.
Pennies and halfpennies were also struck of the same kind,
and sent over for the payment of the army in Ireland. The
money thus coined was of a very base mixture of copper
and silver; and two years after there were more pieces of
the same kinds struck for the same service, which were still
worse; the former being three ounces of silver to nine
ounces of copper, and the latter only two ounces eighteen
pennyweights to nine ounces two pennyweights of the alloy.
The Dutch, Flemish, and Germans, have likewise their
shilling, called schelin, schilling, and scalin; but these not
being of the same weight or fineness with the English shil¬
ling, are not current at the same value. The English shil¬
ling is worth about twenty-three French sols; those of Hol¬
land and Germany about eleven sols and a half; those of
Flanders about nine. The Dutch shillings are also called sols
degros, because equal to twelve gros. The Danes have cop¬
per shillings worth about one fourth of a farthing sterling.
SHILOH is a term famous among interpreters and
commentators upon Scripture. It is found (Gen. xlix. 10)
to denote the Messiah. The patriarch Jacob foretells his
coining in these words: “ The sceptre shall not depart from
Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh
come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”
The Hebrew text reads, nbi? xi- 'a ij?, until Shiloh come. All
Christian commentators agree that this word ought to be
understood of the Messiah, or Jesus Christ; but all are not
agreed about its literal and grammatical signification. St
Jerome, who translates it by Qui mittendus est, manifestly
reads Shiloach “ sent,” instead of Shiloh. The Septuagint
ave it E«; uv sXSjj ra unonufiiva, dvru; or Eug dv w
ctMCKurcu, as if they had read instead of nbip, that is,
Until the coming of him to whom it is reserved;” or “ Till
we see arrive that which is reserved for him.”
V"St be °wned, that the signification of the Hebrew
word Shiloh is not well known. Some translate, “ the
sceptre shall not depart from Judah, till he comes to whom
it belongs ;” nbw or -bai instead of ]bx -b* Others render it,
S H I
207
£ till the coming of the peace-maker,” or “ the pacific ;” or, Shinaas
“ °t prosperity,” nbir, prosperatus est. Others, again, “ till II
the birth of him who shall be born of a woman that shall ShiP-
conceive without the knowledge of a man,” b;^ or x'bit' se-
cundina, fiuxus; otherwise, “ the sceptre shall not depart
from Judah, till its end, its ruin; till the downfall of the
kingdom of the Jews,” bxty or nbur, it has ceased, it has finish¬
ed. Some rabbin have taken the name Siloh or Shiloh as
if it signified the city of this name in Palestine: “ The
sceptre shall not be taken away from Judah till it comes to
Shiloh ; till it shall be taken from him to be given to Saul
at Shiloh.” But in what part of Scripture is it said that
Saul was acknowledged as king or consecrated at Shiloh ?
If we would understand it of Jeroboam the son of Nebat,
the matter is still as uncertain. The Scripture mentions no
assembly at Shiloh that admitted him as king. A more
modern author derives Shiloh from nbtr, fatigare, which
sometimes signifies to be weary, or to suffer; “ till his labours,
his sufferings, his passion, shall happen.”
But, not to amuse ourselves about seeking out the gram¬
matical signification of Shiloh, it is sufficient for us to show,
that the ancient Jews are in this matter agreed with the
Christians. They acknowledge that this word stands for
the Messiah the King. It is thus that the paraphrasts On-
kelos and Jonathan, that the ancient Hebrew commentaries
upon Genesis, and that the Talmudists themselves, explain
it. If Jesus Christ and his apostles did not make use of this
passage to prove the coming of the Messiah, it was because
then the completion of this prophecy was not sufficiently
manifest. The sceptre still continued among the Jews;
they had still kings of their own nation in the persons of
the Herods; but soon afterwards the sceptre was entirely
taken away from them, and has never since been restored
to them.
The Jews seek in vain to put forced meanings upon this
prophecy of Jacob, saying, fbr example, that the sceptre
intimates the dominion of strangers, to which they had been
in subjection, or the hope of seeing one day the sceptre or
supreme power settled again among themselves. It is easy
to perceive that all this is contrived to deliver themselves
out of perplexity. In vain, likewise, they take refuge in cer¬
tain princes of the captivity, whom they pretend to have
maintained beyond the Euphrates, exercising an authority
over their nation little differing from absolute, and bein^ of
the race of David. This pretended succession of princes is
perfectly chimerical; and though at certain times they
could show a succession, it continued but a short time ; anil
their authority was too obscure, and too much limited, to
be the object of a prophecy so remarkable as this was.
SHINAAS, a small seaport on the Persian Gulf, situated
oetween the town of Sinja and Cape Bastana.
SHINGLES, in building, small pieces of wood, or quar¬
tered oaken boards sawn to a certain scantling, or, as is
more usual, cleft to about an inch thick at one end, and
made like wedges, four or five inches in breadth and eight
or nine inches in length.
Shingles are used instead of tiles or slates, especially for
churches and steeples. This covering, however, is dear; yet,
while tiles are very scarce, and a light covering is required,
it is preferable to thatch; and where they are made of good
oak, cleft, and not sawed, and well seasoned in water and
the sun, they make a sure, light, and durable covering.
SHIP, a general name for all large vessels, particularly
those equipped with three masts and a bowsprit; the masts
being composed of a lower mast, top-mast, and top-gallant-
mast, and each of these being provided with yards, sails, and
the like. Ships, in general, are either employed for war or
merchandise.
t
208
SHIP-BUILDING.
Introductory Observations.
Introduc¬
tion.
Aphorism
of Sir Wal¬
ter Raleigh
Continen¬
tal naval
policy.
That profound thinker, Sir Walter Raleigh, has left this
aphorism on record, “ Whosoever commands the sea com¬
mands the trade ; whosoever commands the trade of the
world commands the riches of the world, and consequently
the world itself.” The time has passed by in which the
command of the seas either can or ought to be maintained
according to the spirit in which Sir Walter Raleigh framed
this aphorism. Still the principle it is intended to enforce
is as essential to the wellbeing of England now as it was
then. We rejoice at the liberality of international commu¬
nication, and of the political relations which distinguish the
present age. WE do more; we fervently hope that the
same spirit may increase, even until all national distinc¬
tions and national divisions shall vanish before it. Yet we
cannot but remember that it is with nations as with indi¬
viduals. Interests may clash, quarrels may arise, and the
friendships and the kindly feelings of to-day may be suc¬
ceeded by the dissensions and the feuds of to-morrow ; and
therefore, even in the midst of a peace unexampled for its
heartiness, and for the good faith which apparently per¬
vades the councils of the nations of Europe, we cannot with
wisdom neglect those means of defence which have hither¬
to preserved our land inviolate.
The aphorism of Sir Walter Raleigh is of general ap¬
plication ; but to an insular power, and which can only be
reckoned of secondary rank in the^ scale of nations, in as
far as size and population only are involved, naval pre-emi¬
nence is essential to its independence. An eminent states¬
man has lately most forcibly urged upon the continental
nations of Europe this all-important fact, that the command
of the seas, when vested in an insular power, gives her despo¬
tic authority over the nations of the earth, because she is
herself invulnerable. He proceeds from this position to
the conclusion, that the interest of Europe renders it im¬
perative, that since the sceptre of the seas is at present held
by an insular power, it should be wrested from her grasp,
and bestowed on another, which, by being continental, must
be vulnerable on her land frontier, and cannot therefore be
despotic in her naval rule. Thus far does the continental
writer pursue the argument, because thus far only are the
interests of continental nations concerned; but for us there
is yet another induction to be made; it is this: The same
cause which invests an insular power with universal domi¬
nion as long as she can maintain the sovereignty of the seas,
must divest her of all power when that sovereignty is lost;
she falls at once from her high pre-eminence; first on the list
of nations, to rank among the secondary powers; for the
sea, her impregnable fortress in the one case, becomes a
barrier to her enterprise in the other. It would be no dif¬
ficult task to prove, from the history of Europe, that the in¬
fluence of England among the nations has increased or di¬
minished in proportion as her navy has been fostered or ne¬
glected.
It is strange, that with such a tremendous stake at issue
as national independence, it should be possible to write, and
to write with truth, that there have been periods in our his¬
tory, during which the navy and the naval resources of this
country have been suffered to decline. The naval sceptre
has more than once trembled in our grasp: we trust the
time is far distant in which we may again wield it in anger ;
but should that time ever arrive, the struggle must be des¬
perate, because the powers of Europe have been taught that
our naval pre-eminence places their destinies in our hands.
In connection with the occasional neglect of her naval
resources, is another strange anomaly, namely, that England lntro(jj
has less than any other maritime power encouraged the ap- tior
plication of the exact sciences to naval architecture.. She^rf
has not to this day one original truly scientific treatise on
the subject in her language ; and, passing by some few pa- e'"
—  c—w -T • ,i *. no scieji I
pers and tracts of modern times, she can only cite the wnt-fictreJ
ings of uneducated and unlearned men, as Mungo Murray, onnavl|i
Hutchinson, and Stalkart, against those of such names as tliediite^
Bernoullis, Euler, Chapman, Don Juan, Bouguer, Clairbois,
Romme, and a host of others. The establishment of a school
for naval architecture at Portsmouth has been directly and
indirectly the means of diffusing much knowledge on this
important subject, and the result has been a very consider¬
able improvement in our ships of war, so that latterly they
mav perhaps fairly claim equality with those of other nations.
It is perhaps principally in her merchant-shipping that Eng¬
land now suffers from this neglect of science.
It is a recognised principle that demand creates supply,
and therefore we may presume that in England there has
been no demand, such as would encourage men of science
to furnish forth the supply. It is not irrelevant to the sub¬
ject of this article to trace out the causes which have ope¬
rated to this effect; they must be made known to be re¬
moved ; and it is in vain to urge improvement if there be
any insuperable bar to its progress in operation. And again,
it cannot be irrelevant, in an article on a national subject,
and in a national work, to pursue the inquiry to its end, the
more so as we believe the task will lead us to the conclusion,
that, however harmless hitherto this state of apathy to im¬
provement may have been, the time has now arrived when
its continuance will be dangerous to our naval^ pre-emi¬
nence ; for through it, to quote again from Sir Walter Ra¬
leigh, we may lose “ the command of the trade of the world,
the command of the riches of the world, and consequently
of the world itself.”
The predilection for the sea, and for a seafaring life,Er.gM
which is proverbially general throughout the population ofpredita
England, may most probably be traced to an early period
in our history, when, after the Norman conquest, for a long or-n
period of years, both shores of the narrow seas were under
one rule, and the nobles of the land had possessions on
either side of the Channel. This, and the constant inter¬
course kept up between England and her armies during
the long subsequent wars, must have trained a hardy race
of seamen, and have made passages by sea familiar to the
entire population. The impression once given, the facili¬
ties afforded for maritime adventure, by the great compara¬
tive extent of our coast, and its numberless harbours, were
quite sufficient to maintain it. Our insular situation will not
alone account for our love of naval enterprise; otherwise a
similar predisposition would be general with the inhabitants
of islands, whereas we find a most remarkable instance to
the contrary in Ireland, a country possessed of even more
maritime advantages than England ; with a more indented,
and therefore a more favourable coast, with proportionally
larger rivers, and with many lakes of great magnitude in the
interior. This predilection of our population for the sea has
hitherto enabled us most triumphantly to maintain our naval
pre-eminence, even against the known and acknowledg¬
ed advantages of superior ships ; for it is universally ad¬
mitted that the naval powers of the Continent have, through¬
out their struggles w ith us, been possessed of superior classes
of vessels, in many respects, to those which we have em¬
ployed against them.
It is a question for serious consideration, whether we are
sure, throughout the future, to be able to contend with equa
SHIP-BUILDING.
t an- success should we labour under similar disadvantages ; or
whether there are causes now in operation which may ren-
“Ner a favourable result questionable ?
t the In pursuing our inquiry into the present state of the
theory of ships, and particularly as it is applied to our mer¬
cantile navy, we shall arrive at an answer to this question.
It certainly does not necessarily follow, that because our
vessels of war have been inferior to those of other nations,
our merchant-shipping should be in a similar position with
respect to their mercantile navies.
J The merchant princes of England, with their boundless
■( nt- wealth, proverbial generosity, and persevering enterprise,
i ora might surely have attracted the attention of men of science
ej ^ to the improvement of their argosies. That they have not
done so is indisputable: the startling fact, that one ship and
a half is the average daily loss registered on the books at
Lloyd’s, appears as a sad corroboration of the acknowledged
truth, that the mercantile navy of England is the least
speedy and the most unsafe that belongs to a civilized na¬
tion. Several causes have combined to produce this result,
and to check any improvement in our merchant-ships. These
it will be our object to explain.
isrsfor During the late long war, when our fleets swept the com-
kde- merce of the other nations from the seas, almost the whole
1 traffic of the world was in our hands, and the carrying
trade was shared only by the Americans, their neutra¬
lity obtaining for them the same advantages that we com¬
manded by our power; but at the peace the seas were again
free to the ships of all nations, and that which had been for a
long series of years almost a monopoly, was thrown open to
competition. It might naturally be inferred that this would
operate injuriously to us ; yet the question cannot but arise,
why, with all the advantages of possession of the ground,
of connection, and of stock, we have been, and still conti •
nue to be, supplanted by other maritime nations ? We
have not only lost much of the carrying trade for foreign
merchants, but even English merchants find it for their in¬
terest, as individuals, to employ a great proportion of foreign
shipping, to such an extent indeed, that nearly one half of
the commerce on our western coast is carried on in Ame¬
rican vessels. It may be urged against these statements,
that the statistics of our mercantile navy show an increase
in its numerical strength. This may be admitted, and the
force of the argument remain the same ; for it is not found¬
ed on its positive increase or decrease, but on its relative
increase compared with that of the mercantile navies of
other nations.
^ned That there should have been a diminution in the demand
“ wr for our shipping at the conclusion of the war, is a necessary
consequence of the many causes of the employment of ships
which belong only to a state of war; besides which, as in
time of peace the delays occasioned by waiting for convoy
are avoided, the time expended in the voyages is shorter,
and therefore a less number of ships is required to perform
the same quantity of work. We have, however, suffered
more than the proportion due to these considerations, which,
it should be remembered, must also, in a lesser degree, have
operated to check the progress of the American mercantile
mvy; however, it is this navy which is principally supplant-
jseay ing ours. We cannot evade the conclusion, that the reason
If! ^ ^or ^is must be found in the inefficiency and inadequacy
'of the ships themselves, and that the absence of all improve¬
ment in our mercantile navy has placed it in this disadvan¬
tageous position.
- During the war, almost the only colonial supplies which
could reach the continental powers were those plundered
by their privateers from the English merchant. The only
safety to the English merchant-ship was in sailing in large
convoys, in which the velocity of the whole fleet was ne¬
cessarily regulated by that of the worst sailer. It was there-
ore oi far more importance to the merchant who had few
VOL. xx.
209
opportunities for adventure, to choose those ships which Introduc-
would carry a larger quantity than those which were pos- tion-
sessed of a quality, velocity, of which they could not avail ^ v—^
themselves. This operated as an effectual bar to all im- Tonnage
provement in the forms of our mercantile shipping, for itla'Vs.
caused the absurdities of the late law for tonnage to remain
unnoticed for a series of years; and when at length their Their inju-
injurious tendency was perceived, it was not until they had nous ope-
become so completely identified in men’s minds with shipsration-
themselves, that years more were suffered to ekpse before
it was clearly made manifest, that the cause of the inferiority
of the shipping was the absurdity of the law. Years more
must yet elapse before the mercantile navy of Britain can re¬
cover from the state to which these laws have reduced it.
While English merchant-ships were restricted to sailing American
in convoys, the neutrality of the Americans enabled their ships sailed
vessels to sail singly, and consequently it became immedi-
ately desirable to attain the greatest velocity which was con¬
sistent with a due portion of the other requisite qualities for
a merchant-ship ; there was therefore virtually a premium
on improvement. Thus the peace found America in posses¬
sion of an immense commercial navy, which, on an ave¬
rage, could perform its passages in one third less time than
our own ; and although this is necessarily attained by some
sacrifice of capacity, the result has shown the sacrifice to
have been judicious. The peace also found America in
possession of ship-builders who had made the improvement
oi the qualities of ships their study. She therefore was not
only in possession of a better mercantile navy, with which
to compete with us, but she had also the vantage-ground of
superior knowledge, and a far more extended experience,
from which to start for the future competition. What won¬
der, then, that we have failed in the contest ? The wonder
should rather be, that we are not wholly driven from the
field. Similar injurious causes operated against the English
shipping in comparison with that of several of the maritime
powers. Convoy was no safety to their ships of traffic, since Convoy no
their ships of war found no safety for themselves. The safety to
only chance for escaping our cruisers lay in sailing singly, foreign
as less likely to attract observation, and in trusting to their slliPs-
velocity if observed; besides which, the northern nations
of Europe have long been possessed of a very superior class
of mercantile shipping, the result partly of the advanced
state of the knowledge of the science of naval architecture
among them, and partly also of this custom of sailing singly
on long voyages, even amidst all the dangers of war. It
cannot be a matter of astonishment, therefore, that when
the seas were once more open to ships of all nations, the
foreign merchants, whom absence of commerce had impo¬
verished, should choose those which would the soonest al¬
low of a return of capital, and at the same time diminish
the risk of its loss; for it must be remembered, that tlie
safety of a ship is not only dependent on her powers as a
sea-boat, but is in inverse proportion to the time she is ex¬
posed to the dangers of the seas. Again, if the foreign
merchant thus preferred the foreign ship to the British,
surely that competition, which is the very spirit of commer¬
cial enterprise, must of necessity have impelled the British
merchant to pursue the same course; for it could not be a
matter of indifference to him whether his goods should be
the first in the market, or should arrive when that market
was glutted.
The present modification of the tonnage laws is compa-Present
ratively harmless, but the leaven of the old law remains, tonnage
England possesses upwards of two millions and a half of ton-law.
nage in inferior shipping ; and the merchant-builders of Bri¬
tain, reared under the baneful influence of that law, are, with
a few honourable exceptions, unequal to the task of compe¬
tition with the more educated and more practised foreigner.
The theory of ships is, even by those who are the most in¬
structed in its principles, yet considered in its infancy; it
D
SHIP-BUILDING.
Difficulty
of the study
of the theo¬
ry of ships.
Error in
having re¬
strictions
on ship¬
building.
Ships to
train sea¬
men the
paramount
want of
England.
can only be matured by a free and impartial encouragement
of the application of the exact sciences to the improvement
of naval architecture, and by the total abolition of all laws
which can, directly or indirectly, limit the aspirings of the
merchant-builders of England in their competition with fo¬
reigners. The writer of this article believes that England
scarcely ever committed a greater error than when she hist
determined the existence of a law for levying duties ac¬
cording to tonnage.
We may here advert to a most striking example of tne
effects of the removal of this check, in the matchless ex¬
cellence of the yachts of England, and may there.ore not
unfairly presume, that the same skill which has aheady ex¬
alted one class of vessels beyond competition, might, under
similar circumstances, attain the same comparative excel¬
lence for another, and that our merchant-ships may yet e-
come as unrivalled as are our yachts. Be the law of ton¬
nage founded on weight, on bulk, or on dimensions, in each
and every case it operates as a check to the most important
manufacture of the country. There is evidently nothing so
essential to England as that she should possess a large ma¬
ritime population; and this can only be insured by the pre¬
ponderance of her mercantile navy, which, again, must in
future be completely dependent on the qualities of the ships
that compose it. , ...
It is obvious, that while the effects of a long, and solid,
and, we believe, hearty peace, amongst the civilized nations
of the world, are to increase the wealth of all other nations
as well as our own, and with their wealth to increase theii^
shipping, it becomes a serious national duty on the part of
our rulers to frame such laws as may insure to us the van¬
tage-ground we possessed when peace enabled all alike to
start in the race of improvement. 1 hat we may have free
exercise for our skill, capital, and enterprise, we must not
be cramped by absurd laws as to the tonnage and sailing
regulations of our ships. These impediments should evi¬
dently be removed, in order to place us at least upon equal
terms with our competitors.
We do not pretend to arrogate to ourselves that com¬
mand of the seas which was intended by Sir Walter Ra¬
leigh. The days when fleets were bound to lower topsails
at the bidding of a single pennant have, happily for the
wellbeing of mankind, long passed away. But, we do say
that the end and object of all British policy should be to
insure such preponderance on the seas, that if, amidst the
changes which we almost daily see occurring, and which
make the possible advent of war no speculative imagining,
one should arise to plunge Europe again into strife, Eng¬
land may not be found wanting in practised seamen. This,
we believe, can only be assured by her possessing a mercan¬
tile navy, composed of ships the good qualities of which will
insure for them a large proportionate share of the carrying
trade of the world. In short, we believe, that, to insure for
our military navy, in times of war, successes triumphant as
heretofore over every sea, it is essential that our mercantile
navy should, in these times of peace, crowd every port.
It is in order to advance this cause that we shall endea¬
vour to set in a clear point of view the several difficulties
which occur in the study of naval architecture ; and we feel
no doubt whatever, that if the principles of construction
which we shall endeavour to explain be duly attended to,
and the study followed up in earnest, the results will prove
their correctness, and that the mercantile navy of England
will become as unrivalled in its excellencies as are almost
all the other productions of the skill, talent, and enterprise
of this favoured land.
Rise and Progress of Naval Architecture among the Na¬
tions of Antiquity.
In tracing the progress of naval architecture among the
nations of antiquity, in order to connect it with its advance
in more modern times, we shall cite the chronological di- History
visions adopted bv that indefatigable investigator Charnock,
in his valuable History of Marine Architecture, because
they present a very succinct idea of the probable rise, pro-cal ^
gress, decline, and revival of the art, and therefore offer asion?.
valuable guide for investigation. It would not be consist¬
ent with the purpose of this article to enter into the detail
that would be necessary to ascertain the state of naval ar¬
chitecture during the periods embraced in each of the sec¬
tions he has assigned to this subject. We shall confine our¬
selves to the statement of some few facts, collected from
various authors, in illustration of the probable size and na¬
ture of the shipping of the ancient world. We shall also
endeavour to trace what little is known of the rude vessels
which, during the darkness of the middle ages, bore the
marauders of the northern nations on their predatory ex¬
cursions j in which they carried desolation and misery
throughout the coasts of Europe, and, while they rooted out
the last relics of ancient civilization, laid the foundations of
empires which were destined, in their turn, to civilize the
world. With Charnock’s sixth section, inclusive perhaps
of some few years at the close of his fifth, the naval histoiy
of Britain commences; and during the period embraced
between that date and the present time we must gradually
become more diffuse in our detail.
Charnock divides maritime history into seven sections.
The first comprehends the time previous to the foundation
of Rome, until which, he says, all history is founded on sur¬
mise. The second section comprises a period somewhat
less obscure, in which the collateral testimony of various
authors may be examined and compared ; and therefore there
certainly anpears less difficulty in ascertaining facts. It ex¬
tends from the foundation of Rome to the destruction of
her rival Carthage. The termination of the third is at the
conversion of the republic into an empire, an era when the
want of naval enemies to contend with rendered the main¬
tenance of a fleet, as connected with the prosperity and
safety of the state, a consideration not only of secondary,
but immaterial consequence. The death of Charlemagne
ends the fourth epoch. The fifth extends from this period
to the discovery of the mariner’s compass. The sixth ends
with the discovery of cannon ; and their adaptation to naval
warfare commences the seventh epoch.
It will avoid much useless repetition if we premise our Ancient
investigations on the state of ship-building among the na-shipping
tions of antiquity, by the observation that their fleets, whe-F1""^
ther for war or for commerce, appear to have consisted al- ^ oarg
most entirely of vessels whose principal mode of propulsion
was by the use of oars. It w ould be foreign to the object of
the present article to enter into the useless and perplexing,
though most enticing question, as to how those oars were
applied in the trireme, quadrireme, and quinquireme, nay, on
the authority of Plutarch, even to the extent of fifty distinct
banks of oars. It is possible to conceive many methods in
which the benches of the biremes, and even of the tri¬
remes, may have been disposed, which would enable the
oars to be plied with ease and advantage. But the vast
combination implied by the fifty banks of the galley of Pto¬
lemy Philopater has as yet received no solution, unless it
may be that suggested by Mr Holwrell in his Essay on the
War Galleys of the Ancients, which we shall therefore, in
the absence of all certain data, adopt. He imagines that the
banks of oars must have been arranged obliquely up the
sides of the vessel, as many oars in each bank as would ad¬
mit of the highest being rowed with facility; then each ad¬
ditional bank would only require additional length in the
vessel. Thus the galley of Ptolemy Philadelphus might
have had forty, and that of Ptolemy Philopater fifty, of these
oblique ascents of oars, and yet need not necessarily have
been higher out of the water than the ordinary quinquireme.
It should be stated, that the triremes seem to have been the
SHIP-BUILDING. • m
[jstory, limit of practical utility in the disposition of the oars, as
"~v—" they appear to have been most usually adopted for the pur¬
poses of war.
„j.dt1 In tracing the records of the sizes of vessels, we find,
r. on the authority of Thucydides, that the Grecian flotilla, at
the siege of Troy, about 1184 years b. c., consisted of 1200
vessels, the largest of which contained not more than 120,
the least fifty people. He also expressly says that they
were without decks. These were therefore mere open row¬
boats or canoes.
rSt naval A great improvement on these must have been made in
ttle. the fleets of the Corcyrians and Corinthians, between whom
took place the first naval battle on record, and which oc¬
curred about 650 years before Christ; because at that time
it appears the arrangement of the oars in banks had been
introduced.
Is evi- We may perhaps infer, from a statement made by Thu-
ntly little cydides, that these vessels were not adapted for carrying
any large portion of sails, as they evidently had little if any
ballast. He says (book i. chap. 50), “ The Corinthians,
when their enemies fled, staid not to fasten the hulls of the
galleys they had sunk unto their own galleys, that so they
might tow them after, but made after the men, rowing up
and down to kill rather than to take alive.” The vessels
spoken of as sunk were evidently merely stove in and wa¬
ter-logged.
venters Herodotus, Thucydides, and Diodorus agree that Ami-
thetri- nodes, the “ shipwright of Corinth,” was the inventor of
mes and trireme, about forty years previous to this battle. The
uiqm- invention of the quinquireme is generally attributed to the
Carthaginians.
iamis. At the battle of Salamis, 480 years b. c., on the autho¬
rity of Plutarch, the largest Grecian vessels carried only
eighteen soldiers, exclusive of the rowers, and those em-
i eet of ployed in manoeuvring the vessels. In the fleet of Mar-
ardonius. donius, crowded as it must have been by a force collected
for the purpose of invasion, we find that, on a comparison
of the number of ships lost by tempest and the number of
men drowned, the average is only sixty-six men to each ves¬
sel. This fleet consisted of 1200 galleys, and 2000 hulks
(oXmdtg) of the “ round manner of building.”
■ssels The whole of the Grecian vessels appear to have been
* only half-decked ; the soldiers were stationed on platforms
^c( ' at each extremity, the middle or waist being left open for
the rowers. Cimon, the celebrated Athenian commander,
was apparently the first to join these two platforms with an
intermediate flat, and thus to form a perfect deck, for the
purpose of opposing a stronger armed force to the Persians,
cks in. This innovation took place preparatory to the battle of Eu-
Cimon rymedon’ B’ c’ "These decks were hatches to be re¬
moved at pleasure. The quinquiremes appear afterwards
to have been always thus fitted, the quadriremes and bi-
remes only occasionally; and all below these in size were
open boats.
'ps of From the rapid preparation of armaments of most impos-
,rhtbuild, ing force, in as far as numbers of shipping are concerned,
and also from the fact of the ease with which the vessels
were transported by land, we must infer that they were of
but small dimensions, and of very fragile construction ; and
though occasionally we find that fabrics of large size were
constructed, it was evidently, from the gorgeous descriptions
which remain of them, more out of ostentation than from
any anticipation of their utility.
ft of The vessels composing the fleet of Alexander the Great
arc'nus' in his Indian expedition, and in which Nearchus performed
his celebrated voyage, were row-galleys of such moderate
dimensions that, in the course of the voyage, they were fre¬
quently hauled on shore ; and although we find, by collat¬
ing the number of vessels and the number of men compos¬
ing the expedition, that there could not have been more
than fifty or sixty men on board each vessel, their accom¬
modations were so poor that the journal takes notice of the History,
inconvenience experienced by the crews from being obliged
to remain for two consecutive nights on board. Purchas
gives the detail of this voyage of Nearchus, on the autho¬
rity of Arianus, lib. viii.
To pass to the Carthaginians, a people of great commer- Carthagi-
cial enterprise and importance, and who inherited their nau- nians.
tical knowledge from their progenitors the Phoenicians, of
whose commercial wealth history, both sacred and profane,
gives repeated evidence: Ezekiel (chap, xxvii.) says of Tyre,
It is situated at the entry of the sea, is a merchant for many
isles; its ship-boards are of fir-trees of Senir, their masts of
cedars, their oars of oak of Bashan, their benches of ivory,
their sails of fine embroidered linen. We find that the Voyage of
Carthaginians must at a very early period of their history Hanno.
have possessed vessels of considerable magnitude; for in
the journal of the much though unjustly disputed voyage of
Hanno, which Clark, in his History of Maritime Discovery,
places at 350 B. c., but which by some historians is said
to have taken place as early as 1000 b. c., sixty ships afford¬
ed accommodation for 30,000 souls, including women and
children, and this, too, with all the stores and requisites for
colonization, which was the main purport of the enterprise.
The little we know of the Carthaginians, we know through
their implacable foes the Romans; and as the Roman fleets
were built after a Carthaginian model, we may pass on to
investigate the few certain particulars we can collect of the
Roman shipping ; though, in doing so, we must not assume
that we are in possession of the extent of the state of naval
science among the Carthaginians. All that the Romans
adopted from them was their war-galley. Their commerce,
and consequently their commercial vessels, were alike de¬
spised by this predatory state, which then lived almost solely
by the sword.
Charnock, on the authority of Meibomius, has given the Roman
following as the dimensions of the Roman trireme and shipping,
quadrireme. The triremes were 105 feet long and eleven
feet broad. The quadriremes were 125feet long and thirteen
feet broad. The triremes, after the time of Julius Caesar,
were ninety feet long and ten feet broad. These dimen¬
sions have a much greater comparative length to breadth
than the proportions adopted for the Neapolitan and Maltese
galleys of more modern times. In them the length seldom
exceeded seven breadths. According to Vossius, who is also
one of the most voluminous writers on the subject of the
shipping of the ancients, these Neapolitan galleys were ca¬
pable of performing voyages by the oar of sixty leagues in
twenty-four hours ; and the distance from Naples to Paler¬
mo has been performed in seventeen hours.
Caesar himself gives us a good criterion of the size of the Caesar’s ac-
Roman vessels employed by him in the invasion of Britain ; count of the
for he says that they were so large that they could not^260*
approach near enough to the shore for the soldiers to dis¬
embark, but that they were obliged, encumbered as they
were with their arms, to jump into the water, which was
breast high ; and that at last the galleys were ordered in be¬
tween these larger vessels and the shore, to protect the dis¬
embarkation.
When we consider the dimensions above quoted for the First Ro-
Roman navy, it does not appear that there is necessarily man fleet,
much exaggeration in the accounts given of the wonderful
exertions made by that people to prepare their first mari¬
time force. Sixty days after the axe was laid to the root of
the tree, 160 galleys according to some accounts, 100 quin¬
quiremes and twenty biremes according to others, rode at
anchor in the sea; the quinquiremes each manned by 300
rowers and 200 soldiers. Polybius states the Roman fleet
at the time of the first Punic war to have consisted of 330
ships, each containing 300 rowers and 120 soldiers. If we
compare the small number of vessels which the might of
Rome put forth at this time, when her very existence de-
SHIP-BUILDING.
Cliisscs of
Homan
b. ipping.
Oak first
used in
ship-build-
i HR-
Copper.
Caulking.
Exhuma¬
tion of a
Roman
vessel.
pended upon the success of her naval exertions, and then
contemplate the enormous numerical force of the ilee s o
the petty Grecian states, we may form a very correct judg¬
ment of the necessarily- comparative insignificance o i
vessels which composed these more early navies.
The Roman ships were divided into three classes, i
naves lone,a, or ships of war ; the naves oneran^ox ships
of burthen ; and the naves Uburna>, which were ships b
expressly for great velocity, and may be suppose o a
been used as despatch-boats, and for making passages with
important personages. There is repeated evidence to prove
that these vessels were invariably built of pine, cedai,
other light woods, excepting about the bo\vs, w nc i
oak, strongly clamped and strengthened with iron or brass,
in order to withstand the shock of opposing vessels, the
tactics being comprised in the attempt to sink or
the enemy’s vessel, by violently propelling tns arme ov
against the weaker broadside of the enemy, or else enc e.-
vouring to break and cripple the oars. Oak was first ap¬
plied to ship-building by the V eneti. This we have on the
testimony of Cmsar in his treatise De Bello GaZ/tco, lib. i •
cap. 13. Copper or brass was introduced for fastenings,
consequence of the quick corrosion of the iron, about the
time of Nero. This is stated on the authority of Vegetius
and also of Athenseus ; and Pliny mentions that flax was
used for the purpose of caulking the seams of the plank.
The following quotation is from Locke s History of Navi¬
gation: “ Sheathing of ships is a thing in appearance so
absolutely new, that scarce any will doubt to assert it alto¬
gether a modern invention ; yet how vain this notion is, will
soon appear. Leo Baptist! Alberti, in his book of Arcln-
tecture (lib. v. cap. 12), has these words: But Trajan s ship
weighed out of the lake of Riccia at this time, while I was
compiling this work, where it had lain sunk and neglected
for above thirteen hundred years; 1 observed that the pine
and cypress of it had lasted most remarkably. On the out¬
side it was built with double planks, daubed over with
Greek pitch, caulked with linen rags ; and over all a sheet
of lead fastened on with little copper nails. Raphael Vo-
laterranus, in his Geography, says this ship was weighed by
the order of Cardinal Prospero Colonna. Here we have
caulking and sheathing together, above sixteen hundred
years ago; for I suppose no man can doubt that the sheet
of lead nailed over the outside with copper nails was sheath¬
ing, and that in great perfection, the copper nails being used
rather than iron, which, when once rusted in the water,
with the working of the ship, soon lose their hold and diop
out.” .
Slight as this sketch may appear of the navies of antiqui¬
ty, it embraces an outline of almost all that has descended
to our times. No portion of ancient histoiy is so imperfect
as that which relates to the shipping, and in none necessa¬
rily has the historian derived less aid from remains. Even
the monumental records here fail him, as the prow alone is
sculptured on them.
Middle
ages.
Progress of Naval Architecture from the Downfall of Rome
to the present Time.
During the many centuries of utter stagnation in all im¬
provement which succeeded the downfall of ancient civili¬
zation, it would appear vain to seek for records of the pro¬
gress in naval architecture. “ These were times,” says
R ymer, in the dedication of the third volume of the Fcedera,
“ of treat struggle and disorder, all Europe over, and the
darkest period "of times.” Although it may be useless to
search for records of the improvement of the means of na¬
vigation during these ages, when thought appears to have
be-en banished from the earth, and action to have been the
only object of man’s life, we may undoubtedly expect that,
in the countries bordering on the seas, the spirit of naval
enterprise would be peculiarly fostered, as congenial to man s Hmorj.
habits, or essential to his preservation, during a period of
universal aggression, confusion, and migration. _ i he north-Northern
ern regions of the earth, regions which the civilization of nation,
the south had deemed uncongenial to man and unfit for his
habitation, appear to have teemed, in all their wild and far-
spreading districts, with a hardy and an adventurous popu¬
lation, horde after horde of whom poured down from the
north-east in irresistible might, and spread desolation and
misery throughout Southern and Western Europe; while
from the north-west the same wide-spreading desolation
swept away all trace of the incipient civilization of Britain
and of Gaul. Every sea was ploughed by the fragile barks
of the Scandinavian adventurers, and every shore was de¬
vastated by their incursions. Denmark, Norway, ami Swe¬
den sent their hardy sons to the coasts of the German
Ocean, the Channel,’the Bay of Biscay, and even to the
Mediterranean on the west; while the barbarians of the Scla-
vonian nations poured down through the Danube and the
Borysthenes on the east of Europe, the population of which,
rendered feeble by the divisions and dissensions attendant
upon the breaking up of the gigantic power of Rome, and
enervated by the Sybarite civilization of the latter days of
that empire, perished beneath the arms or bent to the yoke
of the hardy progeny of the north. The Saracens wrested
from the descendants of the Caesars the remnant which the
Goth and Hun had spared; and Europe became repeopled
throughout its limits with a young, a vigorous, and an enter¬
prising population, while the maritime provinces had gene¬
rally been the spoil of tribes inured to the dangers and de¬
lighting in the excitement, of maritime adventure. _ _
We cannot but be astonished at the innonntahle sprru 0 ^5’*
enterprise which characterized these rude times. But that, I - •
perhaps, which is the most extraordinary feature of the
daring that distinguished this period, is to be traced by
the results of its naval expeditions, which could not be be¬
lieved, had they not been established on the most unques¬
tionable evidence ; and the whole history of the middle ages,
with their revolutions, may be cited in corroboration of
them. Still they had such important influence on the state
of Western Europe, that, judging of causes by their effects,
there must ever remain a doubt of our being in possession
of correct information as to the means by which the results
we speak of were accomplished. It is not difficult to sup¬
pose adventurous men trusting themselves to the mercies o
the winds and the waves, and leaving the sterile north to
plunder and colonize more favoured climates, of the exist¬
ence of which their traditions might inform them. But this
is not all: there is ample evidence to prove a recurrence
of such enterprising voyages, their successful achievement,
and the safe return of the adventurers, not only to JNor-
way and the main land, but to Iceland ; a remote spot, which
might be left, but certainly could not be again repeatedly
attained without more knowledge than we are willing o
concede to so remote a period.
The navigator of the present day, accustomed to rely 01™ive‘
the almost infallible aid of the compass, the chronometei,?.^^
and the sextant, would pause ere he dared to commit him¬
self to the boundless expanse of ocean, with no more sum
pilotage over its trackless waters than he might chance o
find from the appearance of the sun or stars and the nig 1
of birds. And yet we have no record that these Scandina¬
vian sea-kings knew of more certain guides than the sun
by day, the stars by night, and such further aid as pei-
chance might be wrested to their purpose, from the vane
phenomena of nature ; phenomena which may now be un¬
observed, because not needed.
SGIVGClj DtXdUbL. 1HJI liccucu- # n^VnvaUCC
We read in Purchas’s Pilgrims the following accoun »
*vve reau in i uiuua&o a iiginiio hjv.  © . .
the voyage of Floke, a Norwegian pirate, made in tie 7
part of the tenth century, from Shetland to Iceland ; w nc .
he gives on the authority of Arngrim Jonas, an Icelandic
SHIP-BUILDING. 213
istory- historian. “ There was yet no use of the marinrs compasse,
wherefore Floco leaving Hietlandia, tooke certayne ravens
unto him; and when hee thought hee had sayled a great
way, he sent forth one raven, which flying aloft, went backe
againe to Hietlandia, which she saw behind. Whereupon
Floco perceiving that he was yet neerer to Heitlandia then
other countryes, and therefore couragiously going forward,
he sent forth another raven, which, because she could see no
land, neither before nor behind, light unto the ship again.
But, lastly, the third raven was sent forth by Floco, and hav¬
ing for the most part performed his voyage, through the
sharpnesse of her quicke sight attayned the land, she speedily
flew thither, w'hose direction Floco following, beheld first
the eastern side of the iland.”
,m ves- The vessels of the Saxon marauders are described by
Charnock in the following terms : “ The keel of their large
flat-bottomed boats was framed of light timber, but the sides
and upper works consisted only of wicker, with a covering
of strong hides. The Saxon boats drew so little water, that
they could easily proceed four score or an hundred miles
up the great rivers ; the weight was so inconsiderable, that
they were transported on waggons from one river to another ;
and the pirates who had entered the mouth of the Seine
or the Rhine might descend with the rapid stream of the
Rhone into the Mediterranean.”
This description of the skin-covered boats of the north¬
ern seas is founded on testimony which cannot be disputed.
And, if they were used by the Northmen on their longer
voyages, it was probably when they purposed incursions
into the interior of the countries they were about to devas¬
tate ; but that they must have had another and a far superior
description of vessel, there can be no reason to doubt.
,al So- The investigations of the Royal Society of Northern An-
th°m tlfluar^ans at Copenhagen have thrown considerable light
ioua- on ,-^e subject of this early navigation, and of the disco-
j#‘ veries of the Scandinavians in the west; and we can no
longer suppose that it was in these coracles that frequent
voyages were made to Newfoundland, and colonies establish¬
ed there, which it appears proved that there were even as
early as the tenth century. But to recur to evidence which
dish is familiar to us. We have the description given by Caesar
of the ships of the Gaulish Veneti. “ Their bottoms were
somewhat flatter than ours, their prows were very high and
erect, as likewise their sterns, to bear the hugeness of the
billows and the violence of the tempests. The body of the
vessel was entirely of oak. The benches of the rowers were
made of strong beams about a foot in breadth, and fastened
with iron nails an inch thick. Instead of cables, they se¬
cured their anchors with chains of iron; and made use of
skins and a sort of thin pliant leather, by way of sails, pro¬
bably because they imagined that canvass sails were not so
proper to bear the violence of tempests, the rage and fury
of the winds, and to govern ships of that bulk and burthen.
 Neither could our ships injure them with their beaks,
so great was their strength and firmness, nor could we easily
throw our darts, because of their height above us, which
also was the reason that we found it extremely difficult to
grapple the enemy and bring them to close fight.’’ And
again, speaking of the manner in which these ships were
eventually taken possession of: “ They,” the Romans,
“ had provided themselves with long poles, armed with long
scythes; with these they laid hold of the enemies’ tackle,
and drawing off the galley by the extreme force of oars, cut
asunder the ropes that fastened the sailyards to the masts;
these giving way, the sailyards came down, insomuch that
as all the hopes and expectations of the Gauls depended en¬
tirely on their sails and rigging, by depriving them of this
resource we at the same time rendered their vessels wholly
unserviceable.”
dhe account proceeds to state, that many attempted to
escape from this unforeseen means of aggression; but that
the wind falling, and a perfect calm coming on, they were History,
obliged to remain inactive on the water, and were takenv——”'
possession of, one after the other, by the simultaneous at¬
tack of several Roman galleys. It w ould appear from this
that they were vessels only intended for sailing, and that
since oars were used, from the mention made of seats for the
rowers, they could have been as very partial accessories to
the sails, or probably even only for steering. Another fact
is mentioned by Caesar, that the Veneti sailed from their
port to meet the Roman fleet, and several of the vessels
escaped to their port from the fleet. This, though not con¬
clusive of the fact of sailing on a wind, is worthy of notice.
It is probable that it was ships such as these which brought HengFt
Hengist and Horsa to England about the middle of the fifth ai:(i Kcrsa.
century, since it is recorded that their force, which con¬
sisted of 1500 men, found accommodation in only three ves¬
sels. It is hardly to be imagined that the coracles or skin-
boats of the northern nations were ever of sufficient dimen¬
sions to accommodate a force of 500 men, with arms and
means of active aggression.
In the course of little more than a century from the first Danish in¬
invasion of Hengist and Horsa, England became quietly vasions.
subject to Saxon rule; and the prosperity incidental to a
state of peace made her again a fit object of prey to new
hordes of northern pirates, the Danes. But it is useless
to dwell long on these times of historical doubt and inac¬
curacy. In the w ords of Milton, “ These bickerings to re¬
cord, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of
kites or crows, flocking and fighting in the air.”
At length order once more asserted her right to control Dawm of
men’s actions, and out of order the arts and wants of civi- civilization,
lization began again to dawn in the newly-formed states
which had arisen from the wreck of the empires of anti¬
quity. Man then saw that peace ministered to his com¬
fort, and he turned his thoughts to commerce rather than
to the sword, as a means of gratifying his newly-acquired
cravings. Thus a long period did not elapse before those
seas, which had for centuries been tracked only by the bark
of the lawless marauder, bore on their surface the well-
freighted craft of the peaceful and industrious merchant.
The earlier irruptions of the northern barbarians into Rise of
Italy had desolated the Roman province of Venetia, and Venice,
driven a remnant of its inhabitants to the refuge afforded
by the small marshy islands at the extremity of the Adri¬
atic. There they are described by Cassiodorus, who assi¬
milates them to w ater-fowl, as subsisting on fish, and steep¬
ed in poverty, their only manufacture and their only com¬
merce being salt. From such humble beginnings arose
the state destined to connect the old world with the new,
and to lead the van of modern commercial and maritime
enterprise. The mercantile prosperity of Venice diffused
its influence throughout the shores of the Mediterranean,
which thus became once again the nursery of civilization.
For many centuries Venice was the great school for the arts
connected with navigation, and her shipwrights and seamen
were long the most instructed in Europe. While the north¬
ern seas were navigated by the Scandinavian sea-kings, in
their rude and frail boats, in quest of plunder or of a home,
ships floated on the waters of the Mediterranean bearing
the banner of St Mark, which, it is said, were, even as early
as the tenth century, of the burthen of 1200 up to 2000
tons. The vessels, however, generally adopted by the Medi¬
terranean states, were either copies or modifications of the
ancient galley.
It is a fact wrorth notice, that while the continuation of the Meriiforra-
use of this species of vessel in the comparatively tranquil wa-Iiesn 6ai‘ey*
ters of the Mediterranean fostered the arts of commerce and
navigation, its introduction into the northern seas, to which
it was ill adapted, appears to have checked, in a most re¬
markable degree, the maritime enterprise which had hither¬
to so characterized the population of their coasts. It is
214:
SHIP-BUILDING.
Alfred.
serve the liberties of his people. He therefore turned the
energies of his mighty mind to the task of creating a naval
force, which should be more powerful than that of his
untiring persecutors the Danes. In this we find that he
succeeded; and at length, under the protection of the fleets
which his genius had created, he was enabled to estab¬
lish that frame-work of internal policy and government,
 i in tmc nnv
we'see that one of the highest rewards in the power of the
monarch to bestow was held out to the merchant, as an in¬
citement to an adventure, which the vague hope of plunder
would alone have been sufficient to induce that merchants
progenitors to attempt, and successfully perform. How¬
ever, it is probable that at no time was the art of navigat¬
ing vessels, which depended principally, although perhaps
not wholly,' upon their sails, lost in the northern seas.
Gibbon savs, that at the early crusades the vessels of the
« Northmanni et Gothi” (the Norwegians and Danes) dif¬
fered from those of the other powers, among all of whom
the ships partook of the character of the Mediterranean
galley. These northern crusaders are described by him as
navigating “ navibus rotundis, that is to say, ships infinitely
, ° •  — fr. fBoir Ipno-lh than crallevs. This
History, even ptobab.e t„at the barrier thus opposed to co^etce
' entailed on the states of Northern and Wenern E^ope can- f m tact, ^ ^ Qf it;m nter. D* .,
rwfsrprpXTonetfr-gre^sf L™elCtof the prise had. as we h-e^e^y ^ewed a cheek^ce^,,.
middle ages, Alfred the Great. , , , , ,
Alfred was the first ruler of England who clearly under¬
stood that the policy of Britain was rather to prevent than
to resist invasion ; and the by-gone history o ns conn y
told him plainly that its military strength was not only in¬
sufficient to awe invaders from its shores, but that all t e
military resources at his command were .nadequate to pre
lish that frame-work of internal policy anu government, ^ t0 their ,ength than galleys.” This
from the wisdom of which England has even to this y laier than the beginning of the twelfth century,
benefited. It is historically certain that Alfred himself was removed from the periods in ones.
His ships.
superintended the formation of his fleet, and that he gave
the design of vessels to be superior to those of the Danes.
We find that these vessels were galleys, generally row¬
ed with forty oars, some even with sixty, on each side ; and
that they were twice as long, deeper, nimbler, and less
“ wavy” or rolling, than the ships of the Danes. I he in¬
formation on this subject is obtained by Selden, from a
Saxon chronicle of the time of Alfred, which is in the Cot¬
tonian Library. .
Reasons for ft should be remembered, that when Alfred thus intio-
their intro- Juced the Mediterranean galley into these northern seas,
duetion. hig object was not s0~much to form a vessel adapted for the
purpose of navigating those seas, as to obtain one wmc
would afford space for a large force of fighting men. for
i • .i n    xr • anrl irtHpPfl it,
and therefore not so far removed from the periods in ques¬
tion as to render the inference we wish to deduce from it
erroneous, particularly when referring to times of such slow
improvement as the middle ages.
The “ mighty” fleets maintained by Edgar afiord no in-Edgar,
formation on the subject of this article, excepting that the
facts connected with that monarch’s annual circumnaviga¬
tion of his territories prove them to have consisted of row-
gallevs. They must however have formed comparatively a
“ mighty” fleet; for, from a grant of land made by Edgar to
Worcester cathedral, we find that he assumed to himself
the title of “ Supreme Lord and Governor of the Ocean ly¬
ing round about Britain.” That they were but of slight
construction, we may infer from the low state of the navy
would afford space for a large force of fighting men ror ^X^y^er the deaflTof Edgar as the reign of Ethelred,Ethelred.
this the galley was admirably qualified; and indeed it mam- so shortly alter tne ae ; ^ ; d a b lar tox for
tained its place as the appropriate ship for the purposes of a"V m^nSnh,f a navy. It was Inacted, ac-
war, until the invention of cannon rendered other arrang p o ,, ., .. „.i   ,,.., < ,,,,,.,1 aid hides of
Their sue
cess.
pruviuiug -  J J ,, oin u ,1 e
cording to Selden, that whoever possessed HO hides ot
introduction, were boldly and successfully achieved, be- been inadequate to t e p P I could not nreserve
came of rare occurrence and of hazardous issue during the fleet, for all the exertions ol Eth*evd ““.P'Xe
Saxon rule.STtTnot our purpose to give more than a slight sketch of crowns of Denmark, Norway, an^
the naval history of Britain through the line of her Saxon his person, we may presume that the ndeeda rl
princes ; for we can discover little data on which to found land were not suffered to retrograde. We have ^ a m
inv speculation even, as to the progress of naval architec- cord of their advance during this second Dam^ rule. ^ e
tuve during these ages. We kiow that the galley of the may also mfer it from fthe P^^V^irsovereign of a
Mediterranean continued to be used for the defence of the Godwin to Hardicanute, the thud.1)^f S gn’ each
coasts; and the policy of Alfred appears to have been well galley, sumptuously g.lt, and rowed by/0"sc0^."f gix.
understood by many of his successors,—that England only of whom wore on his arm a bracelet o g  » ^
enjoyed peace from invasion when her fleets were power¬
ful enough to repel it from her shores. We are also led
to suppose that the use of sailing vessels was not wholly
abandoned ; for in (the reign of Athelstan, the third in de¬
scent from Alfred, as we read in Hackluyt, it was decreed,
that “ if a marchant so thrived, that he passed thrise over
the wide seas of his owne craft, he was thenceforth a Theins’
MercanliL
shipping.
teen ounces; not that the mere gorgeousness of the gin
would prove any advance in the art of ship-building, but we
may suppose, from its nature, that naval affairs found favour
in the sight of this monarch. Of this we have also other
historical evidence, as Hardicanute raised eleven thousan
and forty-eight pounds, in the first two years of his reign,
for the purpose of building thirty-two ships ; and the taxes
_ he levied for the support of his navy were so grievous that,
This establishes two rather interesting facts; one is, that Florentius says, scarcely any man was able to pay f.0™” ,
at so early a period of our history there ivere merchants of The marine of England seems to have been m % tue conquc.'
importance enough to engage in such a traffic; and the other on a comparatively powerful footing up to the peno
is, that from the richness of the reward held out to success- Norman conquest; and from the naval resouices , . ^
ful enterprise, we are enabled to estimate the difficulty of command of Harold the Saxon, in comparison wi i
the task assigned. We may assume that these long voy- significance of the shipping which brought \v u nun a
right worthie.”
SHIP-BUILDING.
istory. Normans across the channel, there can be no doubt that
had Harold relied upon his naval strength, the conquest of
England would never have been achieved. But, by some
fatality, his fleet, which had been long stationed off the Isle
of Wight, was dispersed, in consequence of a report that
William had abandoned his enterprise.
-t of Xhe flotilla of William the Conqueror is variously stated;
. uam. ky soine at 900, by others at 3000 vessels. In either number
we have a scale to estimate their insignificance, as the in¬
vading force consisted of about 60,000 troops, which would
give in the one case about sixty-six men to each vessel, in
the other twenty men only. Plate CCCCXLV. figs. 1 and 2.
The conquest of England being completed, the shores on
either side of the narrow seas between England and Nor¬
mandy were under the same rule. William therefore claim¬
ed sovereignty over them, which right was maintained by
his successors. There can be no doubt that the constant
intercourse between the two portions of the empire, which
continued throughout the Norman sway, and indeed for a
period of upwards of three centuries, must have done much
towards fostering a maritime spirit among the population of
England, and accustoming it to consider that fame and for¬
tune were the rewards of nautical adventure,
nbable We have but slight evidence as to the state of naval ar-
i e of chitecture during the early period subsequent to the con-
Ps- quest. There are a few facts scattered among the records
of these times, which may enable us to draw some vague
conclusions as to the pfobable size and nature of the vessels
used. When Prince William, son to Henry L, was drown¬
ed, by the loss of the vessel in which he was crossing from
France to England, it is recorded that three hundred souls
perished with him. As of this number a large portion, his¬
torians say one hundred and forty, were men of rank, and
as there were many ladies, since the prince was accom¬
panied by his sister, the vessel must have been of consi¬
derable burthen. A similar event, namely, a shipwreck,
that occurred during the reign of Henry II., by which near¬
ly the same number of persons perished, tends to prove that
such was about the extent of the accommodation afforded
by the shipping of this period. Galleys still continued to
be used for the purposes of war; but as commerce began to
be extended, it became necessary to recur to the use of
sails, and we find that they were therefore gradually re¬
covering their importance, and superseding oars. Indeed
it is difficult to conceive commerce to be profitably en¬
gaged in, attended with the immense expense of the crew's
ite of necessary to propel the larger galleys. We should ima-
de. gine that this had an important influence in the improve¬
ment of navigation and of naval architecture, for the com¬
mercial intercourse between the portions of the empire on
either side of the channel must have been considerable.
There is constant reference in the early chronicles to the
great extent of the wine trade, and of the commerce in
wool and woollen cloths.
The introduction of vessels propelled by sails for the pur¬
poses of commerce would necessarily cause a change in the
constitution of the fleets assembled for the services of war;
and this we find to have been the case.
■hard The expedition of Richard Cceur de Lion, in 1190, to join
UI de the crusade to the Holy Land, consisted of nine ships which
m' are described as being of extraordinary size, 150 others of
inferior dimensions, and only thirty-eight galleys. After the
reduction of Cyprus, and the addition of the vessels captured
there, with others which he had hired at Marseilles and in
Sicily, his armament consisted of 254 “ tall shippes, and
about three score galliots.” The increase was, therefore,
almost wholly in the ships. This, together with the record¬
ed fact, that he captured a Saracenic vessel of such size as
to be capable of containing 1500 Saracens, and a large
quantity of military stores, destined for the relief of Achon,
tends to prove that the progress of naval architecture un¬
der the influence of the commercial powers of the Mediter- History,
ranean, had been more rapid than in these northern seas,•~V'—
where the commerce was much more confined in its na¬
ture, and the nations bordering on which were in constant
warfare with each other.
The Norman monarchs appear to have been very tena- Sovereign-
cious of their claim to the sovereignty of the narrow seas ; ty of
and not only their claim, but their power to maintain theirseds'
right, is admitted by the French historians. The Pere
Daniel sanctions the claim of Henry II. to this sovereignty.
In the reign of John we find that the fleets of England John,
were of such importance that the claim was extended; for
it was then enacted, that if the masters of foreign ships
should refuse to strike their colours, and thus pay hom¬
age to the English flag, such ships should be considered
as lawful prizes. This monarch most carefully fostered
the naval power of England; and it is in the records of
the thirteenth year of this reign that we first read of any
public naval establishment. There is in the close rolls Early ori-
published by the Record Commission, an order, which isgin of Ports-
dated the 29th of May 1212, from the king to the sheriffm0Jjth dock-
of the county of Southampton, in which he is directed with- yard'
out delay to cause the king’s docks at Portsmouth to be
enclosed by a good and strong wall, in order to protect the
king’s galleys 'and ships; and also to build storehouses
against this wall for the preservation of the fittings and
equipment of the said vessels; all of which works are to be
performed under the direction of William, archdeacon of
Taunton, and the greatest diligence is to be used, in order
that the whole may be completed during the summer.
The naval power of England appears to have continued Edward I.
sufficient to maintain the sovereignty assumed by John.
For the occurrence of predatory excursions by some Ge¬
noese during the reign of Edward I. caused all the nations
of Europe, bordering on the sea, to appeal to the kings of
England, whom they acknowledged to be in peaceable pos¬
session of the “ Sovereign Lordship and Dominion of the
Seas of England, and Islands of the same;” which proves
that their claim was generally acknowledged. This docu¬
ment, Evelyn says, was still extant in his time, in the ar¬
chives of the Tower. The right to the absolute sove¬
reignty of the seas was maintained up to the reign of James
I. Queen Elizabeth insisted on and maintained her power
to refuse or grant passage through the narrow seas, accord¬
ing to her pleasure. In 1634 Charles I. asserted his right
to their sovereignty; and in 1654 the Dutch were com¬
pelled, after a severe struggle, to submit to it, and consent
to “ strike their flags and lower their top-sails on meeting
any ship of the English navy in the British seas;” which
homage the commanders of English men-of-war were in¬
structed to exact from all foreign vessels until so lately
as the close of the last war, when it was judiciously aban¬
doned, for reasons which we shall give in the words of Sir
John Barrow. In his Life of Howe, with reference to Tra¬
falgar, he says, “ That battle, moreover, having so com¬
pletely humbled the naval powers of France and Spain,
suggested to the consideration of the Board of Admiralty,
with the approbation of the government, the omission of
that arbitrary and offensive article which required naval
officers to demand the striking of the flag and lowering of
the top-sail from every foreign ship they might fall in with.
That invidious assumption of a right, though submitted to
generally by foreigners for some centuries, could not pro¬
bably have been maintained much longer, except at the
cannon’s mouth; and it was considered, therefore, that the
proper time had come when it might both morally and po¬
litically be spontaneously abandoned.”
It is generally supposed, that ships intended only for Error re¬
sailing were first built by the Genoese, and that not until specting
the beginning of the fourteenth century. We rather incline tktr.use
to the opinion, that in the Mediterranean they date from
SHIP-BUILDING.
Mariner’s
compass.
216
History, an earlier period than this; and that although the general
" v'—adoption of the galley in Western Europe had much chec -
ed the art of navigation by means of sails, it had never
been wholly lost, but that sailing vessels, though proba¬
bly very few in number, and imperfect m their rig, bad
been constantly in use. If we may judge from the ew nn s
handed down to us by history, they were probably luggers,
and were adopted for mercantile purposes along the coas o
the Channel and the Bay of Biscay. In the north of Europe
sails had never been discontinued, although the more war¬
like galleys of England and France had gradually prevent¬
ed the incursions of the northern nations into these moie
southern seas. The beginning of the fourteenth century
is, however, decidedly an epoch in the histones both of na¬
vigation and of naval architecture, and from it may be dated
the progress of navigation by means of sails. It is generally
supposed, that the “ large ships ” mentioned in the enume¬
ration of the fleets of this period, were ships built only for
sailing, and intended for those long voyages which the inven¬
tion of the compass by Flavio Gioia, a Neapolitan, about the
year 1300, had rendered of comparatively easy performance.
It has been surmised that the compass was brought to
Europe from the East about forty years previous to this
date, by Paulus Venetus. It is certain that the Portuguese
found the knowledge of the magnetic needle generally and
long diffused among the eastern navies. Evelyn says that
“ it was, near eighty years after its discovery, unknown in
Britain.” This is not improbable, for there does not re¬
main much record of maritime affairs in the interval be-
tween the reigns of John and Edward III. This monarch s
reign was, after a most severe struggle with France for
supremacy on the seas, the era of a series of naval triumphs,
and both navigation and naval architecture made most de¬
cided advances. # . ^ ^ u
In an engagement which took place in 1340, the rrench
force amounted to four hundred vessels, of which a hundred
and twenty were “ large ships,” these being principally Ge-
noese mercenaries. Edward III. commanded the English
fleet in person, which consisted of but two hundred and
sixty sail. The French are variously reported to have lost
twenty and thirty thousand men, and two hundred vessels
are said to have been captured. The loss to the English
was only four thousand men. Two facts are elicited by.
the accounts of this engagement; one is, that there is no
mention of galleys as forming any part of the fleets ; the
other is, that in the James of Dieppe, which was captured
by the Earl of Huntingdon, four hundred persons were
found slain ; consequently the size of the vessel must have
been very considerable.
Itoyal fleet. In 1344 Edward summoned commissioners from all the
ports, to meet in the metropolis, provided with the state of
their “ navies.” The roll of this fleet is inserted in the first
volume of Hakluyt, from a copy in the Cottonian Library.
The total numbers were 710 ships, and 14,151 mariners ;
and there were thirty-eight foreign ships, with eight hun¬
dred and fifteen mariners. From this roll we learn that
galleys had ceased to be used by England, either in her
wars or in her commerce, as neither among the king’s ships,
nor among those furnished by merchants, is there any men¬
tion of them. This fleet was that engaged in the cele¬
brated siege of Calais, and it was probably at this time that
cannon were first employed by the English. Camden in
his Remains says, “ Certain it is, that King Edward III. used
them at the siege of Calais in 1347.”
Although from the fact of there being a royal dock-yard
at Portsmouth so early as the reign of John, it is probable
that the kings of England were possessed of a navy almost
from the conquest; yet this roll of Edward’s fleet contains
the first enumeration of ships belonging to the sovereign,
and employed in the service of the state, which occurs in
Edward
HI.
Naval
battle.
Use of
cannon.
Sizes of
Edward’:
ships.
English history ; and, consequently, it is from the reign of
Edward III. that we must date the formation of a royal History,
navy The king’s ships were twenty-five in number, and
were manned by 419 mariners. It appears that the vessels
belonging to the sovereign were inferior in force to many
of those which were supplied by subjects ; for the average
number of the crews of the king’s ships was seventeen men
to each vessel, while the average of the fleet was rather
above twenty. Of course these numbers only include the
mariners employed in navigating the vessels, and not the
soldiers to be afterwards embarked on board them. If we
consider the simplicity of the rig of these ships, in compa¬
rison to the wilderness of canvass and cordage covering the
tall masts of a modern merchantman, we have more reason
to be astonished at the large number of hands employed,
than at the smallness of the averages seventeen and twenty.
There is good reason to suppose that the addition of the
bowsprit to the rig of ships dates no farther back than late
in the reign of Edward III., which is alone quite sufficient
to prove the very imperfect state of the navigation at that
period, and also to excite astonishment that, with such ap¬
parently inadequate means, so much was effected ; for his¬
tory would almost lead us to suppose, that for all the pur¬
poses of war and commerce, fleets as proudly or as industri¬
ously ploughed the main then as now, “ with all appliances
and means to boot.” Plate CCCCXLV. fig. 3.
In the year 1381, the fourth of the reign of Richard II., Richard I
the first navigation act was passed in England, for the en-First nar
couragement of the naval interest, and the augmentation^1011
of our maritime power, by discountenancing the employ¬
ment of foreign shipping. It enacted, “ that for increas¬
ing the shipping of England, of late much diminished, none
of the king’s subjects shall hereafter ship any kind of mer¬
chandize, either outward or homeward, but only in ships of
the king’s subjects, on forfeiture of ships and merchandize,
in which ships also the greater part of the crews shall be
of the king’s subjects.” This act was not however enforced,
permission being given to hire foreign shipping when there
were no English ships in readiness.
We have said that the royal navy of England must date Royal skij
from the reign of Edward HI. We have proof that it con-hired by I
tinned to be customary for the sovereign to possess ships ;merc a“
they were, however, used both for war and commerce. T. his
practice, which does not at all militate against the existence
of a royal navy, appears to have commenced when “ large
ships” were substituted for the galleys as vessels for war;
and it long continued to be usual for merchants to hire ship¬
ping from the sovereign for commercial voyages. We learn Henry I
from the proceedings of the privy council, which have been
printed by the Record Commission, that in June of the
year 1400, Henry IV. ordered his “ new ship,” together
with such others as were in the port of London, to pro¬
ceed against the enemy. There is also a letter in the Cot- Letter /
Ionian Library, which has been printed in Ellis’s Collec- 611
tion of Letters, from John Alcetre to King Henry V. con¬
cerning a ship building for that monarch at Bayonne. The
letter is of the date of 1419; and as it contains more mi¬
nute details than might be expected to have descended
to us from such an early period, we give the following ex¬
tract. “ At the makyng of this letter yt was in this estate,
that ys, to wetyng xxxvj. strakys in hyth y bordyd, on the
weche strakys hyth y layde xj. bemys; the mast beme ys
yn leynthe xlvj. comyn fete, and the beme of the hameron
afore ys in leynthe xxxix. fete, and the beme of the hame¬
ron by hynde is in leynthe xxxiij. fete; fro the onemost
ende of the stemne in to the post by hynde ys in leynthe
a hondryd iijxx- and vj. fete; and the stemne ys in hithe
iiijxx- and xvj. fete; and the post xlviij. fete ; and the kele
ys in leynthe a hondryd and xij. fete; but he is y rotyt,
and must be chaungyd.”
We have also evidence of the existence of ships whicr
belonged to the monarch, in contradistinction to ships which
SHIP-BUILDING.
belonged to the “ commons,” in the quaint rhymes of an
anonymous author of the year 1433, which have been pre-
0f served by Hackluyt, termed “ The Prologue of the pro-
cesse of the Libel of English policie, exhorting all Eng¬
land to keepe the sea, and namely, the narrowe sea, shew¬
ing what profite commeth thereof, and also what worship
and saluation to England, and to all Englishmen.”
And if I should conclude all by the king
Henrie the Fift, what was his purposing,
Whan at Hampton he made the great dromons,
Which passed other great ships of all the commons ;
The Trinitie, the Grace de Dieu, the Holy Ghost,
And other moe, which as nowe bee lost.
What hope ye was the king’s great intent
Of thoo shippes, and what in minde hee meant:
It wras not ellis; but that hee cast to be
Lorde round about environ of the sea.
The term dromond is the corruption of a Levantine term,
dromones, imported probably by the crusaders. The dro-
mones were long row-galleys, but the adopted term dro¬
mond was applied generally to all large ships.
There is a list of Henry’s vessels in the fourth year of his
reign, preserved in the proceedings of the privy council.
His navy then consisted of three “ large ships” or “ grands
niefs,” three “ carracks,” eight barges, and ten balingers. In
1417 it was augmented to three “ large ships,” eight “ car-
racks,” six other ships, one barge, and nine balingers.
n- Again, in a letter preserved among the Cottonian ma¬
nuscripts, and printed in Ellis’s collection, we find that the
Spaniards offered Henry V. two carracks for sale, one of
which is described as of a tonnage equal to 1400, and the
other to 1000 butts. So energetical was Henry V. in all
things relating to his navy, and the consequent increase in
the number of the royal ships during his reign was so great,
as to have led to the error that before his time the sove¬
reigns of England were not possessed of vessels, but relied
wholly upon the aid to be gathered from the different ports
of England, or to be hired from foreigners. This is evi¬
dently incorrect.
of On the death of Henry V. a different line of policy ap-
'}'• pears to have been adopted; for in May 1423 the king’s
ships were all sold at Southampton, under a restriction that
no foreigner could be a purchaser of them. But it appears
that a long period did not elapse before the depressed state
of the naval resources of the kingdom, consequent on this
injudicious measure, attracted the attention of parliament.
The following interesting quotation from the preface of the
fifth volume of the Proceedings of the Privy Council, print¬
ed by the Record Commission, refers to this event. “ In
1443 the attention of parliament wTas directed to this im¬
portant part of the national defence (the naval force), and a
highly curious ordinance was made for the safeguard of the
sea. From February to November eight ships with forestages,
or, as they were sometimes called then, as now, forecastles,
armed with 150 men each, were to be constantly at sea.
Every large ship was to be attended by a barge of eighty
men, and a balinger of forty men. There were also to be
‘ awaiting and attendant upon them’ four ‘ spynes’ or ‘ spi-
naces,’ with twenty-five men each. The whole number of
men in these twenty-four ships was 2240.”
There is also in the same preface an account of the va¬
rious kinds of ships which formed the navies of this period,
a part of which we shall quote, and by the addition of some
further information of the same nature, derived from Frois¬
sart, Monstrelet, and other sources, the reader will be en¬
abled to form a tolerably correct opinion as to the state of
naval architecture in England previous to and during the
fifteenth century. Plate CCCCXLVI.
Ships. “ The burthen of the largest ships at that period
probably did not exceed 600 tons, though some of them
were certainly very large” as, for instance, the vessel built
at Bayonne for Henry V., already mentioned. “ One
VOL. xx.
217
which belonged to Hull was released from arrest” (she hav- History,
ing been pressed into the king’s service), “ because she 'v—
drew so much water that she could not approach within two
miles of the coast of Guienne, where the Duke of Somer¬
set’s army intended to disembarkand several notices oc¬
cur of ships of 300 and 400 tons and upwards. Some had
three and others only two masts, with short topmasts, and a
“ forestage” or “ forecastle,” consisting of a raised platform
or stage, which obtained the name of castle from its con¬
taining soldiers, and probably from its having bulwarks. In
this part of the ship it appears business was transacted ; and
in the reign of Edward III., if not afterwards, ships had
sometimes one of these stages at each end, as ships “ ove
chastiel devant et derere’ are then spoken of. (Plate
CCCCXLVI. figs. 2, 3, 4, 5.) Lydgate, describing the
fleet with which King Henry V. went to France after the
battle of Agincourt, says,
Fifteen hundred ships ready there be found.
With rich sails and high topcastle.
This is a confusion of terms. The “ topcastles” were not
the forecastles, but were castellated enclosures at the mast¬
heads, in which the pages to the officers were stationed
during an engagement, in order to annoy the enemy with
darts and other missiles; as is frequently mentioned in
Froissart, and is represented in the illuminations to his
work. Plate CCCCXLV. fig. 3.
Carracks “ w ere vessels of considerable burthen, and Carracks.
were next in size to great ships, in which class they indeed
were sometimes included. Their tonnage may be estimated
by their being in some instances capable of carrying 1400
butts; and the sail of one afforded Chaucer a strange si¬
mile expressive of magnitude,
And now hath Sathanas, saith he, a tayl
Broder than of a carrike is the sayl.
Though occasionally armed and employed against the ene¬
my, they were more generally used in foreign trade.”
Charnock says that the first carrack* which was built in
England was built for a merchant, John Tavenier, of Hull,
who was consequently honoured by Henry VI. w ith distin¬
guished favour; and she was licensed in 1449 with parti¬
cular privileges to trade through the Straits of Morocco.
The king also ordered her to be called the Grace Dieu Car-
rack. The license states her to have been built “ by the
help of God and some of the king’s subjects.”
Barges “ were a smaller kind of vessel and of a different Barges,
construction from ships, though, like them, they sometimes
had forecastles. Those appointed to protect the seas in
1415 Avere of 100 tons burthen, and contained forty mari¬
ners, ten men-at-arms, and ten archers; whilst the ships
employed on the same occasion were of 120 tons, and had
forty-eight mariners, twenty-six men at arms, and twenty-
six archers each. Four large barges and two balingers
were capable of holding 120 men-at-arms and 480 archers
and sailors.”
Balingers “ wrere still smaller than barges, had no fore- Balingers.
castle, and sometimes contained about forty sailors, ten men-
at-arms, and ten archers.” Froissart makes frequent men¬
tion of “ balniers,” “ balleniers,” which he describes “ as
drawing little water, and being sent in advance to seek ad¬
ventures, in the same manner as knights and squires, mount¬
ed on the fleetest horses, are ordered to scour in front of an
enemy, to see if there be any ambuscades.” Monstrelet
speaks of one vessel that was employed by Louis XI. to ab¬
duct the Count de Charolais, by the two names ballenier and
balayer. It is not improbable that the name is derived
from the French word baleine, and that its origin was si¬
milar to that of our English name whaler. The whale-
fishery in Biscay was of a very early date.
Galleys (Plate CCCCXLVI. fig. 1) “ are frequently Galleys,
mentioned at a very early period; and in the 5th Rich. II.
1381, the Commons complained that no measures had been
2 E
SHIP-BUILDING.
Galleas.
Spynes or
spynaces.
Play tes and
smaller
vessels.
Foists or
foysts.
H ulks.
taken to resist the enemy, who had attacked the English at
sea with their barges, galleys, and other vessels. In 1405
Henry IV. directed his council to apply to the king of Por¬
tugal to lend him his galleys to assist the English navy
against the French.”
In Sir Grenville Temple’s Travels in Greece and 1 ur-
key, we find the following description of a Maltese galley,
or, more correctly, galleas, made from an old model pre¬
served there. “ These galleys measured a hundred and
sixty-nine feet one inch in length, and thirty-nine feet six
inches in breadth. They had three masts with latine sa.ils,
and were propelled by forty-nine oars, each forty-four feet
five inches long. Their armament consisted of one thirty-
six pounder, two of twenty-four, and four of six, all on the
forecastle, which in those days had in reality some appear¬
ance of a castle. On each side of the vessel, aft of the
forecastle, were four six-pounders.” The total crew, in¬
cluding galley-slaves, consisted of 549 persons.
The Galleas and the Galleon appear to have been succes¬
sive improvements on the original galley, rendered neces¬
sary by the introduction of cannon into naval warfare. The
artillery introduced on board the early galleys was placed
either before or abaft the rowers, and to fire in the diiec-
tion of the length. (Plate CCCCXLVII.) In the galleas,
a description of vessel first used at the battle of Lepanto,
guns were also placed between the rowers, to fire from the
broadside. Evelyn describes the galleasses he saw at Venice
(1645) as being “ vessels to rowe of almost 150 foote long
and thirty wide, not counting prow or poop, and contain
twenty-eight banks of oares, each seven men, and to carry
1300 men, with three masts.” In the galleon the oars ceased
to be the principal means of propulsion, and if used at all,
were only so as occasional aids. The galley and galleas had
overhanging topsides for the accommodation of the oars. In
the galleon, on the contrary, the topsides “ tumbled home”
to so extraordinary an extent, that the breadth at the water
was twice that at the topside, a fashion which has continu¬
ed, but in a much less degree, to the present time. Plate
CCCCXLVIII.
Spynes or Spynaces, “ now called pinnaces, seem to
have been large boats, capable of holding twenty-five men,
and were probably used for swiftness. To these must be
added crayers, hulks, gabarres or gabbars, a kind of flat-
bottomed boat used in shallow rivers.” The French still
continue to apply the term “ gabarre ” to store-ships.
“ Playtes, cogships, whence perhaps cogs and coggles
are derived; farecrofts, passagers, which were perhaps boats
used between England and France ; and cock-boats, a small
boat which attended upon all kinds of ships. The whole
of these vessels were employed in conveying goods or pas¬
sengers, and most of them on rivers or in the coasting
trade. The ships, carracks, barges, balingers, and galleys,
were employed equally for commerce or for war. When
sent against the enemy, soldiers were put on board of them.;
and it is most likely they were at all times partly manned
by soldiers. In foreign voyages they usually sailed in con¬
voys ; and it was a very ancient custom for the masters and
sailors to elect their own admiral.”
In Burchett’s account of the unfortunate action in the
Bay of Conquet in 1513, in which the Lord High Admiral,
Sir Edward Howard, lost his life, four foists are mentioned
as forming a part of the French force. They were proba¬
bly vessels of a similar character with the galley, but smaller
in size. About the beginning of the seventeenth century,
“ carracks,” “ galleons,” and “ tall shippes” appear to have
become synonymous terms. Plate CCCCXLVIII.
The term hulk originally was applied in a different sense
from that which is stated in the part of the foregoing
remarks which we have quoted from the preface to the
proceedings of the privy council. Frequent allusion is
made to hulks in documents of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. In a letter from Sir Thomas Seymour to the Histor
privy council, dated the 13th of November 1544, when in^y-v
command of the “ shipes whyche was a poyntede to kepe
the Narrow Sees,” vindicating himself for putting back on
account of a storm, there is the following passage, from
which we might almost infer that hulk was a general name
synonymous with ships. “ Thre holkes that come after me
colde nott gett syght thereof (the ‘ Eylle of Wyght),’ tyll
they warre in a bay on the est syde of the Eylle, of the
whyche Mr Strowd, Bramston, and Battersebe of the garde,
God rest their sowles, was in on of them, whyche holke
brake all her ankeres and cabelles, and she brake all to
peses on the shorr, and but 41 of 300 saved a lyve. The
other two rode out the storme, whyche lasted all that nyght
and the next day. My brother (Sir Hy Seymour) and
John Roberds of the garde, tryde the sees all the furst nyght,
and the next day cam into Dartemouth haven, wharre my
brothers holke strake on a roke and brest all to peses; but
God be praysede, all the men warre savede, savying thre ;
and a nother new holke that tryde the sees that nyght brake
thre of her bemes, and with moche ado came into the Wyght.”
Again, in a letter from Lord Viscount Lisle, Baron Mal-
pas, the Lord High Admiral of England, to Henry VIII.,
we have an announcement, that a their is cum into the
Downes 30 sayle of hulkses, whereof sum be tall shipes.”
And again, in a letter from the same to the Lord Chamber-
lain, Lord St John, he speaks of having detained “ 3 grate
hulkes bound, as they say, for Lusshborne, the leste of yra
500 tunnes.” And again, from the same to the same, he
speaks of his former letter and the “ goodly hulkes,” and
says, “ sithens that tyme I have stayed other too, which in
beautye and well appoynting are beyond the others. That
I have last stayed ys a shipe of 600 at the least, and hath
5 toppes, and she ys of the town of Dansick, and ladon in
Flanders for Lusshbourne.”
The importance of the mercantile shipping of England State of
during the fifteenth century must have been considerable.mercantij
About the middle of it flourished the celebrated William“'g
Canynge, a merchant of Bristol, who built the church of St Canjngl/
Mary’s, Redcliff, in that city, in which church he was buried
in 1474. This man appears to have been much in advance
of the rude times in which he lived. His mercantile trans¬
actions were on so extensive a scale, and carried on in ves¬
sels of such large size, that they must have had an import¬
ant influence in improving the navies of the period. It is
therefore not only as a fact of much historical interest, but
as one which is intimately connected with and most proba¬
bly materially affecting our subject, that we shall dwell on
the information which has descended to us respecting him.
He was a great patron of the arts, a friend and protector of
genius, and eminent for his virtue and piety. From an in¬
scription upon his tomb, a tradition has become current,
that Edward IV. took 2470 tons of shipping from him, he
having “ forfeited the king’s peaceand for the obtaining
of which again, it is stated that Edward accepted these ships
instead of a fine of 3000 marks. The Itinerary of William
of Worcester, preserved in the library of Bennett College,
Cambridge, gives the names of Canynge’s vessels, among
which are the Mary and John of 900 tons, Mary Red cliff of
500 tons, and Mary Canynge of 400 tons. The same au¬
thority gives the names and tonnage of other large ships be¬
longing to Bristol merchants, among which are the John, of
511 tons, and the Mary Grace, of 300 tons. If there be any
truth in the tradition of the confiscation of the shipping, it
is probable that the inscription on the tomb may refer to
some act of Canynge’s in favour of the house of Lancaster,
as he appears to have enjoyed the favourable opinion of
Henry VI. Another account, which, it is said, is authenti¬
cated by the original instrument in the Exchequer, states
that this Canynge assisted Edward IV. with a loan, and re¬
ceived in return a license to have 2470 tons of shipping free
SHIP-BUILDING.
219
story, of imposts. In Corry’s History of Bristol it is said, “ the
commerce and manufactures of Bristol appear to have made
considerable progress during the fifteenth century, about
the middle of which flourished the celebrated Canynge.
This extraordinary man employed 2853 tons of shipping
and 800 mariners during eight years. Two recommendatory
letters were written by Henry VI. in 1449, one to the mas¬
ter-general of Prussia, and the other to the magistrates of
Dantzic, in which the king styles Canynge his beloved emi¬
nent merchant of Bristol.”
its as Some doubt must always remain as to the actual size of
ccuracythe shipping of this remote period, as we cannot ascertain
stimat- the bulk that was then considered as equivalent to a ton.
size of It is probable that the tonnage was estimated according to
the number of butts of wine that a vessel could carry. For
we find references to ships sometimes by tonnage, and some¬
times by the “ portage” of so many butts.
This, however, is only a question as to exactness of size.
In whatever way measured, Canynge’s ships must have been
of very considerable dimensions. It is rather extraordinary,
that at the unsettled period in question Bristol should have
enjoyed such a state of commercial prosperity as the owner¬
ship of such shipping as that enumerated by William of Wor¬
cester necessarily involves. Bristol, for many centuries, was
only second in mercantile importance to London; but the
civil wars which distracted the kingdom during a great part
of the fifteenth century must have much retarded the in¬
crease both of the military and the mercantile navy of Eng¬
land; and only when order was again re-established by the
] ry VII. accession of Henry VII. to the throne in 1485, ought we
to expect men’s minds to revert from the internal excite¬
ment of party strife to external aftairs.
I fess of In this interval, in which England was torn by the wars
ulim- 0f the houses of York and Lancaster, naval science had
< ement' made more rapid strides than in any previous period of si-
npass. milar duration. The compass was not only known, but was
generally adopted. Navigators could take observations by
rolabc. the use of an instrument called the astrolabe, invented by
the Portuguese. The Spaniards and Portuguese were suf¬
ficiently advanced in the art of navigation to sail on a wind,
and their smaller vessels, at least, were adapted for this ma¬
noeuvre. New maritime states had started into existence.
The Netherlands, until then scarcely known, was under the
Duke of Burgundy, the most formidable naval powrer in the
north of Europe. “ His navy,” says Philip de Commines,
“ was so mighty and strong, that no man durst stir in those
narrow seas for fear of it, making war upon the king of
France’s subjects, and threatening them everywhere; his
navy being stronger than that of France and the Earl of
Warwick joined together.” Venice, in 1420, according to
Denina in his Revolutions of Italy, supported 3000 merchant-
ships, on board of which were 17,000 seamen. They em¬
ployed 300 sail of superior force, manned by 8000 seamen;
had forty-five carracks, with 11,000 men to navigate them;
and her arsenals employed 16,000 carpenters. Portugal had
pushed her discoveries round the Cape, and Spain had added
America to the world.
The progress of discovery by the Portuguese to the south
and east, and by the Spaniards to the west, with the conse¬
quent rapid increase in the importance of these two powers,
and the influence of their discoveries on the state of Europe,
renders the fifteenth century probably the most important
ol modern history. In it was given the death-blow to the
increase of the Saracenic power, and to that of the Medi¬
terranean states. The Turk, the Venetian, and the Genoese,
had hitherto been the monopolizers of the commerce of the
east. The discovery of the passage round the Cape of Good
Hope opened this trade to all nations. The commercial
^ dHope. scePtre> and consequently the military sceptre, hitherto
shared by the Turk, passed wholly from the infidel to the
believer. The crescent sank before the cross.
her-
tugal.
iage
r, id the
e of
There can be no doubt, also, that the “ tormentatf’ of the History.
“ grdo Cabo de boa Esperaga” were a means of great im- 'v'——'
provement in naval architecture ; for we find, that in conse- *ts *nflu-
quence of the representations of Bartholomew Diaz, John H- val^arehf3*
of Portugal ordered ships to be constructed for the especial tecture.
purpose of contending with the stormy seas of the Cape of
Good Hope. The ships were built to form the squadron
of Vasco de Gama, and were of small tonnage, from the
very proper idea that small vessels were more adapted to
prosecute researches in unknown seas than those of a large
size, and consequent increased draught of water.
The squadron of Vasco de Gama consisted of three ships Squadron
and a caravella. One of the ships was of the burthen of of Vasco de
two hundred tons, another one hundred and twenty, and Hama,
the third one hundred; the caravella was of fifty tons. The
largest of the ships was a victualler ; the smallest was in¬
tended to prosecute discovery up creeks and shallows ; and
the other was for a display of force. As it is evident that
it was not increase of dimensions which was to be the object
in designing new vessels, the direction of improvement must
have been towards perfecting their forms, strengthening their
frames, and adding to the efficiency of their materiel. Por¬
tugal by these means became the most advanced state of
Europe, in knowledge of the art of ship-building ; for we
find that it was long supposed that the passage to India re¬
quired ships such as the Portuguese alone could build. Spain,
in her career of discovery, conquest, and colonization across
the mighty waters of the Atlantic, as if to assimilate the means
to the vastness of her achievements, rapidly acquired the art
of constructing ships of very large dimensions; and as long as
she possessed a marine, her ships maintained this superiority.
We have a curious instance of the light in which naval state of
enterprises were considered in England at this time, notwith-naval af-
standing the earnest desire of the monarch to re-establish Hirs m
his navy, which had necessarily suffered from the long civil ^rifer-an“-
wars. There is a letter from Henry Vll. to the pope, pre¬
served in the Cottonian Library, excusing himself Irom send¬
ing succour against the Turk, from which the following is
a quotation. “ The Galees commying from Vennes to Eng¬
land be commonly vij. monethes sallying, and sometimes
more;” and again, “ it should be May or they should be
ready to saill, and it shall be the last end of Septembr or the
said shippes shuld passe the Streits of Marrok; and grete
difficultie to fynde any Maryners hable to take the rule and
governance of the said shippes sallying into so jeopardous
and ferre parties.”
There is a drawing (Plate CCCCXLIX.) extant in the Henri
Pepysian Library in Magdalen College, Cambridge, of the Grace
Henri Grace a Dieu, built by the order of Henry VII., which Hieu-
Charnock has engraved in his History of Marine Architec¬
ture, and argues as to the general authenticity of the repre¬
sentation. He says, “ this vessel may be termed the parent
of the British navy. This celebrated structure, the existence
of which is recorded in many of the ancient chronicles, cost
the king, by report, nearly 14,000 pounds.”
From this drawing may be traced the derivation of one or Early ori-
two names which have been preserved even to the present gin of na-
hour; as, for instance, the “ yard-arm,” no doubt from the va* terms,
ends of the yards being armed with an iron hook. The cas¬
tellated work from which we have the term “ forecastle” is
earlier than this; and the buckler-ports are most probably
derived from a yet earlier period, when the bucklers of the
knights were ranged along the sides of the ship, as they
are represented in the illustrations of Froissart, and of the
early chroniclers, and even in the Bayeux Tapestry. Plate
CCCCXLV.
“ The masts were five in number, inclusive of the bow¬
sprit, an usage which continued in the first-rates without
alteration till nearly the end of the reign of King Charles I.;
they were without division, in conformity with those which
had been in unimproved use from the earliest ages. This
2q0 SHIP-BUILDING.
History, inconvenience it was very soon found indispensably neces- selsare represented with lateen sails, and in iiiauns Citv H' ..
' V 'sary to remedy, by the introduction of separate joints, or tales Orb,s Terrarum, published ,n 15,2, spnt-sads are'—v-
top-masts, which could be lowered in case of need.” met with. It ,s quite certain, however tha saihng on a
The drawins shows two tiers of ports. The introduction wind was by no means a general quality possessed by the
of port-holes is said to be an improvement due to a French ships of war, or to any extent even by the greater portion
nf RrAct nam^rl Dpsrharfrps. in the reien of of the larger shipping, until about the reign of Henry YIII.
We shall adduce one other instance, in the account of the
ship-builder of Brest, named Descharges, in the reign
Louis XII., and about the year 1500. If the drawing be
authentic, the correctness of this appropriation of the merit
of the introduction of port-holes may be questionable.
Again, if the drawing be a correct representation of the
vessel, she would have been in danger of upsetting, ex¬
cepting in calm weather, and when her course was with the
wind. In fact, as yet the large ships of war of England were
not at all adapted to sail on a wind, and were very ill provid-
ed with such sails as would enable them to do so; they had
therefore nothing to fear from the result of a measure which
could not be put into execution. The fleets of war of which
we have hitherto written seldom ventured out of port ex¬
cepting in the summer months, and then only when the
wind was favourable to their intended course. But very -, x- c *1 t? a r
shortly after the date of the building of the Henri Grace a papers published under the direction of the Record Cotn-
Dieu, we shall find that great improvement took place, and mission, addressed by the Duke of Suffolk to Sir w ilham
that in the reign of Henry VIII. there is evidence to prove Pagett, “ chief secretary to the kinge s highnes, dated the
that sailing on a wind formed one of the qualities of the 23d of July 1545, and containing a schedule of things ne-
vessels composing his fleets. This fact appears to throw cessary to be had for the raising of the Man Rose, one item
some doubt upon the correctness of the drawing, for it is “fifty Venyzian maryners and one Venyzian carpenter;
must have required ships widely different from any of which the next item is “ sixty Englisshe maryners to attende upon
that would at all give an idea, to have performed the evo- them.” It would also appear that the attempt was to be
loss of the Mari Rose, a ship of the “ portage of 500 tons,”
not so much to corroborate the fact of sailing on a wind, as
to show that the two innovations, the introduction of port¬
holes, and the “ knowledge of the bowline,” were, as we
have just said, in advance of the qualities of the large ships
of war of the time. Sir Walter Raleigh says that “ in King
Henry VIH.’s time, at Portsmouth, the Mari Rose, by a
little sway of the ship in casting about, her ports being
within sixteen inches of the water, was overset and lost.”
The loss of this ship has been the means of giving us an-Loss of
other interesting insight into the comparatively low state of Mari R(:
nautical skill in England at this period, namely, the middle
of the sixteenth century. In a letter among the state-
Henry
VIII.
Sailing on
a wind.
lution of tacking or wearing; and as the Henri Grace a
Dieu was in all probability the same ship that on the acces¬
sion of Henry VIII. was called the Regent, she must have
formed one in fleets which were capable of performing
these manoeuvres. It is true that she may have been alter¬
ed to adapt her to these new requirements of an improved
system of seamanship; and it must also be said, that she was
burned in an action with the French fleet, which occurred
as early as the fourth year of the reign of Henry VIII.
Though it is out of the question that ships with the en¬
ormous top-hamper which, on the evidence of all the draw¬
ings extant, still continued to be the fashion, could have
made much progress in sailing on a wind, the letters of the
time extant corroborate the statement we have made ; for
they begin to contain references to this improvement in
navigation. In a letter from Sir Edward Howard, “ Lord
Admiral,” to King Henry VIII., upon the state of the fleet,
a. d. 1513, preserved in the Cottonian Library, and pub¬
lished in Ellis’s collection, we find the following passage:
“Ye commanded me to send your grace word how every
shipp dyd sail; and this same was the best tryall that
cowd be, for we went both slakyng and by a bowlyn, and
a cool acros and abouet in such wyse that few shippes
lakkyd no water in over the lee wales.” The Lord High
Admiral Lisle, in one of his letters (1545), says the small
vessels of his fleet could “ lye best by a wyndeand in 1567
we have conclusive proof that there were “ fore and aft,”
indeed “ cutter-rigged” vessels, on the British seas ; as in
a map of Ireland of that date, published in the state-papers,
two such vessels are represented, for the purpose, apparent- she vras afloat, and her masts and sails complete, with an-
ly, of indicating regular packets from England to Ireland. chors offering thereto, she was counted to the king to be
It has been very generally supposed, on the authority of thirty thousand pounds expense, by her artillery, which was
Sir Walter Raleigh, that the “knowledge of the bowline” very great and costly to the king, by all the rest of her or-
was a discovery in navigation made shortly before his time; ders. To wit, she bare many cannon, six on every side,
but we think it is probable that there were, even from the with three great bassils, two behind in her dock and one
time of the Northmen, craft so rigged as to be capable of sail- before, with three hundred shot of small artillery, that is to
ing on a wind. Froissart mentions, in several instances, “ a say, myand and batterd falcon, and quarter falcon, flings,
vessel called a Lin, which sails with all winds, and without pestilent serpentens, and double dogs, with hagtor and cul-
danger;” and again, “ a vessel called a Lin, which keeps vering, corsbows and handbows. She had three hundred
nearer the wind than any other.” Boats jvith a rig adapted mariners to sail her, she had six score of gunners to use
for this manoeuvre are also represented in engravings of a her artillery, and had a thousand men of war, by her cap-
very early date. In the plates of Breydenbach’s Voyage to tains, shippers, and quarter-masters.”
Palestine, which was published in 1483, boats and small ves- Several of the writers of this period mention the fact of a
made under the direction of an Italian, as the conclusion
of the schedule is, “ Item, Symond, petrone and master in
the Foyst, doth aggrie that all thyngs must be had for the
purpose aforesaid.” The attempts however all failed ; the
wreck of the Mari Rose remains to this day at Spithead,
and so lately as August 1836, several of her brass cannon,
of most exquisite workmanship, were recovered from the
sea by the enterprise and ability of an Englishman of the
name of Deane.
We may obtain some idea of the detail of ship-building .Minutis
rather before this period, from an account of a vessel builtship-bu i
by James IV. of Scotland, at the close of the fifteenth or11^.1^11
the beginning of the sixteenth century. The extract is')LK‘
from Charnock, but he has not mentioned his authority.
“ The king of Scotland rigged a great ship, called the Great
Michael, which was the largest and of superior strength to
any that had sailed from England or France ; for this ship
was of so great stature, and took so much timber, that, ex¬
cept Falkland, she wasted all the woods in Fife which were
oakwood, with all timber that was gotten out of Norway;
for she was so strong, and of so great length and breadth,
all the wrights of Scotland, yea, and many other strangers,
were at her device by the king’s command, who wrought
very busily in her; but it was a year and a day ere she was
completed. To wit, she was twelve score foot of length,
and thirty-six foot within the sides; she was ten foot thick
in the wall and boards, on every side so slack and so thick
that no cannon could go through her. This great ship
cumbred Scotland to get her to sea. From that time that
SHIP-BUILDING.
221
)ry. Swedish ship of extraordinary dimensions built in the middle
'of the sixteenth century, and which was burned in an action
Swe‘between the Swedes and Danes in 1564. Chapman has
ip* aiven an estimate of the dimensions of this vessel. She was
called the Makalos (by Charnock, Megala). According to
Chapman, she w as 168 English feet in length and forty-three
English feet in breadth, an immense vessel for that period.
Her armament was 173 guns, sixty-seven only of which could
be considered as cannon, the remainder being merely swivels.
We find that Henry VIII., deeply sensible of the ne-
ards. Cessity of a permanent and powerful naval force, estab¬
lished the navy-office, and also several dock-yards for build¬
ing and repairing the ships of the royal navy. Among
these were Woolwich, Deptford, and Chatham. He also
o-reatly added to and improved the dock-yard at Ports¬
mouth. He invited from foreign countries, particularly
from Italy, the commercial cities of which were still in ad¬
vance of the rest of Europe in the maritime arts, as many
skilful foreigners as he could allure, either by the hope of
<>ain, or by the honours and distinguished countenance he
paid to them. The following extract is from a report made
to James I. in the year 1618, and published in the Archseo-
logia. It was made in answ'er to a commission issued by
that monarch to the several master-builders. The date of
the report is rather in advance of our history ; but we in¬
sert it here because the information it contains is of the
time on which we are writing; as, while it confirms the
statement we have just made, it informs us on the force of
the royal navy during the reigns of Edward and of Mary,
the period at which we have now arrived.
: urdVI. The minority of Edward VI., and the civil and religious
strife which distracted the kingdom during the reign of
Mary, depressed the resources of the state, and evidently
much checked the progress of its maritime strength. The
report says, “ In former times our kings have enlarged
their dominions rather by land than sea forces, whereat
even strangers have marvelled, considering the many ad¬
vantages of a navy ; but since the change of weapons and
fight, Henry VIII., making use of Italian shipwrights, and
encouraging his own people to build strong ships of war,
to carry great ordnance, by that means established a puis¬
sant navy, which in the end of his reign consisted of seventy
vessels, whereof thirty were ships of burthen, and contain¬
ed in all 10,550 tons, and two galleys. The rest were small
barks and row-barges, from eighty tons downwards to fif¬
teen tons, which served in rivers and for landing of men.
Edward VI., in the sixth year of his reign, had but fifty-
three ships, containing in all 11,005 tons, with 7995 men,
whereof only twenty-eight vessels were above eighty tons
each. Queen Mary had but forty-six of all sorts.”
ij :cts of There is one peculiarity about the fleets of this time,
ihips of which exemplifies the defects of their design in a very re-
1 Iiencti' markable feature. It is, that the ships built for the royal
navy appear only to have been adapted for the lodgment of
the soldiers and mariners, with their implements of war,
and the necessary stores for navigation. The provisions
were carried in an attendant vessel, called a “ victualler,”
of which there was one attached to each of the large ships
of war in the fleet, or to several of the smaller size. The
hold appears to have been principally occupied by the “ cook-
room,” the inconvenience of which arrangement, though
much complained of, was general when Sir Walter Raleigh,
in his Discourse on the Royal Navy and Sea-Service, re¬
commended that it should be removed to the forecastle;
and even so lately as 1715, several men of war had “ cook-
rooms” in their holds. There is also no doubt that the enor¬
mous quantity of ballast which was rendered necessary by
the immense top-hamper of these ships, and the space which
it occupied from being shingle, left but little room for the
stowage of any quantity of provisions. In the ships built
for commerce, this defect does not appear to have existed,
as in fleets composed of the king’s and of private shipping, History,
those ships only which belonged to the royal navy had these ^
attendant victuallers. We also know that the cook-rooms
in the merchant-shipping were under the forecastle; and
they had less top-hamper, as less accommodation was requir¬
ed for officers.
Although we may comment on the comparative inefficien- Epoch in
cy of the vessels, we cannot but perceive that we have en-Ilava!an-ti¬
tered that period in the history of naval architecture and ofte‘>Uae*
navigation, in which, though still in their infancy, these arts
may be considered as perfect in all but the maturity to be
acquired by the experience of years. The mariner’s com¬
pass was known; the theory of taking observations was un¬
derstood, and the practice of it in the course of being per¬
fected ; and therefore the longest voyages could be under¬
taken with comparative certainty and safety. Besides this,
the ships, though still imperfect, were becoming gradually ma¬
nageable machines, and had ceased to be the cumbrous masses
of the preceding ages, which, with few exceptions, were
capable of little more than of being driven before the wind.
If we consider the contents of the foregoing pages, there Three
will appear to be three epochs in the maritime history ofeP0<*s ™
England; the first commencing with the introduction of^J1^
galleys by Alfred, and ending with the reign of Edward III., tory 0f
before whose time these galleys and vessels propelled by England,
oars were the chief instruments of navigation ; the second
ending with the reign of Henry VII., during which period,
though sailing vessels were used for the purposes both of
war and commerce, they were comparatively at the mercy
of the winds, and, speaking generally, could sail only when
they blew both fairly and gently ; the third epoch we have
already noticed. And henceforward we find the sister arts
of navigation and naval architecture, if not always making
rapid progress towards their present improved state, at least
with no existing impediment to their advance towards that
comparative perfection.
We have seen, from the extract of the report of the Elizabeth,
builders, the state of the navy during the reigns of Ed- gp*^h\Lr‘l
ward VI. and of Mary. We know, therefore, that when Eliza- mada-
beth ascended the throne, the marine of England, both mi¬
litary and mercantile, was in a very depressed state. The
successful enterprise of Drake, and the fear of the Spanish
Armada, aroused the energies of the country, and the force
collected to resist the invasion amounted to 197 vessels of
various descriptions, of the aggregate burthen of nearly
30,000 tons; thirty-four of which, measuring together
12,600 tons, composed the royal navy. It is true, that by
far the larger portion were of small force. One only, the
Triumph, was of 1100 tons; another, the White Bear, was
of 1000 tons; two were of 800 tons, three of 600, six of
500, and five of 400; sixty-six were under 100 tons; and
fifteen were victuallers, of which the tonnage is not men¬
tioned. There are also seven other vessels included in the
197, which have no tonnage assigned them; but they must
have been of small size, the number of mariners on board
the wffiole seven being only 474. We have very conclusive
means of comparing the Spanish with the English ships, and
also of judging how very little naval arrangements were
then understood, from their imperfect state even on board
a fleet which had occupied the whole attention of the
Spanish authorities for a space of three years, exemplified
in the following anecdote ; Burchett, in his account of the
action of the 23d of July 1588, says, “ The great guns on
both sides thundered with extraordinary fury, but the shot
from the high-built Spanish ships flew over the heads ot the
English without doing any execution ; one Mr Cock being
the only Englishman who fell, while he was bravely fighting
against the enemy in a small vessel of his own.”
The Spaniards appear to have been the first to introduce Three-
a third tier of guns, the earliest mention of a three* decker ec'e
being the Philip, a Spanish ship engaged in the action 1
222
History.
James I.
Report of
commis¬
sion.
SHIP-BUILDING.
off the Azores in 1591, with the Revenge, commanded by
Sir Richard Greenvil. The following armament of the
Philip is extracted from a most spirit-stirring account of this
tremendous action, which was written by Sir Walter Raleigh,
and has been preserved by Hackluyt. “ The Philip carried
three tire of ordnance on a side, and eleven pieces in euerie
tire. She shot eight forth right out of her chase, besides
those of her stern portes.”
We do not appear to have followed the example set by
the Spaniards; for, during the long reign of Elizabeth, the
ships of the royal navy were not much, if at all, increased in
their dimensions, which was probably owing to the triumph¬
ant successes of her fleets, though, as we have seen, they
were composed of ships generally much smaller in size than
those opposed to them. We find from the list of the royal
navy at the time of her death, in 1603, given by Sir William
Monson in his tracts, that of forty-two ships composing the
navy, there were then only two ships of 1000 tons, three of
900, three of 800, two of 700, four of 600, four of 500, and
there were eight under 100 tons burthen. Iwo of these
ships, the Triumph and the White Bear, are rated in this
list each at 100 tons less burthen than in the list of the
fleet in the year 1588, which we have already noticed.
Shortly after the accession of James to the throne, seve¬
ral commissions were appointed to inquire into the state of
the navy. From that of the year 1618, a very voluminous
report emanated, of which the following is an extract, that
affords an example of the state of knowledge on naval archi¬
tecture at that time. “ The next consideration is the man¬
ner of building, which in shipps of warr is of greatest im¬
portance, because therein consists both their sayling and
force. The shipps that can saile best can take or leave (as
they say), and use all advantages the winds and seas does
afford; and their mould, in the judgment of men of best
skill, both dead and alive, should have the length treble to
the breadth, and breadth in like proportion to the depth,
but not to draw above sixteen foote water, because deeper
shipps are seldom good saylers, and ever unsafe for our rivers,
and for the shallow harbours, and all coasts of ours, or
other seas. Besides, they must bee somewhat snugg built,
without double gallarys, and too lofty upper workes, which
overcharge many shipps, and make them coome faire, but
not worke well at sea.
“ And for the strengthening the shipps, wee subscribe to
the manner of building approved by the late worthy prince,
the lord admii., and the officers of the navy (as wee are in¬
formed), on those points.
“ 1. In makeing 3 orlopes, whereof the lowest being
placed 2 foote under water, both strengtheneth the shipp,
and though her sides bee shott through, keepeth it from
bildgeing by shott, and giveth easier meanes to finde and
stopp the leakes.
“ 2. In carrying their orlopes whole floored throughout
from end to end, without fall or cutting off ye wast, which
only to make faire cabbins, hath decayed many shipps.
“ 3. In laying the second orlope at such convenient
height that the poi’tes may beare out the whole fire of or¬
dinance in all seas and weathers.
“ 4. In placeing the cooke roomes in the forecastle, as
otherr war shipps doe, because being in the midshipps, and
in the hold, the smoake and heate soe search every corner
and seame, that they make the okam spew out, and the
shipps leaky, and soone decay ; besides, the best roome for
stowage of victualling is thereby soe taken up, that trans¬
porters must be hyred for every voyage of any time ; and,
which is worst, when all the weight must bee cast before
and abaft, and the shipps are left empty and light in the
midst, it makes them apt to sway in the back, as the Guard-
land and divers others have done.”
This commission was followed by several others during
this and the succeeding reign, and from their reports arose
many regulations tending much to the improvement of the His.
navy, although the expenses incurred were, ostensibly at v—\,
least, in part the means of causing the subsequent revolution.
In the early part of the reign of James 1. the mercantile Mercs e
navy of England was reduced to a very low state, most ofshippij ,f
the commerce being carried on in foreign bottoms. ThethisKi.
incitement offered by the advantageous trade which the
Dutch had long engaged in to India at length aroused the
nation, and the formation of the East India Company, which
was the act of James, was followed by the building of the
largest ship that had yet been constructed for the purposes
of commerce, at least in England. The king dined on board Trad
of her, and gave her the name of the Trade’s Increase. She is «eaa i;
reported to have been of the burthen of 1200 tons. The im¬
petus once given, before the end of the reign of Janies an
important mercantile navy was owned by British merchants.
Another interesting fact connected with this reign is the Ship,
founding of the Shipwrights’ Company, in the year I605,wngh
and which was incorporated by a charter granted to thetomPa
“ Master, Warden, and Commonality, of the Art or Mys¬
tery of Shipwrights,” in May 1612. Mr Phineas Pett, of
whom we shall presently speak, was the first master. The
draughts for the ships of the royal navy were subsequently Draiipj
ordered to be submitted to this company for approval pre-oGb ■
viously to being built from. They also had jurisdiction over ro-va!
all builders, whether of th e royal navy or of merchant shipping.
In 1610 the Royal Prince was launched; she was the Royal
largest ship which at that time had been built in England,Prmce
and was also a most decided improvement in naval archi¬
tecture. The great projection of the prow, a remnant of
the old galley, was for the first time discontinued, and the
stern and quarters assimilated more to those of a modern
ship than to any which had preceded her. She is thus de¬
scribed in Stow’s Chronicles: “ A most goodly ship for warre,
the keel whereof was 114 feet in length, and the cross beam
was 44 feet in length ; she will carry 64 pieces of ordnance,
in building this ship was Master Phineas Pett, Gentleman,
some time master of arts at Emanuel College, Cambridge.”
The same gentleman, Mr Phineas Pett, continued thePhinea
principal engineer of the navy during the reign of Charles. 1ett>
The family of the Petts were the great instruments in the
improvement of the navy, and, if the term may be allowed,
of modernizing it, by divesting the ships of much of the
cumbrous top-hamper entailed on them from the castellat-.
ed defences which had been necessary in, and which yet
remained from, the hand-to-hand encounters of the middle
ages ; and it is probable that, but for the taste for gorgeous
decoration which prevailed during the seventeenth century,
this ingenious family would have been able to effect much
more; as it was, they decidedly rendered England pre¬
eminently the school for naval architecture during the time
they constructed its fleets. This family can be traced as The P
principal engineers for the navy from about the middle of
the fifteenth century to the end of the reign of William III.
Evelyn, in his Diary, relating a conversation, says, “ Sir First!
Anthony Deane mentioned what exceeding advantage wegate-
of this nation had by being the first who built frigates, the
first of which ever built was that vessel! which was after¬
wards called the Constant Warwick (built in 1646), and was
the work of Pet of Chatham, for a trial of making a vessell
that would sail swiftly. It was built with low decks, the guns
lying near the water, and w as so light and swift of sailing,
that in a short time she had, ere the Dutch war was ended,
taken as much money from privateers as would have laden
her.” The dimensions of this vessel are given in Pepyss
Miscellanies as follows: Length of the keel eighty-five feet,
breadth twenty-six feet five inches, depth thirteen feet two
inches, and 315 tons burthen; her “ highest number of
guns” thirty-tw o, and of crew 140.
Peter Pett, who built the Constant Warwick, was the sonPe^r
SHIP-BUILDING.
|>ry. of Phineas Pett. He caused the fact of his being the in-
—^ ventor of the frigate to be recorded on his tomb. He was
iree'also the builder of the Sovereign of the Seas, in 1637, which
was the first three-decker built in England. Her length
over ail is stated to have been 232 feet, her length of keel
128 feet, her main breadth forty-eight feet, and her tonnage
1637. Hey wood describes her in the following terms: “ She
hath three flush deckes and a forecastle, an halfe decke,
a quarter decke, and a round-house. Her lower tyre hath
thirty ports, which are to be furnished with demi-cannon
and whole cannon throughout, being able to beare them.
Her middle tyre hath also thirty ports for demi-culverin
and whole culverin. Her third tyre hath twentie-sixe ports
for other ordnance. Her forecastle hath twelve ports, and
her halfe decke hath fourteene ports. She hath thirteene
orfoureteene ports more within board for murdering peeces,
besides a great many loope-holes out of the cabins for mus¬
ket shot. She carrieth, moreover, ten peeces of chase ord¬
nance in her right forward, and ten right aff; that is, ac¬
cording to land service, in the front and the reare. She
carrieth eleaven anchors, one of them weighing foure thou¬
sand foure hundred, &c.; and according to these are her
cables, mastes, sayles, cordage, which, considered together,
seeing Majesty is at this infinite charge, both for the ho¬
nour of his nation, and the security of his kingdome, it
should bee a spur and encouragement to all his faithful and
loving subjects to bee liberall and willing contributaries to¬
wards the ship money.” Plate CCCCXLIX.
Of this ship, Fuller, in his Worthies, says, “ The Great
Sovereign, built at Woolwich, a leiger ship for state, is the
greatest ship our island ever saw; but great medals are
made for some grand solemnity, while lesser coin are more
current and passable in payment.” She was afterwards cut
down one deck, and remained in the service, with the cha¬
racter of the best man-of-war in the world, until the year
1696, when she was accidentally burnt at Chatham,
i7alter About this time, 1650, appeared the first work connected
■ ?ll’s with naval improvement ever written in this country, and
Lion n0 less celebrated an author than Sir Walter Raleigh,
f ip. h is very probable that his two discourses, the one on the
i Con-Invention of Shipping, the other Concerning the Royal
e ig the Navy and Sea-Service, had great influence in creating the
‘ lNav)'interest which was evidently taken about this period in the
t improvement of the navy. Sir Walter says, “ Whosoever
were the inventors, we find that every age had added some¬
what to ships and to all things else. And in my owne time
the shape of our English ships hath been greatly bettered.
It is not long since the striking of the top-mast (a wonder¬
fully great ease to great ships both at sea and harbour) hath
been devised. Together with the chaine-pumpe, which takes
up twice as much water as the ordinary did, we have lately
added the bonnett and the drabler. To the courses we have
devised studding-sayles, top-gallant-sayles, sprit-sayles, top-
sayles. The weighing of anchors by the capstane is also
new. We have fallen into consideration of the length of
cables, and by it we resist the malice of the greatest winds
that can blow ; witnesse our small Milbroke men of Corne-
wall, that ride it out at anchor half seas over betweene Eng¬
land and Ireland all the winter quarter ; and witnesse the
Hollanders that were wont to ride before Dunkirke with
the wind at north-west, making a lee-shore in all weathers;
for true it is that the length of the cable is the life of the
ship in all extremities ; and the reason is, because it makes
so many bendings and waves as the ship riding at that
length is not able to stretch it, and nothing breaks that is
not stretched. In extremity, we carry our ordnance better
than we were wont, because our nether-overloops are raised
commonly from the water, to wit, betweene the lower part
o the port and the sea. We have also raised our second
necks, and given more vent thereby to our ordnance, tying
ni our nether-overloope.
223
“ We have added crosse pillars in our royall ships to History,
strengthen them, which being fastened from the kelson to the~y-—'
beams of the second decke, keepe them from setling or from
giving away in all distresses.
“ We have given longer floares to our ships than in elder
times, and better bearing under water, whereby they never
fall into the sea after the head, and shake the whole body,
nor sinck sterne, nor stoope upon a wind, by which the
breaking loose of our ordnance, or the not use of them,
with many other discommodities, are avoided. And to say
the truth, a miserable shame and dishonour it were for our
shipwrights, if they did not exceed all other in the setting
up of our royall ships, the errors of other nations being farre
more excusable than ours. For the kings of England have
for many years been at the charge to build and furnish a
navy of powerfull ships for their owne defence, and for the
wars only ; whereas the French, the Spainards, the Portu-
galls, and the Hollanders (till of late), have had no proper
fleete belonging to their princes or states.
“ Only the Venetians for a long time have maintained
their arsenal of gallyes, and the kings of Denmark and
Sweden have had good ships for these last fifty years. I say,
that the forenamed kings, especially the Spainards and Por-
tugalls, have ships of great bulke, but fitter for the mer¬
chant than the man of warre, for burthen then for battaile.
...Although we have not at this time 135 ships belong¬
ing to the subjects of 500 tuns each ship, as it is said we
had in the 24th yeare of Queen Elizabeth, at which time
also, upon a generall view and muster there were found in
England, of all men fit to beare arms, eleaven hundred and
seventy-two thousand; yet are our merchants’ ships now
farre more warlike and better appointed than they were,
and the royal navy double as strong as then it was....We
have not therefore lesse force than we had, the fashion and
furnishing of our ships considered; for there are in England
at this time 400 saile of merchants fit for the wars, which
the Spainards would call gallions ; to which we may add 200
saile of crumsters or hoyes, of Newcastle, which each of
them will bear six demi-culverins, and foure sakers, needing
no other addition of building than a slight spar-decke fore
and afte, as the seamen call it, which is a slight decke
throughout. The 200 which may be chosen out of 40Q, by
reason of their ready staying and turning, by reason of their
windwardnesse, and by reason of their drawing of little water,
and they are of extreame vantage neere the shoare, and in
all bayes and rivers to turn in and out; these, I say, alone,
well manned and well conducted, would trouble the greatest
prince in Europe to encounter in our seas; for they stay and
turn so readily, as, ordering them into small squadrons, three
of them at once may give their broad-sides upon any one
great ship, or upon any angle or side of an enemy’s fleet.
They shall be able to continue a perpetuall volley of demi-
culverins without intermission, and either sink or slaugh¬
ter the men, or utterly disorder any fleete of crosse sailes
with which they encounter.
“ I say, then, if a vanguard be ordained of these hoyes,
who will easily recover the wind of any other ships, with a
battaile of 400 other warlike ships, and a reare of thirty of
his majestie’s ships to sustaine, relieve, and countenance the
rest (if God beat them not), I know not what strength can
be gathered in all Europe to beat them. And if it be ob¬
jected that the states can furnish a farre greater number, I
answer, that his majestie’s forty ships, added to 600 before
named, are of incomparable greater force than all that Hol¬
land and Zeeland can furnish for wars.”
In the foregoing extract, we have strong evidence that ships of
the ships of the royal navy were generally inferior to those royal navy
employed by the merchant-service, in the essential qualifi-inferior to
cations of being weatherly. This is exactly the conclusion rr'erchant*
that might be arrived at from the consideration, that a pri-s 1i)S‘
vate individual would dispense with all that superabundance
224
SHIP-BUILDING.
History, of ton-hamper which wras entailed on the ships of the io}al
—-y—^ navy, by the accommodation required for the numerous
officers and gentlemen generally embarked on board them,
and also by the mania for gorgeous decorations. I his mama
is well exemplified by the fact, that of the Sovereign ot
the Seas it is stated, “ she beareth five lanthornes, the
biggest of which will hold ten persons to stand upright, and
without shouldring one another.” i tvt ,
Sir Walter Raleigh, in his Discourse on the Royal INav}
and Sea-Service, adverts,to the same subject, lie says,
“ We find by experience, that the greatest ships are iesse
serviceable, goe very deep to water, and of marvellous charge
and fearefull cumber, our channells decaying every yeare.
Besides, they are lesse nimble, lesse mameable, and very
seldome imployed. Grande navio, grande fatica, with the
Spainard ; a ship of 600 tons will carry as good ordnance as
a ship of 1200 tons; and though the greater have double the
number, the lesser will turne her broad sides twice before
the greater can wend once ; and so no advantage m that
overplus of ordnance. And in the building of al ships,
these six things are principally required. 1.1 irst, that she
be strong built; 2. Secondly, that she be swift; 3. Ihirdly,
that she be stout sided; 4. Fourthly, that she carry out her
guns all weather; 5. Fifthly, that she hull and try well,
which we call a good sea ship; 6. Sixthly, that she stay
well when bourding and turning on a wind is required.
u jp q'o make her strong, consisteth in the truth ot the
workeman and the care of the officers.
“ 2. To make her sayle well, is to give a long run for¬
ward, and so afterward done by art and just proportion. For,
as in laying out of her bows before, and quarters behind,
she neither sinck into nor hang in the water, but lye cleare
off and above it; and that the shipwrights be not deceived
herein (as for the most part they have ever been), they
must be sure that the ship sinck no deeper into the water
than they promise, for otherwise the bow and quarter will
utterly spoile her sayling.
“ 3. That she be stout, the same is provided and per¬
formed by a long bearing floore, and by sharing off above
water even from the lower edge of the ports.
“ 4. To carry out her ordnance all weather, this long
bearing floore, and sharing off from above the ports, is a
chiefe cause, provided alwayes that your lowest tyre of ord¬
nance must lye foure foot cleare above water when all load¬
ing is in, or else those your best pieces will be of small use
at the same in any growne weather that makes the billoe to
rise, for then you shall be enforced to take in all your lower
ports, or else hazard the ship.
“ 5. To make her a good sea ship, that is, to hull and trye
well, there are two things specially to be observed; the one
that she have a good draught of water, the other that she
be not overcharged, which commonly the king’s ships are,
and therefore in them we are forced to lye at trye with our
maine course and missen, which, with a deep keel and
standing streake, she will performe.
“ 6. The hinderance to stay well is the extreame length
of a ship, especially if she be floaty and want sharpnesse of
way forwards ; and it is most true, that those over-long ships
are fitter for our seas than for the ocean; but one hundred
foot long, and five and thirty foot broad, is a good proportion
for a great ship. It is a speciall observation, that all ships
sharpe before, that want a long floore, will fall roughly into
the sea, and take in water over head and ears.
“ So will all narrow quartered ships sinck after the tayle.
The high charging of ships is it that brings them all ill qua¬
lities, makes them extreame leeward, makes them sinck
deep into the water, makes them labour, and makes them
overset. Men may not expect the ease of many cabbins,
and safety at once, in sea-service. Two decks and a half is
sufficient to yield shelter and lodging for men and mariners,
and no more charging at all higher, but only one low cab-
bin for the master. But our marriners will say, that a ship Hist
will beare more charging aloft for cabbins, and that is true, ^ v
if none but ordinary marryners were to serve in them, who
are able to endure, and are used to, the tumbling and rowl-
ing of ships from side to side when the sea is never so little
orowne ; but men of better sort and better breeding would
be glad to find more steadinesse and lesse tottering cadge
work. And albeit, the marriners doe covet store of cab¬
bins, yet indeed they are but sluttish dens, that biead sick-
nesse in peace, serving to cover stealths, and in fight are
dangerous to teare men with their splinters.
In Fuller’s Worthies, we have also a short summary ofFulie -!
the comparative qualities of the ships of different nations in Worts |
the middle of the seventeenth century. It is as follows:
“ First, for the Portugal, his carvils and caracts, whereof
few now remain (the charges of maintaining them far ex¬
ceeding the profit they bring in); they were the veriest
drones on the sea, the rather because formerly then seeling
was darn’d up with a certain kind of morter to dead the shot,
a fashion now by them disused.
“ The French, however dexterous in land-battles, are
left-handed in sea-fights, whose best ships are of Dutch
building. The Dutch build their ships so floaty and buoy¬
ant, they have little hold in the water in comparison to ours,
which keep the better winde, and so outsail them..
“ The Spanish pride hath infected their ships with lofti¬
ness, which makes them but the fairer markes to our shot.
Besides, the winde hath so much power of them in bad
weather, so that it drives them two leagues for one of ours
to the leeward, which is very dangerous upon a lee shore.
“ Indeed the Turkish frigots, especially some thirty-six
of Algier, formed and built much nearer the English mode,
and manned by renegadoes, many of them English, being
already too nimble heel’d for the Dutch, may hereafter
prove mischievous to us, if not seasonably prevented.
During the early part of the seventeenth century, the Rise
Dutch navy rapidly increased in importance. Their sue- ^
cess in having wrested from the Portuguese a share of the
commerce of the east, emboldened them, in the. then de¬
pressed state of the Spanish marine, to make a similar at¬
tempt on the west, and endeavour to establish settlements
in South America.
The wars with Spain, in which they were consequently
engaged, had such an important effect in establishing their
maritime power, that in 1650 their navy consisted of 1
vessels fitted for war, seventy of which had two tiers ot
guns; and their fleet was in all respects the most efficient
in Europe. ,
Evelyn, in his tract on Navigation and Commerce, speak-Lvel;
ing of the fisheries, says, “ Holland and Zeeland alone
should, from a few despicable boats, be able to set
above 20,000 vessels of all sorts, fit for the rude seas, 0fmevc, j
which more than 7000 are yearly employed upon this oc¬
casion. ’Tis evident that by this particular trade they am
able to breed above 40,000 fishermen and 116,000 man¬
ners, as the census (1639) has been accurately calculate .
The tremendous struggle in which they were enabled by
these means to engage with us shortly after this peno , ni
consequence of the injurious operation of the navigation act
on their commerce, had a most influential effect on the nn
provement of our navy, which at the commencement of the
contest was very unequal to that of the Dutch; and it is
probable that this war was the means of enabling us to con¬
tend triumphantly against the immense and unexpected a -
tempts of Louis XIV. to wrest the sceptre of the seas from
our grasp.
The sovereigns of the house of Stuart, without excep a
tion, appear to have devoted much attention to the improve¬
ment of the navy. Charles I. may be almost said to ave
lost both crown and life in consequence of these efforts,
nor would it be doing justice to Cromwell to omit mention
SHIP-BUILDING.
225
story, of the energy with which he took advantage of the all but
-v"'—' despotic power which he possessed to increase his naval force.
For this purpose not only many ships were built during the
protectorate, but numbers of merchant-vessels were bought
for the service of the state.
![ les II. After the restoration, Charles II. paid great personal at-
jperso- tention even to the minutiae of his navy, as we find by the
itten- following curious extract from a letter of his to Prince Ru-
J-0.., pert, preserved in the state-papers, and also by continual
nd " references to his naval predilections in Evelyn’s and Pepys’s
laf. Memoirs and writings. The letter is dated 4th August
. 1673. It says, “ I am very glad the Charles does so well;
a gerdeling this winter when she comes in will make her the
best ship in England; next summer, I believe, if you try
the two sloops that were builte at Wooiidge that have my
invention in them, they will outsail any of the French sloops.
Sir Samuel Mooreland has now another fancy about weigh¬
ing anchors ; and the resident of Venice has made a model
also to the same purpose. We have not yet consulted them
with Mr Tippet nor Mr Deane; but hope when they are
well considered, we may find one out of them that will be
good.”
: Antho- In Pepys’s Diary, 19th May 1666, we find the following
Deane, notice relating to one of the gentlemen mentioned in the
above letter: “ Mr Deane and I did discourse about his
ship the Rupert, which succeeds so well, as he has got great
honor by it, and I some by recommending him. The king,
duke, and every body, say it is the best ship that was ever
built. And then he fell to explain to me his manner of
casting the draught of water which a ship will draw before¬
hand, which is a secret the king and all admire in him; and
he is the first that hath come to any certainty beforehand
of foretelling the draught of water of a ship before she be
I t ap. launched.” This gentleman appears therefore to have been
I :‘tlon of the first who applied mathematical science to naval archi-
11 calcu-tecture in this country. Pepys also says, “ another great
m to "steP and improvement to our navy, put in practice by Sir An¬
al ar- thony Deane,” was effected in the Warspight and Defiance,
fecture. which were “ to carry six months’ provisions, and their guns
to lie 4^ feet from the water.” This was in 1665.
Table of Dimensions, from
We have hitherto in our historical sketch several times History,
adverted to the probability that the merchant-shipping of'"-—v—
England were superior in their sea-going qualities to those Sir R°,jert
composing the royal navy. In a “ Discourse touching the slinSeb7-
Past and Present State of the Navy,” by Sir Robert Slinge-
by, knight-baronet, and comptroller of the navy, dated 1669,
we have the following interesting statement, which points
to a reason why this superiority of the merchant-shipping
may have existed. “ But since these late distractions be- Decay of
gan at home” (the Commonwealth), “ forraigne trade de- mercantile
cayed, and merchants so discouraged from building, thatnavy*
there hath been scarce one good merchant-ship built these
twenty years past; and of what were then in being, either by
decayes or accident, there are very few or none remaining.
The merchants have found their private conveniences in
being convoyed att the publick charge; they take noe care
of making defence for themselves if a warr should happen.”
Yet he says in the time of Charles I. “ the merchants con¬
tinued their trade during the wars with France and Spain,
if there could but two or three consort together, not care-
ing who they met,” they being little inferior in strength or
burthen to the ships of the royal navy. The Discourse ex¬
presses much regret at this decay in the importance of the
mercantile shipping, and recommends that measures should
be taken to check the evil.
About 1684 Sir Richard Haddock, comptroller of the Sir Rich-
navy, adopted the example already set by Mr, afterwards ard Had-
Sir Anthony Deane, and directed an inquiry to be made as dock,
to “ the number of cube feet that are contained in the First ana-
bodyes of several draughts to their main water-line, when lysis of the
all materialls are on board fitt for saileing.” The result ofro3'al nayy.
this inquiry was a very voluminous statement of the weights
which made up the w hole displacement of the fourth, fifth,
and sixth rate ships, including minute details of their masts,
yards, armament, &c. accompanied by perfect drawings of
each ship. The original document is now in the possession
of the writer of this article, having successively belonged
to Sir Jacob Ackworth, Sir Jacob Wheate, and Mr Edward
Hunt. The following table contains the dimensions and
displacements, &c. of each class.
a Manuscript dated 1684.
A First Fourth-
rate near the
largest dimen¬
sions.
A Second
Fourth-rate
near the dimen¬
sions of the Ad¬
venture.
A Fifth-rate of
the largest di¬
mensions.
A First Sixth-
rate.
! A Sixth- . e.
A Second Sixth- rate of the 1 ..A ...J
rate. largest di-the
mensions. o c Ashton
Length on the gun-deck from the rabbitt)
of the stem to the rabbitt of the post f
Maine breadth to the outside of the )
outboard planke ]
Depth in hold from the seeling to the )
upper side of the beame  |
Breadth at the afte side of the maine |
transome  f
Height on the gun-deck from | a^e.". 
plants to planke j
Tile center (lore 1 mast, (
of the 1 maine" f rabbitt of the <
(mizion. ) stern  (
Draft of water   I af°re....
(abaft....
Number of tuns, tunage   
Number of men (in warr) 
Number of guns 
Cube feet in the several draughts to (
their main water line  (
Weightof each ship’s hull, and all man-)
ner of materials on board (
Each ship’s hull at first launching 418 0
Burthen in tuns, what she will really)
carry  j i433
No. of months’ provisions and water | 4
Feet. In.
124 6
35 0
14 0
21 0
6
6
13
69
102
14
Feet. In.
116 6
32 9
13 2
18 4
15 10
885
260
50
29,814
Ts. ct. qr. lb.
638
314
8 324
6
6
6
12
62
96
13
15
580
180
44
22,346
. ct. qr. lb.
9 0 16
0 0 0
9 0 16
3
Feet. In.
103 9
28 8
11 4
18 0
5 9
6 0
6 7
9 10
54 6
84 0
12 0
13 0
362
135
34
13,195
Ts. ct. qr. lb.
377 0 0 3
160 0 0 0
216 0 0 0
3
Feet. In.
87 8
23 6
10 9
14 0 4
5 7
6 3
7 6
45 0
71 0
9 8
10 8
85
24
8906
Ts. ct. qr. lb.
254 9 0 16
120 0 0 0
134 9 0 16
Feet. In.
70 0
21 6
9 10
13 0
5 6
6 2
6 6
36 0
57 0
8 6
9 6
70
18
6790
ct. qr. lb.
i 0 0 0
i 0 0 0
Feet. In. Feet. In
93 0
92 6
23 6
11 9
14 0
10 0
50 0
73 0
10 0
11 0
230
90
22
135
22 9
10 0
15 0
9 6
49 6
74 0
8 0
9 0
220
90
24
130
VOL. XX.
2 F
226
SHIP-BUILDING.
History. James II., from having so long and so gloriously filled
v'—n ' the office of Lord High Admiral while Duke of York, was
James II. perfectlv aware of the requirements of the navy ; and du¬
ring his short reign he paid great attention to increasing
its efficiency. He also especially directed inquiries into t e
question of the durability of timber for the construction of
it, and carefully accumulated both materials and stores tor
its maintenance. It is not a little curious that it was pro¬
bably the attention which the monarchs of the Ime o
Stuart had bestowed on the naval service, which enabled
it so triumphantly to resist the persevering attempts o
Louis XIV. to recover for them the throne of then an-
The Revo
lution.
William
III.
cGStors. r*
Though England was at the Revolution possessed of an
efficient fleet, manned by experienced seamen, who had all
the confidence arising from a series of naval triumphs, it
must be remembered that for a long period no opposi ion
to her naval superiority had been anticipated from any other
power than Holland; and consequently the fleets of England
were composed of ships which had many of them been built
to adapt them to this service, for which small dimensions
and light draughts of water were essential qualifications, on
account of the shoalness of the Dutch coast.
William was too cautious a monarch to have neglected
so important a means of national defence, as was the navy
when engaged with such an ambitious and energetic oppo¬
nent as Louis XIV.; and we find that the naval force was
considerably increased, both numerically and in dimensions,
during his reign. But the triumphs of our armies under
Marlborough having for a time diverted the attention of
the nation from naval affairs, it fell into decay during the
reign of his successor. . , ^ ,
T -.xiv When Louis XIV. determined to dispute with England
'°Ula‘ ‘ for the sovereignty of the seas, he was not only without a
navy, but without the means of forming one. The mili¬
tary and commercial marine of France had ceased to exist.
Rise of The sanguine temperament of the monarch, and the wis-
French na-jom of his minister Colbert, removed all obstacles ; com-
val power. merce began to flourish on the quays, merchant-vessels to
crowd the ports ; dock-yards, harbours, and shipping appear¬
ed simultaneously to start into existence; and the nation,
which almost for centuries had been essentially military,
felt constrained to turn its energies to commerce and to
the sea. A navy which in 1661 consisted of some four or
five small vessels, in little more than ten years bearded and
baffled the combined fleets of Holland and ot Spain, and
asserted the sovereignty of the Mediterranean. In 1681
her fleets consisted of 115 line-of-battle ships, manned by
36,440 men, with 179 smaller ships, the crews of which
amounted to 3037 men ; and in 1690 a fleet of eighty-four
vessels of war, out of which three were of a hundred guns
and upwards, and ten others were above eighty-four guns,
with twenty-two fire-ships, was bruizing in the British seas.
It is true that these mighty armaments failed in fulfilling
the ambitious designs of Louis. But the severity of the
struggle, which at length ended in the annihilation of his
hopes, and in our triumphant assertion of our naval supe¬
riority, must always serve as an example of the danger we
may incur by too great confidence in that superiority.
We have the following comparison between the French
and British ships of about this period, from an official con-
l.vcci. temporary paper, by a gentleman of the name of Gibson:
English « Qur guns being for the most part shorter, are made to
and P rench carry more ghott than a French gunn of like weight, there-
* lips‘ fore the French guns reach further, and ours make a bigger
hole. By this the French has the advantage to fight at a
distance, and wee yard-arm to yard-arm. The like advan¬
tage wee have over them in shipping; although they are
broader and carry a better saile, our sides are thicker, and
better able to receive their shott; by this they are more
subject to be sunk by gunn shott than wee.”
Compari¬
son be¬
tween
The paper also complains much of the injudicious ma- History
nagement of our shipping, by which it says, “ many a fast^-v-
saving shipp have come to loose that property, by bemg^
over-masted, over-rigged, over-gunned (as the Constant
Warwick, from twenty-six gunns, and an incomparable Ofroya[
sayler, to forty-six gunns and a slugg), over-manned (vide navy,
all the old shipps built in the parliament time now left),
over-built (vide the Ruby and Assurance), and haveing
rrreat tafferills, gallarys, &c., to the making many formerly
a stiff, now a tender-sided shipp, bringing thereby their
head and tuck to lye too low in the water, and by it takeing
away their former good property in steering, sayling, &c.
The French by this defect of ours make warr with the
sword (by sending no small shipps of warr to sea, but clean),
and wee, by cruseing in fleetes, or single shipps foule, with
bare threates.” _ „ , , . .a. . . m.
Charnock draws some curious parallels between the state Lharnoc;:
of the two navies of France and England during the earlier opinions
half of the eighteenth century, which may be summed up^ F^
in a few words. That when the French took an English
ship, it was seldom admitted into their navy ; or, if admitted,
it was only at a much lower rating, as, for instance, the Pem¬
broke, a sixty-four in our service, became a fifty-gun ship
in theirs. That in cases when an English fleet was in
chase of a French fleet, it was ships which were British built
which fell into our possession; but that almost on every oc¬
casion the French ships could evade ours. That the losses
sustained in the French navy by foundering at sea, or by
wrecks, were principally those ships which had been taken
from us. That, on the contrary, the favourite ships in our
fleets were those which had been taken from the French,
and the instances in which French ships in our service were
ever recovered possession ot by them were extremely lare ,
we as far excelling them in all that related to the ma¬
noeuvres and management of ships as they did us in design¬
ing them. . , j ^
In consequence of the little attention bestowed upon the
navy during the land-triumphs of Marlborough, it was found
absolutely necessary, at the commencement of the reign ot
George I. that vigorous measures should be taken to re¬
establish it. Much pains were bestowed during this and the
succeeding reign of George II. to improve its efficiency.
The dimensions and the armament of the ships composing
it underwent frequent revisals, and many valuable acces¬
sory improvements were made. Still it was evident that
the perfect seamanship of the officers, and the undaunted
valour of their crews, were frequently rendered nugatory
by the superior qualities of the ships of their opponents, and
the nation reaped little more than empty honour from
the contests in which she engaged; the heavy sailers
of England being unable to prevent her colonies and her
commerce from suffering severely from the attacks ot the
light squadrons of her enemies. The naval commanders
of England were constant in their complaints of the com¬
parative inferiority in speed, in stability, and in readiness
of manoeuvring, of the ships under their command.
In a letter from Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney, Lord n
dated the 31st May 1780, to Mr Stephens, the secretary of ney-
the Admiralty, is a passage which proves in a remarkable
degree the truth of the above statement. “ Nothing could
induce them (the French fleet), to risk a general a(:.t*on>
though it was in their power daily. They made, at diner-
ent times, motions which indicated a desire of engaging,
but their resolution failed them when they drew near; and
as they sailed far better than his majesty’s fleet, they with
ease could gain what distance they pleased to windward.
One great cause of the inferiority of our ships arose' orn
the practice which prevailed during the first half of e0f j;ngi
eighteenth century, through a mistaken idea of economy, hips
of “ rebuilding” old ships, so that, in fact, the forms and
dimensions of the previous century passed down in many
SHIP-BUILDING.
iitory. instances nearly to the end of this ; and, with little stretch
v“"-''of the imagination, we may suppose, that under a conti¬
nuation of the same ill-judged system, we should have had
the representations of the carracks and galleons of the
reign of Elizabeth in the fleets of the present day !
f ich The French system of improvement w^as followed by the
f11/01" Spaniards, and the capture of the Princessa in 1740, of
by seventy guns, 165 feet in length and forty-nine feet eight
l1' inches in breadth, wEen our ships of the same force then
building were only 151 feet long and forty-three feet six
inches broad, caused an appeal to be made by the Admi¬
ralty to Admiral Sir John Norris, the then “naval oracle”
| rove- of England. The consequence of the inquiries was, that
:ls the several master-shipwrights were directed to send in
proposals for the future established dimensions of the navy;
mi and in 1745 the Admiralty issued a new establishment for
the dimensions of the several ratings of ships. The follow¬
ing table, taken from Derrick’s Memoirs of the Royal Navy,
contains the various established alterations from the reign
of Charles II. to this of 1745, which was the last. Since
then there has been considerable improvement, but there History,
have been no fixed tables as established dimensions, at least
none involving all the ratings.
The ships built after the establishment of 1745 are re¬
ported to have been stiff, and to have carried their guns
well, but were still inferior to those of the French; and,
consequently, about ten years afterwards an alteration was
made in the draughts for the several ratings, and the di¬
mensions were also slightly increased. It may not be un¬
interesting to remark, that the proportional breadths in
the establishment of 1745 considerably exceeded those of
more modern ships. Their breadth varied from to
of their lengths; while, at the present time, with the ex¬
ception of those built after the designs of the present sur¬
veyor of the navy, the breadths of most of our line-of-battle
ships are within the limits of and of their lengths.
We merely state this as a historical fact, not as advocat¬
ing an undue increase of breadth. The question of the re¬
lative proportions of the dimensions of ships belongs to an¬
other portion of this article.
An Account showing the Dimensions established, or proposed to be established, at different times, for Dlidding of Ships.
Extracted from Derrick's Memoirs of the Royal Navy.
Ships of 100 Guns.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage.
Breadth, extreme  
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons  
90.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
80.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
70.
Length on the gun.deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
60.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
50.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons.., 
40.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
20.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
Establishment of
1677.
Ft. In.
165 0
137 8
46 0
19 2
1550
158 0
44 0
18 2
1307
150 0
39 8
17 0
1013
1706.
156 0
41 0
17 4
1100
144 0
37 6
15 8
900
162 0
132 0
47 0
18 6
1551
156 0
127 6
43 6
17 8
1283
150 0
122 0
41 0
17 4
1069
144 0
119 0
38 0
15 8
914
130 0
108 0
35 0
14 0
704
118 0
97 6
32 0
13 6
531
1719.
Ft. In-
174 0
140 7
50 0
20 0
1869
164 0
132 5
47 2
18 10
1566
158 0
128 2
44 6
18 2
1350
151 0
123 2
41 6
17 4
1128
144 0
117 7
39 0
16 5
951
134 0
109 8
36 0
15 2
755
124 0
101 8
33 2
14 0
594
106 0
87 9
28 4
9 2
374
Proposed in
1733.
1741.
Establish¬
ment of
1745.
Ft. In.
174 0
140 7
50 0
20 6
1869
166 0
134 1
47 9
19 6
1623
158 0
127 8
45 5
18 7
1400
151 0
122 0
43 5
17 9
1224
144 0
116 4
41 5
16 11
1068
134 0
108 3
38 6
15 9
853
124 0
100 3
35 8
14 6
678
106 0
85 8
30 6
9 5
429
Ft. In.
175 0
142 4
50 0
21 0
1892
168 0
137 0
48 0
20 2
1679
161 0
130 10
46 0
19 4
1472
154 0
125 5
44 0
18 11
1291
147 0
119 9
42 0
18 1
1123
140 0
113 9
40 0
17 24
968
126 0
102 6
36 0
15 51
706
112 0
91 6
32 0
11 0
498
Ft. In.
178 0
144 64
51 0
21 6
2000
170 0
138 4
48 6
20 6
1730
165 0
134 103
47 0
20 0
1585
160 0
131 4
45 0
19 4
1414
150 0
123 0i
42 8
18 6
1191
144 0
117 84
41 0
17 8
1052
133 0
108 10
37 6
16 0
814
113 0
93 4
32 0
11 0
508
111
re , George was the first ship built on the increas- inquiry. She wras laid down in 1746, and launched in 1756;
eu dimensions, which were the result of the before-mentioned and rather more than ten years afterwards, that is, in 1758,
228
History.
Triumph
and Va¬
liant.
SHIP-BUILDING.
the Triumph and Valiant of seventy-four guns were built
'on the lines of the Invincible, a French seventy-four-gun
ship, captured in 1747.
We give the dimensions of these ships, as they were ma¬
nifestations of an improved system, which, however, was
not persevered in ; for, with the exception of occasionally
building after a French or Spanish model, the English ships
were scarcely altered from those built at the commence¬
ment of the century.
Length on the gun-deck 
Length of the keel, for tonnage..
Breadth, extreme 
Depth in hold 
Burthen in tons 
Royal
George.
In.
0
54
Feet.
178
143
51 9
21 6
2047
Triumph and
Valiant.
Feet. In.
171 3
138 8
49 9
21 3
1826
Grand dis- There was still a very essential distinction between the
Unction 18 navy of England and that of either France or Spain, which
between was this; that until after 1763 neither of these nations had
English anY three-deckers in their fleets. Their largest armament
and foreign J t0 have been eighty-four guns on two decks, while
navies.
we had third-rates which were three-deckers, as the Cam- Histor;
bridge and Princess Amelia, launched in 1754 and 1757, Vv
and carrying only eighty-four guns. The capture of the
Foudroyant, a French eighty-four on two decks, m 1758,
caused a change in this respect, by furnishing the English
with a model for a very superior class of men-of-war, which
was adopted. Derrick, in his Memoirs of the Royal Navy,
says, that “no eighty-gun ship with three decks was built
after the year 1757, no seventy-gun ship after 1766, nor
any sixty-gun ship after 1759.”
During the peace that preceded the war with America, French I
which commenced in the year 1768, the French had in-builtthd
troduced three-deckers into their fleets, having found their deckers,
eighty-fours on two decks to be no match for the more
powerful of our three-deckers. Their first-rates were at
this time generally of a hundred and ten guns on three
decks. The Bretagne, one of these ships, was, according
to Charnock, a hundred and ninety-six feet three inches long
on the water line; and her moulded breadth was fifty-three
feet four inches. Her displacement, it is stated in Sewell’s
Collection of Papers on Naval Architecture, was 4640
English tons. This can hardly be correct.
In 1786 the establishment of the French fleet was fixed Estabh1
by an ordinance, as according to the following table, which mento
we extract from Charnock. ^
Ships of 120
Guns.
Length from head to stern 
Breadth from outside to out-)
side of the frame j
Depth in hold 
Draught of water abaft when 1
light j
Draught of water forward}
when light   i
Draught of water abaft when |
laden /
Draught of water forward 1
when laden )
Total weight of the ship and!
stores when victualled and f
furnished for a six months’ f
cruise )
Weight of the hull and masts...
Feet.
195
50
25
17
14
25
22
In.
e
o
o
6
0
0
8
Ships of 110
Guns.
Ships of 80 Ships of 74
Guns. Guns.
Tons.
5246
2500
Feet.
186—185
49 6 in.
24 6
17 4
13 8
24 8
22 2
Tons.
4910
2400
Feet.
184—180
48 0 in
23 9
17 0
12 0
22 6
21 0
Tons.
3825
1804
Feet. In.
170 0
44 6
22 0
15 8
10 10
21 6
19 10
Tons.
35484
1437
Ships of 64
Guns.
Feet. In.
156 0
41 0
20 0
14 6
11 1
19 9
18 9
Tons.
2300
Frigates
carrying 18
Pounders.
Frigates
carrying 12
Pounders.
1120
Feet. In.
144 0
36 6
18 0
12 6
8
16
15
Corvettes
of 20 Guns
Tons.
1479
665
Feet. In.
136 0
34 6
17 6
11 3
8 6
15 4
13 9
Tons.
1162
Feet. In.
112 0
28 4
14 4
9 6
8 5
13 3
•
11 9
Tons.
546
583
Advice-
boats, car¬
rying four
4 Pounders
Feet. In.
80 0
24 0
12 0
8 4
8 0
11 6
10 0
266
Tons.
266
141
George III. The ships of England continued throughout the wars of
and George the reigns of George III. and George IV. notoriously infe-
IV. rior to those of France and Spain. The skill of our com¬
manders, and the indomitable courage of our seamen, event¬
ually succeeded in these, as in all former contests, in anni¬
hilating opposition, and in triumphantly asserting our naval
supremacy. It cannot be denied that their task would
have been comparatively easy, accompanied with less loss
of life and expenditure of treasure, had their ships been
more upon a par with those of their opponents.
Reasons Although so much attention appears to have been di-
forthecon-rected at various times to the improvement of the navy,
tinned in- not oniy by the servants of the crown officially connected
feriority °fwith it, but by the sovereigns themselves, we have seen
is that this continued inferiority of our ships to those of our
" k’ opponents has been repeatedly asserted on undoubted tes¬
timony. The reason that all the attention thus bestowed
failed in producing a corresponding beneficial effect was
simply this; that in England the speculative ideas of men,
undoubtedly of sense and judgment, as may be seen from
the quotations of their opinions which we have made, but
men uninformed as to principles, were taken as the rules
for guidance. In France, on the contrary, the aid of
science was called in, and some of the greatest mathema¬
ticians of the time turned their attention to the improve¬
ment of the shipping of that country ; and it is a most asto¬
nishing fact, that the experience of more than a century of
acknowledged inferiority to France, also with the admission
that her superiority was caused by the researches of her
mathematicians, should have still left it a question in Eng¬
land, whether our ships shall be designed on speculative
opinions, or from scientific deductions. Colbert employed
an engineer of the name of Renau d’Elisagaray, a protege
of the Count de Vermandois, whose first essay was in the
adaptation of ships to carry bombs, to be used in the then
projected armament against the piratical states of the Me¬
diterranean. Under the enlightened direction of Colbert,
the French ships, which, by the ordinance of 1688, were
much restricted in dimensions, were increased nearly one
fourth in size, and every means taken which the then state
of knowledge could suggest to insure a corresponding in¬
crease in good qualities. Renau was, we believe, the first
French author who wrote on the theory of ships. He was
followed by the Bernoullis, by Pere La Hoste, by Bou-
guer, Euler, Don Jorje Juan, Romme, and a host of others,
the effects of whose writings we have traced in the progress
of the improvements they introduced into the navies o
France and Spain, and forced the navy of England to inn-
SHIP-BUILDING.
. tate. The only English treatise on ship-building that can
^ lay any claim to a scientific character was published by
Mungo Murray in 1754; and he, though his conduct was
irreproachable, lived and died a working shipwright in
Deptford dock-yard,
mce of A most palpable instance of the ignorance of all the
ance. principles of naval architecture among the authorities who
were charged with designing our royal navy, even up to
the close of the last century, may be quoted from an article
in a recent periodical publication, the Papers on Naval
Architecture, which was devoted to the advancement of
this science, and which was for some years conducted by
two gentlemen who were educated at the School of Naval
Architecture at Portsmouth. The article in question was
written by Mr Wilson of the late Navy Office, now Admiral¬
ty, a gentleman whose judgment, talents, and sound pro¬
fessional knowledge as a naval architect, contrasted with
the humbleness of his situation, that of draughtsman to the
surveyor of the navy, may also be cited as affording an in¬
stance of the mistaken policy of the successive naval admi¬
nistrations of England, as to the encouraging the applica¬
tion of science to naval architecture,
ee of Mr Wilson, speaking of the cutting down of the Anson,
Anson, a sixty-four-gun ship, to a frigate of thirty-eight guns, says,
“ she was cut down in the year 1794; and although in all
other maritime states the science of naval construction was
well understood, yet so culpably ignorant were the English
constructors, that this operation, so well calculated, when
properly conducted, to produce a good ship, was a complete
failure. Seven feet of the upper part of the top-sides, to¬
gether with a deck and guns, making about 160 tons, were
removed, by which her stability was greatly increased ; but,
by a complete absurdity, the sails were reduced one sixth
in area. In her first voyage the rolling was so excessive
that she sprung several sets of top-masts. To mitigate this
evil, in 1795 her masts and yards were increased to their
original size ; but as there was no decrease of ballast, she
was still a very uneasy ship, and, as a necessary result, her
wear and tear were excessive.
“ Other sixty-fours were cut down, masted, and ballasted
in exactly the same manner, and, it need scarcely be add¬
ed, experienced similar misfortunes; and although they
were improved by enlarging their masts and yards, they
were still bad ships. Had their transformations been scien¬
tifically conducted, a class of frigates would have been con¬
tinued in the navy, capable, from their size, of coping with
the large American frigates ; and thus the disasters we ex¬
perienced in the late war, from the superior force of that na¬
tion, would, without doubt, have been not merely avoided,
but turned into occurrences of a quite opposite character.”
FJ f‘)r Several attempts have been made in England to alter
emert state things, and to establish a system of scientific
'aval' ™Provement in our ships. One was the formation of a So-
Litec- ciefy> in 1791, for the Improvement of Naval Architecture,
>. which numbered among its members the late sovereign,
then Duke of Clarence, and many noblemen and gentlemen
of rank, influence, and talent. This society arose out of
the patriotic exertions of a bookseller of the name of Se¬
well, the proprietor of the European Magazine, who in an
excursion to one of our seaports, heard such universal com¬
plaints as to the inferiority of the British ships compared
with those to which they were opposed, that he devoted
the covers of his magazine to correspondence on naval ar¬
chitecture, and gave a rOom in his house for discussion on
the same subject, and for the reception of plans and models
connected with it, which were always open to public in¬
spection. The papers that were by these means collected
were republished in two volumes; and, among much trash,
there are several valuable articles contained in them. The
society conducted a course of experiments on resistances
of fluids, in the Greenland, docks, on which they appear to
have exhausted their resources and their energies, and that History,
too without deducing any results which added to the pre- ''■'“-'■y'—-'
vious knowledge on that subject. We are not aware that
more than the first year’s Report of their proceedings was
ever published. Of this we have only met with one copy;
and in consequence of the probability that the results of
the society’s experiments might be completely lost, they
were republished in the Papers on Naval Architecture.
They have been since republished in a most splendid form,
and in a most patriotic spirit, solely for gratuitous distribu¬
tion to scientific societies and individuals, by Mr Beaufoy,
the son of the late Colonel Beaufoy, the gentleman to whom Colonel
the task of conducting them was intrusted by the society, Beaufoy.
and on whom, it appears, a great portion of the expenses
devolved.
Another effort to improve the scientific knowledge of School of
naval architecture in this kingdom was the establishment, Naval Ar
in 1811, of a School for Naval Architecture in her majesty’s chitecture.
dock-yard at Portsmouth. This was in consequence of the
statements and recommendations contained in the Report of
a Commission of Naval Revision appointed in 1806. These
recommendations were founded on an inquiry into the edu¬
cation and attainments of the shipwright officers then in
the dock-yards, “ from their first entry as apprentices, to
their elevation to the rank of surveyor of the navy.” The
Report stated as follows:—“ In the whole course we have Report of
described, no opportunity will be found of acquiring even tl\e 90iri'
the common education given to men of their rank in life; Naval lie-
and they rise to the complete direction of the construction vision,
of the ships on which the safety of the empire depends,
without any care or provision having been taken, on the
part of the public, that they should have any instruction in
mathematics, mechanics, or in the science or theory of ma¬
rine architecture.”
The Report stated it to be among the most important
parts of the duty of the Commission to endeavour “ to put
an end to that want of foresight and due consideration,
which may finally lead to so much danger to the country;
and to bring into our dock-yards apprentices of more libe¬
ral education than has hitherto been required.”
The Commissioners recommended the establishment of
two classes of apprentices. They proposed the arrangments
necessary for putting their recommendations into practice,
and also laid down a system of education for the first class.
These proposals were directed to be carried into effect, by School of
an order in Council of the 20th of September 1809, which Naval Ar-
was complied with in the establishment of the School 0fclutfcture
Naval Architecture on the first of January 1811. 1S"~
The arrangements of the school were modified by a se¬
cond order in Council on the 30th of January 1816, in
consequence of a building for the reception of the students
having been completed. By this order the establishment
was incorporated with the Royal Naval College, and the
number of students limited to twenty-four, that number be¬
ing considered as “ sufficient to supply the place of officers
who may die or be removed,” and therefore to fulfil the in¬
tentions of the Board of Naval Revision. This second or- ,
der in Council stated, that the object of the institution was
to introduce “ a better and more skilful description of ship¬
wright officers in his majesty’s royal dock-yards and the
“ regulations established relative to the admission of stu¬
dents into the School of Naval Architecture,” for the infor¬
mation of the candidates, stated that, “ on the expiration of
the apprenticeship, the students will be eligible to all situ-
tions in the ship-building department of his majesty’s service;
and in the event of there being no vacancy in any of his
majesty’s yards, they shall be employed as supernumeraries
in the yards, until vacancies do occur,” “ provided the ap¬
prentice shall, at the expiration of the time above mention¬
ed, have completed the plan of education, and shall be
certified by the professor to be properly qualified.”
230
SHIP-BUILDING.
Abolition
of the
school.
History. Forty-two gentlemen have been educated at this estab-
v —■ ^ lishment, and twenty-two still remain in the ship-building
Number of department of her majesty’s service, of whom many, bound
students. to tjie service under heavy penalties, were, for eight or ten
years after leaving the school, employed as supernumeraries
in the dock-yards, awaiting their first appointments as fore¬
men, although vacancies were during the interval conti¬
nually occurring. Three only have been promoted to the
step next above that of foreman ; and, out of the last four¬
teen appointments to situations superior to that oi foreman,
only one has been conferred upon a member of the Sonool
of Naval Architecture. . j t? r
The attempt has therefore most signally failed, r or, from
the comparative ages of the gentlemen of this establish¬
ment, and those of the officers who have been placed in
these vacancies, there can be no rational hope that the ex¬
pectations of the Commissioners of Naval Revision, or of the
members of the Councils of State, can be fulfilled; and it
may therefore now’ be said (in 1839), with as much truth as
by the Report of the Board of Naval Revision in 1806, “no¬
thing certainly can be more surprising than that, in a nation
so enlightened as this is, and whose power, importance, and
even safety, depend on its naval superiority, matters so es¬
sential to the preservation of that superiority should so long
have been neglected.”
The School of Naval Architecture was abolished in
1832; and we cannot write of the failure of this establishment
ncnuui. without endeavouring to trace its causes, and to account for
Reasons oft]ie str0no- prejudice which has existed against its members
its failure. prom theluoment the first student’s name was recorded on
its books ; a prejudice which has baffled them in every en¬
deavour to obtain just attention to their claims from each
successive naval administration, and which has virtually de¬
prived the nation of the advantages anticipated by the Board
of Naval Revision. That it is not in the failure of the stu¬
dents themselves to fulfil the conditions required of them, is
evident, since the sole condition was that which we have
quoted from the regulations, that they should complete the
plan of education, “ and be certified by the professor to be
properly qualified.” This the professor has officially complied
with in the strongest terms. Nor is it that they are indivi¬
dually unfit to fill the situations which were guaranteed to
them ; for many of them are possessed of the most flattering
testimonials of efficiency, as thorough practical officers, men
of business, and gentlemen of principle. We believe it to
arise solely from this, that the foundation of the establish¬
ment was accompanied by the most mortifying and humiliat¬
ing reflections on the officers then filling the situations in
the dock-yards, and, consequently, on all who rose to such
situations from the working class of the yards. From these
officers, to all of whom the very existence of the School of
Naval Architecture has been a reproach, and a constant
source of mortification, and to many of whom the advance of
its members would operate as a bar to promotion, successive
Admiralties have been contented to derive their information
as to the success of that establishment, and the efficiency of
its members. It surely would be expecting more than can
be hoped from human nature in its most exalted state, to
suppose such information could be given devoid of party
feeling and of prejudice, or that men would voluntarily ad¬
mit their own inefficiency, and concede to those whom they
must regard as their rivals for the favours of the Admiralty;
a merit equal, nay, on the very principle of the foundation
of the establishment, superior, to that which they themselves
possess. The First Lord of the Admiralty, therefore, for the
time being, acting on information thus derived, annually
asserts in his place in parliament, and believes his assertion
to be correct, that these “ young men” (men between forty
and fifty years of age) “ though gentlemen and men of
education, yet want experience, and therefore cannot be
promoted.”
The institution has however not been unattended with History,
benefit to the service. The correct principles of naval ar- '—v-*'
chitecture have become known and generally diffused; and^bee
though the members of the establishment may not reap the
reward, the merit is undoubtedly theirs, for it has been g00(L
through their instrumentality and from their works. It
cannot, either, be denied that the officers of the dock-yards
of the old school have had their energies aroused, and have
risen in the scale of educated society, from their rivalry with
the members of the new. On an inquiry into their com¬
petency to fill the situations in which they have been placed,
though there would be many instances fully to warrant as
great animadversion as was passed by the Board of Re¬
vision on their predecessors, there would also be found
among them gentlemen, men of talent, and of considerable
acquirements. . _lr
In 1830, Captain, now Sir William Symonds, was appomt- Sirb,!. |
ed to the office of surveyor of the navy, in consequence of™.'- I
having constructed a corvette, the Columbine, for her ma¬
jesty’s service, which was reported most favourably of after
a trial cruize with other corvettes built from designs furnish¬
ed by Sir Robert Seppings and the late Admiral Hayes.
The appointment of a naval officer to fill the solitary si¬
tuation in the civil service of the navy which may be said
to offer any great inducement to the exertions of the naval
architect, was certainly of questionable policy. There are
few clerks in the public offices of this country who do not
early attain to salaries and retirements far exceeding those
doled out to the highest offices in the engineering depart¬
ment of the navy, with this one exception; and to deprive
the naval architect of this sole incitement to exertion, can¬
not but operate injuriously to the service, besides the evil
resulting from having the head of a department, who must be
presumed to be not only totally unacquainted with the detail
of the duties of his subordinates, but also necessarily to be un¬
qualified to perform a great portion of the duties connected
with his own situation, and therefore to be dependent upon
those from whom he is obliged to seek for guidance.
The office of surveyor of the navy, be it remembered, is
an office of active operation rather than an office of super¬
vision, and therefore essentially requires to be filled by a
professional naval architect.
Sir William Symonds is the first constructor of the Eng¬
lish navy who has been left unrestricted as to dimensions; and
he has consequently been enabled to introduce into the
service, ships which undoubtedly bear very high characters
in some very decided points of efficiency as men of war.
He has also practically demonstrated the possibility of ships
of war obtaining sufficient stability without the aid of bal¬
last, which is a very important advantage, and one which
will yet be productive of essential benefit. But at the same
time, being in error as to the true principles on which the
stability of floating bodies is dependent, he has not obtain¬
ed these advantages without, in many instances, incurring
a compensating disadvantage, from uneasiness of motion,
and which appears to be a very general complaint against
the ships of his construction, some of them being most
marked examples of the uneasiness attendant on a stability
which depends almost wholly on breadth at the load-watei
section, to the neglect of the form of the solids of immersion
and emersion.
The opinions on which Sir William Symonds founds ms His H '-
system of construction have been explained by him, first inlnl,3•
a brochure, printed, we believe, for private distribution, and
then in an article, communicated by himself, in the United
Service Journal for July 1832. To that therefore we refer
our readers for information as to the principles upon which
the fleets of England are now constructed. The following
tables contain the dimensions of the various classes of ships
which Sir William Symonds has introduced into the British
navy ; also the dimensions according to which the ships of
SHIP-BUILDING.
231
lory, the French navy are now being built, and the dimensions
* of one or two other modern ships about which considerable
interest has been excited. The dimensions of the vessels
designed by Sir William Symonds are obtained from Edye’s
Scales of Displacements, and from a list which was publish¬
ed in the United Service Gazette, and which we have en¬
deavoured to verify ; we therefore believe them to be cor¬
rect. The dimensions of the French ships were procured History,
in the French dock-yards during the summer of 1837, and “
are certainly correct. The London and Castor are obtain¬
ed from Edye’s Scales of Displacements; the Sapphire and
Orestes from Morgan and Greuze’s Papers on Naval Archi¬
tecture ; and the other dimensions are from the best avail¬
able authorities.
Dimensions of Modern English Ships of War.
Names, &c.
First Rate.
Royal Frederick, now Queen |
Second Rate.
Vansruard.
Third Rate.
Boscawen.
Fourth Rate.
Vernon 
Fifth Rate.
Pique 
Sixth Rate.
Vestal  
Carysfort 
Corvettes.
Rover  
Calypso 
Brigs.
Columbine 
Serpent 
Racer 
L Pantaloon 
London 1  
>Sir Robert Seppings....
Castor J  
Inconstant, Admiral Hayes 
Modeste, Admiral Hon. G. Elliot.
Sapphire! professor Inman 
Orestes j
Length of
Guns.
Gun-Deck.
110 on )
3 decks J
82 on 2 )
decks. /
70 on 2\
decks, j
50
36
26
26
18
18
16
16
16
16
92 on 2 {
decks, j
36
36
18
28
18
Feet. Inch.
204) 0
190 0
180 0
176 0
160 0
130
130
113
120
105
102
100
91 10
5
8
205
159
166
120
119
109 11
Keel for
Tonnage.
Feet. Inch.
166 5
155 3
14*6 8
144 6|
131 0
105 9
106 10
90
99
If
84 0
79 10
78
. 71
170
9J2
4
4
133 7
133 54-
98 73
100 7^
92 101
Extreme
Breadth.
Feet. Inch.
60 0
56 9
54 0
52 81
48 8
40 71
40 0
35
37
33
32
32
29
54
43
45
32
33
30
61
3
4
Depth in
Hold.
Feet. Inch.
23 9
23 4
22
17
14
10
10
16
18
7
15
1
6
6
6
9
0
11
0
Burden in
Tons.
14 10
12 8
23
13
13
7
8
7
6
7
11
0
6
3099
2589
2212
2082
1622
913
911
590
731
492
434
431
323
2598
1283
1422
562
605
459
Dimensions of Ships composing the French Royal Navy.
Number of Guns.
Length on gun-deck between rabbets.
Moulded breadth 
4 forward 
Draught of water, aft 
) mean 
Load, displacement in tons 
Line-of-Battle.
120
Feet. Inch.
209 5
55 3|
24 114
26 8|
25 10L
4940
100
Feet. Inch,
205 01
54 111
23 10|
26 01
24 Hi
4393
SO
Feet. Inch,
198 6
53 51
23 4
25 4
24 4
4013
Frigates.
Corvettes.
60
Feet. Inch.
178 11
47 7
19 111
21 31
20 7-|
2542
52 | 32
Feet. Inch.1 Feet. Inch,
172 1
45 2^
20 8
2267
138 7£
36 0|
14
16 :
15 <
999
24
Feet. Inch
125 4
32 7J
13 61
14 10
14 2|
738
Description of the manner of performing the Calculations in¬
cidental to designing a Ship, with Investigations of some
of the principal Elements of the Design.
The labours of the numerous men of science wdio have
^10devoted either the whole or a portion of their attention to
the various problems embraced in the theory of ships, have
un_left but few of its abstract principles uninvestigated; most
e gat- °f the properties of a ship have been examined, and the
laws on which they depend clearly defined, either by the
aid of mathematical demonstration, or by experimental in¬
duction. There are however some questions, w hich, though
solved in theory, still depend on the results of physical ex¬
periment for perfecting their practical application.
The elements of naval construction, a term very gene- Elemen-
rally applied to the theory of ships, may be classed in two tary princi-
divisions ; those which are solely dependent on known laws pies maybe
of nature, and those of which the solution involves laws m
of nature which are yet imperfectly developed.
The first division embraces by far the greater part of those
232
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory, principles on which the most essential properties of ships
v-~-v ' depend ; and it may now be said that the principal diffi-
Ot one the cujtjes t]iese are surmounted, and are familiar to the in-
ar^estab- s^ructed naval architect. These are alone sufficient to in-
lished. sure ^e attainment of a certain and considerable degree of
excellency in a ship, to give it a preponderance of any pe¬
culiar property, to discover the causes of any bad quality,
and to obviate its tendency by an appropriate remedy. In
fact, they are enough, quoting from an article in an Ame¬
rican Review, to “ direct and limit the variations that may
safely be made in the models at present in use, and guide
us in the draught of new ones, suited to those changes in
the force and magnitude of the several rates of vessels,
which are continually making in the strife between the na¬
tions of the civilized" world.” Should the science of naval
architecture never make further progress than it is thus de¬
scribed as having attained, it is evident that it is so far per¬
fect as to be available for, and capable of being made to
Practice keep pace with, the wants of mankind. It may be objected,
apparently that the American writer assumes too high a standard, and
contradicts that, so far from changes in the rate and magnitude of ships
this asser- heing ma(]e whh the certainty attributed, each deviation from
the beaten track seems but an isolated, baseless, and aim¬
less venture, instead of forming one step in the progress of
improvement. But, in justice to naval architecture, it should
be remembered that the American spoke of the existing
knowledge, and of the application of that knowledge in
France, and in countries where its importance is recognised
and its principles are known and cultivated, not in England,
where its very claim to the rank of a science has been derided.
Second di- The elements which may be classed in the second divi-
vision em- s;on> as those of which the solution resolves itself into a
hi aces ele- dependence on laws of nature which are as yet imperfect-
pemlent^n ‘Y developed, consist almost entirely of such as are depen-
imdevelop-dent, in a greater or less degree, on a knowledge of the na-
ed laws of ture and laws of elastic and non-elastic fluids. This is a sub¬
nature. ject which has hitherto baffled alike the researches of the
mathematician and the experimentalist; but, from the ana¬
logy of discoveries in other sciences, we may safely assert,
that even its difficulties must be eventually surmounted by
the patience and labour of the inductive philosopher. We
are possibly on the eve of an important era, in so far as the
Mr Itus- laws of the resistances of fluids are involved. The re-
sol's re- searches of Mr Russel will apparently do much towards un¬
searches on ravelling their mysteries, perhaps more than has as yet result-
resistances. ej from the labour of all preceding ages. Not that the per¬
fect solution of these problems is really of such vital im¬
portance to the progress of improvement in naval architec¬
ture as it is often asserted to be, and which the apparent
intimate connection of that science with the knowledge of
Such know-fluids and of their laws would appear to sanction. Of those
ledge not elements of naval construction which seem wholly to de-
He to3the1 Penc^ on suc^ knowledge, some are restricted by considera-
naval ar_ tions which are adverse to its application; and although
chitect. ^ maY be a desideratum in the determination of certain of
the elements, the difficulties which arise from the want of
it only require to be fully known and understood, to be, if
not absolutely theoretically removed, at least, from the col¬
lection of facts, from experiment, and from analogy, so far
overcome as to leave nothing to be desired on the score
of practical utility. The form of a ship’s body need not
necessarily remain imperfect because the curve of the so¬
lid of least resistance is unknown, since enough has result¬
ed from the consideration of the nature of that solid to prove
that, however it might probably be applicable to the naviga¬
tion of smooth waters, the perfect solution of the problem of
its form could only be generally desirable to the naval archi¬
tect, as contributing to the theoretic perfection of the science,
and would add but little to its practical utility in its appli¬
cation to vessels which must encounter the tremendous
powers of the elements in the open seas. Experience has
proved, that a ship constructed with the bow and of the form .Theor
which are recognised as at least nearly approximating to the ''■‘"w
solid of least resistance, would be unable to withstand the
violence of the shocks of the motion of pitching, and of the
waves ; or, could she do so, would necessarily lose, by the
additional resistance resulting from increased immersion,
every advantage which might otherwise be anticipated.
Neither can the exact position of the greatest section be a
question of theoretic niceties, when the great capacity and
the adjustments of form necessary to the exigencies of mo¬
dern warfare and the advanced state of navigation are con¬
sidered, which not only require a ship to be effective in all
the materiel, and for all the purposes of war, when first from
the hands of the builder, but to be equally so after long pe¬
riods have elapsed and extended seas have been navigated.
On the other hand, the comparative fulness of the fore and Propor-
after bodies, the positions, rakes, and proportions of the masts, tions of
the adjustment and the shape of the sails, the bracing ofb()dy: tb
the yards, and many other questions intimately connected
with the resistance of fluids, may, and will eventually, be mastL'
correctly determined by comparison, experiment, and in-portions
duction, guided by the knowledge of those principles of shape of |
science which are involved in them; and, without such know- sads, ma •
ledge to enable us to test and to establish the correctness of^e.d^ler
the conclusions which may be drawn, both experiment and™^^
comparison must be as useless in this, as, under similar cir¬
cumstances, they would prove to any other branch of art.
It has been most wisely said, that there are more false facts Danger d
in the world than false theories. The reason is evident; erroneous,
the correctness of a fact is totally dependent on the compe-^'j^1101'
tency of the observer ; and how very few, even among those“nJ“vit,
whose minds have been trained to habits of thought, areai(j0fscp
competent to the task of discriminating fact from fallacy, entific
If there be few among such men, how much fewer in pro- knowledgt
portion must that number be among men of uncultivated
minds, who can be capable either of observing facts, or of
forming correct conclusions from those which they may
have casually observed; and to such, almost without ex¬
ception, has been confided the task of establishing the facts,
and drawing the conclusions, upon which to found the theo¬
ry of ships, as far as the development of that theory has been
attempted in England.
A most unphilosophic mode of reasoning is very general- Error in
ly applied to the question of the application of the exact doing thi:
sciences to naval architecture; and because chance on some
few occasions, inductions from a tedious experience of fail¬
ures on others, but far more frequently the results of ob¬
servations on ships built by men of science, may have pro¬
duced good ships, the question is often hastily decided, and
the conclusion assumed, that since ships possessing more How it lr
than an average of good qualities have been produced with-arisen,
out abstract scientific study, therefore the exact sciences
cannot be available to the advancement of naval architec¬
ture ; the fact being placed quite out of the consideration,
that the results of observations on ships designed by men
of science are really the results of science, and that if the
observations were made by persons competent to the task,
these results would be onward steps in the progress of im¬
provement.
The time certainly has not yet arrived when the naval The aid"
architect can effect with precision and confidence the syn-1^^1®
thetical composition of a perfect ship; but we have already ^
asserted that he may, by the application of principles al-ge(| ^;
ready established, proceed in the full confidence of produ¬
cing one with a preponderance of good qualities.
The mistake is in the assumption that the theory of ships for thet ?
is already perfected, instead of merely being capable of being ^
perfected by a rigid analysis of facts which daily exPer*'perfect.
ence would elicit were the abstract sciences applied to the
task of analysing, collating, and registering them. It should
always be remembered, that generally in every science a
SHIP-BUILDING.
Hi iace-
ory. perfect theory is the result of the perfection of the science,
/—^rather than that the perfection of the science results from
the theory. To argue against this principle, would be to
retrograde from the nineteenth to the sixteenth century,
and to affirm that Bacon has lived in vain.
We shall, in as concise a manner as is consistent with
clearness of explanation, detail the method of performing
the calculations necessary to determine the essential ele¬
ments of the design of a ship’s body, in the course of pre¬
paring the original draught or drawing.
A body floating at rest, upon a fluid also at rest, displa¬
ces as much of the fluid as is equal to the weight of the body.
The truth of this proposition will appear from the consider¬
ation that the equilibrium between the body and the fluid
is maintained by precisely the same upward pressure as sup¬
ported the fluid which the body has displaced; and as the
same pressure must support the same weight when there
is an equilibrium, the weight of the floating body must be
equal to that of a quantity of fluid equal in bulk to that
part of the body which is immersed. It follows that the
weight of the water displaced by a ship floating on it at
rest, is equal to the weight of the ship and all its contents.
It is usual to call the weight of the quantity of water
me jsyno-which a ship displaces when she is floating at rest, her dis-
w ’Hie placement; or, in other words, according to the foregoing
wc n. proposition, the term displacement applied to a ship is sy¬
nonymous with her weight.
To tain To obtain, therefore, the total weight of a ship, it is only
theieight neCessary to ascertain the weight of the volume of water
0 which she displaces when floating at rest. This is found by-
calculating the number of cubic feet contained in a homo¬
geneous solid equal in bulk to that part of the body below
the surface of the water, and then multiplying this number
by the specific gravity of the water, that is, by the weight
of one cubic foot: the result will be the weight of the water
displaced, and consequently also that of the ship.
That a ship of war may be able to carry and to maintain
effective, in ordinary circumstances of weather, a determin¬
ed armament, or a merchant-ship a certain lading, it is evi¬
dent that the weight of the ship, and all that she is destined
to contain, must be in such proportion to her bulk that she
shall not be so far immersed in the water as to render her
armament inefficient under circumstances in which its effi¬
ciency may be required; or her lading oppressive to her,
m e if lading be the purport of her construction. The bulk of
a ship is in proportion to her length, her breadth, and her
depth. 1 his, when the naval architect has ascertained the
displacement necessary for his ship to possess, is his first
guide to proportion her dimensions, so as to insure that dis-
Grer st placement without undue immersion. The next step is
■ 'rse t0 determine the form and area of a transverse vertical sec¬
tion at the largest part of the ship’s body7, which generally
extends from the middle of the length for some distance
towards each extremity. This section is called the midship
section, and on its area is principally dependent the direct
iesistance which the vessel will experience, while the sta¬
bility or resistance to inclination, and the easiness or un¬
easiness of her motions, are greatly dependent on its form.
Having to a certain extent fixed upon the midship section
233
Firs
to d
sion
Iran
secti
Grea
horiz ;al .
sectid / next. consideration is to determine the area and form
of a horizontal section at the surface of the water. This
Hept
differ
of wat .
How fij
qtiartt
Stctioi
section is called the load water-section, or sometimes the
plane of flotation.” On this section also the stability of
the ship, in proportion to her dimensions, is very greatly
impendent, as will be seen when we more fully explain that
ncJ quality, f he depth in the water, and the shape of the verti-
(Mraiit Cal seictlon through the longitudinal axis of the ship, should
next be determined; and then transverse vertical sections
of the body between the midship section and either ex¬
tremity of the vessel, generally at those parts where the
-ody is intended to alter materially from the form of its
vol. xx.
midship section to that of the more sudden curvature at the Theory,
extremities. An important consideration is involved in the ''“""v-—
forms of these sections, considerably influencing the easi¬
ness of the ship’s motions. At present it will be enough to
mention them as the next progressive step in the design ;
after which the constructor has data sufficient to determine Bispiace-
whether the dimensions he has chosen will enable him to ment.
obtain adequate displacement for the services required of
Ins vessel. If so, he may proceed to trace in intermediate
sections, and thus gradually, letting his design keep pace
with his calculations, complete his drawing by the aid of
processes which will be fully explained in a subsequent por¬
tion of this article, and which we therefore shall wholly
omit here, as the limits of our space will not admit of repe¬
tition. Also, we can hardly describe the method of pro¬
ceeding with the drawing until the principles which ought
to guide us in forming the design have been investigated.
As we are totally unacquainted with the course of the Diagonal
fluid along the bottom of a vessel, it is essential that the bow', and
curves bounding diagonal sections, called diagonal lines, and buttock
the curves bounding vertical sections, called buttock andlines!-
bow lines, should be attentively considered, and also theInciin^
curves bounding the inclined water-sections, that they may Water'lmes‘
be such as, by comparison with other and acknowledged
fast ships, may be presumed to be conducive to velocity. It
must constantly be remembered, that naval architecture is
a science of comparisons and of analogies; and no pains
must be spared in rendering them subservient, not only to
the design in progress, but to the eventual perfection of
the science.
An important consideration connected with the forming Alteration
the design of a ship is involved in the gradual alteration of of seat in
Lie vessel’s seat in the water from the consumption ofwater from
stores. It is not only essential that a ship should be pos-c?nsunT-
sessed of stability combined with easiness of motion, be t!on ^
weatherly and quick in manoeuvring when she is stored8 )U:”
and completed for foreign service as a ship of war, or fully
laden as a merchant-ship; but it is equally essential that
she should be possessed of these qualities towards the expi¬
ration of her cruize, or on her return light from her voyage.
Designs for ships to be as perfect as the present state of
knowledge can make them, must be made with reference to
several water-lines.
We see, therefore, that there are difficulties opposed toMerchant-
the improvement of the forms of merchant-ships, which do ship s more
not exist to the same extent in opposition to the improve- uncertain
ment of the forms of ships of war. in qualities
In the designing of ships of war, the nature of the service St” fipS
in which they will be employed is known, and the lading, ’
m comparison with that of a merchant-ship, is a constant
quantity: it is therefore only necessary to endeavour to ob-
Liin a maximum of good qualities in relation to these cir¬
cumstances. But in a merchant-ship the lading is of such because of
a variable nature, both as to quantity and species, that the greater va-
s up is at dmerent times under very different circumstances; riation of
yet she is subjected to the same trials. Thus an East India-seat in wa-
man, on her outward voyage, is two feet more immersed thanter’
on her homeward; and the draught ofwater of a collier is
reduced, at different times, four, five, or six feet, by which
the stability is generally very much diminished ; and even
with the same draught of water the stability may vary verv
considerably, owing to the difference in the nature and dis¬
position of the lading, and the consequent effect produced
on the centre of gravity of the ship; and yet, under these
different circumstances, the ships are exposed to the same
winds and seas. It is evident that if, when at their pro¬
per draught of water and stowage, they are only equal to
the trials to which they are subject, they must be very in¬
adequate to the contest with such a deduction from their
powers as this would produce ; particularly if their design
be not made with a due consideration of this circumstance.
2 G
234
Theory.
ship-building:
The loss of stability which results from the diminution
^ / 0£ 0f water Cannot be compensated by a propor¬
tionate arrangement of sail, without incurring other evil con¬
sequences. If the quantity of sail, which at all times is
comparatively small in a merchant-ship, be lessened, the
wind on the increased hull might so counterbalance its
effect, that she would be utterly unable to beat off a lee
shore, or make any way on a wind,
causing di- A ship is not only subject to a loss in stability when
minution lightened, but becomes laboursome, on account of top-ham-
of stability, per. ]ier roning motion is more violent as her diminished
ed uneasi^'d^th in the water decreases the resistance which is op-
ness. posed to the inclination, and she also generally becomes
more leewardly, owing to the difference made in the re¬
sultant of the resistance, the diminution of the lateral re¬
sistance, and of her power of carrying sail.
That these effects are to be dreaded, is proved by the
enormous loss of lives and property in light merchantmen,
and especially light colliers.
Thus, for a ship which is intended for the various pur¬
poses of commerce, to be at all equal to a ship destined only
to sail with a constant lading, more art is required in the
design. But though this is a difficulty which opposes itself,
it is no bar to progressive improvement, which is evident,
as we are now suffering under the effects of such improve¬
ment, made, under all the same obstacles, by foreign powers.
Sacrifice of That the forms of merchant-ships may at all be benefited
burthen by the application of that knowledge which is possessed of
the principles of naval architecture to their construction, a
sacrifice in part must be made of those qualities which have
hitherto been considered too exclusively at the expense of
others. These are great capacity under small dimensions,
and few men to navigate them.
To enable them to sail and work well, their resistance
must be diminished and their stability improved by an in¬
crease of dimensions in comparison with the displacement,
todisnlace-bY which they would gain in velocity, easiness of motion,
necessary,
by increas¬
ed dimen¬
sions in
rnent.
Atwood’s
rules for
areas of
curvilinear
spaces.
power to carry sail, and consequently safety. But this
would require a proportionally greater quantity of sail, and
of course a larger crew to manage it; yet as other na¬
tions possess better ships than ourselves, and have there¬
fore subjected themselves to this inconvenience of larger
crews, that must not be considered as an insurmountable
obstacle.
As the body of a ship is not generally any regular figure,
the rules which determine the contents of regular solids will
give only approximations when applied to finding its con¬
tent ; but the error arising from the application of the best
methods now used for calculating displacements is so small
as to be utterly insignificant in practice.
The rules most applicable, and at present most generally
applied, to the measuring of curvilinear spaces, by naval
architects, are those published by Atwood in the Philoso¬
phical Transactions of the Royal Society for 1798. “ They
are founded on Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery of a theorem,
by which, from having given any number of points situated
in the same plane, he could ascertain the equation to the
curve which would pass through them all; and by means
of this equation was enabled to express the ordinate in the
curve corresponding to an abscissa of any given length, as
well as the area intercepted between any two of the ordi¬
nates.”
In order to determine the area of any curvilinear space by
these rules, parabolic curves are supposed to pass through
the extremities of a certain number of equidistant ordinates,
dependent on the order of the parabola ; for a conic para¬
bola three ordinates, for a parabola of the third order four
ordinates, and so on. It is evident that the correctness of
the approximation of the parabolic area to the area of the
required curvilinear space, is dependent on the distance be¬
tween the ordinates ; as on that depends the nearer or the
more remote coincidence of the parabolic curve with the Them
curve bounding the area required. An almost mathema-
tical accuracy is attained in naval architectural calculations
by assuming the ordinates to be one foot apart, even in those
portions of the curvilinear areas in which the alterations of
the' ordinates are the most rapid, as in the fore, after, and
lower parts of the body. But spaces considerably longer
than this will be found to give resvdts of great correctness.
Atwood gives eight theorems for measuring curvilinear Two on
spaces, two only of which are necessary for the purposes ofin use.
the naval architect. The first of these is applicable when First n [ |
the number of equidistant ordinates is odd. It is founded Nl™be
on the assumption, that each portion of the curve which ,(™nat! |
passes through the extremities of three successive ordinates
is a part of a conic parabola, and that the first of the three
ordinates of each succeeding portion is the last of the three
ordinates of the preceding portion. It is not necessary in
this article to prove the correctness of these rules; it is suffi¬
cient to describe their application to the subject of the article.
The first rule is as follows : Measure the lengths of all the
equidistant ordinates. Take the sum of the extreme ordi¬
nates, then take the sum of the second, fourth, sixth, or even
ordinates, and multiply it by four; and then take the sum
of the remaining odd ordinates, or the third, fifth, &c., and
multiply it by two. To the sum of these two products add
the sum of the extreme ordinates, and multiply this sum by <
one third of the common interval between the ordinates;
the result will be the approximate area required.
The second rule, which is frequently useful, is applicable Second
when the number of ordinates is one greater than a mul- rule. Nm
tiple of three. It is founded on the assumption that each
portion of the curve which passes through the extremities ceeds^
of four successive ordinates is a part of a cubic parabola, unityami
and that the first of the four ordinates of each succeeding tiple of 3.
portion of the curve is the last of the four ordinates of the
preceding portion.
This rule is as follows : Measure the lengths of all the
equidistant ordinates. Take the sum of the extreme ordi¬
nates, then take the sum of those remaining ordinates which
are one greater than a multiple of three, as the fourth, se¬
venth, tenth, &c., and multiply it by two; and then take
the sum of all the remaining ordinates, and multiply it by
three. To the sum of these two products add the sum of
the extreme ordinates, and multiply this sum by three
eighths of the common interval between the ordinates ; the
result will be the approximate area required.
Now, if we suppose that we have a solid formed by the Their ap-
revolution of a curve, and that the cubical content of that
solid is required, we may first, by the application of either
of the before-mentioned rules for obtaining the areas of^g
curvilinear spaces, find the areas of a series of parallel and
equidistant sections of the solid. Then, if we consider these
areas as expressing ordinates to the abscissa of a curve, we
shall have a curvilinear plane surface, the area of which
will express the cubical contents of the solid. For it is
evident that every increment of the assumed curvilinear
area has correctly represented the contemporary increment
of the solid.
We have here, then, rules of easy application, by which
the areas either of the transverse vertical or the horizontal
sections of a ship’s body may be calculated, and by which
also, from a series of the areas of either these vertical or
these horizontal sections, the cubical content of a homoge¬
neous solid, of the same shape and bulk as the immersed
portion of the ship’s body, may be determined ; which cubi¬
cal content, multiplied by the specific gravity of water, will
give the displacement of the ship.
It will be seen, as we proceed with our subject, that it is
necessary to ascertain the position of the centre of gravity
of the homogeneous solid of the immersed part of the ship,
and also, that in proceeding with the w ork of designing the
SHIP-BUILDING.
ieory. form of a ship’s body, it will be necessary, in order, in the
v earliest steps, to confine the position of this point to cer-
Tdthe ta'n ^mits’ t0 ca^cu^ate the situations of the centres of gra-
j “e vity of the load water-section and of the midship section ;
^ ity of that these points, which will necessarily have great influ-
ihomo- ence on the position of the centre of gravity of the dis¬
cus placement, may be determined with reference to their in-
1 rsed*16 ^uenCe 0n ^ie position of that point. These calculations
are effected by a further application of the rules of approxi-
ioa(i mation already given.
and Every transverse ordinate of the load-water section be-
diip ing bisected at its intersection with the vertical longitu-
1 Son dinal section Passing through the stem and stern-post, the
is lie load centre °f gravity of the load water-section will necessarily
Jer-sec- be in the line of these intersections; it becomes therefore
t ; necessary only to find its position in this line. For the
ii ie mid- same reason, that of the bisection of the ordinates, the
* sec- centre of gravity of the midship section will be in the line
of its intersection with the vertical longitudinal section,
passing through the stem and stern-post; and it becomes
therefore only necessary to determine its position in this
vertical line. And again, the centre of gravity of displace¬
ment must be always in the same before-mentioned verti¬
cal longitudinal section, unless the vessel be inclined from
the upright, which consideration does not enter into the
present question ; it becomes therefore necessary to find its
position in this section. In respect to length, this will be
found in the line of intersection of some one of the trans¬
verse vertical sections with this vertical longitudinal sec¬
tion ; and in respect to depth, in the line of intersection of
some one of the horizontal sections with this same vertical
in ie ho- longitudinal section ; and, consequently, the position of this
ni-eneous centre of gravity of the displacement, or, as some writers
' call it, the “ centre of buoyancy,” will be in the point of
intersection of the three planes.
G sral ex- In order to determine the positions of these several centres
*011 of gravity, we must make use of this proposition in mecha-
j 0 n*cs- II perpendiculars be drawn from any number of
bodies to a given plane, the sum of the products of each
body, multiplied by its perpendicular distance from the
plane, is equal to the product of the sum of all the bodies
multiplied by the perpendicular distance of, their common
centre of gravity from the same plane; and also of its
corollary, that if any of the bodies lie on the other side of
the plane, their distances must be reckoned as being nega-
i- five. In applying this theorem to find the centre of gra-
rar-vity of any curvilinear space, by the application of either
of the before-mentioned rules of approximation, each ordi¬
nate must be multiplied by its perpendicular distance from
some given line, usually in a section near one of the extre¬
mities of the vessel: these products are then used as ordi¬
nates, and the rule is applied, and the calculations made, in
the same manner as for finding the area of a space, the re¬
sult, however, being the moment of the space. The mo¬
ment of the space on the opposite or negative side of the
line that was assumed from which to measure the perpen¬
dicular distances of the ordinates, is calculated by the ap¬
plication of the same means if the area be large; if small,
a more simple method will easily suggest itself, and the
moment thus obtained is subtracted from the former mo¬
ment ; the remainder is the total moment of the space, es¬
timated from the assumed line, and this, divided by the
total area of the same space, will give the distance of its
centre of gravity from the assumed line. In this manner
the centres of gravity of the load water-section and of the
midship section may be found.
The position of the centre of gravity of the displacement
is found by the application of the same rule of approxima¬
tion. In order to determine its vertical distance below the
load water-section, a series of equidistant horizontal sec¬
tions must be drawn; then the area of each successive ho-
235
ti<
vi
sp 3 by
A )od’s
ru
ik
rizontal section is multiplied by its perpendicular distance Theory,
below the load water-section, and these products are used
as ordinates in either of the rules. .The result is the mo¬
ment of the space between the load water-section and the
lowest horizontal section; to this must be added the mo¬
ment of that part of the body which is below the lowest ho¬
rizontal section. This will be obtained by multiplying its
solid content into the vertical depth of its centre of gra¬
vity below the load water-section; the sum of these two
moments is the moment of the whole displacement, esti¬
mated from the load water-section; and this moment, di¬
vided by the total displacement, will give the vertical dis¬
tance of its centre of gravity below that load water-section.
The position longitudinally of the centre of gravity of the
displacement is obtained in a similar manner, by calculat¬
ing the moment of that part of the displacement which is
situated before some one of the transverse vertical sections,
and also the moment of that part of the displacement situ¬
ated on the opposite or negative side of the same section;
then subtracting the negative moment from the positive,
the remainder, which is the moment of the whole displace¬
ment estimated from the assumed vertical section, divided
by the total displacement, will give the distance of its centre
of gravity from the assumed vertical section.
Instead of multiplying each ordinate by its perpendicu- Means of
lar distance from the given line or plane, it is more conve-shortening
nient to multiply the successive ordinates by 1, 2, 3, 4, &c., fore£oinS
and the sum of these products by the common distance be- tf1^’
tween the ordinates, which of course produces the same re- °UB
suit. A little consideration, in the course of performing
the foregoing calculations, will suggest methods by which
some of the labour may be lightened ; such as the arrange¬
ment of the results in tabular forms, and the connecting the
calculations for determining the areas, contents, or moments
of those portions of the curves or solids towards the extre¬
mities with the general calculations. The foregoing ac¬
count of the method of making the above calculations is
given merely as an outline. For some of the more minute
details, see Inman’s Notes to Chapman ; and mature consi¬
deration of the principles on which the calculations are
founded will suggest all that can be further required.
The constructor having completed the foregoing calcu- Recapitu¬
lations, will have ascertained the area of the midship sec-lation.
tion, the area of the load water-section, the displacement,
the positions of the centres of gravity of these two sections,
and also the position of the centre of gravity of the dis¬
placement. The areas of the two sections, and the posi¬
tions of their respective centres of gravity, were required
to be determined, on account of the influence of these areas
and these positions on the content of the displacement,
and the position of its centre of gravity, and also in con¬
sequence of their influence on the stability of the ship. It
must therefore be remembered, that if the results of these
previous calculations do not accord with the intentions of
the constructor, or are inadequate to the development of
his design, he must make such alterations in his curves or
in his dimensions as he may consider necessary, before pro¬
ceeding further with his design. And if he shall have suf¬
ficiently informed himself on the theory of ships, he will be
enabled to do so with considerable confidence at this stage
of his progress, as to the final result of his work.
We have before said that a body floating on a fluid is Conditions
supported by the upward pressure of that fluid. This body of equili-
will be in equilibrio when the direction of this upward pres-briuni of a
sure passes through the centre of gravity of the part of the !)0<^ fl°at-
body which is immersed in the fluid, and also through thejJ U1'd
centre of gravity of the body. These two centres will rest;) 1
therefore be in the same vertical line, and this vertical
line will be the line of intersection of the transverse verti¬
cal section in which the centres of gravity of the displace¬
ment and of the body are situated, with the longitudinal
236
SHIP-BUILDING.
Solids of
emersion
and im¬
mersion.
Theory, vertical section of the body. Consequently, when a ship
is floating on the water in a state of rest, and only acted
upon by the upward pressure of the water, the centres of
gravity of the ship and of the displacement are in the ver¬
tical middle line of the same transverse vertical section,
when act- But when the ship is inclined by the action of some second
ed upon by force, as that of the wind, a part of the body which was
force" Previously immersed is emerged, and a part which was
mg orce. {1|Jove t]ie surface 0f the water is immersed; consequently
the form of the portion of the body under the water is al¬
tered, and the centre of gravity of the displacement is car¬
ried over towards that side on which the increased immer¬
sion has taken place, while the position of the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship, with reference to its position in the ship,
has remained unaltered, that being the point about which
the revolution has taken place. But though the form of
that part of the ship’s body which is beneath the surface of
the water after the inclination, will differ from the form of
that which was beneath the surface before the inclination,
the total displacement will continue the same, since the
v/eight of the ship has not been either increased or dimi¬
nished by the inclination ; consequently the solid con¬
tent, or the displacement of that portion of the body which
is immersed by the inclination, will be exactly equal to the
solid content, or the displacement of that portion which is
emerged by the same cause. But the forms of these two
solids, which we shall call the solids of immersion and
emersion, are not necessarily similar, and therefore their
centres of gravity are not necessarily situated in the same
transverse vertical section of the vessel. If the centres of
gravity of these two solids should be situated in the same
transverse vertical section, the inclination of the ship will
be round her longitudinal axis ; but if the centre of gra¬
vity of the solid of immersion be situated either before or
abaft the transverse vertical section in which the centre of
gravity of the solid of emersion is situated, in either case
the motion of the ship in performing the inclination cannot
Their ef- be round an axis coincident with its longitudinal axis; and
feet on the the position of the centre of gravity of the displacement, in
centre of passing to leeward of the position which it occupied before
gravity of ^ jnciination took place, will be influenced by the rela-
‘ tive situations of the centres of gravity of these solids of
immersion and emersion. As this irregularity of motion
is injurious to the ship, it is desirable to obviate it by regu¬
lating the form of the body, both above and belowr the
load water-section, in sucli a manner that the centres of
gravity of the solids of immersion and emersion may be in
the same transverse vertical section of the ship. The form
of that part of the body situated above and below the load
water-line is also dependent upon the following considera¬
tions. Although the total displacement after the inclina¬
tion must necessarily be the same as that before the incli¬
nation, the shape of the ship’s body may be such that there
will be a tendency to immerse a greater or a less solid on
the one side than is emerged on the other ; which tendency
will have the effect of causing the axis of rotation, and con¬
sequently the centre of gravity of the ship, to rise or fall in
space during the inclination, and fall or rise in space dur¬
ing the return to the upright position; for since the total
displacement of the ship continues constant, the solid which
is actually immersed cannot exceed that which has emerged.
It is therefore evident that the existence and extent of
foot on the this motion must depend upon the position of the centre of
centre ot gravity of the ship, and also on the form of those parts sub-
rhe'shm0 jeet to a^ternate immersion and emersion. For the better
illustration of this point, we will suppose a ship of such a
form, that when she is floating upright on the water, her
sides between wind and water, that is, those parts of her
sides subject to the alternate immersion and emersion, are
vertical. We will first assume that the centre of gravity
of this ship is coincident with the centre of gravity of the
ment.
Their ef-
tke ship.
First case.
load water-section. In this case there will evidently be no Theor,
tendency in the ship either to rise or fall during the inclina-
tion, because the two prismatic solids intercepted between
the load water-sections before and after the inclination are
equal, and the axis of revolution of the ship is coincident with
the line of intersection of the two load water-sections. Now, Second
if we assume the centre of gravity of the ship to be situated case,
beneath the load water-section, and the inclination to take
place, this centre being the axis of inclination, there w ould
be a much larger solid immersed than was emerged, be¬
cause the line of intersection of the two load w'ater-sections
would be to windward of the longitudinal vertical section
of the ship ; but in order to restore the equilibrium be¬
tween the upward pressure of the water and the weight of
the ship, the axis of rotation or centre of gravity of the
ship must rise until these two solids become equal. Again, Thirdca;i
in the case when the centre of gravity of the ship is situ¬
ated above the load water-section, it will be evident that
the tendency of the inclination of the ship round it would
be to raise a larger solid out of the water than would be
immersed on the other side, unless the weight of the ship,
in its effort to restore the equilibrium between the upward
pressure of the water and itself, were to cause the centre
of gravity of the ship to be lowered until the two solids
became equal. Now, if we suppose the sides of this same General,
ship were formed in such a manner as to fall outwards fromconclu-
the load water-section upwards, we shall easily perceive,sions-
that in the case where the centre of gravity was supposed
to be beneath the load water-section, the injurious quality
would be increased; while in the case in which it was sup¬
posed that the centre of gravity w as above the load water-
section, it would be diminished. The foregoing examples
are sufficient to illustrate the principle on which this cause
of uneasiness of motion in a ship depends, and also to point
out the means which must be taken to obviate it. We
see, then, that it is essential, not only that the centres of
gravity of the solids of immersion and emersion should be
in the same transverse vertical section, but also that these
solids should be as nearly equal to each other at all incli¬
nations as possible, and that the greater the deviation from
equality between the solids of immersion and emersion, the
greater the stnain the ship will be subjected to, and the
greater will be the uneasiness of her motions.
In order to obviate this fault, it would be necessary to Adjust-
compute the exact position of the centre of gravity of the“entol
ship when completely ready for sea, that the correct Pris‘jj^36 90'
matic solids of immersion and emersion might be ascertain¬
ed and adjusted to equality, and to have their centres of
gravity in the same transverse vertical section. But the Labour
computation of the exact position of the centre of gravityaltendant
of a ship completely fitted is a task of such magnitude, and,on. 5^’
in consequence, of such hazard of incorrectness, that it cancentreof
scarcely be considered practicable. Its position must be de-gravity of
termined in relation to the three dimensions, length, breadth, ship,
and depth ; relatively to two of these, however, it is ascer¬
tained from the consideration that it is necessarily in the
same transverse vertical section as the centre of gravity of
the displacement, and that, as it must also evidently be in
the longitudinal vertical section of the ship, it must be in
the line of intersection of this transverse vertical section
with the longitudinal vertical section of the ship. But its
position in relation to the load water-section, if not deter¬
mined by experiment, must be ascertained by a most te¬
dious and laborious calculation of the moments of the weights
estimated from the load water-section, the sum-total of
which moments being divided by the displacement of the
ship, will give the perpendicular distance of the centre of
gravity from the load water-section. This process has been
gone through for several two-decked line-of-battle ships at
the late School of Naval Architecture, and it was ascertain¬
ed that the positions of their centres of gravity varied from
SHIP-BUILDING.
ieory. seven to nine inches above the load water-section. We
shall, in its proper place in this article, describe the manner
of finding experimentally the position of the centre of gra¬
vity of a ship, merely here premising, it is assumed gene¬
rally, that in ships of war the centre of gravity is rather
above the load water-section.
In almost all classes of vessels, several of the transverse
vertical sections on each side of the midship section are si¬
milar and equal to it, and generally the form of these sec¬
tions is such, that there would be but little disturbance, dur¬
ing the inclination of the ship, in the adjustments of the
solids of immersion and emersion ; but the sections before
and abaft these, as they approach the extremities, become
more dissimilar in those portions of them above and below
the load water-section; consequently, although, as has before
been said, the total volumes of immersion and emersion
must necessarily be equal, the areas of the sections of the
immersed and emerged solids, at any given transverse ver¬
tical section of the body, need not be equal; it becomes there¬
fore necessary to determine the position of the intersection
of the inclined load water-section with the load water-sec¬
tion of the ship in her upright position.
1 Her. Suppose G (fig. 1) to be the centre of gravity of the
i: line of ship, ABthe water-line
Fig. 1.
237
bolic area will be equal to two thirds the base multiplied in- Theory.
to its perpendicular height. The moment of each of these '' v '
areas may then be found by taking the sum of the product of
the area of the triangle multiplied into the distance of its
centre of gravity, estimated along the inclined line from
the point S ; and that of the product of the parabolic area
multiplied into the distance of its centre of gravity, also
estimated along the inclined line from the point S.
We have said, that when a ship is floating in equilibrium Explaua-
on a fluid, the vertical upward pressure of the fluid acts in110,1 of the
the straight line passing through the centres of gravity both fenn
of the displacement and of the vessel; but that when shellty‘
is inclined by the action of any force, as that of the wind,
the centre of gravity of the displacement is carried to lee
ward of its former position ; and as the vertical pressure up¬
wards of the fluid still takes place at the centre of gravity
of the displacement, its direction should also pass to leeward
of the position of the centre of gravity; and thus a force is
generated the tendency of which is to enable the ship to
recover her upright position. We will now investigate the
expression for the value of this force, in order to show the
principle on which the actual calculation of its amount in
ships is necessarily founded.
if sec- when she is upright
'°aj 0 and let it cut the ver-
y,., in. tical line GC in the
dload point D. From the
:r-sec- centre of gravity G
draw GY, making the
angle DGY equal to
the supposed angle of
inclination of the ship.
Take GY equal to GD,
and through the point
Y draw the line OR
perpendicular to GY.
Then 0 R is the water¬
line which the ship will
assume after the in¬
clination. Let this inclined water-line intersect the water¬
line AB in the point S. Through D draw NM paral¬
lel to OR. It is clear that, supposing the centres of gra¬
vity of the solids of immersion and emersion to be in the
same transverse section, in every vertical transverse sec¬
tion of the ship the distance DS will be the same, and the
several points S, S, S, will be in the straight line forming the
intersection of the two load water-sections, which line of
intersection will be parallel to the longitudinal axis. Now,
if, by a calculation of the contents of the solids of immer¬
sion and emersion, which are represented in the figure by
the triangles ASR and BSO, which contents may be calcu¬
lated by either of the rules for approximation, they are not
found to be equal, they must be altered until they become
so. In order to find the position of the point S, or the dis¬
tance DS, we have the area ASR equal to the area BSO,
which call equal to A, and let the area DSRM = a, and the
area DSON = b,
then ADM = A + «,
BDN = A — b,
and ADM — BDN = a -\-b = MNOR
= MN X ST nearly,
= MN X DS X sin. of inclin.
or ns--ADM-BDN
MN X sin. of inclin."
In order to obtain the areas of the sections of the pris-
matic solids, chords may be drawn in each, which will di¬
vide it into two others, a triangular and a parabolic area,
tne triangular area will be equal to half the product of the
oase multiplied into its perpendicular height. The para-
Investigation of a General Expression for the Stability of a
Ship, and Description of the Method of calculating the
Stability.
Let ABC (fig. 2) be the midship section of a ship, and
Fig. 2.
AC the line of its intersection with the surface of the water.
Suppose ac to be the same line when the ship is inclined,
K being the point of intersection of the twxo lines. Now,
by the inclination of the ship, of which we have taken the
midship section to be a representative, a solid will be im¬
mersed on the lee side of the longitudinal axis, and an equal
solid emerged on the weather side of the same axis. Call
these solids respectively I and E, and suppose them to be
concentrated in their respective centres of gravity. Let
the horizontal distance between the centres of gravity of
these two solids be b. Then, since the inclination of the
ship has had the effect of taking the solid E from the dis¬
placement on the weather side of the middle line, and lias
added the solid I to the displacement on the lee side of the
middle line, the same effect is produced as if the solid E
had been transferred to I; and the moment produced by this
transfer, which would be bl or iE, is the moment which is
actually produced in the horizontal direction along the dis¬
tance b.
Let G be the centre of gravity of the ship, F the centre
of gravity of the displacement when the ship is upright, O
238
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory, the centre of gravity of the displacement when the ship is
' v 'inclined. Draw OM perpendicular to ac. Then, after the
inclination, the line OM will be vertical. From t and G
draw FT and GV, perpendicular to OM, and from G draw
GZ parallel to MO, cutting FT in Z.
Now, when the ship has inclined so that the point O be¬
comes the centre of gravity of the displacement, the up¬
ward pressure of the water acts on the then vertical line
OM, with a force equal to the weight of the ship, because
it supports that weight; that is to say, with a force equal to
the displacement, which we will represent by D. But the
axis of revolution is the point G the centre of gravity, and
GV being drawn from this point perpendicular to the direc¬
tion OM in which the force acts, D the displacement multi¬
plied by GV, its perpendicular distance from the axis of ro¬
tation, will be the force exerted to right the ship, or make
it resume its upright position. But, by the construction,
D X GV = D X FT — D X FZ.
Now D X FT is the horizontal moment of the displacement
produced by the transfer of the solid from the weather to
the lee side of the middle line; it is therefore equal to the
horizontal moment 41, and consequently we have the effort
to right the ship, or the moment of stability, as it is called,
= 41 —DxFZ.
But if s be taken = sin. of inclination,
FZ =: s X rad, FG,
or if FG =: <4, then
General ex- moment of stability = 41 — Dy4w.
pression. Flence, in order to calculate the actual moment of stabi-
Its value. jjty 0f a vessel at a given angle of inclination,
1. Assume an inclined load water-section, cutting the
horizontal load water-section at an angle of which s is the
sine ; and suppose the assumed inclined and the horizontal
load water-sections to intersect each other in their common
intersection with the longitudinal vertical section of the ship.
2. Find, by the methods of approximation, the solid con¬
tents of the two prismatic solids of immersion and emersion,
intercepted between the segments of the inclined and the
horizontal load water-sections.
3. Find, by the method of approximating to the area of
plane surfaces, the area of the above-mentioned assumed
inclined section.
4. Find the value of DS (fig. 1), which has been shown to
be equal to the difference between the contents of the pris¬
matic solids of immersion and emersion, already found, di¬
vided by the product of the area of the assumed inclined
section, into s, the sine of the angle of inclination.
5. Through the point S draw a section parallel to the as¬
sumed inclined section; find in each vertical transverse sec¬
tion the areas of each of the sections of the true prismatic
solids of immersion and emersion; and also find the horizon¬
tal moments of these areas from the point S.
6. Find the horizontal distance of the centre of gravity
of the whole emerged solid from S, assuming the emerged
solid to be equal to half the sum of the two solids of immer¬
sion and emersion, which are intercepted between the seg¬
ments of the assumed inclined load water-section and the
horizontal load water-section.
7. Find also the horizontal distance of the centre of gra¬
vity of the whole immersed solid from S, assuming the im¬
mersed solid to be equal to half the sum of the same two
solids of immersion and emersion.
8. Add these two distances together; their sum will be
the horizontal distance between the centres of gravity of
the solids of immersion and emersion. Take the product
of this distance multiplied into half the sum of the solids of
immersion and emersion, and we shall have the value of the
positive part of the expression for the moment of stability,
or the value of 41.
9. The product of three quantities, the displacement, the
distance between the centres of gravity of the ship and of
the displacement, and the sine of the angle of inclination, Theon
will give the value of the negative part of the expression.
10. Subtract the value of the negative part of the ex¬
pression from that of the positive part, and the remainder
will be the value of the expression for the moment of sta¬
bility of the ship at the given angle of inclination.
It will be seen that the calculation of the moment of
stability of a ship is very laborious. Several of the steps
above enumerated in order, will, however, have been al¬
ready taken for other purposes. The calculations may be
considerably shortened by assuming a value for the distance
DS, or the distance that the point S is from the middle line
of the ship. We have already described the method of as¬
certaining this distance correctly, but generally it may be
assumed to be about two or three tenths ol a foot at first; and
if the solids of immersion and emersion are not found to he
equal, or very nearly so, with that assumption, anothei point
must be taken, either within or without the former, accord¬
ing as the solid of immersion or emersion is the lesser. If
e be the difference between the two solids, and a the area
of the first assumed inclined section, if x be the perpendi¬
cular distance between the true inclined section and the
section we have assumed, ax will equal e nearly, or # _
which distance must be set off perpendicularly to the as¬
sumed section, and we obtain the correct position of the
point S.
In order to determine the distance d between the centre
of gravity of the ship and the centre of gravity of the dis¬
placement, the distance of the centre of gravity of the ship
above or below the load water-line must be ascertained.
To avoid the labour attendant on obtaining the position of
this point by calculation, it may be determined experi¬
mentally in each class of ships of war when fully stowed and
equipped.
Method of ascertaining the Centre of Gravity of a Ship by
Experiment.
We shall describe two methods of performing this expe-On what
riment. The first of these was proposed by Chapman, and principle
he strongly recommended that it should be made on ships
of all classes. The principle on which it is founded is as
follows. Various weights on board are removed in a trans¬
verse direction, so as to cause the ship to incline ; and the
momentum of the total weight so removed will necessarily
be equal to the moment of stability. Now the momentum of
the weight removed will be equal to the product of the
Weights, the distance they are removed in a transverse di¬
rection, and the cosine of the angle of inclination ; which
quantity, therefore, is equal to the moment of stability. If
W represent the weights, a the distance they are removed,
and c the cosine of the angle of inclination ; then, 41 — Dtfs
being the expression for the moment of stability, we have
this equation,
W • a • c = 41 — Dcfc,
41 — W-a-c
••. a = ■
Di-
in which d, the distance between the centre of gravity of
the ship and the centre of gravity of the displacement, is
the only unknown quantity, and may therefore easily be
found. T, ]j,
We shall now describe the method by which this exPe' ^ ”,
riment was applied to determine the centre of gravity other
majesty’s ship sloop Scylla, of eighteen guns, and whic
was originally an eighteen-gun brig. She was lying in
Portsmouth harbour in May 1830, under the command o
Captain Hindmarsh, at whose request the experiment was
performed, by the late Mr Morgan of the School of Naval
Architecture, then a foreman of her majesty’s dock-yard a
Portsmouth, assisted by the writer of the present article.
SHIP-BUILDING.
239
ory.
These particulars are mentioned because it was the first, if
it be not the only, example, in this country, of determining
the position of the centre of gravity of a ship experimentally.
The draught of water was taken very correctly, the
water being smooth, and was found to be, forward eleven
feet six inches, abaft fourteen feet ten inches and a half.
The depth of the keel and false keels below the lower edge
of the rabbet of the keel was, forward one foot nine inches,
abaft one foot three inches. The ship was perfectly up¬
right, all the weights, inclusive of the crew, being equally
balanced on each side. A large quadrant marked to a scale
of degrees, with a plumb attached to the centre, was fixed
in the main hatchway, to measure the inclination. The
stations of the carronades and long gun on one side were
marked on the deck, they were then moved to the other
side, keeping them in the same transverse lines ; the shot,
the hammocks, and the crew, were also passed over to the
inclined side, under the same condition. The distance
which every weight had been moved was then measured.
The weight of the shot moved was known, the weights of
the long gun and the carronades were taken from the
weights marked on them, and the weights of the men and
hammocks were obtained by weighing them. The inclina¬
tion of the ship was then observed to be 6° 20'. The pro¬
duct of the weights which had been moved, multiplied into
the distances they had been moved in a transverse direc¬
tion, in feet, was equal to 264*5 tons. This moment, multi¬
plied into the cosine of the angle of inclination, was evi¬
dently equal to the moment of the stability of the ship.
Let D be the displacement of the ship in tons; I the vo¬
lume immersed by the inclination, also in tons; b the dis¬
tance between the volumes immersed and emerged; and d
the distance between the centres of gravity of the displace¬
ment and the ship.
Then M — dD x sin. 6° 20' = 264*5 x cos. 6° 20',
, bl — 264*5 X cos. 6° 20/
sin. 6° 20' D
By substituting the values of bl and D obtained by calcu¬
lation, in this expression, the value of d, the distance be¬
tween the centre of gravity of the displacement and the
centre of gravity of the ship, is obtained.
d =
446*2 — 262*8
50*85
— 3*6 feet.
The distance of the centre of gravity of the displacement
below the load water-line being equal to 3*97 feet, 3*97
— 3*6 = *37 will be the distance of the centre of gravity
of the ship below the load water-line at the time of mak¬
ing the experiment.
When the ship was at Spithead, completely fitted out,
with every thing on board that was deficient at the time of
making the experiment, and with her provisions and stores
for four months, the draught of water was again taken, and
found to be, forward twelve feet six inches, abaft fourteen
feet ten inches. The weights of all the articles brought on
board since the experiment amounted to 33*4 tons, and the
moment of these weights calculated above the water-line
at the time of sailing was =193 tons; the height of the
centre of gravity of the sails being estimated as in the case
of a top-gallant breeze.
The moment of weights below this water-line at the time
of making the experiment = 401 tons,
401 _ 193
494*4
= *42 feet.
Cor
ness
nxpt
douji
x he situation of the centre of gravity of the ship was *42
mot, or five inches, below the water-line, at the time of
} sailing.
the The correction to the result of this experiment which we
nent see had to be made at Spithead, in consequence of the ad-
W. ditiona) weight that had been taken on board after the ship
had left the harbour, must, from the great hurry incidental Theory,
to any observations made at the time of a ship’s sailing,v——v*—*
throw some doubt on the correctness of the final result; and
it would be therefore desirable that it should receive the
confirmation of a second trial on some similar ship, before
its being assumed as conclusive to be the correct position
of the centre of gravity of a sloop of war.
The second method vras proposed by Mr Abethell, aExperimen-
member of the late School of Naval Architecture, and was tal method
published in the second volume of the Papers on Naval Ar-
chitecture. It is applicable whenever a ship is taken intois lorKC('
dock with the under side of her keel deviating from paral¬
lelism with the upper surface of the blocks. This is almost
always the case; and it also not unfrequently occurs that
ships are docked “ all standing,” and with so large a por¬
tion of their armament and stores on board, that the cor¬
rection necessary to be made to the result which would be
obtained by the experiment and investigation about to be
described, in order to make that result agree with the cir¬
cumstances of any additional armament and equipment,
would be comparatively easy. We will now quote from the
article in question.
“We will suppose, by the falling of the tide in the dock,
the after-extremity of the keel to come first in contact with
the blocks ; then, as the tide continues to fall, the after-body
is gradually forsaken by the water, and the fore-body fur¬
ther immersed, a constant equilibrium being maintained be¬
tween the total weight of the ship and the pressure of the
water against the immersed part of the body, until the ship is
aground fore and aft. At any intermediate instant the ship
may be considered as a lever of the second kind, of which
the fulcrum is the transverse line or point of contact of the
keel and after-block, and the power and weight the weight of
the immersed volume and that of the ship respectively, each
acting in the vertical line passing through its centre of gra¬
vity. As we can, by mensuration and calculation from the
draught of the ship, easily find its weight, that of the im¬
mersed volume, and the perpendicular distance of the line
of pressure from the fulcrum ; in the equation of the mo¬
ments, the distance of the vertical line passing through the
centre of gravity of the ship is the only unknown quan¬
tity, which is therefore readily determined. AN (fig. 3)
Fig. 3.
represents the water-line corresponding to the floating po¬
sition of the ship, and KL the observed water-line just
previously to the fore-part of the keel touching the blocks.
The line PBO, perpendicular to AN, passes through the
centre of gravity of the displaced volume AFMN, and
consequently through that of the ship. Draw QH through
the centre of gravity of the volume KFML, perpendicular
to KL, and FG through the fulcrum F, parallel to QH
Then, putting the total displacement AFMN = V, KFML
= v, and GH = b; if the line SEC, parallel to QH, be
drawn at the distance GE from G equal to it will, as
well as PBO, pass through the centre of gravity of the ship,
which will be in O, the point of their intersection.
“To obtain from these considerations a general expres¬
sion for the perpendicular distance of the point O from the
240
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory, water-line AN, draw AD perpendicular to EG, and meet-
 v ' ing it, when produced, in D ; and, having calculated the
values of AB and GE, put AB DE or DG + GE — d,
and the angle of inclination between the water-lines AN
and KL = A ; then BO = (—+ <*)  ; which must
’ \cos. A /tan. A
be set off upon the perpendicular PBO, above or below AN,
Other me¬
thods.
Error in
the as¬
sumption
that the
vertical
pressure
necessarily
tends to
diminish
the incli¬
nation.
Three
cases.
according as  is greater or less than a.”
cos. A
There are several other methods by which the centre of
gravity of a ship may be found experimentally. One was
proposed by Don Juan d’Ulloa, a Spanish writer on naval
science, and a navigator and mathematician of very great
eminence, whose works are among the best extant on the
subject of the theory of ships. They have been translated
into French ; and the description and investigation of the
experiment for finding the centre of gravity of a ship has
been translated into English by Mr Read, in the Essays and
Gleanings on Naval Architecture, a periodical work con¬
ducted for a short time with great ability by Messrs Laire,
Read, and Chatfield, all members of the late School of Naval
Architecture. Another method was proposed by a student
at the same establishment, since dead, named Barton. 1 his
method was published in the fifth number of Papers on
Naval Architecture.
We have hitherto, throughout our investigations, assumed
that the vertical pressure upward of the water to support a
ship acting in the direction of its resultant, must exert a
force tending to resist the force of the wind by which we
have supposed the ship to be inclined. We shall now pro¬
ceed to show that this is not necessarily the case, but that
the tendency of this force may not be to act in the manner
we have hitherto assumed it as acting ; and that its effect is
dependent upon the position of the centre of gravity of the
ship, the point around which she is supposed to revolve in
inclining. There are three cases which may occur. The
first is, that the vessel, when acted upon by the force of the
wind, may assume a permanent inclination. This perma¬
nent inclination would ensue if the resultant of the upward
pressure of the water were, after the inclination, still to pass
through the centre of gravity of the ship. The second case
is that in which the vessel would recover the upright posi¬
tion immediately on the removal of the inclining force.
This would ensue whenever the resultant of the upward
pressure of the water, after the inclination, would pass on
the immersed or lee side of the centre of gravity of the
ship. The third case is that in which the effect of the ver¬
tical upward pressure of the water would be to increase the
inclination of the ship. This would ensue whenever the
direction of the resultant of the upward pressure would pass
on the emerged or weather side of the centre of gravity of
the ship. These three states of equilibrium, which arise
from these considerations, ai'e called the state of insensible
equilibrium, of equilibrium of stability, and of equilibrium
of instability.
On the Metacentre.
A limit to It is evident, from the foregoing considerations, that there
the posi- is some limit to the height of the centre of gravity of a
tion of ship, and below which it must necessarily be placed, in or-
centre of (jer that the upright position may be recovered; that is,
g slihy ° that the ship, when inclined by the force of the wind, may
a 81 be in an equilibrium of stability. The situation of this
point was first investigated by Bouguer, who called it the
metacentre, which name has been generally adopted by sub-
Height of sequent writers on naval architecture. Its height is deter-
metacentre. mined in the following manner : The vessel is supposed to
be inclined through an infinitely small angle of inclination,
that the intersection of the new load water-section with that
previous to the inclination may not be supposed to deviate
from the middle line of either, so that the infinitely small
solids of immersion and emersion may be considered to be
equal to each other. I hen the point in which the new line of
direction of the vertical upward pressure of the water will
cut the line of direction of the same vertical pressure be¬
fore the inclination, is the point beneath which the centre
of gravity must necessarily be situated to insure the vessel s
floating on the water in the equilibrium of stability.
In order to determine the height of the metacentre above
the centre of gravity of the displacement, let the half
breadth at the water-line AB of the midship section ADB
(fig. 4) = y. Let E be the centre of gravity of the dis-
Tlieo
Fig. 4.
placement before the inclination, F the centre of gravity of
the displacement after the inclination, and let ab be the
new water-line ; then through E and F draw EG and FG
respectively perpendicular to the water-lines AB and ab.
They will meet each other in some point G. G, the point
of their intersection, is the metacentre, and EG is the height
of the metacentre above the centre of gravity of the dis¬
placement.
The triangles AC«, BC6 are equal, by the conditions
of the construction; and if x be the length of the pris¬
matic solids of immersion and emersion, ACa * dx and
BC6 • rfa are equal, and may be supposed to be concen¬
trated in their respective centres of gravity M and N, MN
being by construction —y. Then the moment of the trans¬
fer of the solid of emersion to the position of the solid of
immersion r= BC6 • Let Aa — V>b—b. But the
triangle BC6 therefore the moment of immersion
— j^f-bdx, thereforeJ'^fbdx — D • EF; but
FF
6:y::EF:EG.-.6 = lsy.
EG
By substituting and multiplying both sides by
/I^ = D'EG, /i^ = EG.
The height of the metacentre is the measure of stability A measi
used by the French naval architects, and indeed gene-0 sa
rally by all since the first investigation of its principles by
Bouguer in his Traite du Navire. The error in its prac¬
tical application is, that the investigation involves the erro¬
neous supposition, that the transverse sections of the im¬
mersion and emersion are right-angled triangles, and that
the horizontal distance between their centres of gravity is
two thirds the breadth of the load water-line. Ihese as-
SHIP-BUILDING.
heory. sumptions are only true at an infinitely small angle of incli-
nation, and at such only, therefore, is the height of the me-
ifinitely tacentre a correct measure of stability. Atwood, who pub-
241
On the Principal Dimensions of a Ship.
Theory.
. Vi*vA Lll vJ V7J. ol/dL/111• jTjl 1/W VVIIU JJL1U™
J. lcih^.eSlishcd two papers on the stability of floating bodies, in the
vood’s
i soiling
t, the in-
Philosophical Transactions for the years 1796 and 1798,
was the first who pointed out the error in the metacentric
measure of stability, and who proved that it was neces¬
sary to involve the actual content immersed or emerged,
and the correct distance between the centres of gravity of
the solids of immersion and emersion, in the expression,
in order to apply it to the measuring the stability of bodies
at finite angles of inclination. It is therefore to him that
the theory of ships is indebted for the correct solution of
the problem on which the stability at finite angles of incli¬
nation depends.
Atwood agrees with Bouguer in his general reasoning on
the metacentre, and even admits that it may be used at
very small angles of inclination, as a sufficiently accurate
In a ship of war the efficiency of the armament is neces- Dimen-
sarily the primary object of the design ; this must therefore sions de-
determine the dimensions: also, whether in a fleet or in P?ntlent on
a single ship, the greatest effective force must be obtained “lsPlace*
, rednessmeasure tjie stability; but asserts the danger of its ap
hisraea-
] ctieat
t
G
ct
l j '   e
plication to practice as a measure at all angles. He shows
that two ships may have precisely the same load water-sec¬
tion, which, supposing the relative distance between the
centres of gravity of the ship and of the displacement equal
in both ships, will determine the height of the metacentre
to be the same, and consequently, according to the meta¬
centric theory, the stability to be equal; and yet, from a
difference in the forms of the ships’ bodies within the limits
of the immersion and emersion, the moments of stability,
when correctly measured, may be very different. But while
gene- we state this as the result of Atwood’s inquiry, wre must ob-
umm-gerve, that the practical error between the metacentric me-
1 a thod of Bouguer, and the certainly correct method investi¬
gated by Atwood, is not of any importance for small angles
of inclination, especially in large ships ; and further, that a
constructor who is acquainted with Atwood’s investigations,
and who is therefore aware of the correct principles on which
the stability of ships depends, may safely apply the meta¬
centric method in his practice, as his bodies will be formed
in accordance with the results of Atwood’s investigations.
It will only be in cases of some important alteration from
previously existing form, dimensions, or services, that the
labour attendant on the calculations involved in Atwood’s
expression will be necessary.
The question may probably be stated to resolve itself
usiens. nearly into this. That ships might be built, in which the
stabilities calculated by the two methods would vary very
considerably; also, that at very great angles of inclination
the stabilities of ships, such in form as are sometimes built,
would be found to differ very greatly when calculated by
the two methods, but that a constructor acquainted with both
methods would never construct a ship, using only the me¬
tacentric method in the progress of his work, which would
be proved unstable if Atwood’s calculations were applied to
the finished design. 1
In applying the expression to find the height
iral
of the metacentre, we may again have recourse to the
rules of approximation. The common rule for obtaining
the area of a plane surface may be applied, substituting the
cubes of the ordinates of the load water-section instead of
the ordinates themselves.
The result will be the value of ifdx, and two thirds of this
value divided by the displacement will give the height of the
metacentre above the centre of gravity of the displacement.
the reader who wishes to refer to cases of stability as
connected with particular forms, should consult Atwood’s
papers m the Philosophical Transactions, or rather Mr
IlCiiCi S Rnlf* cimrO4.1  • . i
able simplification of them in the Essays and
j eanings on Naval Architecture, and also his Disquisition
on the Metacentre, in Papers on Naval Architecture.
VOL. XX.
at the least expense; or, as when ships are built, masted,
rigged, and their armament completed, all of similar mate¬
rials, their expenses will vary as their displacements, the
object to be attained is the greatest effective force with the
least displacement.
But there is another point involved in the question of the Variable
efficiency of the armament, which very materially influences quantities
the displacement. It is the time for which a ship is intend- to cou>-
ed to maintain her armament in an efficient state, without P|ete Ioat,‘
other aid than that which she can carry. This brings us to
the consideration of the variable quantities which are to be men
added to those before enumerated, to complete the load-dis¬
placement. The crew is dependent on the armament alone,
and therefore is included in the term armament. But the
provisions for this crew, and the stores for the wear and
tear of the ship and the service of the guns, are dependent
on the time that the ship is intended to remain at sea with¬
out replenishing these resources. It is evident, that the
longer this time, the greater must be the displacement, and,
consequently, the larger should be the dimensions in pro¬
portion to the armament.
It results, from the foregoing reasoning, that the nation Practical
with the most wide-spread possessions, and therefore the advantages
most frequent opportunities for refitting and replenishing attending
her fleets, has the advantage over all others. For she may w‘de-spread
maintain equal armaments at less expense, or superior ar- Possessions-
maments at an equal expense ; while she may also avail her¬
self, in the one case, of additional velocity, which may be
attained with the diminished displacement.
Many arguments might be deduced from the same con¬
siderations in favour of the principle of occasionally design¬
ing specific ships for specific services. These of course
would only apply to the fleets of those nations which aspire
to wide-spreading and predominant naval power.
We shall now offer some general remarks on the two di-Length and
mensions, the length and the breadth. It will be evident, breadth,
from the foregoing observations, that the minimum length |!nder what
is the space required for the perfectly efficient working 0fhmitaUon-
the guns, and that the minimum breadth is the space re¬
quired for their recoil and effective service, without hind¬
rance to the manoeuvres of the vessel, in the most disad¬
vantageous state of weather during which they can be used.
This consideration necessarily involves a defined and a suf¬
ficient moment of stability. These minima are the dimen¬
sions due to the ship when masted and rigged, and with her
armament completed: any increase is dependent on the dis¬
placement necessary for the additional stowage that may
be required for a specific time of service, longer than that
time for which the ship, as thus determined, would be ade¬
quate. Then the increased dimensions due to this increas¬
ed displacement being ascertained, under the same condi¬
tions of perfect efficiency in the vessel, any increase of one
dimension must be followed by a diminution of the other;
or the displacement, and consequently the expense, will
be above the limit required for the armament.
We shall now proceed to show the effect on the quali- Effect of
ties of the vessel, of the separate increase of either dimension; increase;
always premising, that in each case all things else are sup¬
posed to remain the same, excepting the dimension under
consideration. First, then, the length. The displacement, of length,
the stability, and the resistance to leeway, vary directly as
the length ; therefore we increase all these qualities in pro¬
portion to the additional length. But we also increase the
violence of pitching and ’scending; for the momenta of the
weights in the fore and after bodies vary as the squares of
2 H
. ^
SHIP-BUILDING.
242
Theory, their distances from the axis of rotation, consequently we
v ’ v J increase the strain on the combinations of the structure ;
and as the strength to resist this strain varies inversely as
the length, we diminish the power to resist this increased
strain. By an increase in the length we also increase the
effect of the resistance of the water to the rotation of the
vessel in the manoeuvres of tacking, wearing, and other
changes of her course.
of breadth* By increasing the breadth, and by breadth we mean the
whole breadth of that part of the body included in the li¬
mits of the immersions and emersions, we increase the
stability, which varies as the cube of the breadth. Also,
the angular momenta of the weights, estimated from the
axis of rotation, vary as the squares of their distances from
that axis, and the momentum of the stroke of a wave is in¬
creased in the same proportion; therefore the increase of
stability is accompanied by increased violence in the mo¬
tions, and consequent increased strain on the combinations
and materials of the structure, and especially danger to the
masts, by which the safety of the vessel may be compro¬
mised. The stability of a ship being the quality on which
the efficiency of her armament is essentially dependent, and
which also, by enabling her to carry a press of sail in cir¬
cumstances of danger, as a lee shore, or an enemy of supe¬
rior force, is essential to her safety ; the only limit to its
increase is involved in the consideration of easiness of mo¬
tion. But if this consideration be neglected, and the
breadth be such that the moment of stability in proportion
to the moment of sail is so large, or of such sudden increase,
that the masts are endangered or the combinations of the
structure prematurely destroyed, the object tor which a
large moment of stability was desirable is frustrated. The
breadth, therefore, is limited by easiness of motion.
By increase of breadth we increase the stowage, which
varies as the breadth; but since the direct resistance to
the progress of the vessel also varies as the breadth, in this
case we do not gain increase of stowage without an increase
of the direct resistance.
Having thus pointed out in general terms the effects of
an increase either of length or breadth, we shall quote from
a very able article in the fifth number of Papers on Naval
Architecture, written by Mr Bennet, a member of the abo¬
lished School of Naval Architecture, containing some more
particular observations on the breadth of vessels in proportion
Small ships to their armament and in relation to their stability. “ The
should capacities of ships increase as the cubes of their dimensions,
have great-whereas the stability increases as the fourth powder of their
er relative (hraensions. The inference to be drawn from this is, that
thankr ’■e sma11 shiPs s!i0ul(’ have greater relative breadth than large
ships.
ships. This, however, must be understood with certain limi¬
tations : it may be a general, but not an universal truth.
Were all ships homogeneous ; thus, if a navy consisted en¬
tirely of corvettes, the corvette of eighteen guns ought to
be relatively broader than the corvette of 120 guns: this
is a rule without any exception. It may be farther observ¬
ed from the previous remarks, that the corvette of eighteen
guns should be relatively broader than the three-decked
ship of 120 guns ; but if a ship were built to carry 120 guns
on four or even on five decks, her relative breadth should
then approximate to, and should most likely exceed, that
of the corvette, in order to insure sufficient stability. The
consideration of this simple case may tend to elucidate the
principles of stability when applied to cases of greater diffi¬
culty. If a three-decked ship of 120 guns is to carry the
same force on a greater number of decks, her absolute
length would of course be reduced; and supposing her
breadth to remain the same, the positive part of the expres¬
sion of stability would be thereby diminished. The dis¬
placement, which is one element of the negative part of
the expression, would probably remain nearly the same, as
the additional weight of topside might counterbalance the
reduction of weight occasioned by less length. It the dis- Theor
placement be equal in each case, the draught of water 'w‘y7
would be increased from the diminution of length; this
would lower the centre of gravity of displacement, which,
together with the centre of gravity of the ship being raised
by the additional weight above the water, would increase
the distance between the centre of gravity of the ship and
that of the displacement. On the whole, therefore, the po¬
sitive part of the expression would be diminished and the
negative part increased, so that the stability would be less
in a ship of the same force and breadth as another ship,
but which carried her guns on a greater number of decks.
“ Having seen the necessity, in the case of a ship carrying
the same number and weight of guns as another ship, but
on more decks, of increasing the breadth, in order to avoid
a deficiency of stability, we may evidently trace the same
principle existing between the largest ship of an inferior
class, and the least ship of a superior class, in which, if the
number of guns be not equal, it approximates sufficiently to
make the application apparent; so that in the several gra-Leastv-
dations of corvettes, frigates, two-decked ships, and three-sel of e ,
decked ships, the least vessel of each class is liable to be classic
wanting in stability, from its small comparative dimensions™^1
not sufficiently counteracting the effect of additional decks
and guns. In this case, therefore, above all others, particu¬
lar care should be taken to give sufficient breadth to com¬
pensate for a tendency to deficiency in stability; so that,
without much liability to error, we may conclude,—
“ 1st, That the small frigate should be relatively broader General
than the large corvette. conclu-
“ 2d, That the small two-decker should be relativelysl0nSl
broader than the large frigate.
“ 3d, That the small three-decker should be relatively
broader than the large two-decker.
“ Between each of these varieties there will be a certain
point, if the expression may be used, where the superior
and inferior classes of ships should have the same ratio ot
length to breadth. This arises from the enlargement of their
dimensions increasing the stability in a greater proportion
than the weight of additional decks and guns diminishes the
stability. Thus,
“ 4th, The middling-sized frigate should have the same
ratio of length to breadth as the large corvette.
“ 5th, The middling-sized two-decker should have the
same ratio of length to breadth as the large frigate.
“ 6th, The middling-sized three-decker should have the
same ratio of length to breadth as the large two-decker.
“ As corollaries from the first three observations, we may
remark,
“ 7th, That the large corvette should be relatively broader
than the large frigate.
“ 8th, That the large frigate should be relatively broader
than the large two-decker.
“ 9th, That the large two-decker should be relatively
broader than the large three-decker.”
The depth or draught of water is more dependent on Draught
local circumstances than on accurate principles. A fleet watery
intended to traverse the Atlantic may have far different i
draughts of water from the ships of one that is destined for
the Baltic. Cruizers for the open seas may be much deeper
than those intended to watch an enemy’s coast.
The average light draught of water which a ship will May e'
swim at, or the average load draught of water that will be
found necessary for her, may be easily and accurately ap¬
proximated to by means of the calculations of the displace¬
ment which have been already explained.
The actual water-line, with the difference of draught ot
water which it may be considered necessary to insure to
the vessel, may also be approximated to in the design of a
ship, or approximately determined from the drawing of a
ship already designed, on the following principle. Suppose
SHIP-BUILDING.
243
ieory. the body of the vessel to be divided, at the vertical trans-
' verse section passing through the centre of gravity of the
displacement, into two, the fore and after bodies; then, if the
depths of the centres of gravity of the displacements of the
two parts of the vessel below the assumed water-line be
determined, a line joining these centres of gravity will ne¬
cessarily be nearly parallel to the seat which the vessel will
assume in the water.
Tables have been formed by Mr Cradock, a member of
the late School of Naval Architecture, for facilitating the
stowage of the ballast in ships, in order that they may sail at
a determinate trim. These tables, being deduced from vari¬
ous ships in her majesty’s service, afford approximations for
similar vessels ; but when there is a dissimilarity in size and
form, we quote from the preliminary remarks to the tables,
“in order to place the ballast in such a position, that when
all the weights are on board no alteration in it shall be ne¬
cessary. The difference between the light draught of water,
and that to which it may be proposed to bring the ship
when fully equipped, being known, the centre of gravity of
this part of the displacement may be found. And if through
this point a transverse vertical plane be supposed to pass,
the ballast must be so placed that its moment from it, to¬
gether with the moments from the same plane of all the
other weights put on board, may be equal to nothing.” The
length of these calculations is a convincing proof of the
value of such approximating tables.
It is almost an universal custom in all vessels to give a
1 ierence greater draught of water abaft than forward. Occasional
o 2 atte™Pts have been made t0 discontinue this practice, as in¬
volving a supposed unnecessary increase in the water re¬
quired for floating a ship ; but the increased draught of water
for the after-body has been reverted to as essentially requi¬
site in practice.
There are several minor advantages which result from
I idvan- this arrangement; such as the more easy and unchecked
flow of the water to the rudder, and its consequent increased
effect in governing the motions of the ship; also the di¬
minution ot the negative resistance which the vessel would
otherwise experience from the greater difficulty with which
the flow of water would fill the vacuity caused by the pas¬
sage of the vessel, if the fulness of the after-body were such
as would be required to preserve an even draught of water;
and again, the adjustment of the resultant of the resistance
of the water to that position of the masts which experience
has determined to be requisite for the facility of manoeuvring
the sails. But the principal reason for the inequality in the
draught of water appears to be the advantage which results
from it to the more easy regulation of the motions of the
vessel by an adjustment of the resultant of the resistance of
the water on the lee side when on a wind.
This will be more apparent in a future portion of this ar¬
ticle, in which we shall consider the forces which act on a
ship when in motion. The idea intended to be conveyed
is, that the flatness of the after-body along the deadwood
may be considered as a reserve of lateral resistance, to be
brought into operation whenever the pressure of the water
on the lee-bow would otherwise draw the resultant of the
water too far forward.
, dimensions of the merchant-shipping of England
si( i'”f T*ve.b?eP so shackled by the operation of the tonnage laws,
1)11 hant- t lat *S *.n Va*n t0 exPect t0 dnd in their proportions any ap-
sh . proximation even to those which experience has proved are
most advantageous for safety and for velocity. We take
A .. owing table from Hedderwick’s Treatise on Marine
Architecture, which being the most modern work on the
mercantile navy, we presume contains details of the most
modern practice.
‘‘Sloop Margaret, 60 tons, breadth to length as34-8 to 100.
t< ^mack Regent, 142 tons, breadth to length as 34-2 to 100.
Smack Matchless, 170 tons, breadth to length as 33-4 to 100
“ Smack Royal Sovereign, 204 tons, breadth to length as 32-0 Theorv.
to 100. W-vw
“Schooner Charlotte, 101 tons, breadth to length as 31*5
to 100.
“ Schooner Glasgow, 155 tons, breadth to length as 31’0
to 100.
“ Brig Down Castle, 149 tons,breadth tolengthas 30-0 to 100.
“Brig William Young, 303 tons, breadth to length as 28-6
to 100.
“ Ship Mary, 368 tons, breadth to length as 27-9 to 100.
“ Ship Albion, 505 tons, breadth to length as 25*10 to 100.
“ The average depth of the sloops and smacks is about
five ninths of their breadth; schooners and brigs, from se¬
ven twelfths to three fourths; and large brigs and ships,
from three fourths to two thirds.”
This immense proportionate depth is the natural result
of the old rule for calculating the tonnage ; according to
which tonnage the worth of the ship was estimated, and all
the dues and duties levied. The rule involved only the di¬
mensions of length and breadth, and consequently left the
depth to be increased without limit, or rather with no other
limit than the depth of the harbours the vessel was destined
to trade to. Now, Chapman, in the Architectura Navalis
Mercatoria, gives an expression to which he says the velocity
Bl • L4
may be considered proportional: it is — ; in which B
represents the breadth, L the length, and D the depth to
the bilge; from which expression it is evident the depth
is the dimension the most detrimental to the velocity. Valu¬
able tables of some of the elements of design of the present
classes of merchant-ships have been published by Mr Par¬
sons, formerly of the School of Naval Architecture, under
the title of Scales of Displacements.
Investigation of the Forces which act on a Ship when in
Motion, as they influence her Form and Qualities.
We have now described the methods by which the seve- Prehmina-
ral calculations for determining the elements of the design ^)^)Serva'
for a ship may be performed ; and have also pointed out, in
general terms, the dependence of the several principal di¬
mensions upon each other, and their respective influence
on the qualities of a vessel. We shall proceed to offer
some more particular remarks on the forces of the wind on
the sails and of the water on the hull when the ship is in
motion, and investigate some of the principal phenomena
of their action ; as it is only by a consideration of the in¬
fluence of these forces on the motions of the vessel that
the naval architect can form a correct idea of the essential
requisites for the design of a ship’s body, or the position or
proportion of the masts, the area of the sails, and the posi¬
tion of their centre of effort. The investigations into which Questions
we shall enter in this portion of the subject may perhaps be interesting
found in some cases equally useful to the sailor as to the alike to the
naval architect, as he will trace in them the means for de-sailor and
veloping the powers of the vessel he may command, or ofthe ?aval
obviating by the appropriate remedy any error inherent toarchltect-
her design or equipment.
The motion of pitching is generally the most violent ac- pitching
tion to which a ship is subjected, and the most injurious,and ’scen-
both to the connection between the parts of her structure, ding,
and the velocity of her sailing. It is the longitudinal mo¬
tion, caused by the variable support afforded to the body
by the waves as the vessel passes over them when on
a wind, and by the constant action of the gravity of the
unsupported part of the body to recover the state of equi¬
librium which, before the commencement of the motion,
had existed between it and the buoyancy of the fluid.
1 he motion will continue as long as the course of the ves¬
sel remains the same in relation to the set of the seas, and
244
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory, as long as the inequality of the surface of the water con-
' tinues; but when the direction of the wind on the vessel
becomes such that she no longer meets and passes over
the seas, so that it may be said to act in conjunction with
gravity, in offering a constant opposition to the vessel’s
oscillations, the motion will cease. For these causes, the
pitching motion can only exist to any great extent when a
vessel is on a wind : then, its force will depend on the de¬
gree of inequality of the surface of the water, on the quick¬
ness or slowness of the succession of the waves, on the di¬
rection in which they strike the bow of the vessel, and on
the shape of the bow, as this greatly influences the degree
of violence with which it meets the water, and the resistance
it opposes to submersion.
may be di- The least injurious action of pitching occurs when the
minished, state of the sea is such that the motion of the ship may be
supposed to take place round a line passing through its centre
of gravity as a fixed axis of rotation ; for then the motion
may be compared to the oscillations of a pendulum, and its
extent may, in a great degree, be regulated by either increas¬
ing or diminishing the length of the isochronal pendulum,
according as the state of the sea appears to require the oscil¬
lations to be made in longer or shorter periods. These effects
may be severally produced, by removing weights further from,
or by approaching them nearer to, the axis of rotation ; that
is, by increasing or diminishing the moments of inertia of the
fore and after parts of the body round its axis of rotation.
But it is, as has before been said, only in some states of
the sea that the pitching motion in a vessel can be compared
to the oscillations of a body round a fixed axis of rotation
passing through its centre of gravity, and where the mo¬
ments of inertia of both the fore and after bodies oppose
the motion ; for, under many of the circumstances of heavy
seas, though, at the commencement of the motion, the axis
of rotation may pass through the centre of gravity of the
ship, it will pass abaft it as the wave passes aft. In this
case, then, the moment of inertia of the body before the
axis of rotation, which, when this axis passed through the
centre of gravity, was equal to the sum of the particles in
that body multiplied by the squares of their distances from
the axis of rotation, will become, at any instant afterwards,
when the axis of rotation shall have passed abaft the centre of
gravity, increased, by the difference between this quantity
and the sum of the products of the particles in the then fore¬
body, multiplied by the squares of their distances from the
new axis of rotation ; consequently the moment of inertia of
the fore-body will be constantly increasing until the end of
the motion, while the moment of inertia of the part abaft
the axis of rotation will be constantly diminishing, under
the same limits; that is, the force which has an injurious
effect on the violence of the pitching increases, while that
which diminishes its violence decreases. As the direction
of the motion of the waves is opposed to that of the vessel,
the momentum with which the bow of the ship will meet
the sea at the expiration of the motion, is equal to the sum Theory
of the momenta of the bow and the sea ; and this impulse Y’’v
is often so great in practice, as to be sufficient completely
to check, for several seconds, the motion of the vessel in
her course. Frequent recurrences of these shocks must, Evils re.
therefore, not only be extremely injurious to the strength suiting
of the fabric of the ship, but must materially affect her Pr°- vj°j
o-ress through the water,and may even, in some situations, in¬
volve her safety, from the increased liability of shipping seas,
especially in deep-waisted vessels ; and also, unless a ship
can contend with advantage against a head sea, her chance
of escaping the danger of a lee shore must be considerably
diminished, as in such a situation her safety would in a great
measure depend on the possession of that property.1 J
From these considerations, it is evident that every alter-Angular
ation which can be made to diminish the extreme violence
of this motion, when it takes place under the circumstances
which have been described, either by lessening the mo¬
ment of inertia of the fore-part of the ship, or by giving
that part the form which will the most conduce to render
its impact with the water more gradual, must be advanta¬
geous with respect to the velocity, to the preservation of
the strength of the ship, and even to the increasing the
safety of the crew. But since the bow of a ship is subject¬
ed to shocks of such a violent nature, it must necessarily
consist of a vast combination of materials to insure an ade¬
quate degree of strength to resist them : great care, how¬
ever, should be taken that there be not more weight than
this renders absolutely necessary. These considerations A limit t
point out at once one limit to the position of the masts; for |he P°S1-
it is evidently desirable that the weight of the fore-mast and
the pressure of the head-sails should act with as little inju¬
rious effect in increasing the violence of the pitching, as
is consistent with the necessity for head-sail; this will be
better understood as we proceed with our investigation of
the various forces which act on a ship when in motion.
When the ship is under sail, there are two forces acting Resultar
on it; the one, the force of the wind on the sails, to propel of forces,
the ship ; and the other, the resistance the water opposes to
her motion. These forces, immediately the ship has acquired
the velocity due to the strength of the wind, are equal, and,
as is the case with all forces, may each be reasoned on as if
acting on only one point of the surface over which its effect Centres ■
is diffused. This point is that in which, if the whole force e 01 ‘
were to be concentrated, its effect would be the same as
when dispersed over the whole area : it is usual to call these,
“ resultants of forces,” and the points on which they are
supposed to act, “ centres of effort.”
From what has been before said, the resultant of the force Action of
of the wind on the sails, and the resultant of the force of^
the water on the hull, are equal; the one acting on the^ate’ron
weather side of the ship, in the direction into which the the hull,
force of the wind resolves itself, and the other opposed to
it, acting on the lee side, in the direction into which the
1 Mr Kenwood, a member of the late School of Naval Architecture, has advanced some new views on the subject of the pitching and
’scending motions in ships, which we think of sufficient importance to endeavour to explain. They are as follow,—that these longi¬
tudinal motions of a ship depend both on the form of the immersed part of the body, and on the positions of the various weights
which compose the lading or equipment; and the form of a ship, and the positions of the weights, determine the situation of the
centre of gravity through which the axis of the pitching and ’scending motions passes. It is the position of this point or axis which,
Mr Henwood has stated and endeavoured to show, might and ought to be so determined in all ships, that the pitching and scending
motions would be diminished to the lowest possible degree. . , .
In order to construct a ship on this principle, the fore-part of the ship, viz. that before the centre ot gravity, would be lormea in
the usual manner ; but the after-part would be constructed so as to have precisely the same cubic content as the fore-body, and its
centre of gravity at the same distance from the centre of gravity of the ship as that of the fore-body.
In the stowage of a ship thus constructed, the weights must be so disposed that one half of the total weight ot the ship and her
equipment may be on each side of the vertical and transverse plane, through the centre of gravity.
The object intended to be gained by the fulfilment of the above conditions is, that a ship should perform her longitudinal or pitch¬
ing motions exactly as she does her lateral or rolling motions ; and that as there is the same tendency to roll either side equally
deep, so there should be a like tendency of the fore and after ends to pitch and ’scend. The pitching and Vending motions would,
Mr Henwood considers, thus be reduced to a minimum, and the velocity of sailing retarded in the least possible degree.
This proposed desideratum in the construction of ships is irrespective of the form of the midship section, or of the water-lines, Ac-
It is simply the constructing of one end of a ship upon the basis of the other end, so as to insure the attainment of the object in view,—
the least possible degree of pitching and ’scending.
SHIP-BUILDING.
ieory. force of the water resolves itself; and their effect is neces-
' -v—^ sarily in proportion to their distance from the centre of gra¬
vity. If they are equally distant, they will destroy each
other, and the ship will remain at rest with respect to the
line of its course ; if the resultant of the resistance of the
water passes before the resultant of the wind, the ship will
turn to the wind ; but if the resultant of the wind passes
before that of the water, the effect will be the contrary,
and the ship will fall off from the wind. In either case it
will be necessary to equalize the forces, by the action of the
water on the rudder, on its lee side, to bring the resultant of
the water more aft, and on its weather side to destroy a
part of the effect of the wind. This is the principle of the
action of the wind on the sails, and of that of the water on
the hull, with respect to the course of the ship through the
water ; and it is on these considerations only that the va¬
rious alterations can be regulated, which it may from time
to time be necessary to make in the trim either of the sails
or of the ship; and hence the accurate determination of
the positions and directions of these two forces is a point
of great importance in naval architecture. The position of
the centre of effort of the wind on the sails may be found
under certain reservations ; and that being known, enough
is determined to lead to correct conclusions on the other
circumstances attendant on the subject.
(re nf In order to find the distance of the centre of effort of the
, t; rt of wind on the sails before the centre of gravity of the ship, the
v ilbefore montlgntof eacjj sajj jg calculated by multiplying its area by
''it °of ^ie h°rizontal distance of its centre of gravity from that of the
I, ' ship; the sum of the negative moments, or those abaft the
centre of gravity of the ship, is then subtracted from the sum
of the positive moments, or those before the centre of gravity
of the ship; the remainder is then divided by the total area
of the sails, and the result gives the required distance of the
centre of effort of the wind on the sails before the centre of
<1 r- gravity of the ship. The situation of this point with respect
r esposi-t0 the length of the vessel must determine in a considerable
j *s° degree the positions of the masts ; for experience has proved,
that it is among the most essentially requisite good qualities
of a ship, that she shall carry a weather helm.
1 ct of It does not at first appear evident why the rudder should
r k1,1 have more effect on the ship when it meets the water on
one side of the middle line, than it has when put to an
equal angle on the other side; the reason has, however,
been partially explained by several writers on naval archi¬
tecture, from the consideration of the direction of the mo-
t> loifn" t'on a S^‘P through the water. Among these Don Juan
j n has been the most explicit. The reasoning he pursues is as
follows: That as a great portion of the force of the wind, in
all oblique courses, tends to drive the ship bodily to lee¬
ward, and as this effect cannot by any means be wholly
destroyed, the true course of the ship is not in the direction
of its own middle line, but in that of a line passing from the
lee bow to the weather quarter, parallel to the ship’s wake ;
and he supposes that the fluid meets the rudder in the di¬
rection of this line of lee-way, both on the lee and weather
side of the ship; and that therefore, when the helm is a-
weather, the angle of incidence of the fluid on the rudder
is equal to the sum of the angle of lee-way, and the an¬
gle made by the direction of the rudder with the middle
line of the ship ; while, when the helm is a-lee, the angle of
incidence is only equal to the difference between these two
angles, and that therefore, when they are equal to each other,
this difference vanishes, and all action of the water on the
rudder ceases; and this, under Don Juan’s suppositions,
would occur when the rudder was in the direction of the
line of lee-way. And hence, as the most advantageous ge¬
neral position for the rudder is that in which, by offering
no obstacle to the passage of the water, it offers no resist¬
ance to the velocity of the ship, and yet may by the least
variation from this inactive position be brought to act effec¬
245
tively, it follows, either that Don Juan’s reasoning is in- Theory,
correct, or that the most advantageous general position for
the helm should be a-lee. But experience proves, thatjj^1’®'
with the helm a-lee, the rudder would not have the effect not lr°e
on the ship wdiieh has been described ; therefore, although ,)rac_
Don Juan’s reasoning shows the main principle of the greater tice.
effect of the rudder when it is to leeward of the middle line
of the ship, than when it is inclined at an equal angle to
windward of the middle line of the ship, it is insufficient to
account for the fact, that the general position of the helm Error in
should be a-weather; indeed his reasoning, on the contrary, the preli-
proves that it should be a-lee ; which error arises from the tmriur>' as*
incorrectness of the assumption which he makes, that the uinhli "!
fluid meets the rudder on the weather side of the ship, in
the direction of the line of lee-way. Now when a ship is on
a wind, her course, we have said, is along a line passing from
the lee bow to the weather quarter, which line is also that of
the direction in which the ship impinges upon the particles
of water. Each particle of water, after its impact with the Correction
lee bow, will be reflected from it in a direction which, accord- °* t*us
ing to the law of the collision of bodies, will form an angle enor'
with the bow, and consequently with a tangent to the bow
at the point of impact, and would therefore, if produced
to cut the middle line of the ship, form a greater angle w ith
that line than would be formed by this tangent to the bow
at the point of impact, produced to cut the same line.
This will be the case with the whole of the particles of
water which come in contact with the lee bow, and along
all that part of the lee side of the ship, a tangent to which,
if produced, wmuld meet the line of the ship’s course at any
finite distance before her bows ; so that as a ship progresses
along the line of her course, since these motions may all be
supposed to become constant, her lee side will pass through
water having an absolute motion with respect to the motion
of the ship, the direction of which forms an acute angle
with the middle line of the ship produced aft.
We will now consider the effect of the accumulation of
the water at the bows of the ship, either to diminish or to
increase this angle. Since there must be a constant ten¬
dency in the particles of wrater which compose this accu¬
mulation to recover their level, there must also be a con¬
stant run of particles from the apex of this accumulation to
its base; the ultimate direction of the sum of all these mo¬
tions would therefore evidently form an acute angle with
the middle line of the ship produced forward; and conse¬
quently, by the composition of forces, the action of the par¬
ticles of water to recover their level would increase the
angle which the direction of the motion of the water makes
with the middle line of the ship produced aft.
By extending the same reasoning to the motion of the
water on the weather side of the ship, a very little consi¬
deration will show that the principal effect the passage of
the ship through the water would have on the particles of
water on that side, would be to cause them to rush aft in a
direction inclined towards the middle line of the ship, in
order to fill the vacuum created under the w eather quarter
by the passage of the vessel along the line of lee-way.
We may therefore assume that the particles of water
have a motion at the stern of the vessel, the direction of
which forms an acute angle with the middle line of the
ship produced aft, which angle will evidently be dependent
on the fulness or the fineness of the after-part of the body,
and on the angle which the line of the ship’s course, or
that of the lee-way, makes with the middle line of the ship,
consequently the inactive position of the rudder will be
when it forms this angle with the middle line of the ship,
that is, when the rudder is to leeward, and consequently the
helm a-weather. And this position should be the theoretic
limit of the degree of weather helm a ship should carry, as
in any other position there must be a force acting on the
rudder, which must increase the resistance the ship expe-
246
SHIP-BUILDING.
Weather
helm.
Ships with
lee helm
leewardly.
Effect mis¬
taken for
Theory, riences in her passage through the water. A practical-
''-'-v ' confirmation of the correctness of this principle, and of
Experience the fact that this generally advantageous position of the
confirms rudder is a-lee of the middle line of the ship, may be drawn
these views. fi.om the common observation, that when a ship is in good
trim, the helm, being a-weather, has a very perceptible
tremulous motion, which must arise from the rudder’s being
in a position in which it is not acted upon on either side
by any constant force. This method of considering the
direction of the flow of the water to the rudder consider¬
ably diminishes the estimate of the excess of its effect on
the lee side of the rudder over that on the weather. But
there are several other considerations which operate in in¬
creasing the effect of the weather-helm. From the direc¬
tion in which the water flows past the ship, there will be a
much greater reduction of pressure on the weather side of
the rudder when the helm is to windward, and therefore a
greater positive pressure on its lee side to turn the ship,
than will occur under the opposite circumstances, or when
the helm is a-lee. Also, the broken and disturbed state of
the water on the after-part of the weather side of the ship,
and the consequent various degrees of resistance it opposes,
must lessen its effect when the helm is a-lee.
It has been said to be proved by practice, that ships
which carry lee-helms cannot be weatherly, that is, w ill fall
faster to leeward than those which carry weather helms.
But though the fact is correct, the reason assigned is in
some degree mistaking the effect for the cause. It has be¬
fore been said that a part of the force of the wind acts in
driving a ship bodily to leeward; of course its effect will be
greater or less in proportion to the lateral resistance oppos¬
ed to it, and the ship which opposes less lateral and greater
longitudinal resistance to the water than another, will in
the same period of time have fallen farthest to leeward, and
the line of her course will have made a larger angle with
her middle line, by which the effect of the water on the
after-part of the lee side is increased, while that on the
fore-part, both of the lee and weather sides, is diminished,
and the helm must consequently be kept less a-weather.
A practical proof of the correctness of this reasoning may
be drawn from the practice of the merchant-vessels, which
are generally, from form, more leewardly than men-of-war.
They have their fore-mast placed much nearer the centre of
the ship than is usual in sharper and finer formed bodies.
This has evidently arisen from the operation of the cause
above mentioned, which has shown that they require the
resultant of the effort of the wind on the sails to be pro¬
portionately farther aft to insure their carrying a weather-
helm. From this reasoning it is evident that, under some
circumstances, it may be the leevvardliness of the ship w^hich
causes her to carry a lee-helm; and that when such is the
case, the defect might be remedied, not only by the usual
methods of placing the masts farther aft, and altering the
draught of water, but by increasing the lateral resistance by
the addition of false keel, or by greater depth in the water.
There is another disadvantage arising from a ship’s car¬
rying a lee-helm, which is, that the action of the water on the
weather side of the rudder acts in conjunction with the force
of the wind in forcing the ship bodily to leeward ; while, on
the contrary, when the helm is a-weather, the action of the
water on the rudder is in opposition to the force of the wind.
Having now pointed out wherein the necessity consists,
that a ship should carry a weather helm under all circum¬
stances, and explained the principles by which the position
of the helm is governed, it next remains to consider in
what manner this position of the rudder may be affected
when the ship is under sail. This is the more necessary, be¬
cause there are occasions in which ships that generally
carry good helms will carry them a-lee; it therefore also
remains to be examined whether this defect might not
either be wholly removed, or at least ameliorated.
Disadvan¬
tage of lee
helm.
Effect of
sail on
helm.
The ardency of a ship, which is her tendency to fly to the Thee
wind, depends, as has been explained, on the relative posi-^—v-J
tions of the resultant of the effort of the wind on the sails, and Ardei1'
the resultant of the resistance of the w^ater on the hull. A
consideration of the effects produced on these forces, when
a ship is under way, will lead to the object of our inquiry.
When a body passes through a fluid, it causes an accu- Passag
mulation of the fluid to take place towards its foremost ex-a ^ody
tremity, and a depression of the fluid towards the opposite.a Uld’
The degree of this accumulation and depression will depend Its eff»
on the velocity with which the body passes through the0Ilard ;
fluid, and its increase must necessarily have a great effect
in drawing the position of the resultant of the water farther
forward; therefore, from this cause, a ship becomes more
ardent as her velocity is increased. Also, as the ship on a
wind inclines by the force which communicates motion to
her, an increased surface of the bow is immersed ; while,
from the fulness of its shape both above and below the ori¬
ginal water-line, the angle of incidence with which it meets
the water does not undergo much alteration : consequently
the tendency of the inclination is to draw the resultant of
the water forward, in so far as the shape of the bow is in¬
volved. By the inclination, the effect of the water on the
after upper portion of the lee-side is so diminished as to be
almost destroyed, in consequence of the decrease of the
angle of incidence with which it meets the water, arising <|
from the sharpness of the after-body under the lee quarter,
which, by the inclination, is made to approximate to a ho¬
rizontal plane: consequently the tendency of the inclina-Effectoi
tion is to draw the resultant of the water forward, in so far crease o;!
as the shape of this part of the body is involved. Thatcl>nati°E
lower portion of the after-body which is nearly vertical
when the ship is upright, and, until the vessel is on a wind,
is subjected to little more than the mere friction of the wa¬
ter, immediately that a ship is on a wind offers great late¬
ral resistance, even after the inclination of the ship ; and it
is this lateral resistance of the after-body which, being
brought into action simultaneously with the increased di¬
rect resistance of the fore-body, tends to prevent too great
an effect from that direct resistance in drawing the result¬
ant of the water forward, and therefore acts in aid of the
helm in preventing the ship from flying up into the wind,
and thus obviates the necessity of such violent action of
the rudder as wmuld be injurious to the velocity of the ship.
The larger the area of this portion of the after-body, the
less necessity therefore is there for extreme and conse¬
quently detrimental action of the rudder under the circum¬
stances of increased wind and inclination. It appears, how¬
ever, that in ships generally, the inclination increases the
ardency, by drawing the resultant of the water forward.
This train of reasoning shows us in what the advantage tf inere
consists which arises from the increased immersion given ed mum
to the after-extremities of ships ; and it enables us to form
the following general rule, as an approximation to correct¬
ness of principle in determining the increased draught ot
water to be given to the after-body. The difference in
draught of water should increase or diminish in proportion
as the area which a ship offers to direct resistance is great
or small in relation to the area offered to lateral resistance;
or, in general terms, the difference of draught of water in
ships, cceteris paribus, should vary directly as the ratio which
the breadth bears to the length.
The position of the centre of effort of the wind on theSails j1-
sails is calculated under the supposition that the sails areSl|™eeSU
plane surfaces, and equally disposed with regard to the l°n'|-ace3,
gitudinal axis of the ship ; but when a ship is on a wind,
as the force of the wind acts in a direction oblique to the
surface of the sails, a greater proportion of the sail is carried
to leeward of this axis, and the whole sail assumes a curved
surface, the curvature of which increases from the weather
to the lee side. From these circumstances, the centre of
SHIP-BUILDING.
247
t of
cur-
Vi- e.
of -n(i.
'lelm
(ident
ite of
;ory. effort is in fact carried gradually farther aft as the action of
' the wind takes place on the sails. Also, as the force of the
wind inclines the ship, the centre of effort of the wind on
the sails is carried, by this inclination, over to the lee side,
by which, as also by the effect produced on the resultant
of the water, which has been before mentioned, the distance
crease between them is farther increased. It therefore appears
that, the quantity and disposition of the sail set remaining
the same, the ardency will increase as the force of the wind
increases, and diminish as that force diminishes ; but as it
is found in practice that ships very generally require their
helms a-lee in light winds, although it is evident that the
several circumstances which have been mentioned as cre¬
ating the tendency of ardency must still exist in a small
degree, it would appear that the ardency must increase
and decrease in a faster ratio than the force of the wind.
Now, as the direct and lateral resistances vary respectively
as the squares of the velocities of the ship in these two di¬
rections, it is evident that the lateral resistance will dimi¬
nish in a quicker njtio than the direct resistance, and that,
consequently, as the wind decreases, the angle of lee-way,
or that of the ship’s course, will be increased, which, it has
before been proved, will draw the resultant of the water aft,
and diminish the ardency; therefore the increase and di¬
minution of the ardency of a ship will be in proportion to
r the difference of the ratios of increase and decrease of the
direct and lateral resistances.
}! is of From the causes which have been assigned for a ship’s
dilishingcarrying a lee helm in light winds, it is evident the defect
ki elm. may }je lessened by all those means of trimming either the
sails or the ship, which have been mentioned as tending to
increase the distance of the resultant of the water before
the centre of effort of the wind.
But when a ship’s carrying a lee helm is occasioned, as
it sometimes is, by the state of the sea, the w aves of w hich,
strike the ship on the weather bow, and in their passage
cause a great immersion of the lee quarter, any attempt to
bring the resultant of the w7ater forward would, from the
consequent greater immersion of the bow, and the neces¬
sary addition to the momentum, increase the effect of the
impulse. The evil may be lessened by diminishing the
quantity of head-sail, which will both bring the centre of
effort of the wind aft, and diminish the violence of the
pitching ; and also, if the inclination of the ship were increas¬
ed, that, by increasing the effect of the w^ater on the lee
bow, and diminishing its effect on the lee quarter, might
in some cases prove advantageous.
In heavy weather, ships under a small quantity of sail
very generally carry slack helms, partly in consequence cf
the position of the centre of effort of that sail, and partly
owing to the state of the sea. Under these circumstances
it is generally impossible to carry enough of after-sail to re¬
medy this defect; and to trim the ship by the head would
be only to increase it, on account of augmenting the pitch¬
ing. 1 here is therefore no other remedy than that which
would arise from such an original disposition of the masts
as would render the power of creating a balance between
the effects of the sails more easy. But here we would ob.
serve, that before making any alteration in the position of
the masts, great caution is necessary ; for possibly one of
tiie first requisites in a ship is, that she should work quick¬
ly, which quality depends on the proportion of sail before
and abaft the axis of rotation, and not on the position of
the centre of effort of the whole surface of the sail. There-
lore no alterations can be made in the position of the centre
of effort of all the sails, or in the positions of the masts, un¬
less due consideration be given to the effect they would
have on these proportions.
It may now be necessary to observe, that a ship may, on
some occasions, be too ardent. In addition to the altera¬
tions which will suggest themselves in this case, from what
aiu
P
the
i the
[m of
lasts.
Tor -eat
ai'(ia Vt
has been already said, it may be observed, that as the cur- Theory,
vature of the sails, and the inclination of the ship, both tend s—
to increase the ardency, it may be diminished by taking in
sail, especially those which, from their greater breadth, as¬
sume a greater degree of curvature.
It is sometimes objected by practical men, that trimming Erroneous
a ship according to the principles laid down by theory, has objections,
not the effect which was to have been expected; but this
often arises from an ignorance of the necessary degree of
trimming, or from a mistaken notion of the effect which a
certain degree will produce. In order, in some measure,
to obviate this difficulty, the following table is given. It
contains the weight which it will be necessary to move a
distance of forty feet, either aft or forward, to produce an
alteration of one foot in the trim of a ship. The length
and breadth of the ship are given in the table, merely as
being more correct data for the comparison of size than the
class of the vessel or the number of guns.
Class of Vessel and number of I
Guns.
Length.
First rate 120
Second do  84
Fourth do  80
Fifth do  46
Sixth do  28
Sloop  18
Feet.
205-25
102-25
174-00
159-70
120-20
111-25
Weight to be
moved a Distance
of Forty Feet.
Feet.
54-50
51-44
43-67
40-50
33-67
30-50
Tons.
112
90
58
38
22
14
If any other alteration in the trim be desired, it may be
deduced from the results given in the above table, by a
simple proportion. And since the effect produced on the
centre of effort of the sails, by taking in or setting any
sail, may be estimated in the manner described in the course
of these remarks, the alterations necessary to be made in
order to produce any desired effect may be easily deter¬
mined. Another source of error may arise from the various
rakes of the masts ; from which the angle of incidence, and
consequently the force of the wind, which is as some func¬
tion ot the sine of the angle of incidence, varies considera¬
bly for the sails of each mast; and if the trim of the ship
be altered, there must be a corresponding effect produced
in this angle ; by which the relative proportions of the force
of the wind on the several sails will be altered, as will also
its total effect on all the sails.
Most of the writers on naval architecture have consider- Bracing of
ed the problem of determining the angle which should be die yards,
formed by the yard with the keel, under the different cir¬
cumstances of wind. Don Juan, whose highly scientific
and thorough practical knowledge entitles his opinions to
more than common attention, on a subject in which the re¬
searches of theory require to be aided by the deductions
from experiment, has determined these angles for a ship of
sixty guns, and has also given some general rules to guide
any variations from them. When this ship was close-hauled,
with all sail set, he found that the angle the yard should
make with the keel should be 28° 47’, and with the wind
on the quarter, 50° 1V; but when the wind was so high
that only a small quantity of canvass could be set, these
angles were respectively increased to 40° 42' and 56° 21'.
He also arrives at the general conclusion, “ that, the greater
the quantity of sail set, the less should be the angle made
by the yard with the keeland also, as he makes the re¬
lation between the direct and lateral resistances enter into
his investigations, “ the sharper and the more adapted for
velocity a vessel is, the smaller should be the angle made by
the yard with the keelconsequently frigates and smaller
vessels should, under similar circumstances, have their yards
braced sharper than line-of-battle ships; and again, “ that
the nearer the sails approach to plane surfaces, the less
should this angle be.”
248
Theory. According to the present positions of the masts of a ship,
the sails on the fore-mast are generally not capable ot be-
Erroneous • g0 siiarpiy braced as those on the main-mast; but as
theory and practice, as may be instanced in fore-and-aft
fore-ma8t- rig-sred vessels, concur in fixing the limits to which it would
be desirable to brace the yards, within even what can gene¬
rally be attained on the main-mast, much of the force of
the wind on the sails of the fore-mast must be lost; and as
this less sharpness of bracing, common for the yards on the
fore-mast, is even found to be necessary m many ships, to
enable them to carry their helm sufficiently a-weather, it
would appear that the position of the fore-mast is too far
forward, and that moving it aft would be advantageous ; be¬
sides the good effect it would have, as has been shown, m
diminishing the violence of the pitching motion
SHIP-BUILDING.
ships carrying lee helms, it appears not improbable that the Th®
generality of our ships would be improved by an alteration
in the position of their fore-masts.
The forms of our ships, and indeed those of some ot the Moder
more modern French vessels of which we are possessed, Erf
have approximated more to that recommended by Chap-® JP8
man, and since his time adopted by the Swedes and Danes,
than to that of the old French bodies, which were for such the Sr:
a series of years the chief guides of the English ship-builder, ish rat
The marked characteristics of the old French body were,than*:
a flat floor, with a sharp and, beneath the water, hollow
fore-part, and a comparatively very full after-part. The
character of* the Swedish construction isj the rising floorj
full fore-body, and extremely fine after-body. The genera¬
lity of the English ships of the present day are built with the
5^“ “although manjMjf the'reasons JA then It s’eetns therefore but reasonable that the positions of the
fixed it at about one ninth the length of the ship from the
stem have ceased to exist. Our ships are now longer and
there is consequently room for working the sails, without
those of one mast coming in contact with, or destroying the
effect of the wind on, those of the other. I he after-parts
of the hull above water are very considerably reduced, and
do not therefore render so great a proportion of head-sail
T^6bodle^of^he'shiM^retfronTthe^increase'of the'dinmn- hlv^itL^
The bodies of the ships are, r , the resultant of tion, 0r are remarkable for an excess of any good or bad qua-
sions, ra^cl;^e"rf1afrt’a{y From these considerations, and lity dependent on it. The other data in the tableareneces-
fromTe fact lhat it is found that complaints are made of sary for completing the comparisons which may be made.
Table of the Stations of Masts in Ships.
ties, to tne oweuisii man m me um x —““p"
It seems therefore but reasonable that the positions of the Ther!
masts of our ships should partake of the principle which the n i
appears to have dictated the alteration in the form of their -
bodies. With this view, and for a general example as to the ^
positions of ships’ masts, and of the ideas of various construc¬
tors, the following table has been formed, of the positions
of the masts of the vessels contained in Chapman’s “ large
work,” of some of the present Swedish ships, of the various
classes of English ships, and of several other vessels which
Ships’ Names.
Swedish ships, from Chapman’s large
work 
No. of
Guns.
Carl XIII., Swedish 
Corvette, Swedish 
The Chapman, Swedish 
President, French 
Do. altered to the Piedmontaise....
Comet, bomb 
Do. as altered. 
Pearl, Mr Sainty 
Do. altered by his request 
Caledonia 
Asia   
Southampton 
Seringapatam 
Leda 
Euryalus  
Sapphire 
Orestes   
Queen 
Vanguard 
Vernon  
Pique     
Vestal  
Hover 
Inconstant   
465 tons |
‘ j- Merchant-ships.
110
94
80
74
66
52
40
32
20
80
20
46
46
18
18
120
84
60
46
46
42
28
18
110
80
52
36
26
18
36
Length on
the Load
W ater-line.
Distances of the Masts abaft the
foremost extremity of the
Load Water-line.
Fore-mast. ' Main-mast. Mizen-mast
450 tons.
435 tons.
400 tons.
Feet.
205-2
190-1
182-1
177 9
174-0
164-1
149-6
125-3
113- 6
177’9
108- 5
149-8
159-5
159-5
109 0
109- 0
114- 7
114- 7
205-25
192 25
174 0
159- 7
1510
148 0
120-2
111-25
202-2
188-2
176-7
160- 6
1310
109-8
160-0
115- 0
116 6
114-8
108-5
Feet.
28-8
27’0
257
24-8
24-3
22- 9
23- 3
19- 5
17- 5
24- 3
15-6
280
240
210
13- 4
174
18- 7
18-7
25- 0
22 3
20- 7
21- 2
18-8
17-7
14- 7
14-5
24- 33
25- 7
27-6
23-5
20 3
151
20-0
16-6
16-8
16-2
16-9
Feet.
118-5
112-2
105-5
102-7
100-0
93-2
86- 5
72-5
65- 5
102-0
61-7
89-5
87- 5
87-5
61-7
617
64-0
66- 5
113-0
109-0
97 2
85-6
85-3
82 2
68-7
64 7
118-0
110 9
104-5
94-4
77-3
64- 8
90-33
65- 0
66- 0
67- 1
66-2
Feet.
174-0
164-1
154-2
1500
146-8
138-4
125-2
104-4
94-6
I486
90-8
124-2
132-2
132'2
90-5
90-5
97-4
99-4
171-7
160-2
146-7
132-3
128-7
123-8
102 4
97- 4
175-84
164-3
154-7
139-5
114-6
96-2
138-0
99-2
98- 0
96-4
92-7
Ratio of the Distance of the Masts
from forward, to the length of
the Load Water-line.
Fore-mast* Main-mast. Mizen-mast.
•1398
•1402
■1402
•1398
•1400
■1390
•15701
•15501
•1540*
•1380
•1440
•IS?2
•150
•132
•123
•162
•163
•163
122
•116
•119
•133
•124
•124
•122
•129
•121
•137
•156
•146
•155
•138
•125
•145
•144
•142
•156
•579
•580
•578
•576
•578
•569
•580
•578
•578
•578
•570
■598
•550
•550
•565
•565
"557
•577
•552
•568
•560
•535
•565
•563
•568
•573
•585
•584
•590
•587
•590
•590
•564
•565
•570
•584
•610
•848
•857
•845
•848
•844
•845
•840
•831
•837
•858
•835
•835
•831
•831
•831
•831
•850
•863
•835
•832
•845
•832
•854
•848
•850
•864
•870
•823
•874
•867
•874
•874
•860
•861
•840
•840
•850
Ratio of Dif¬
ference of
Draught of
Water to the
Mean Draught
of Water.
•094
•085
•089
•083
•082
•103
•100
•093
•142
•108
•120
•0003
•0003
•057
•053
•048
•076
•089
•104
•066
•060
■085
1 An increase in the rakes of the stems.
2 The fore-mast raked four inches in ten feet.
3 On an even keek
r V
SHIP-BUILDING.
ieory. From this table it will be seen that the position of the
fore-mast in the ships of different rates in her majesty’s ser- Hence the resistance zr
]jjtioa of vice is considerably more forward than in the Swedish ships;
TV S HI  1 j i a. . _ _ . i J
249
h- e — xV
,and these
Theory.
J hant- and that in Chapman’s experimental frigate, the Chap¬
man, it is remarkably far aft. The Comet, as altered, after
resistances must be equal to each other,
C -?ct
being sold out of the service, the Pearl, built by Mr Sain-
ty, and the four merchantmen, are proofs of the practice,
before alluded to, of the merchant builders ; the alteration
in the position of the masts of the Comet having taken
place under the direction of the late Mr Fearnall, a^gentle-
man of high character for a knowledge of his profession.
The stations of the masts in the ships built after the de-
signs of the present surveyor of the navy, Sir William Sy-
monds, approximate very nearly to those of the Swedish
ships; the main and mizen masts are even rather farther aft
in proportion to the length of the ship.
The positions of the masts are given, in the table, in re
(‘I—t) =c—*!'(* + !c—*)
and
x — a — Ja* —(be + ;
]»t from lation to the foreside of the rabbet of the stem ; but though
" 't0. this point has been adopted in compliance with the usually
ID (lirethe L in compliance witn the usually
L ions of received custom, and to avoid the introduction of a feature
IP
tli nasts.
which might have rendered comparisons more difficult, a
more correct method would be to estimate the station of
the masts from a point K (fig. 5), at a distance AK from
the foremost extremi-
Fig. 5.
ty of the load water¬
line ; such that, KP
being drawn perpen¬
dicular to the load wa¬
ter-line, it shall inter¬
sect AD, the foremost
boundary of the lon¬
gitudinal vertical sec¬
tion of the vessel, in
such a manner that the
resistance to angular
motion round an axis of rotation BC, passing through the
centre of gravity of the vessel, shall be equal to the tri¬
angles AKF and DFP, DP being the lower boundary of
the false keel produced.
The point K being determined for all ships, comparisons
might be correctly made of the positions of the masts in
vessels with the most dissimilar rakes of the stem ; which
feature, from its effect on the resultant of the resistance,
must have a considerable influence on the positions of the
masts, and which cannot be estimated in distances measur¬
ed from any other point.
The following proof will show, that if BK be taken equal
to the arithmetical mean between BA and CD, the point
■k Wlil be determined sufficiently correctly for all practical
purposes.
From D (fig 5) draw DV perpendicular to AB. Bi-
sect KF and FP in G and M, and draw AG and DM.
Take AH - f AG, and DN = f DM ; then H and N will
bei ^^pec^lve centres of gravity of the triangles AKF
an • flora H and N draw HL and NO perpendi¬
cular to BA and CP. Let AB = a, CD = b, AV = a—b
— c, AK r= x, AL = ^x, and \ D — h. Then the resist¬
ance to rotation of the triangle AKF is proportional to the
area AKF X BL =
AK
H.bl.
Now, AK ; KF :: AY : YD .-. KF =
hx
the resistance = — • (a —^
a i . 2c { 3 )•
nd in the sarne manner, the resistance of DFP is
= area DFP • CO — X . co,
PF:DP::DV: AV.-.PF = ^L
VOI„ XX. c
from which expression, if numbers be substituted for the
several quantities, it would be seen that, assuming BK equal
to the arithmetic mean between AB and CD, will be suf¬
ficiently correct.
The method of finding the horizontal distance of the Hecapitula-
centre of effort of the sails, either before or abaft the centretion-
of gravity of the ship, has now been explained as being a
necessary element to be determined in forming the design
of a vessel. The effect which the action of the water on
the hull, and of the wind on the sails, would have, under
various circumstances, on the relative positions of this point
with respect to the centre of gravity of the ship, has been
described, and also the necessity of regulating the trim of
the ship and sails according to the state of the sea and wind,
that the most advantageous proportionate distance may be
preserved between them.
We shall now investigate the principles on which the de-Height of
termination of the vertical height of the centre of effort ofeff°rt of
the sails above the centre of gravity of the ship depends.sails-
1 his pioblem, though it is one which may be classed amon°'
those of which the “ solution resolves itself to laws of na¬
ture which are yet imperfectly developed,” may be solved
by induction from experiment; and we shall show that suf¬
ficient data may by this means be obtained, to render the
abstract principles of science, on which it depends, practi¬
cally available, so as to overcome the difficulties which at
present oppose themselves to the perfecting one of the most
important elements of naval architecture, the sizes and pro¬
portions of the masts and yards.
In describing the circumstances attendant on the inch-Moment to
nation of a ship from the upright position, we have said thatresist incli-
the moment of the force exerted by the vertical pressure tonation-
resist the inclination will be measured by the perpendicular
distance from the centre of gravity to the direction of the
resultant of the vertical upward pressure of the water after
the inclination, which necessarily passes through the centre
of gravity of the displacement. We have hitherto called Hydrostati-
tfiis the moment of stability, but it may be more properly cal stabili-
termed the moment of hydrostatical stability, as being de- f-v-
pendent on the laws of the equilibrium of fluids. But if the
force which has been described as inclining the ship round
its centre of gravity also communicates motion to the sys¬
tem, another moment of stability will be generated by the
resistance which the water opposes to the motion. This
resistance, as has been before explained, may be supposed
to act in a resultant, the direction of which will necessarily
depend on the form of the vessel. Now, if the form be
such that the direction of this resultant will pass above the
centre of gravity of the ship, its moment, estimated from
that centre of gravity, will act in conjunction with the mo¬
ment of hydrostatical stability before described, and will
diminish the inclination ; a contrary effect will ensue if this
resultant passes below the centre of gravity. Now, if the
moment of this force to diminish the inclination were equal
to the moment of the force which acts to produce it, the
ship would remain in a vertical position ; but if it be not
equal to it, the inclination will be caused by the action of
the excess of the moment of the inclining force over the
moment of the force acting to diminish the inclination, and
the ship will revolve until this part of the inclining force shall
be destroyed by the moment of hydrostatical stability which
will be generated by the inclination. The moment of sta-
2 i
bility resulting from this cause may be called the moment
of hydrodynamical stability, as being dependent on the mo¬
tion of the body in the fluid, that is, on the relative motion
Hydrodv- of the fluid. This does not agree with the usual definition
namicalsta-of hydrodynamical stability adopted by writers on naval ar-
bility. chitecture, as that also involves the elements of the hycho-
statical stability in its terms ; but it is thought that keeping
each moment of stability distinct, by referring J w ° -
its own generators, tends to simplify the _ consideration of
them ; and also, the explanation of the principles on w i
the height of the centre of effort of the sails depends may
bv the same means be divested of some obscurity.
Equilibri-. 'Now, when, by the action of the wind^the eat^mohon
SHIP-BUILDING.
each other, that a sufficient moment of hydrostatical stabi-
litv may be acquired to resist the excess o the moment of'-v~
the wind on the sails over the moment ot hydrodynamical
stability, without too great an inclination of the ship.
But when the direction of the wind coincides with thatOfimpor-
of the course of the vessel, it is of great importance that the
change from a state of rest to one of motion, or rather from • ^
one velocity to another, should be performed without any
longitudinal inclination towards either extremity, and that
the vessel should preserve that seat in the water which has
been determined as most advantageous with reference to
the longitudinal position of the centre ot effort of the sails
The course of reasoning which Bouguer has pursued toBouguei i
   -- - , -d on the smb motion 0?this point involves suppositions-j;
ran of wind js communicated to a vessel from a state o ie. , a _ which are at variance with the facts attendant on a vessel
onsail^ndeffort of the wind on the sails is much f eater than hat of whmh are at ^ ^ and th fore the conclusion
pre
mises, y.«
water on
Lull
Uniform
motion of
the vessel.
Limit to
height of
centre of
effort.
r ™ end by the effect of the excess the
velocity of the vessel is accelerated : but the velocity with
which the wind acts on the sails is diminished m P10P°’t^
as the velocity of the vessel is increased, therefore also the
force with which it acts on them is gradually lessened . but
as the velocity of the vessel increases, the resistance the
water opposes to its motion is also increased; consequent y
the two forces, the effort of the wind on the sails, and the
resistance of the water on the hull, will ultimately become
equal to each other; and as they act m opposite directions,
the vessel will, by the laws of motion, continue to move uni¬
formly in the direction of its course with the last acquired
velocity; and this velocity will be in proportion to the mov-
ing force, that is, to the force of the wind and the area of sai
exposed to its action, or, if the force of the wind be sup¬
posed constant, will be in proportion to the area of Je sa‘*
From what has been before said, it is evident that the
moment of sail must be in proportion to the stability of the
■ship; and since the velocity will be in proportion to the
area of sail exposed to the action of the wind, the height ot
the centre of effort of the sail should be determined from
the consideration of acquiring the greatest effective areao
sail of which the powers of the ship will admit.
Bouguer, from reasoning on the facts which ha\e bee
_ _ , 7 , . 1 .1 ,  1   v»oo onnmrpn lini-
_ a 11113 jfl
motion through the water, and therefore the conclusion valuable
TTh he arrives is erroneous; still, as an elucidation of
the principle, his method may be advantageously explained
He supposes DH (fig- 6) to be the direction of the re-Wbe
Fur. 6.
SltlOU ol
point re-
lique.
Bouguer, from reasoning on me raexs wim,u norv. un¬
explained, which are, that when a ship has acquired an urn- vertical resistances experienced by
form velocity in any direction, the act,on of the w.nd on the “ aEFB, movins » the direction
Point ve
lupie.
iorm velocity in any --no—,   . .
sails to propel her in that direction becomes equal to the re¬
sistance opposed to her motion by the water, and that the
moment of the resistance, calculated from the centre of gra¬
vity or of rotation, that is, the moment of hydrodynamical
stability, subtracted from the moment of the action of the
wind on the sails, estimated from the same point, will give
the force bv which the ship is inclined, conceived the idea
that the sails of a vessel might be so disposed that she
should maintain the same vertical position when under sail
as when at anchor. This he proposed to effect by adjust-
ino- the sail in such a manner that its centre of effort should
be°situated in a point, which he has named the “ point ve-
Uaite? and which he describes as being such, that when the
centre of effort of the sails coincides with this point, the
moment of the force of the wind to incline the ship will be
wholly destroyed by the moment of hydrodynamical stabi-
Not practi- iitY. But such an arrangement of the sail is not practically
cally appli- applicable to the cases in which the direction of the action
cable in ^ ^ forG8 0f tpe wind is oblique to that of the course ot
the vessel; for, from the small proportion which the breadth
of a vessel bears to her length, the moment of hydrodyna¬
mical stability will, under these circumstances, be less than
when the directions of the wind and of the ship’s course co¬
incide, while the resultant of the effort of the wind will act
at the same height above the centre of gravity of the ship m
either case; therefore Bouguer only insists, that since the
moment of the hydrodynamical stability cannot, consistently
with other circumstances, be made to destroy the whole ot
the effort of the wind to incline the ship, care should be
taken that these two -forces should be so proportioned to
oblique
courses
the fore-part of the vessel AEFB, moving m the direction
AB; and the line SK to be the direction of the resultant
of the whole force of the wind acting on the sails. Let it
meet DH in N. Now since, when the ship has acquired an
uniform velocity, the forces which oppose the motion are
equal to those which produce it, and as these forces act
horizontally and destroy each other, the forces wine re¬
main must be vertical. Take NR and NI to icpresen
quantity and direction the force of the water on the bows,
and of the wind on the sails; then complete the parallelo¬
gram NRTP, and join NT; NT will represent, m quantity
and direction, the force remaining after those parts ot t
forces NR and NP, which are equal and opposite, are de¬
stroyed ; and therefore NT will act in a vertical direction
to lift the ship. But though this will be the direction o
the action of NT on the vessel, its effects may also be_J
produce a rotatory motion round her centre of gravi y-
This will depend on the position of the point N, the inte-
section of SK and DH. If we suppose the direction DH
to be constant in position, and SK to vary in position a
cording to the height of the sails, we shall see, that whe
the masts and sails are high, the direction SK will cut he
direction DH at a point near the stern; and therefoie me
action of the force NT taking place so near one extremity
of the vessel, and one side of the centre of gravi >>
tend to immerse the opposite extremity. ^ On the emi r y>
if the masts and sails are low, the direction SK wi m
sect the direction DH more near to the bows of the sn p,
and the action of NT being before the centre ot gramy,
will raise the fore and immerse the after part; and t ns 1
SHIP-BUILDING.
9
rror
uguir.
clination will continue until the force which causes it is de¬
stroyed by the moment of the hydrostatical stability gene¬
rated by the inclination. From this, Bouguer concludes
that it is only when the masting is of such a height that the
direction SK intersects DH at a point at some mean dis¬
tance between the bows and stern, and at which neither
of these effects will be produced, that the ship will have no
tendency to longitudinal oscillation, and the only effect of
the force NT will be to lessen the part of the ship which is
immersed in the water when she is at rest; and this point
he has called the point velique. Bouguer determines
the position of this point velique in the following man¬
ner. From r, the centre of gravity of the load water-sec¬
tion, as being nearly coincident with the centre of gravity
of the lamina, ABir/, of the vessel which is lifted by the
action of the force NT, the vertical line VT is drawn, and
the point N in which it intersects the direction of the re¬
sultant of the resistance of the water to the bows will be
the point through which the horizontal line SK, represent¬
ing the direction of the action of the wind on the sails, should
pass, in order that the ship may move in the direction of
its course without a depression of either extremity. In order
to prove that this will be the case, he supposes the displace¬
ment ABFE of the ship to be made up of the two homo¬
geneous parts AB&a and a&FE; and therefore, when the
ship is only subjected to the vertical pressure upwards of
the fluid, these parts will have their common centre of gra¬
vity, which will be the centre of gravity of the displace¬
ment, in the same vertical plane with the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship. The horizontal distances of r and u\
the centres of gravity of the homogeneous parts A¥>ba
and a&FE, from the vertical section in wfoich the centres
of gravity of the ship and of the displacement are, will
be inversely as those parts; but when, by the action of
the force NT at r, the displacement is diminished by the
quantity ABZ>a, the vertical pressure upwards will be dimi¬
nished by that same quantity, and will act at w, the centre
of gravity of the new displacement a6FE, with a force equal
to the weight of a&FE; therefore, the forces being in¬
versely proportionate to the distances of their action from
the common centre of gravity of the ship, and both acting
upwards in a vertical direction, will maintain the ship in
equilibrio round that centre of gravity. This reasoning of
Bouguer on the position of the point N is incorrect in its
application to practice. It depends on the supposition, that
when by the force of the wind motion is communicated to
the vessel, she will rise in the water from the effect of the
action of the force N T, and the water-line AB will become
ah, the displacement being diminished by the quantity
ABaA It is not enough to satisfy the conditions of Bou-
guer’s reasoning, that NT should exert an effort at r equal
to diminishing the displacement by the quantity AB6a ; for
unless the diminution of the displacement actually takes
place, the position of its centre of gravity cannot be affect¬
ed in the manner assumed in the reasoning, but will con¬
tinue in the vertical section passing through the centre
ot gravity ot the ship ; and then, by the action of the force
-NT at t*, the ship will revolve round the centre of gravity
g, until, by the motion of the centre of gravity of the dis¬
placement, incidental to the revolution, a moment of hydro-
statical stability is generated equal to the moment of NT
to incline the ship. Now it is proved from experiment
mat the displacement is actually greater when a ship is in
motion than when she is at rest; therefore, reasoning on
the supposition of its diminution is inapplicable to practice.
Ihere would be an alteration in the position of the centre
Ot gravity of the displacement resulting from this increase,
which nugln either act in opposition to, or with the effect
ti u ,t0 incline the ship* according to the relative form of
the body above the original wrater-line.
But it is evident that the principal error made by Bou¬
guer throughout the investigation of the position of his Theory.
point velique is, that it is conducted with reference only ^
to the resultant of the positive resistances which the vesselIIe negiects
experiences, instead of to the resultant of both positive and °
negative resistances. Chapman, while he adopts Bouguer’s chapman
views on the existence of some limit to the situation of the has avoided
centre of effort of the sails above the centre of gravity ofohe error of
the ship, has avoided this error, and has investigated its po- Bouguer.
sition from the data of the total resistance experienced by
the ship. He first determines the quantity and direction
of the mean resultant of both the positive and negative re¬
sistances of the water; then, since the force of the wind
must be equal to the resistance of the wrater opposed to it,
if the directions of the resultants of these two forces w ere
exactly opposed to each other, their moments, estimated
from the centre of gravity of the ship, would be equal, and
consequently the force of the wind would have no effect in
making the ship revolve round its centre of gravity; there¬
fore, if the surface of the sail was perpendicular to the re¬
sultant of the direct and vertical resistances experienced
by the ship, there w'ould be no limit, arising from these con¬
siderations, to the height at which the centre of effort of
the sails might be placed ; for, whatever might be its posi¬
tion in the line of direction of the resultant of the resist¬
ances of the water, the moments, estimated from the centre
of gravity of the ship, would be constantly equal, since the
perpendicular distance between that point and the direc¬
tions of the actions of the forces would remain constant,
however the force of the wind, and consequently the re¬
sistance of the wTater, might be increased or diminished.
But since the directions of the wind and of the course of the
vessel are both horizontal, and the sails are placed nearly
at right angles to the horizon, the action of the force of the
wind, and its moment round the centre of gravity of the
ship, to counteract the moment of the resistance of the wa¬
ter, must be estimated in a horizontal direction ; and con ¬
sequently the height of the centre of effort of the wind on
the sails must be measured on a vertical line drawn from
the centre of gravity of the ship, and must be such that the
horizontal moment of the wind shall be equal to its mo¬
ment, estimated under the supposition that its action is in
a direction opposed to that of the resultant of the resist¬
ances of the water, when it will have no tendency to de¬
press either extremity of the vessel.
Chapman’s investigation is as follows : Suppose DF and Chapman’s
EC (fig. 7) to represent respectively, both in quantity and'I.lvestiga-
tion.
Fig. 7.
direction, the resultants of the direct and vertical resist¬
ances against the fore and after parts of the vessel. Produce
252
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory. DP and CE to intersect each other in B ; then on DB pro-
-—v-—duced take BV = DF, and on BC take BI =r EC ; com¬
plete the parallelogram YBIH, and BH will represent, in
quantity and direction, the resultant of the whole of the
direct and vertical resistances against the fore and after
parts of the ship ; and BH, multiplied into GM, GM being
drawn from the centre of gravity G of the ship, perpendi¬
cular to BH produced, will represent its moment to make
the ship revolve round its centre of gravity. The centre
of effort of the sails must therefore be at such a height that
the moment of the wind, estimated from the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship, may be equal to this moment. If HM re¬
present the line of direction of the effort of the wind on the
sails, the force of the wind acting in that direction will be
represented in quantity by HB; but as the action of the r. mi i ..u i hop
wind is horizontal, and is equal to the horizontal effort of angle BDC, and the angle D wil! equal the angle HLC
the water, if BH be resolved into BN and NH, then BN = VHB. Now YH: YB:: sin YBH:sm. YHB::s,n. BDC:
represents, in quantity and direction, the horizontal resist- sin. BCD; and since VH_ BI EC, and BV — DF, there-
ance of the water, and NB in the same manner represents fore EC : DF:: sin. BDC: sin. BCD; consequently we have. General
the horizontal effort of the wind ; and if GO be drawn from that the positive and negative vertical resistances are equal eore.i
G perpendicular to the horizon, meeting HB in O, we have, to one another, and the direction of the resultant of the re
Therefore in this case the ship may have a slight tendency Theod
to longitudinal oscillation, even though the centre of effort ^ " w-
of the sails be placed at the height of sail, as determined c ;
by Chapman; but this will not affect the correctness of™1
Chapman’s principle, and a ship may be easily constructed oscjj];it
with such a form at the parts about the surface of the wa-mayeiJ
ter, that this inconvenience will not occur.
Now, if we suppose BV and BI to be given in position,
the force NH or HN will depend, in quantity and direc¬
tion, on the proportion between BV and BI, that is, on the
proportion of DF to EC. Now' when BH coincides with
NB, or when the direction BH of the resultant of the
water is horizontal, the force NH or HN vanishes ; there¬
fore, if we suppose HB to coincide with BN, then HB is
parallel to CD; and the angle VBH will be equal to the
The point
found by
Chapman
not the
point vt-
lique.
sistances of the waiter will be horizontal, when the result¬
ant of the direct and vertical resistances of the water on
the bows of the vessel is to the resultant of the direct and
vertical resistances on the stern, inversely as the sines of
the angles which the respective directions of these resul¬
tants make with a horizontal line.
The extremities of a vessel of the usual form may, for
the purpose of determining the proportion between the di¬
rect and vertical resistances which they experience, be con¬
sidered as planes moving obliquely in a fluid, and conse¬
quently the proportions between the direct and vertical re¬
sistances will depend on the angles of inclination which the
surfaces of these extremities make with the direction of the
vessel’s motion, that is, with a horizontal line; and the sum
of the direct resistances on either extremity will be to the
sum of the vertical as the cosine to the sine of the angle of
inclination ; consequently, as long as the inclinations of the Proporj
bow and stern to a horizontal line remain unchanged, thishetwee: l
proportion between the direct and vertical resistances ex-“^|
tiiwv^      r  perienced by those parts respectively, that is, the proper-gistanC(
It may therefore differ very considerably from that deter- tion of DK to KF, and of EC to EL, will be invariable,invarial^
mined by Bouguer, not only in its vertical, but in its hori- and therefore, as far as these considerations are involved,
the directions of the resultants DF and EC will remain
constant, whatever alteration may take place in their re¬
lative proportion to each other, arising from any increase
or diminution in the velocity of the vessel.
Since, when the direction of the resultant of the water
is horizontal, EC:DF':: sin. BDC: sin. BCD, then EC*
sin. BCD — DF • sin. BDC ; now let us suppose the
   o 7 ___  7 o proportion of DF to EC to be altered, so that EC * sin.
vertical direction, cannot be derived from the direct resist- BCD will be greater than DF* sin. BDC, that is, let us
ances, which act horizontally; and since the whole force of suppose the comparative proportion of DF to EC to be in-
the wind acts in a horizontal direction, and is destroyed by creased.
the horizontal effort of the water, no part of its force can Produce DV to P, and make BP to BI in the increased
be employed in a vertical direction affecting the action of proportion of DF to EC, complete the parallelogram BPQ.I,
HN or NH. This force will therefore act to increase or di- and draw the diagonal BQ; BQ, will represent the direction
of the resultant of the resistance of the water, after the al¬
teration of the proportion between DF and EC.
Produce QB to S, then the angle PBQ — the angle
DBS, and since BP is parallel to IQ, the angle PBQ is
equal to the angle IQB, and the angle IHB is greater
than the angle IQB ; consequently the angle DBM, which
is equal to the angle IHB, is greater than the angle IQB,
that is, the angle DBM is greater than the angle DBS, and
from similar triangles, HBN and OGM, NB x GO — HB
X GM ; that is, O, the point in which a vertical line pass¬
ing through the centre of gravity of the ship intersects the
direction of the resultant of the resistances of the water
against the fore and after parts of the ship, is the correct
height at which the centre of effort of the sails should be
placed, that the ship’s horizontal water-line, when she has
acquired an uniform velocity, may not be affected by any
change in the force of the wind.
This point O does not fulfil the conditions of Bouguer’s
point velique, as it only determines the position of the centre
of effort of the sail as to height above the centre of gravity
of the ship ; for the moment of sail acting in a horizontal
direction, estimated above that centre of gravity, wall be the
same at whatever point in a horizontal line passing through
O the centre of effort may be placed; therefore this point
O may be more properly called the height of sail. The
position of the centre of effort of the sails in a horizontal
line at this height of sail, will depend on the considerations
which have been explained in a former part of this article
zontal position.
From this investigation of Chapman’s, it evidently ap¬
pears, that unless BH coincides with NB, that is, unless
the resultant of the resistances of the water is horizontal,
there will be a force NFI or HN acting in a vertical di¬
rection, either upwards or downwards, at the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship, according as the positive or negative ver¬
tical resistances are the greater ; for this force, acting in a
minish the displacement of the ship when in motion, ac¬
cording as the negative or positive vertical resistances are
the greater, that is, the quantity by which the displacement
would be increased by the diminution of the vertical pres¬
sure upwards, incidental to the motion of the vessel, will be
diminished by the action of the force NH ; but unless NH
is greater than the diminution of the vertical pressure upwards,
it will have no effect on the position of the centre of gravity
of the displacement, and therefore none on the longitudinal S, the point in which the direction QB cuts the vertical
inclination of the ship. The force HN, acting in conjunc- line GO, will be within or below the point O ; therefore
tion with the diminution of the vertical pressure upwards, GS will be less than GO. If FiC, that is, BI, had been in*
will affect the position of the centre of gravity of the dis- creased in proportion to DF or BV, the point S would, in
placement in the same manner as that affects it, that is, de- the same manner, have been found to be above the point
pendent on the relative form of the body above the water. O; consequently, from this we may deduce the following
SHIP-BUILDING.
253
lueory.
} nits to
t posi-
11 of the
1 rht of
' iat _go-
\ ns its
b rht he-
t| en
•e li-
>arent
ir-line
true
er-line.
general proposition, that as the proportion which the re¬
sultant of the direct and vertical resistances on the bows of
a vessel, bears to the resultant of those resistances on the
stern, is greater than the proportion which the sine of the
angle made by the resultant of the after-resistances with a
horizontal line, bears to the sine of the angle made by the
resultant of the fore-resistances with a horizontal line, the
height of sail will be diminished, and as this proportion is
diminished, the height of sail will be increased. Now w hen
DF is infinite in comparison with EC, that is, when the
negative resistances vanish, BQwill coincide with BP, and
the height of sail will be at W, the point in which the ver¬
tical line drawn from the centre of gravity of the ship in¬
tersects the direction of the resultant of the positive re¬
sistances. But if DF vanishes in comparison with EC, BQ
will coincide with BI, and the height of sail will be at R,
the point in which the vertical line drawn from the centre
of gravity intersects the line BC; consequently the points
R and W will be the limits between which the position of
the height of sail must be situated. The directions of the
resultants of the resistances on the bow and stern being
known, the position of this point within these limits will
depend upon the velocity of the ship, in as far as that ve¬
locity affects the ratio which these resultants bear to each
other. And since the negative resistance depends on the
degree of vacuum w hich the vessel creates by the velocity
of its passage through the water, it will evidently be very
inconsiderable as long as the velocity continues small. In
fact, this is found to be the case experimentally, as is also
that, after certain limits, this negative resistance increases
in a greater ratio than the velocity. We may therefore
draw the general conclusion, that the less the velocity of
the ship is, the nearer will the height of sail approximate
to that of its lowrest limit; and, on the contrary, the greater
the velocity of the ship, the nearer will this point approach
its highest limit. But as wre are not yet sufficiently ac¬
quainted with the lawrs of the motion of fluids to determine
the ratio of the increase or decrease of the positive and ne¬
gative resistances experienced by bodies in their passage
through the water,-we cannot ascertain how near the ulti¬
mate position of the height of sail with the greatest velocity
which the vessel can acquire will approximate to the limit
which has been assigned to it.
One circumstance which may affect the height of sail re¬
mains to be noticed; this is, the deviation of the apparent
water-line of the ship when she is in motion, from her hori¬
zontal water-line, which is occasioned by the accumulation
of fluid at the fore-part of the ship, and the depression of it
at the after-part, that is incidental to the motion of a body on
a fluid. This will vary in degree in proportion to the velo¬
city of the ship. Now if this addition to the one and diminu¬
tion from the other of the resisting surfaces alter the propor¬
tions between their respective vertical and direct resistances,
the directions of the resultants of the resistances on these
surfaces, which depend on these proportions, will also be al¬
tered. If the extremities of the vessel were formed by plane
surfaces, neither the accumulation nor the depression would
alter the directions of the resultants of the resistances, since
the angles of incidence would be the same for every part of
the surfaces ; but as the extremities of the vessel are curved
surfaces, the effect produced on the direction of the re¬
sultants of their respective resistances will depend on the
relative inclination to the horizon of the curve of that part
of the body beneath the horizontal W'ater-line, and of the
parts above or below the water-line, which will be affected
by the accumulation and depression of the water. Since
the lower parts of the vessel’s body, both forward and abaft,
are those which are generally most inclined to the horizon,
it is probable that the direction of the resultant of the re¬
sistances on the bow is low'ered by the accumulation of the
uater against them, and that the direction of the resultant
of the resistances to the stern is rather raised by the depres- Theory,
sion of the water at that part. At the same time it must''■‘““v'—"’''
also be observed, that, by the effect of the accumulation,
the centre of effort at which the resultant of the resistances
against the bows acts will be raised, while, by the effect of
the depression, that at the stern will be lowered.
The position of this point will determine the height above
the centre of gravity of the ship, at which the common
centre of effort of the sails should be placed, not only when
the directions of the wind and of the ship’s course coincide
with each other, but also whatever may be the direction of
the ship’s course with regard to that of the wind ; for, under
all circumstances, that portion of the force of the wind
wdiich acts in propelling the ship in the direction of her
course, will be subject to the same laws which govern the
action of the whole force of the wind when it acts in .that
direction.
It is also evident, that it is not only necessary that the Addition or
centre of effort of the surface of those sails which are usually diminution,
set, and for which the position of the height of sail is gene¬
rally recommended to be estimated, should coincide with
this point; but also, that when additions are made to the
quantity of sail set, care should be taken to preserve the
common centre of effort of the whole surface as nearly at
this same height above the centre of gravity of the ship as
is possible.
It is frequently observed that a ship’s velocity does not Velocity
increase or decrease in proportion to the additional quantity may not in-
of sail set or taken in. It is evident, from the principles
which have been explained, that these apparent anomalies 0
must arise from the mal-position of the centre of effort of
the sail; and, in fact, it is even possible that the velocity of
a ship may be decreased by the addition and increased by
the diminution of sail, if the centre of effort is improperly
placed. That this may be the more evident, suppose AB
(fig. 8) to be the water-line of a ship, when the centre of
Fig. 8.
effort of the sails is situated at the correct height of sail
GF ; then suppose the disposition of the sails to be so alter¬
ed that their centre of effort coincides with E, a point si¬
tuated above the point F; and let a = the force of the wind
on the sails both before and after the alteration ; its moment
to turn the ship round its centre of gravity G, when its
action takes place at the point E, will be equal to « . EG,
and this force will be opposed by the horizontal resistance of
the water, also = a, acting at the distance FG from the
centre of gravity G; therefore a • EG — a ■ FG = a • EF will
be the force exerted by the wind to make the ship revolve
round G, its centre of gravity, and immerse the bows; and
the inclination will continue from the effect of this action
until the moment of hydrostatical stability, which it will
generate, becomes sufficient to counteract it. It should
254
SHIP-BUILDING.
Theory, here be observed, that by the difference which the inchna-
tion of the ship will make in the angles ot incidence oi the
water on the bows and stern, the correct height of sail, after
the inclination, will most probably not coincide with t, but
the alteration arising from this circumstance in the position
of this point will depend on the form of the vessel’s body.
When the force a • EF is destroyed, suppose the water¬
line to coincide with CD, then from G draw GH, making
with GE the angle EGH equal to the angle of inclination
DGB ; take GH = GE, then H will be the position of the
centre of effort E of the sail after the inclination, and the
angle BGH will represent the inclination ot the plane of
the sails to the horizon, they having been supposed to be
vertical before the inclination of the ship. Now from H
draw HM horizontal, and take MH to represent the whole
force of the wind acting in that direction, at the points
H and F ; then from M draw ML perpendicular to GH ;
and from L draw LK perpendicular to MH ; MK will re¬
present the horizontal force of the wind acting to propel the
ship in the direction of its course, when the centre of effort
of the sails is at E. Since MH represents the quantity of
this force when the centre ot effort of the sails is at the true
height of sail F, KH will represent that part of the horizon¬
tal force which is lost by the mal-position of the centre of
effort; and if MH, the whole force of the wind, be assumed
equal to radius, then from similar triangles MHL, LHK,
we get the value of KH equal to the square of the sine of
the angle of inclination divided by the radius, when radius
is equal to the whole force of the wind. Therefore, if the
removal of the centre of effort from its correct position at
the height F had been accomplished by an addition to the
quantity of sail set, instead of by an alteration in its dispo¬
sition, unless the increase of MH, the force of the wind
arising from the increase in the area of sail set, was greater
than this value of KH, which represents the force lost, the
velocity must be diminished instead of being increased,
by the addition to the force of the wind ; since its effective
force to propel the ship would be diminished by a quantity
equal to the difference between this value of KH and the
increase of the whole force of the wind. Now suppose that
by the mal-position of the centre of effort at E, the ship is
inclined so that GH is the plane of the sails, it is evident
that the quantity of sail may be reduced until the force of
sin.2 EGH
the wind is diminished by a quantity equal to racj ’
without diminishing the velocity, if, by this reduction in the
quantity of sail, the centre of effort is removed to its correct
position at F. This reasoning shows that when the centre
of effort of sail is placed too high above the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship, the disadvantages of such an adjustment
may be lessened by raking the masts, since by that means
the loss in the force of the wind may be avoided.
If centre of When the centre of effort is above the height of sail, the
effort of sail veiocity 0f the ship will be subject to further decrease from
be above tjie jncrease 0f resistance which will result from the immer-
saTf U ° sion of the full parts of the body forward, and the conse¬
quently greater area of midship section. Also, in the case
which has been supposed of the plane of the sails being
vertical before the commencement of the action of the
wind, when the longitudinal inclination EGH takes place, a
part of the action of the force KL will act to increase the
displacement, and consequently the resistance. This dis¬
advantage may also be diminished by raking the masts.
Excess of There are other circumstances arising out of the longi-
moment of tudinal inclination of the ship, caused by the excess of the
sail over moment of the w ind on the sails over the moment of hy-
momenc of (jrodynamical stability, which are disadvantageous to the
rnicd stab?-g0°d properties of the ship. The equilibrium which en-
lity. sues between the excess of the moment of the wand and
the moment of hydrostatieal stability, which has been de¬
scribed as being generated by the inclination, will not be Tfaeor
constant, as every increase or decrease in the force of the v*
wind will cause an increase or decrease in the moment ot
stability, which must be obtained by a corresponding change
in the inclination ; therefore a ship in which the centre of
effort is placed above the true height of sail, will be subject
to an alteration in her water-line at every change in the
force of the wind ; and it will, owing to this circumstance,
not only be impossible to adjust the longitudinal position of
the centre of effort to any fixed trim of the ship which may
have been found to be advantageous, but it w ill be equally
impossible to determine the best longitudinal position for
this point, after the ship is in a state ot motion, since her
trim will be subject to constant change.
If the centre of effort, instead of being supposed to be Centro,
situated above the true height of sail, be considered to be^r'b
below that point, the immersion will take place at the after- 0f
extremity of the ship, from the action of the excess of the
moment of the resistance of the water. It must also be
observed, that there will be this difference in the two cases.
When the centre of effort is above the height of sail, at
every increase in the force of the wind the ship will, from
the increased immersion of the bows, fly up to the wind,
while the effect of the immersion of the after-part will be
to make her fall off from it. The ill effects which have Disadvd
been described as attendant on the mal-position of the ^ of,
centre of effort of the sails with respect to the height of
sail, though they cannot be removed while the cause exists, centre C]
and which may consist in the improper proportions of the effort,
masts and yards, can in some cases be diminished by an
alteration in the disposition of the weights on board the
ship. If, instead of supposing the ship to incline, from the
action of the force of the wind at the point E, we suppose the
effort of this force to produce the inclination to be counter¬
acted by the removal of a weight (b) from a point N at the
fore-part of the ship, to another point O at the after-part,
then the ship will be maintained in a state of equilibrium
by the action of the two equal forces a • EF and & • NO ;
and she will therefore move without longitudinal inclination,
as long as the force of the wind remains constant; but any
alteration in that force must be counteracted by a corre¬
sponding alteration in the position of the weight: also, when,
from the action of the water on the hull, the ship acquires an
angular velocity, the angular momentum will be increased
by that of these two forces, which may both be considered
as weights acting at their respective distances from the
centre of gravity of the ship. It is therefore evident, that
an error in the position of the centre of effort of the sails
cannot be advantageously remedied by any alteration in the
disposition of the weights in the ship, except in peculiar
cases of smooth water ; and further, if the error be that the
centre of effort is above the height of sail, the ship will la¬
bour under the disadvantage of a diminished area of sail,
since the moment of sail must be in constant proportion to
the moment of stability ; and if the centre of effort is too
low, the ship may not be able to obtain all the advantage ot
motive power that her stability would admit of her applying.
It appears, therefore, that unless the centre of effort of Centre
the sail be placed at the height of sail, a ship, however good
her form, and the properties connected with it, may be, and ^ ^
whatever may be the care bestowed to render those pro¬
perties most efficient, will labour under very serious disad¬
vantages ; while, on the contrary, a correct adjustment of
this element, and a knowledge of the principles on which
that adjustment depends, will place it in the power of a
commander to obtain a maximum of advantage from the
powers and properties of his vessel, since it will enable him
to acquire the greatest possible efficient action from the
motive power at his disposal.
As was before said, the determination of the height of
sail must be classed among those problems of naval archi-
SHIP-BUILDING.
5 jo
ory.
Di jlties
atl tai't
or ! ['ra.c'
ti( IPP11"
ca ‘of
t'c ring
pr ple»
ni w
ov ;tnne.
tecture which, labouring under the difficulties attendant on
our imperfect knowledge of fluids, cannot be attained by
theory alone. It will now be shown that, by the aid of
theory, sufficient deductions may be made from experiment
to remedy its practical insufficiency. Throughout the fore-
troing considerations, the sails have been reasoned on as if
they were plane surfaces. If this were the case, their centre
of effort would coincide with their common centre of gravi¬
ty ; but, from the flexibility of the materials of which they
are made, the sails become, when acted upon by the force
of the wind, curved surfaces. However, from the whole
surface of sail with respect to height being composed of
several such surfaces, the error arising in practice from as¬
suming the height of the common centre of gravity of the
whole surface to be the height of the centre of effort, will
be very inconsiderable; therefore, in practice the centre
of effort of the sails may be represented, with respect to
height, by their common centre of gravity.
Since we knowr, from the principles which have been ex¬
plained, that when the centre of effort of the sails is at the
true height of sail, the trim of the ship will not be subject¬
ed to alteration by any increase or diminution in the force
of the wind, the height of sail for any trim may be deter¬
mined by experiment, by first bringing the ship to that trim
when she is at rest, and then adjusting the sails so that her
water-line when in motion may be parallel to this trim.
This being admitted, it is evident that, by proceeding on
the principles already explained in this article, the maxi¬
mum of advantage arising from the correct position of the
centre of effort of the sail may be insured, by first ascer¬
taining, from experiment and observation made with re¬
ference to the longitudinal position of the centre of effort
with respect to the centre of gravity of the ship, the most
advantageous draught of water, and then determining the
correct height of sail with respect to that draught of water.
The observations necessary to effect these objects will
require considerable patience and attention; but it must be
considered that they will not only enable a commander to
derive the greatest possible advantage from the means at
his disposal, but that they will afford correct data for per¬
fecting those means. The following observations may suffice
to explain the principle which should be pursued. The
draught of water previous to sailing should be observed ;
and an instrument which will correctly measure the angle
of inclination should be fixed, in reference to this water-
line, so that by means of it every deviation from this trim
may be exactly known. This is rendered absolutely neces¬
sary, because, when a ship is in motion, her correct trim,
that is, her horizontal water-line, cannot be observed, in
consequence of the accumulation and depression of the wa¬
ter which is caused by the motion. In fact, any alteration
made In the trim of the ship or the sails, founded on obser¬
vations made with reference to the apparent water-line,
might be extremely hazardous, and certainly would not
produce the results expected, as the position of this water¬
line depends wholly on the circumstances which are in im¬
mediate operation. Having the instrument fixed, when the
ship has acquired a uniform velocity observe the alteration
which has taken place in her trim, as, until the velocity is
uniform, the trim will be influenced by the force which ac¬
celerates the velocity. Then, if her longitudinal oscillations
or her pitching motions appear to be only influenced by the
state of the sea, the centre of effort is correctly placed at the
height of sail. Therefore the height of the centre of gravity
of the surface of sail set, will give the height of sail. But if
at every change in the force of the wind the vessel experi¬
ences a sudden increase of longitudinal oscillation, observe
by the instrument its nature and degree, and make such a
change in the adjustment of the sails as the foregoing prin¬
ciples have shown to be necessary ; and when the tendency
to increased longitudinal oscillation ceases, find the height of
sail by calculating the height of the centre of gravity of the Theory,
surface of sail then set. In this manner the correct height—v'——'
of sail for any trim may be found; while, by observing at
the same time the comparative qualities of the ship when
at each of these trims (after the height of sail is determined
for it), that trim of the ship and sails may be determined at
which a maximum of advantage may be derived from the
inherent good qualities of the ship, as far as the perfection of
the materiel will admit, that is, as far as the position and pro¬
portion of the masts, yards, and sails, are adapted to the ele¬
ments of the construction of the ship’s body; while from
knowing the best trim of the ship, and the true position of
the centre of effort under the several circumstances of wind
and sea, the naval architect will be in possession of sufficient
data to make such alterations in the materiel as shall then
insure a maximum of advantage with a maximum of the
means. In fact, correct observations of this nature would
go very far to remove much of the difficulty which theory, in
its application to some points in the practice of naval archi¬
tecture, at present labours under.
The laws which govern the mutual action of the wind and Recapitula-
water on a ship when she is in motion have now been ex-tlo.n ot
plained, principally as they affect her equilibrium round a1>llllU!
vertical or a horizontal axis of rotation; because by point¬
ing out the various states of equilibrium which result be¬
tween the action of the wind on the sails and the w ater on
the hull, we are enabled to show the effects which may be
produced on the qualities of the ship by modifications in
these equilibrio ; either by the use of the helm, by altera¬
tions in the trim of the ship, in the quantity of the sail set,
or in the disposition of that quantity, so that in the various
changes which may take place in the state of the wind or
of the sea, the qualities of the vessel may either experience
the least possible injurious effect, or the greatest possible
degree of benefit, according as the tendency of the change
may be injurious or beneficial. In pursuing this train of
reasoning, we have also endeavoured to explain in what
manner the principles that govern the mutual action of
these forces may be made available in directing such ob¬
servations on the performances of ships as may lead to the
formation of correct conclusions on their powers and quali¬
ties, and guide us to the best means of rendering these qua¬
lities most easily available. It has also been shown, that by
experiments and observations made according to the prin¬
ciples which have been advanced, a maximum of advantage
may be obtained from a ship, as far as the form, the fitness
of the proportions and positions of the masts and yards, the
proportions of the sails, and the trim of the vessel, will admit;
and, what is yet more important, that sufficient data may be
obtained to enable the naval architect to judge correctly of
the comparative perfection of those means, and so to form
correct conclusions as to such deviations from them, as would
either tend to their improvement or to obviate similar de¬
fects in a future design.
It is evident, that whatever may be the service required In every
from a vessel, there must always be some maximum of ef-vessJ a
ficiency with reference to those services, which is to be ar-
rived at by a judicious combination of the powers of theci£m.v-
vessel with the means which call them into action. The
distinguishing division of the characteristics of the qualities
required in vessels are mainly those peculiar to burden
and those peculiar to velocity. In England, for the last distinct
century, we may say that burthen, to the sacrifice of every riua*J^es'
other quality, nay, even to an extent compromising the ^ v!ej0_
safety of the vessel and the lives of the crew, has been thec;ty.
solitary requirement in the design of a merchant-ship.
In ships of war, under almost all circumstances, it is a In ships of
combination of the two which is the desideratum ; and it war both
is not sufficient that a vessel should be only capable of greatnecessary'
velocity in direct courses, or when the propelling force acts
in the direction of the keel; for it is in most cases of more
256
Theory.
Lee-wav.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Effective
force of
wind.
Investiga¬
tion of the
angle of
lee-wav.
and the proportion between GH and HE will be invariable,
and therefore the effort to cause the deviation of the course ^
from the line of the keel, or the action of the force GH,
will be in an invariable proportion to the force acting to
propel the vessel along that line, or the force HE ; and, as
we know from what has been before said, that the forces
GH and HE must be respectively equal to, and opposed
by, the lateral and direct resistances of the water acting in
the directions HG and EH, the motion of the ship must
be along some line ab, such that the equilibrium between
these forces may be maintained. This is the principle on
which the deviation of the course of the ship from the line
of the direction of the keel depends.
The angle of lee-way is determined as follows: Suppose
the direct and lateral resistances of the water to the pas¬
sage of the vessel to be respectively R and r, and the sur¬
faces respectively opposed to these resistances to be d and
e, and the angle DEB which the sail makes with the line
of the keel to be c ; then, if the angle of lee-way be sup¬
posed to be x, we have
R : r :: <i• cos.2 x : e' sin.2 x
R </”cos.2a;
d
e • sin. x e • tan.' x
R
EH
'HG
sin. c
d
c tan.2x
=:tan. c
tan. c
or,
o d
tan.- x — cotan. c
e
/d-
tan. x — ^J -
cot. c.
importance that she should be capable of great velocity
when acted upon by a force in a direction oblique to that
of her length, and at the same time that the deviation of her
course from this line should be the least possible.
The principles on which this deviation of the course of
a ship from the line of her keel, or the angle of lee-way, de¬
pends, will now be explained; and the causes will be shown
which occasion the actual results of observations on ships
to differ from the theoretic principles which have been ad¬
vanced by writers on this subject; and such methods will
be suggested for making further observations in reference
to these qualities as may be desirable, with a view to col¬
lect data to supply the deficiencies resulting to the theory
from the imperfect state of our knowledge respecting the
resistances of fluids, particularly as they affect the oblique
passage of a ship through the water.
Whatever may be the angle which the direction of the
wind makes with the plane of the sails, the only effective
force of the wind on the sail is that part of the whole force
which can be resolved into a direction perpendicular to the
surface of the sails ; therefore, whatever may be the whole
force of the wind, its effective force will vary as the sine
of the angle which the direction of the wind makes with the
sail; and as the velocity of the ship is in proportion to the
effective force of the wind, it will also, all things else re¬
maining the same, vary as the sine of this angle. Now, as,
when the ship is under sail, the direction of its motion
should coincide with the middle line, that is, with the di¬
rection of the keel, since the plane of resistance is less when
the ship moves in that direction than it is when the line of
motion cuts the ship obliquely, all that part of the force of
the wind which acts in any other direction than that of the
keel must be disadvantageous to her progress, as tending
to force her in a direction in which she will meet with an
increased resistance from the water. From what has been
said above, this injurious tendency must necessarily occur
in every circumstance of the action of the wind on the sails
of a ship, excepting in that under which the trim of the
sails is at right angles to the middle line of the ship, as, un¬
der all circumstances, the force of the wind on the sail may
be resolved into two, both of which will have effect on the
ship, the one acting perpendicular and the other parallel to
the middle line: or, if we suppose AB (fig. 9) to be the
middle line of a ship,
and CD the direction Fig. 9.
of the yard, making
with AB the angle
DEB less than a right
angle; and suppose
FE to represent the
quantity and direc¬
tion of the force of
the wind; from E and
F draw EG perpen¬
dicular and FG pa¬
rallel to DC, and
from G draw GH perpendicular to AB ; then GE will re¬
present the effective force of the wind on the sail, and GH
and HE will be respectively equal to the parts of that force
employed in propelling the vessel in a lateral and in a di-   - ^
rect course. If CD, the direction of the yard, were per- out any alteration in the direction of the wind with the
pendicular to AB the line of the keel, the lateral effort of keel, the lee-way varies with every variation in the velocity
the wind, or the force GH, would be lost, and have no ef- of the vessel; and also, from this same cause, the alteration
feet on the ship; but when CD is oblique to AB, what- in the velocity, all things else remaining the same, if
ever may be the quantity or direction of the force FE of angle formed by the direction of the wrind with the keel be
the wind with respect to AB, it may be resolved into two altered, the angle of the lee-way will also experience an
forces, both of which will be effective on the ship. As long alteration ; in fact, so greatly does the angle of lee-way de-
DEB, the angle formed by the direction of the yard pend on the velocity of the ship, that in the same vesse,
, .i i i .i i , j *  : i. i : rlirpr-
From this equation, also, it appears that the angle of lee-;
way depends wholly on the angle of inclination of the sail
to the line of the keel, without in any way involving the
velocity of the ship ; and most writers on naval architecture
have in this manner considered the question of the equili¬
brium which exists between the force of the wind and of
the resistance of the water in producing this angle. Bou-
guer has calculated an elaborate table of the angles of lee¬
way for various classes of ships for the several degrees of in¬
clination of the sail to the keel, from 30° to 90° ; but the re¬
sults which he has obtained differ essentially from those de¬
rived from observation on the actual performances of vessels.
According to the theory which has been explained, and
on which Bouguer founded his calculations, the lee-way
depends solely on the angle formed by the yard and the
keel, and is uninfluenced by any other cause, and therefore
is neither affected by the angle which the direction of the
wind makes with the sail, nor by the velocity of the vessel;
but this is contrary to the facts elicited by the experience
of the actual motion of a ship under sail. From the geo¬
metrical construction which has been given, it is evident,
that whatever may be the force or the direction of the
wind, the proportion which GH bears to HE will increase
as the angle DEB diminishes, and so far the theory agrees
with experiment; but it is well known to all who have ob¬
served the motion of a vessel through the water, that withi
Bourne
with the line of the keel, remains the same, its complement,
the angle GEH, will remain the same; and as GHE is a
right angle, the triangle GEH will remain similar to itself,
under similar circumstances of bracing of yards and direc¬
tion of wind with the keel, the only varying circumstance
being a difference in the force of the wind, the quantity
\
SHIP-BUILDING.
257
T ry-
Exr>
pew'tva'
riai with
Kl';H
but lit an
insi siouw
tab i)b-
fccln.
And ;r
cam
of lee-way will vary from that which would occur by the
ship’s almost drifting in the direction of the sine of the angle
of incidence of the direction of the wind on the sail, to that
which would exist if her course almost coincided with the
line of her keel, or to a quantity which, in practice, would
evidently be scarcely observable.
There is some difficulty in accounting for this difference
between the results of theory and the facts observed from
experience. It depends in a great measure on the imper¬
fection of our knowledge respecting the laws of the motion
of bodies in fluids, so that we are unable to estimate the cir¬
cumstances of the resistance of the water on the bows and
on the sides of the ship. The results of the theory of re¬
sistances, when applied to oblique impulses, vary very con¬
siderably from the actual resistances as observed by expe¬
riment, more especially as the angles of incidence become
more acute. This discrepancy affects the lateral resistance,
or the resistance on the broad-side, more than the direct, or
that experienced by the bows of the vessel, and therefore
has a corresponding influence in causing the actual lee-way
of a ship to differ from the theoretic result. But this, again,
is one of those difficulties arising from the imperfect state
of the theory of resistances, which may be classed among
those which were referred to in the early part of these ob¬
servations, as requiring “ only to be fully known and under¬
stood, to be, if not absolutely theoretically solved, at least,
from the collection of facts, from experiment, and from ana¬
logy, so far overcome, as to leave nothing to be desired.”
The course of these remarks will tend to show the possi¬
bility of this. Professor Robison, in the excellent article on
Seamanship, speaking of the results deduced by Bouguer,
says, “ that the person who should direct the operations on
ship-board in conformity to the maxims deducible from M.
Bouguer’s propositions, would be baffled in most of his at¬
tempts, and be in danger of losing his ship. The whole
proceeds on the supposed truth of that theory which states
the impulse of a fluid to be in the proportion of the square
of the sine of the angle of incidence, and that its action on
any small portion, such as a square foot of the sails or hull,
is the same as if that portion were detached from the rest,
and were exposed singly and alone to the wind and water
in the same angle....But let it be observed, that the theory
is defective in one point only ; and although this is a most
important point, and the errors in it destroy the conclusions
on the general propositions, the reasonings remain in full
force, and the modus operandi such as is stated in the theory.”
There is another cause existing to occasion the devia¬
tion which is observable in the practical results of the lee¬
way of a ship from the conclusions of theory, which arises
from the theory’s not embracing the whole of the circum¬
stances attendant on a vessel’s motion through the water.
By recurring to the explanation which has been given of
these circumstances in a previous portion of this article,
some further elucidation may be afforded to the unsatisfac¬
tory result of the theory. When motion is communicated
to a vessel from a state of rest, or from a lesser degree of
motion, the effort of the wind on the sails is greater than
that of the water on the hull, whether to propel the vessel
in the direction HE of the keel, or, laterally, in the direc¬
tion GH, and the velocity of the vessel in each of these
directions is accelerated by the excess of the force of the
wind over the resistance of the water, until, ultimately, by
the diminution in the relative velocity of the wind, and the
increase of the relative velocity of the water, an equilibrium
ensues between the propelling and the resisting forces, and
the vessel continues to move in the direction of the last
acting force, and with the last acquired velocity. Now the
resistances of the water in the direction EH and HG may
be assumed to increase as the squares of the velocities, and
from the nature of the form of a vessel, and from the com¬
parative direct and lateral resisting areas, the resistance
VOL. xx.
arising from form or area is much smaller in a direct than Theory,
in a lateral direction, and therefore the equilibrium between
the forces which act laterally may ensue before that be¬
tween the forces which act directly ; in which case the la¬
teral motion of the vessel will become uniform before the
direct motion, and consequently the ultimate course or di¬
rection of the vessel, when all the forces have arrived at a
state of equilibrium, will approximate to that of the last
acting force, that is, will more nearly coincide with the di¬
rection of the keel, and the angle of lee-way will be dimi¬
nished. As this reasoning depends on the intensity of the
force of the wind, the effect will vary as the cause ; and the
greater the force of the wind, and consequently the velo¬
city of the ship, the greater must be the diminution of the
angle of lee-way, that is, the angle of lee-way will, so far as
it is affected by these considerations, vary inversely as the
sine of the angle of incidence of the wind on the sail.
Romme, in his TraiteduNavire, differs from the opinions Romme.
advanced by Bouguer; and though his reasoning on this
subject is far from clear, his opinions are valuable, as he
founds the conclusions at which he arrives, that the lee-way
varies inversely as the square of the velocity, and that it
increases with the obliquity of the sails to the keel, princi¬
pally on observations and experiments on the actual per¬
formances of vessels; and these are the only means by
which, as yet, we can hope to arrive at the solution of this
problem. However, much further observation is necessary
to afford sufficient data on which to found an approxima¬
tion to the lee-way which a vessel makes. The general
facts which influence it appear to be the greater or lesser
angle of incidence of the wind on the sail, as the velocity
of the ship is dependent on this ; the angle of the inclina¬
tion of the sails with the keel; the form of the vessel as it
affects the ratio of the direct and lateral resistances; the
form of the vessel as it affects the velocity ; the stability as
it affects the lateral resistances; the quantity of sail set; and
the state of the sea.
The distance which a ship falls to leeward of her course Tables
in any given time may generally be very easily ascertain-might be
ed; and it would not be a task of any great difficulty toformed-
form tables, from actual observation, for ships, under all the
various circumstances which have been shown to affect the
deviation of their course from the line of direction of the
keel. In the open sea the quantity of lee-way made in any
certain time may be easily ascertained by measuring the
angle which the ship’s wake makes with the line of the
keel; then, if the distance run during the time for which the
lee-way is to be observed be ascertained, as that distance is
measured along the line of lee-way, the distance run in any
period of time will be to the distance which the ship has
fallen to leeward of her course during that time, as radius
to the sine of the angle of lee-way. When a ship is in sight Ex-peri-
of land, the angle which the direction of the keel makes meats
wdth the line of lee-way may be more correctly observed by wllich ma7
means of a fixed object on the shore, whenever the state of^e made-
the wind and sea may render an estimation of the lee-way
desirable, that is, whenever the wind is sufficiently steady ;
as, of course, it is supposed that the angle formed by the
direction of the wind with the line of the keel will remain
constant during the whole time for which the distance fallen
to leeward is to be ascertained. If, when the ship is either
approaching or leaving the shore, her head be constantly
kept to the same point of the compass, the ship’s course will
be along the line of lee-way ; and as all things are supposed
to remain constant during the time of the observation, this
line will form a constant angle with the line of the keel,
and therefore the point on the shore, which will have the
same bearing from the ship as the line of lee-way, will re¬
main at that bearing during the whole time in which the
ship either approaches to or recedes from the shore. Con¬
sequently, if, wfoen a ship either approaches to or recedes
2 K
SHIP-BUILDING.
258
Theory, from a shore, ah object on the shore be observed which
has a constant bearing from the ship, it must be in the di¬
rection of the line of lee-way, and therefore the angle which
it makes with the direction of the keel will be the correct
angle of lee-way; and then, as before, it the distance run
in any time be taken as the radius, the distance which the
ship has fallen to leeward of her course in that time will be
equal to the sine of the angle of lee-way to a radius equal to
the distance run by the vessel in the time assumed.
The actual quantity gained to windward in any given time
may also be easily ascertained. The motion of the vessel
through the water may be considered in four directions,
and the velocity with which it advances in either of these
directions determined.
The actual velocity of the ship, or the velocity along the
line of lee-way, which may be called the oblique velocity,
may be resolved into two ; the direct velocity, or that esti¬
mated in the direction of the keel, and the lateral velocity,
or that which is in a direction at right angles to the line of
the keel; and contemporaneous with these is the velocity
with which the ship gains to windward. Let AB (fig. 10)
be the direction of the
line of the keel of the
vessel, and EF the di¬
rection of the yard, cut¬
ting that direction of the
keel obliquely. Then,
whatever may be the
direction of the wind
GH, the course of the
vessel will be along
some line HK, forming
an angle KHB with the
Fig. 10.
direction of the keel; then suppose HK on the line of lee¬
way to represent the velocity of the ship in that direction,
from K draw KL perpendicular to HB, and cutting HB in
L ; then the velocity HK is equal to the two velocities HL
and LK ; and HL and LK will represent respectively the
direct and lateral velocities of the vessel, in proportion to
the oblique velocity HK; and if from the points H and K,
HM be drawn perpendicular and KM parallel to the direc¬
tion of the wind GH, MK will represent the velocity with
which the ship has gained to windward in the time in which
she has described the space HK. bor the origin of the
wind being supposed to be at an infinite distance from the
vessel, as HM is drawn perpendicular to GH, the direc¬
tion of the wind, it may be supposed equidistant in every
point from the origin of the wind; and as the angle GHK
is less than the angle GHM, the line HK is within the line
HM ; and therefore the point K is nearer the origin of the
wind than the point H, by a quantity equal to the perpen¬
dicular distance KM, of the point K, from the line HM ;
or the ship has gained the distance MK to windward in
running from FI to K. It is evident that if HM coincided
with F1K, the ship would neither have gained to windward
nor fallen to leeward ; and that if HM fell within HK, the
ship would have fallen to leeward. When the distance HK
run by the vessel along the line of lee-way, and the angle
of lee-w^ay KHL, are known, the value of KM may be easily
determined; for since the angles GHF, FHL, and LHK,
are all known, and the line MH is drawn perpendicular to
HG, their complement, the angle MHK, is known; there¬
fore, as FIMK is a right angle, FIK is to KM as radius is to
the sine of the angle KHM; or KM is the sine of the angle
KHM, to a radius equal to the distance run by the vessel
in the space of time in which the required distance to wind¬
ward, KM, was to be gained. The only difficulties in the
practical solution of this proposition are, to determine the
direction FIM, or the perpendicular to HG, the direction
of the wind, and the value of the angle GHF; for when
the vessel is in motion, unless the directions of the wind
and of the course of the vessel coincide, that is, unless the Theo-
vessel is before the wind, the direction of the wind as^—v^
shown by the vane on board will not be its true direction;
for, from the velocity of the vessel through the air, the vane
is subject to a force acting upon it in a direction opposed to
that of the course of the vessel, the effect of which may be
considered the same as if the vane was at rest, and was
acted upon by a current of air having a velocity equal to
that of the vessel, but acting in an opposite direction; con¬
sequently the vane is acted upon by two forces, the one in
the real direction of the wind, acting with a velocity equal
to the velocity of the wund in that direction, and the other
acting in a direction opposed to that ot the course of the
vessel, with a velocity equal to that of the vessel in its
course ; and therefore the direction of the vane will be the
diagonal of the parallelogram of which the sides represent
these two forces in quantity and direction. It is therefore
evident that, all things else remaining the same, the greater
the velocity of the vessel, the more will the direction of
the wind, as shown by the vane, or the apparent wind, de¬
viate from the actual direction of the wind, or the true
wind ; and as this deviation arises from the action of a force Vessel
in a direction opposed to the motion of the vessel, or actingpearte
along the line of the course from the fore-part of the vessel
towards the after-part, the apparent direction of the windthan^
will in all cases head the vessel more than the true direc- actuallnl
tion of the wind, and consequently the vessel wall always lie.
appear to lie nearer the wind than she actually does.
The true direction of the wind may be found if the ve-Trued;
locity and direction of the vessel be known, and also the^d°{l
velocity and direction of the apparent wind, as the corre-’''™
spending velocity and direction of the true wind will form
the third side of a triangle, of which the three sides will be
to each other as the three velocities ; and as two of these
are known, and include a known angle, that formed by the
direction of the apparent wind with the course ot the ves¬
sel, the third side, or the direction and velocity of the true
wind, may be easily found. But as there is a difficulty in
ascertaining the velocity of the apparent wind, the most
easy way of determining the direction of the true wind will
be by observing the arc through which the ship’s head
passes from close-hauled on one tack to close-hauled on the
opposite tack. The bisection of this arc w ill, all things else
remaining the same, give the direction of the true wind, as
the course of the vessel, in relation to the direction ot the
wind, will be the same on either tack. Or the directions
of the apparent wind may be observed both before and alter
tacking, and the true wind will be the middle point between
the two directions, as the cause of the deviation of the di¬
rection of the vane from that ot the true wind, or the velo¬
city of the vessel, will be equal on each tack; and when
the direction of the true wind is know n, all the other parts
of the triangle may be found, as the direction and velocity
of the ship are known, and also the angle made by the ap¬
parent wind with that direction.
Shoidd the velocity of the vessel be greater on one tack
than on the other, it will be necessary, in order to determine
the direction of the true wind, to divide the arc described
by the vane when the ship is tacked into two segments,
which shall be to each other in the inverse ratio ot the ve¬
locities of the vessel on the tacks adjacent to these segments.
Writers on naval architecture and seamanship appear toNeam
have fixed the limit of the angle which is formed by theP™*^
direction of the w ind with the line of the keel, when a slnpcoursf
is close-hauled, at six points. This exceeds the angle which t},e wr
the writer of this article has repeatedly observed, by the
means which have been described, as being formed by the
direction of the wind with the line of the keel, on board the
Acorn, one of the corvettes of the experimental squadron
of the year 18‘^7. The following table will show the re¬
sults of some of the observations then made.
SHIP-BUILDING.
259
Ship’s Head
before Tacking.
S. S. E. 1 E.
W. bv S. ^ S.
S. S. E. i E.
W. IN.
N. W. by X.
S. S. E.
W|S.
Ship's Head
after Tacking.
W. ! N
S. S. E. 1 E.
W. by S. 1 S.
N. by E. | E.
E. by N.
W.
S. E. by S.
No. of Points
difference.
II
9
9
H
10
10
101
State of the
Wind.
Fresh breeze.
Light airs.
Light airs.
Moderate.
Fresh breeze.
Very fresh.
Very fresh.
Li; to
The second and third observations in this table were
made on the same day. Their correctness receives farther
confirmation from the circumstance, that when the Acorn
was on the larboard tack, with her head W. by S. -f S., the
Columbine, another corvette of the squadron, was on the
Acorn’s beam, and it was ascertained from an observer on
board the Columbine, she was lying about SE. by S. on the
starboard tack ; she must therefore have been lying as near
the wind as the Acorn. The wind was very light, the rate
by log being only one knot two fathoms ; the angle of lee¬
way, as observed by the wake, was seven degrees. It is
desirable that similar observations should be made for all
classes of ships; the circumstances of sea, wind, and rate by
log, should also be noticed, that when any comparison is in¬
stituted, a due allowance may be made for their influence.
,f We have seen that the velocity of the ship depends on
tin locity the strength of the wind. Writers on naval architecture
0 Jp' have advanced various opinions as to the practicable limit
to the velocity of a ship, in comparison with that of the
wind. Bouguer endeavours to prove that the velocity of a
fast-sailing ship is, when going nearly before the wind,
about fths of the velocity of the wind, and that merchant-
ships seldom attain to more than one fifth .of its velocity ;
but he considers it not impossible that fast-sailing frigates
may arrive at a velocity about equal to half that of the
wind. Don Juan objects to Bouguer’s limit, as too restrict¬
ed ; he corroborates the opinions he advances by the re¬
sults which he has deduced from experiment and observa¬
tion on the actual performances of ships. He says that
fast-sailing vessels acquire a velocity nearly equal to that of
the wind, even when going before the wind. The nearest
approximation to this velocity which he observed was as
twenty-one to twenty-three; the average conclusion at
which he arrives is, that when the course of the ship and
the direction of the wind nearly coincide, the velocity of
the ship is from fds to f^ths of that of the wind,
wed But in oblique courses it is very possible for the vessel
16 t0 acquire a velocity even greater than that of the wind, if
we admit the conclusions of Don Juan to be correct. The
reason of this will appear evident on a very slight consider¬
ation. The velocity with which the wind acts on the sails
after the ship has acquired motion is only its relative velo¬
city, that is, the excess of its actual velocity above the ve¬
locity which the ship has acquired in the direction of the
wind. Now, when the directions of the wind and of the
course of the vessel coincide, this relative velocity of the
wind is only the difference between the actual velocities of
t e wind and of the vessel; but when the course of the
vessel is oblique to that of the wind, the relative velocity
of the wind is the difference between the actual velocity of
t ie wind and that part of the velocity of the vessel which
can be resolved in the direction of the wind. Robison, in
the article on Seamanship, says, that when the sails are
square to the keel, and the wind right aft, the ship’s velo¬
city is in direct proportion to the relative velocity, and to
the square root of the surface of the sails ; therefore, he
says, “ in order to increase the relative velocity by an in-
crease of sail only, we must make this increase of sail in
theduphcate proportion of the increase of velocity.”
When the sails are oblique to the keel, he says “ the
velocity of the ship is proportional to V S • V • sin. a ; that
lla
til a:
win
is, directly as the velocity of the wind, directly as the sine Theory.
of the absolute inclination of the wind to the yard, and di- ' v'-—’'
rectly as the square root of the surface of the sails.” This
agrees with the conclusions that have been already drawn ;
and it is evident that, the velocity of the wind remaining
the same, and the sine of the angle of inclination of the
wind to the yard becoming equal to the radius, or if the
whole force of the wind act in a direction perpendicular to
the yard, the velocity of the ship will depend on the area
of the sails set, and may therefore, even theoretically speak¬
ing, be increased without limit.
From all the conclusions w hich have been deduced in Rig of a
the course of these remarks on the mutual action of thevessel
wind and water on a ship, it appears evident that the de- s|lould ,be
gree of perfection in the performance of a ship, whether Perform.0
with reference to her motion round an axis of rotation, or
to her course through the water, depends very greatly on
the suitableness of the disposition and proportion of the sail
to the form of the vessel. That there should be an analogy^
between these elements is evident; and experience and rea¬
son alike show, that the more nearly the rig of a ship is suit¬
ed to the qualities of her form, the more nearly do her per¬
formances approach to perfection. Vessels which, from
the proportions and form of their bodies, are capable of ly¬
ing near the wind, and of maintaining a Weatherly course,
cannot evidently be made to develope these advantages of
form to their full extent, unless their rig is also appropriate
for rendering such qualities available; wdiile vessels of
which the form and proportions are not so adapted for sail¬
ing in oblique courses, by having a rig peculiarly adapted
for such forms and courses, may even be unable to acquire
the degree of advantage in these oblique courses that they
would otherwise be capable of attaining, and at the same
time fall far short of the velocity of which they might be
capable in direct courses. In fact, in order that a ship may-
sail well, her form must not only be adapted for velocity
and quickness of manoeuvre, but her rig must be adapted
to hex form ; and she must be commanded by an officer com¬
petent to develope the advantages of both form and rig.
1 he first of the following tables was compiled from a
work, Scales of Displacements, &c. by Mr Parsons, a mem¬
ber of the late School of Naval Architecture. The second
was formed by Mr Henwood, another member of the same
establishment, and published by him in an article in the
United Service Journal. I he third was by Mr Fincham,
the master shipwright of Her Majesty’s dock-yard at Chat¬
ham, and published in the Papers on Naval Architecture.
These tables compose together a valuable analysis of
some of the elements of construction of our ships of war,
and, within their limits, cannot fail of proving useful to the
naval architect; because, as we have before said, naval ar¬
chitecture is a science of comparisons and analogies. To the
reader of the foregoing pages of this article it need scarcely
be observed, that there yet remain many difficulties opposed
to its being peifected, and that these can only be removed
by a rigorous course of inductive investigation applied to
the results of a patient, an attentive, and, above all, a com¬
petent comparison of the reported qualities and perform¬
ances of ships, with an analysis of the elements of their de¬
sign. When the School of Naval Architecture shall be re¬
established, as it most assuredly will be, the exercises of
the students in their calculations, and their experiments on
ships, may be made available to this end, by gradually ob¬
taining the preliminary analysis of the whole navy of Eng¬
land ; a work of very far too great labour for any thing but
the combined endeavours of many individuals to accom¬
plish ; and when accomplished, of too vast extent, and of
too varied and too conflicting results, to be grappled with
by any but by a mind apt to conceive, to collate, and to
generalize, and competent to submit these generalizations
to the ordeal of strict mathematical investigation.
Table 1.—Of the principal Dimensions of the several Classes of Ships composing the British Navy, and of several of their principal Elements.
260
Table I.—Continued.
a o
.2 c
'T' ’c3
o £
S5S
^ o
3ei3
C *3
.5 Q
'Ss
z 2
o <y
II
2 o
-sa
r« ^
a"
'C «
^ £
j: o
|S
si
■s S
Jo
c
UJS
M
i»
'. C3
W «
261
262
Mechanical
Methods of
designing
Bodies.
* The calculations for the ships thus marked are made
Table \\\.—Moments of Sail, of Stability, and of Sail in terms of the Stability, in Ships which have earned their
Sail well.
Three-decked Ships.
Two-decked Ships.
Moments
2,632,121
^2 s
tx c
O i-i
■-=&
to r ^
Tons.
3452! 762
1,750,165
4=2 «
tO o
■“ o £■
1 12
Tons.
2280 767
Frigates.
1,276,577
5 2
So «
^ c
C/7 Is
S
O hh
Tons.
1647
■'H o £'
775
Sloops.
554,484
5 .2
C/7
O
Tons.
547
.S'Si?
Ill
Brigs of 18 Guns.
10131 442,413
Tons.
409
1081
Brigs of 10 Guns.
247,645
2 ©
■5 w.S
C/7 ts-g
«*- C
O
Tons.
207
£s;§
1196
description of several Mechanical Methods of Designing
the Body of a Ship.
for correct
principles
Mechanical The following mechanical methods of'designing the forms
processes 0f midship sections, and of ships’ bodies, have been publish-
substituted e(j in different English and French works on naval archi-
n.. —t tectm.e> Some of these are for forming the midship section
alone ; others are for deducing the successive sections for¬
ward and abaft from a given midship section. Such me¬
thods of endeavouring to compensate for the absence of
more correct principles on which to found the design of a
ship, were rendered necessary whenever the vessel to be
built was of too large a size to admit of being conveniently
put up by the aid of the eye alone ; and consequently al¬
most every merchant-builder is in possession of some such
empirical system, to enable him to form a design for a ship.
Whether the ship built after the design so formed, will
prove to be possessed of good or of bad qualities, does not
generally enter into the consideration, excepting in so far
as the crude ideas of the inventor of the system may have
guided him in forming it. We say the crude ideas, be¬
cause the builder whose judgment is sound enough to en¬
able him to arrange facts and classify observations, and
whose experience has been extensive enough to have fur¬
nished him sufficient facts from which to deduce principles,
will abandon all such attempts as futile, and will pursue the
study of naval architecture in the manner in which alone
it can be studied to certain advantage, that is, as an induc¬
tive science. His success will depend on his fitness for the
If all the principles which are involved in the design for
a perfect ship were developed, and correct results could be
obtained by calculation on every point involved, a system
might be formed. A system might also be formed combin¬
ing all the present knowledge on the subject; but this is
far from desirable; it would necessarily be imperfect, and it
would be entailing imperfection on the future.
M. Bouguer, in his Traite du Navire, gives four methods Metha j
which have been used for describing the midship sections to or ^
of ships. He observes, that in these plans the midship sec'gect;0I
tions are generally formed of arcs of circles ; but that some¬
times, through the ignorance of the inventors, of the fact, that
for two arcs of circles to touch each other without cutting,
their centres must be in the straight line which passes
through their point of contact, the midship sections wine
they formed by these arcs had not even the advantage o
being curves, but had angles in their contour. He shows
how this error may be avoided. The first method he gives
SHIP-BUILDING.
anicalis that of Le Pere Fournier. A straight line AB (fig. 11) is
odsof,jrawn) which ]ie takes to represent the moulded breadth
( filing
.lies
B >e
p Four-
ni
Fig. 11.
N V.
i (le
of the ship. A circle RANB, which has this line for the
diameter, is then described; and, bisecting AB in C, he draws
the perpendicular CD, equal to the depth intended to be
given to the vessel, which extends from the under part of
the beam to the upper side of the keel. Through the point
D he draws a line parallel to AB, and, making DG and
DH each equal to half the flat of the floor, equal also, if so
determined, to one fourth of the whole breadth, he draws
the verticals GE and HF equal to the rising of the floor.
These may be assumed equal to the twenty-fourth, the
eighteenth, or the twelfth part of GH. He then finds on
GE, produced both ways to K and S, a point M, which he
takes for the centre of an arc of a circle NE, that touches the
first circle in some point N, and the straight line EF in
E. Then with a point S assumed as a centre he describes
the arc EO, which, touching the straight line EF or the
arc NE in E, meets the side of the keel in O. He has
thus ANEO for the form of half the section, and the other
side is drawn in the same manner.
Bouguer corrects this method thus: He takes EK equal
to the radius CA of the first circle, or equal to half the
length of the beam, and having joined the points K and C
by the straight line CK, if it be bisected in L, and LM be
drawn perpendicular to it, the intersection of this per¬
pendicular with EK will be the centre M of the arc NE.
For MC being equal to MK, and EK having been made
equal to AC or to NC, it is evident that MN will be equal
to ME, and consequently the arc of the circle described
irom the point M as a centre, and which will pass through
the point E, will touch the first circle in N. To determine
the other centre S, bisect the straight line EO, and from
the point of bisection draw a perpendicular which will meet
IG produced in the point S, which will be the centre of
the arc EO. The arcs AQ and QR are described, the first
round the point I as a centre with the radius IA ; the se¬
cond round any assumed centre with a radius equal to AI.
Another method is for determining the midship sections
of flat-floored ships. It was invented by M. de Palmi of
Brest. A rectangle ABIE (fig. 12) is described, which has
for its breadth the breadth of beam, and for its height
the depth to the keel. At E and F, the extremities of the
flat of the floor, the perpendiculars GE and HF are drawn
equal to the rising. A line KE (fig. 13) equal to LG is
assumed, and a square described upon it; two quadrants
of circles AQE and AXE are inscribed in this square, and
•either arc AXE is divided into a certain number of equal
Fig. 12.
263
Mechanical
Methods of
designing
Bodies.
Fig. 13.
parts, AV, VX, XY, YZ, &c. drawing from
the points of division VO, XN, Ac. perpen¬
dicular to the radius AK. The depth of the
vessel to the rising of the floor is divided in¬
to the same number of equal parts; and trans¬
ferring to level lines drawn through these last
points of division O, N, &c. the distances
OS, NR, MO, &c. intercepted in fig. 13 be¬
tween the radius AK and the arc of the circle AQE, it
only remains to pass a curve ASRQPE, in fig. 12, through
the extremities of all the perpendiculars or ordinates OS,
NR, &c. and the form of half the first section is obtained.
ED may be formed by an arc of a circle touching the first
curve E, and joining the side of the keel at D.
A third method, given by Bouguer, is for sharp ships. By Bou-
Form as before the rectangle ABIL (fig. 14), circumscrib-guer.
Fig. 14.
ing the part of the section below the main breadth AB;
then the rising GE or HF of the midship-floor is taken
equal to a fifth or a sixth part of the flat of the floor GH.
The points E and F being determined, two portions of pa¬
rabolas AE and BF are described, A being the vertex and
AC the axis of the one, and B the vertex and BC the axis
of the other. The flat of the floor is formed by two arcs
of circles, the convexity of the upper arc being below-, and
of the lower arc above. Having drawn from the point E,
EK and EM perpendicular respectively to AL and AC,
describe from a centre in AC produced indefinitely towards
N, the semicircle MKN passing through the points K and
M. Then AN will be the parameter of the parabola, which
will serve to determine as many points in the curve as may
be desired. If it be required to find a point in the vertical
line PQ through which the curve will pass, it may be found
by describing the semicircle NOP, and drawing from the
point O, where the semicircle cuts AL, the horizontal line
OQ, the point Q, the intersection of this line with PQ, will
be a point in the parabola. In the same manner any num¬
ber of points may be found. In order that the first arc of
264:
SHIP-BUILDING.
Mechanical the circle of which the flat of the floor is formed, may not
Methods of make an angle with the parabola, it is necessary that its
designing centre shou]j be situated in some point S of the perpendi-
0 ies‘ . cular to the parabola ER. To draw this perpendicular, the
sub-normal must be made equal to half the parameter AN.
Methods These methods are sufficient to show the nature of the
for forming mechanical systems of drawing the midship sections. VV e
the body. will proceed to give some of the mechanical systems of
forming the sections of the fore and after bodies of ships.
This operation affords a greater scope for ingenuity than
the formation of the midship sections, and consequently the
methods proposed have been much more numerous. I he
principal lines used in the construction of ships bodies by
these methods are the main breadth-lines, the top breadth¬
lines, and the rising and breadth-lines of the floors. 1 hese
lines are shown in two planes, a longitudinal vertical plane,
and a longitudinal horizontal plane. The rising of the main
breadth-line shows the projection on the longitudinal ver¬
tical plane of the heights above the upper side of the keel,
at which are the greatest breadths of the different vertical
sections fore and aft; and the horizontal main breadth-line
shows the corresponding distances from the middle line of
the ship at the respective sections. The rising of the top
breadth-line, and the horizontal top breadth-line, show in the
same manner the heights from the upper side of the keel,
and the horizontal distances from the middle line of the
ship, of the different vertical sections at the top breadth of
the timbers. At these heights, and at these distances from
the middle line, arcs of circles are generally described,
which give the form of parts of the vertical sections, or of
the frames of the ship. The rising line of the floors gives
in the same manner the heights above the upper side of
the keel, and the horizontal breadth-line of the floors gives
the distances from the middle line at which the floor-sweeps
commence. i • > u j •
Whole One of the oldest methods of forming a ship s body is
moulding. tbat which is called “ whole moulding.” It is a method of
constructing the square body, that is, all the body except
the fore and after extremities of a vessel, where the planes
of the frames are placed obliquely to the middle line, by
means of two moulds; the upper one giving the form of
the timbers above the rising line, and the lower one (called
the “ floor-hollow”) giving the form of the timbers from the
rising line to the keel. The midship section is first formed,
usually by arcs of circles; and at the height of the rising
line in this section a horizontal tangent is drawn to this
curve. In order that this tangent may be horizontal, the
centre of the arc, forming the lower part of the curve, must
be in a vertical line passing through the point at which the
tangent is drawn. The lower part is formed by a sweep
which reconciles with the upper curve. Usually this sweep
does not correctly touch the upper curve, although the in¬
accuracy is not very important in this method of construc¬
tion. In forming the body-plan, the heights of the main
breadth and rising lines at the different frames are set off,
and the different sections drawn by the two moulds. On
the horizontal part of the upper mould ABC (fig. 15) are
marked the half main breadths of the different sections, as
shown at C, and on the upper part of the mould their
heights, as at A; the lower mould DEF is also marked
where it meets the side of the keel at the different sections.
In moulding any timber, a square, called the rising square,
With the heights of the different risings of the timbers mark¬
ed on it, is used, by which the moulds are set according to
the particular timber the form of which it is intended to
obtain. On this square are also frequently marked the
heights of the cutting down, by which the form of the in¬
side of the timber is obtained at the same time. The ope¬
ration of moulding a timber may be best seen by reference
to the figure, where the moulds and rising square are set
for moulding the lower futtock. No. 8
Fig. 15.
Meehani:
Methods!
designit;
Bodies;
In Duhamel’s Elemens de VArchitecture Navale, there Method!
is a French method, nearly resembling this, of “ whole Duhamt|
moulding.” , , I
In Mungo Murray’s Treatise on Ship-building, a method By Mum
is given for forming a ship’s body by the use of the sector. - urraf
This instrument is formed of two scales connected by a
hinge, so as to open and shut like a common rule. Seven
lines are drawn on each leg of the sector from its centre,
divided at numerous points, indicating lengths which refer
to differents elements of the body. The marks on the cor¬
responding lines on the two legs of the sector refer to the
same distances.
The lines on one side of the sector are divided for the
fore-body, and on the other for the after-body. Ihe man-
ner of using these lines is thus described. u The general
dimensions being determined, and a scale adapted to the
drawing, take the half breadth with a pair of compasses, and
placing one foot in the proper point for the half breadth of
the midship section, which is shown on one of the lines,
open the sector till the other foot reaches to the same point
in the corresponding line on the other leg.”
The sector being thus set, the different distances are
taken by the compasses from the corresponding points mark¬
ed on the corresponding lines, and set off in the different
plans.
It is immediately evident that, by the use of the sector as
described, all ships constructed by it would be similar to
that according to which the distances were marked on these
lines. If it is required to form a fuller or a sharper body than
that by which the lines of the sector were divided, the mid¬
ship section, with the foremost and aftermost sections, must
be determined agreeably to the will of the constructor, and
the intermediate sections will be determined on the diago¬
nals by setting the sector separately for each diagonal, and
then taking the distances from the lines as before for the
formation of the different plans in the drawing.
The next method of constructing ships’ bodies which we By Boi
shall give is described by Bouguer; the diagonals in this guer-
method are formed of arcs of ellipses. The midship sec¬
tion is formed at will, and the extreme sections, forwar
and abaft, are formed in an arbitrary relation to the mid¬
ship section. To form the after-body by this method, let
ABC (fig 16) represent the midship section, FED the
after section, and BE the projection of one of the diagonals.
Describe the arc of a circle BA (fig. 17) whose radius is
equal to three times the line BE (fig. 16), and whose versed
sine BC is equal to BE. Divide the sine AC into any
\
SHIP-BUILDING.
265
anical
ods of
Fig. 1G.
Fig. 17.
number of equal parts, according to the number of inter¬
mediate timbers it is intended to draw. From these points
of division draw the lines DI, EK, &e. perpendicular to
AC ; and from the points where these lines intersect the
arc of the circle draw 15, K4, &c. parallel to AC. Trans¬
fer the line BC, so divided at 1, 2, &c. to BE, in fig. 16,
which will give points in which the intermediate sections
will cut the diagonal BE. The other diagonals are divided
similarly by taking any point O in AC produced (fig. 17), and
joining OB, 01, &c. and placing the projection of any dia¬
gonal as PQ. parallel to BC, and with its extreme points in
OB and OC. Some constructors prefer dividing each dia¬
gonal separately, by describing arcs of circles BA with dif¬
ferent radii; others, instead of dividing the sine AC into
equal parts, divide the arc AB into equal parts, and then
proceed as before.
The fore-body is formed by nearly the same means, but
is always made fuller than the after-body. Let Abe (fig.
16) represent the midship section, and Aed the extreme
section forward; produce the projection of the diagonal be
to meet the middle line of the body-plan in f. Describe
the quadrant of a circle
BA (fig. 18) with a ra- Fig. 18.
dius equal to fb (fig. 16),
and draw the sine DC
equal to fe, and parallel
to FB. From a point E
in FA produced, describe
an arc of a circle, with a
radius equal to once and
a half or twice FB, ac¬
cording as it is intended
to make the fore-body
fuller or sharper, meeting
CD produced in G. Di¬
vide the arc FG into as
many equal parts as it is
required to find spots on
the diagonal be, for the in¬
termediate sections; and
from the points of divi¬
sion H, I, &c., draw HM,
IN, &e. parallel to BF ;
and draw P1,02, &c. pa¬
rallel to FA. Then transfer BF, so divided, at 1, 2, &c. to
VOL. xx.
bf in the body-plan, which will give points in which the Mechanical
intermediate sections will cut the diagonal bf. Instead of M.etl.1^.s ot
dividing the arc FG into equal parts, some constructors i$0jjiies5
divide the sine DG into equal parts, and, by drawing lines
parallel to FD from these points of division, determine the
points of division of the arc FG, and then proceed as be¬
fore. Instead of making similar figures for other diagonals,
they are frequently divided proportionally to fb.
Bouguer proceeds to show the method of completing the
diagonals before and abaft the extreme sections.
One of the easiest methods of constructing ships’ bodies, is
by means of an equilateral triangle, and is described by Du-
hamel in his Ele.me.ns de VArchitecture Navale. To con¬
struct the triangle for the after-body, draw any line AB
(fig. 19), and divide it at
the points 1, 2, 3, &c. so
that the distance from 1
to 2 may be three times
the distance Al, taken
at pleasure, the distance
from 2 to 3 five times Al,
and so on ; the number of
points of division corre¬
sponding to the number of
intermediate sections be¬
tween the midship sec¬
tion and the stern-post, to¬
gether with the after-sec¬
tion at the stern-post.
Suppose the number of
intermediate sections to
be 7, let the distance from
7 to B be at least equal to the distance between the ver¬
tical sections on the plan of elevation. Describe on AB
the equilateral triangle ABC, and join Cl, C2, C3, &c.
I he use of this triangle is to divide the projection of the
diagonals in the body-plan proportionally to the divisions
of the base of the triangle AB.
In the plan of elevation, or sheer plan, take the distance
between any two of the vertical sections, and place DE, the
line representing this distance, parallel to AB, and so that
its extremities may be in the lines C7 and CB. Produce
DE to F, and take the horizontal distance from the inter¬
section of the projection of the diagonal with the vertical
section 7, to where the projection of the diagonal meets
the projection of the after fashion-piece; and place this
distance DG on DF, keeping one of its extremities in D;
then join CG, and produce it to meet the base AB pro¬
duced in H. Take the projection of this diagonal in the
body-plan IK (fig. 20) from the
midship section LIM to the fashion-
piece NKO, and place it in the
triangle parallel to the base AB,
and with its extremities i and k
in CA and CH ; the lines Cl, C2,
C3, &c. will divide the line ik pro¬
portionally to the divisions of the
base of the triangle AB. Transfer
this line so divided to its place in
the body-plan: the points 1, 2, 3,
&c. will give spots through which
the intermediate vertical sections
will pass.
Some who have used this me¬
thod of forming ships’ bodies
placed the projections of all the
diagonals parallel to the base of the triangle; others placed
them at different angles wdth the base. Duhamel recom¬
mends their being placed as follows. The projection of the
lower diagonal representing the floor ribband parallel to the
base; the projection of the second diagonal at an angle of
266
SHIP-BUILDING.
Chapman’s 60° 30' with that part of the side of the triangle above the
Parabolic projection of the diagonal; the third at an angle of 68°;
. System. the f(mrth at an angle of 8go . the fifth at an angle of 65° ;
and the projection of the sixth or top-breadth ribband at
an angle of 60°.
To construct the fore-body, a nearly similar process is
adopted; but the base of the triangle is differently divided,—
generally in a geometrical progression whose common mul¬
tiplier is 2. The divisions of the bases of the triangles,
however, are altogether arbitrary, as well as the angles of
inclination at which the projections of the diagonals are
placed, for both the fore and after bodies.
Objections These are some of the most esteemed mechanical me-
to the use 0f constructing the midship sections of ships, and the
of such fore and after bodies in relation to them. The inspection
processes. ^ already shows that tfiere is no attempt to describe
a form which is proved to possess any property conducive
to the good qualities of a ship. In forming a midship sec¬
tion by arcs of circles, it has been said that this figure has
been chosen because a circle contains the greatest area un¬
der the least periphery. Supposing even that this principle
were introduced into the form of a midship section, which
is* however, frequently destroyed by the use of several arcs
of circles, it by no means establishes the propriety of using
the arcs of circles in the construction of the form of a mid¬
ship section, because it would first be necessary to show
that it would be a good property for a midship section to
contain the greatest area under the least periphery. In
fact, the principles of naval architecture require a contrary
practice; a flatness is requisite in some parts of this section
instead of rotundity, to give lateral resistance, great stabili¬
ty under a given area, and fine water-lines. The use of the
ellipse is equally arbitrary. Little can be said in favour of
either of the methods of designing bodies which we have
described, nor need any thing be urged against them: it will
evidently be perceived, that they are the resources of per¬
sons who are called upon to give designs of ships, and who,
being ignorant of any correct data on which to form their
design, are necessitated to adopt some such system of con¬
struction that they may designate as their theory. In no case
do we find that those who have published systems such as
the foregoing, attempt to prove that ships built after these
systems are in consequence good ships; the utmost assump¬
tion appears to be, that by proceeding with a drawing after
the course laid down, the result will be the design for the
body of a ship. All such methods are to be deprecated, as
being mere empirical substitutes for knowledge, and be¬
cause they not only oppose a barrier to legitiipate attempts
towards improvement, but they actually prevent the appli¬
cation of such knowledge to the designing of ships’ bodies,
as may really be possessed. If we look upon systems for
tracing these curves merely as aids to the well-informed
naval architect in the formation of his drawing, they cease
to be objectionable, and become mere mechanical means in
his hands, which he can use or vary at pleasure, for the
purpose of facilitating the mechanical operations incidental
to the designing of a ship. They are also necessarily in¬
troduced into this article, as forming an essential feature in
the progressive improvement of naval architecture. Me¬
chanical methods of constructing designs for bodies followed,
no doubt, immediately upon the method of constructing them
merely by the aid of the eye, and they continue to be very
generally used in the merchant-service, and may, no doubt,
be reckoned among the causes which have operated so in¬
juriously to the interests of our mercantile navy.
Chapmans Exponential and Parabolic Systems of Con¬
struction.
These were described in the last work of the celebrated
Swedish naval architect Chapman; it was published in 1806.
The parabolic system must be classed in this division of
our subject, as among the mechanical methods of designing Chapma
the forms of ships, though it is so incomparably beyond all Parata
those plans which we have previously described, that we^®
shall devote some space to a detailed description of it. The^
Swedish work, until translated by the late Mr Morgan, a worktrai
member of the School of Naval Architecture, in the Pa-latedin
pers on Naval Architecture, was only known to English Papers i
ship-builders as Chapman’s “large-work a name acquired®" Nava 1
in consequence of a large folio of plates that accom-^urc ec ]
panics the letter-press, which is in comparison not very
voluminous.
From this translation, and from a paper on the same
work by a Swedish naval engineer, Captain Carlsund, un¬
fortunately for the science of naval architecture, also dead,
we shall give a synopsis of the system of construction at
present adopted by the northern powers of Europe.
Chapman commences his investigation by assuming aCriterio
case, which he presumes may be taken as a criterion of the^qa
qualities of ships. This case is an engagement between”1
hostile fleets. These he supposes to be ranged in lines pa¬
rallel to and within gunshot of each other, and also in such
a direction with respect to the wind that they lie within
six points of it, each succeeding ship sailing in the wake of
the ship a-head, about fifty fathoms apart, in a stiff top-sail
breeze, and under the three top-sails, top-gallant sails, fore-
topmast stay-sail, jib, and driver. They are supposed, when
under these circumstances, not to incline more than seven
degrees, and must be capable of fighting their leeward lower-
deck guns with a heavy sea running; be good sailers, and
work well to windward; so that although the ships may be of
different sizes, and carry different weights of metal, yet, in
equally high winds, and under similar sail, their angles of
inclination being nearly the same, their guns may be worked
with equal convenience, they may be all equally efficient in
point of velocity, and under all circumstances manoeuvre
with equal facility. Chapman then says, of two hostile
fleets opposed to each other, the fleet which is composed
of the stiffest and best-sailing ships is master of the attack,
and can begin and end it at pleasure. But that, as the ope¬
rations of many such ships together, although of different
sizes, should at once produce the same effect as if they con¬
stituted but one machine, it is necessary that they should
keep in company, and be effective in proportion to their
size. As they must sail equally well, the area of their sails
must be proportional to the resistance they experience from
the water ; and as all the guns must be used and worked
with like advantage, their inclination must be nearly the
same, so that the form of the ships below the water will be
in some degree adapted to the same area of sails ; hence it Ships am
is found, that when a ship of the line is to be constructed, sails to h
the body of the ship and the sails are to be considered as her
constituting the ship. Chapman points out the difficulties
which oppose themselves to the designing bodies which are
thus to act together, beyond those which present themselves
in the case of designing ships intended to sail and act
singly ; and he observes, that although all the rules of art
may be attended to in the design of a ship, it may happen
that she will not behave well, and this for the following
reasons: If the sails are badly cut and made, so that the
w ind is prevented from producing its full effect on them, by
which not only the sailing close-hauled is injured, but also,
the facility of working, and consequently of manoeuvring,
is diminished ; also, that the behaviour of a ship under sail
may be very much deteriorated as regards her weatherly
qualities, and her ease and quickness of working, if all the
sails are not set advantageously, both in respect to the di¬
rection of the wind, and also of the ship’s course. And, Trim o <
again, it is absolutely necessary that great attention should sup-
be paid to the trim of the ship, and to the adjustment of the
positions of the masts, which have a great effect on a ship s
qualities. Such, he says, are the reasons why it so frequent-
SHIP-BUILDING.
267
E< omy
toi ive
lai ships
mi!.
Di!ace-
mi de-
man’s ly happens, that a ship may in one voyage possess very bad,
I bolic ancJ in another very good qualities, or at one time be a very
tem' bad sailer, and at another a very good sailer.
The natural inference from this is, that although the form
of a ship should be that which is the best adapted for all
that may be necessary to the service for which she is in¬
tended, it by no means follows that such a ship shall realize
the intentions of her constructor, unless she be equipped
and commanded by persons equal to the task of properly
developing her qualities.
He then proves that, by assuming the load displacements,
the crew and provisions as the expense, and the weight of
181 eavr a roun^ s^ot as t^e effect, that it is the greatest economy
a!1 ' to have large ships and heavy metal. Repeating the ob¬
servation already made, that all ships forming a line-of-
battle, although of different sizes, must act as parts of the
same machine, and must consequently have the same qua¬
lities, which cannot be effected if the ships be similar, it
follows that the rules by which they are designed must be
of such a nature that they shall be capable of giving similar
qualities to dissimilar ships.
He says the displacement is dependent wdiolly on the
total weight of the armament, and then considers the va-
pe mton rjous items making up the total displacement. It consists
an ment. ^ ^ wejght 0f the armament, and of every thing connect¬
ed with it; then the weight of the ballast, which is in pro¬
portion to the armament. Ballast, he says, is necessary for
a ship of the line, in order to preserve its qualities at the
end of a long voyage, when the greater part of the provi¬
sions and ammunition will have been consumed. Also, as
these weights are so considerable that the ship may be
lightened to such an extent that her centre of gravity may
not only rise a foot higher above the water from this dimi¬
nished immersion than it was at the commencement of the
cruise, but will rise so much the more from the influence
this diminution of the weights in the hold will have in ele¬
vating its position, the stability is also necessarily diminish¬
ed. It is therefore proper, in order that this loss of stabi¬
lity may not be too great, to have such a quantity of bal¬
last that the remaining weight in the hold may not be too
little in relation to the constant weight above the water.
And also, he says that the consideration that a ship neces¬
sarily lightens from the consumption of stores, renders it
necessary that all the calculations which relate to her sta¬
bility should be made in relation to a water-line, assumed
as that which she would have after the expiration of about
a quarter of the cruise ; and it should be from this water¬
line that the masts, &c. should be determined.
The next component of the displacement consists of the
provisions, which are in proportion to the crew, and there¬
fore to the armament; and, lastly, the ship, with her masts,
yards, rigging, anchors, cables, fitting, &c. &c.
heijtiiand Having determined the displacement required for the ar¬
il. mament, the next considerations are the length and breadth.
These have hitherto been determined by the number of
ports, the space between them, and the space forward and
aft; but they should be determined from the displacement,
for the product of the number of guns into their weight
determines the displacement, therefore the displacement
determines the length. If the length resulting from this
be considered too great for the number of ports, it is be¬
cause the sum-total of the weights of the guns being given
and constant, it follows that if each gun be of greater weight
of metal, the number is smaller ; and if each gun be of less
weight of metal, the number is larger ; but the length of
the ship is nevertheless the same.
It appears that, from experiments made in Sweden in the
year 1794, it was determined that the effect of the water
on the after-end of a body, in opposing its progress, is a mi¬
nimum when the surface of the body makes an angle of
13° 17' with its middle line, and that consequently Chap-
Ire
Res
man designed the after-bodies of his ships in accordance Chapman’s
with this result. Parabolic
In order to form general rules, according to the exponen- ^-Vatein' .
tial system, for deducing the length and the breadth from GeneivT""”"
the displacement, he proceeded in the following manner, rule for
The greatest breadth at the water-line for all line-of-battle length and
ships is called B ; and the length of the “ construction Breadth,
water-line,” which term will be afterwards explained, is
called l. Then, he says, “ designs of two classes of ships
composing the line-of-battle were constructed with great
care, and the following table formed.”
Displacement, D.
Length, l 
Breadth, B 
110
94
152875
207-59
56-27
128297
196-65
53-32
66
88722
17<rv48
48-46
In finding the length l from the displacement for all ships
of the line, the ships of ninety-four and sixty-six guns have
been used. Put therefore 128297 rr D, and 88722 = Z>,
also 196*65 r= 1 and 175-48 — /, where it will be seen that
the Roman characters are used for the larger ship, and the
Italic for the smaller. Then from the foregoing reason¬
ing the following proportion is deduced, that
Dv : Dv hence
, log. 1 — log. I
the exponent v — , -■ ^- a—y-
log. D — log. D
_ log. 196 65 — log. 175*48
” log. 128297— log. 88722
196*65 2*2936940 128297 5*1082165
175*48 2*2442276 88722 4*9480313
0*0494664
0*0494664
— 0-3088 = v
0*1601852
0.1601852
9*2936940
5*1082165x0*3088 =1*5774172
0*7162768...5*2033 = the co-efficient.
2*2442276
4*9480313X0*3088 = 1*5279520.. .5*2033 = the co- efficient.
Thus the length l — 5*2033 D0'3088 is obtained for all
the line-of-battle ships.
To find the breadth B from the length l for three-decked
ships the same method is used. Thus, the exponent for
] |n nnq Q/j. ..1in cLipo ^ — *°S* 56*27 log. 53*32
110 and 94 gun ships, t; _ log^07*59 — Iog. 196*65
= 0*9947; and as the co-efficient is found to be a divisor
= 3*5863, the breadth B for all three-decked ships of the
l 0-9947
line= M863
To find the breadth B from the length l for two-decked
ships. The exponent v of ships of 94 and 66 guns,
log. 53*32 — log. 48*46 n 00_, , , _
“ log. 196*65 — log. 175*48 ~ °'8391 5 and as the co-effi¬
cient is a divisor = 1*5767, the breadth B for all two-deck-
l 0-8391
ed ships of the line = ; according to which the fol¬
lowing table is calculated.
110
Displacement, D = 152875
Length, l   207*59
Breadth, B =i 50-27
94
80
128297
196-05
53-32
107400
186-15
50-92
74
96422
18005
49-51
66
88722
175-48
48-46
52
66753
160-72
4501
Having explained the method of determining the prin¬
cipal dimensions, we shall refer for a description of the pa¬
rabolic system of construction to the paper we have already
268
Chapman’s
Parabolic
System.
Whether
sections of
ships fol¬
low a ge¬
neral law.
Curve of
sections.
SHIP-BUILDING.
To con¬
struct the
curve of
sections.
mentioned as having been written by a Swedish naval en¬
gineer, Captain, then Lieutenant Carslund. It says,
Chapman endeavoured to discover whether or not the
areas of the several transverse sections in well-constructed
ships followed any law; and it so, to find that law. For
this purpose he calculated the areas of the sections of se¬
veral ships ; and in order to make the numbers more conve¬
nient, he divided these areas by the breadth of the midship
section ; then, at their respective stations on the drawing,
setting off from the water-line, distances equal to the quo¬
tients, he traced a curve representing the areas. This
curve he called the curve of sections. He then endeavour¬
ed to find the equation to the curve, or rather that of ano¬
ther curve which would coincide with this for the greatest
length ; and he found, that if the power and parameter of a
parabola were so determined as to allow that curve to pass
through three given points of the curve of sections, the two
curves would nearly coincide. In the fore-body the three
points were taken ; one forward, one at the midship section,
and one midway between. In the after-body the points
were similarly situated. In some ships the exponent to the
curve was higher in the after-body than in the fore-body,
in some it was the same for both. It was also found that
there were ships in which the curve of sections almost ex¬
actly agreed with the parabola, and these ships invariably
bore excellent characters. Chapman consequently con¬
cluded, that if the areas of the several sections of a ship
were made to follow the law of the abscissas of a parabola,
a vessel possessing good sailing qualities might be formed,
and the process of construction much simplified.
This account shows that the method is applicable to all
sorts of constructions, as it only requires that the relative
areas of the sections shall decrease from the midship sec¬
tion towards the extremities in a certain relation, which
can be varied to infinity; it is therefore equally useful in
constructing the sharpest man-of-war as the fullest mer¬
chant-man.
Suppose a ship is found to answer well at some given
water-line, AC (fig. 21). Let the areas of the transverse
a; put mh = ng = x", bm -y\ and bn = y"; then, sub-CW,
stituting these values in the equation to the parabola, we ^
have
?/n — ax!, and y,fn — ax/',
or n log. y' — log. a log. af, and
n log. y" = log. a -j- log. x" ;
log. x* — log^x7
hence n —■
log. y—log. y'*
 yn
a — —7,
x
Fig. 21.
vertical sections be divided by some constant quantity, as,
for instance, the breadth ; and suppose the distances ab,
cd, See. equal to the quotients, to be set off on the respec¬
tive sections from the water-line; then a curve drawn
.through the points b, d, Sec. will be the curve of sections.
It will be found to be convex to the water-line at the ex¬
tremities.
The order of the parabola which coincides for the great¬
est distance with this line may easily be found.
To find the Let the general equation to the parabola be expressed
assimilat- by yn — ax ; then it is always possible to determine n and
a, so that the parabola shall pass through two points besides
the vertex. Any two points between b and C may be taken,
but it is evident that the farther apart the three points are
taken, the longer will the parabola coincide with the line of
sections. Of course, neither point may be in the convex
part of the line of sections. It will be found that the point
g at the foremost frame, and h in the middle between g and
b, are the points which should be taken.
Draw a tangent to the curve at the point b, which will
be parallel to the water-line ; then mh and ng are abscissas,
bm and bn ordinates to a parallel passing through 6, /<, and
bola.
para- a,
, , losr.x'Hog..^ —lo^^'-log..^
and log. a _ i0g. y — log. y"
We have now the values of n and x, and by calculating
several other abscissas, we can trace the parabolic curve.
The same operation applied to the after-body will give
the exponent and parameter of the parabola, which is the
most similar to the curve of sections in that body
It generally happens that the exponents are nearly the
same in both bodies, if the place of the midship section be
determined in the manner to be shown in the sequel.
It will be found that the parabola and the line of sections
very nearly coincide, the former being sometimes a little
within the latter between g and h, and without at the fore¬
side of h, and sometimes, but much more seldom, the con- B
trary. The parabola always cuts the water-line at a short
distance from the rabbets, this distance being rather gi eat¬
er forward than abaft.
Several American ships of war have been submitted to This sy
this method of investigation, which was found to answer
very well with their bodies. Indeed there can be no great ^ ^
deviation, as the parabola varies according to its exponent
and parameter; if the ship is full, a large exponent adapts
it to that shape ; and if the ship is lean, a small one.. It
the body has a long straight of breadth, and sharpens quick¬
ly at the extremities, by deducting a part in midships from
the comparison, the system may still be applied; or if, as
is the case generally with English merchant-ships, there is
a very great draught of water in proportion to the breadth,
by deducting a part from the water-line downwards, this
method may be applied to the remainder.
From this reasoning, it appears that ships may be con¬
structed to coincide exactly with the parabolic line, with¬
out deviating from the forms which experience has proved
to be the most conducive to giving ships good qualities.
Chapman stated that this would most probably be superior
to the old system, and the result has confirmed his state¬
ment ; for ships of the line, frigates, and merchant-men have
been constructed after it, all of which have been very fine
vessels.
From the manner in which the curve of sections is form- Displa<
ed, it follows that its area multiplied by the breadth is equal ment.
to the displacement, and that the centre of gravity of t le
area is in the same transverse section as the centre of gra¬
vity of the body; but the area of this curve, supposing it
to be a parabola of a certain power, is a known part of t le
rectangle formed by the greatest ordinate and the abscissa,
hence, by making the areas of the sections decrease in t e
ratio of the abscissas in the parabola, we obtain certain
equations between the quantities. To find these equa¬
tions, suppose the parabolic line, now also representing the
line of sections, to be ACB (fig. 22), cutting the water-
Fig. 22.
SHIP-BUILDING.
269
( man’s line at some distance from both rabbets; let C be the place
j-abolic 0f the midship section, and DC the greatest abscissa. Put
stem, _ i an(j — d, let the exponent of the parabola be-
fore and abaft = w, and the displacement = D; then the
area of the parabolic line BDACB =
displacement
l • e?, and the
fit -j- 1
n
~ ^ / • </ * B (B representing the breadth) ;
but rfB = area of the midship section ; hence • l •
{area of midship section) — D (1).
?l -hip Let E be the middle point of the water-line AB, which
s we may call the construction water-line, F the place of the
!) ip'th. centre gravity in point of length; let ED, the distance
c ' B ’ the midship section is before the middle of the water-line,
zz k, and EF, the distance the centre of gravity is before
the middle, = a. We will now determine the place of the
midship section in reference to the situation of the centre
of gravity F.
As BCD represents the displacement of the fore-body,
and CDA that of the after-body, the moments of these two
parts will give the common moment.
The centre of gravity of the parabolic area is at a dis¬
tance from the abscissa DC
w + 1 . ,.
=r   7 X the ordinate
2 w -{- 4
and for the parabolic area D C A it
- n+ 1 D4
~ 2n+ 4> DA‘
The moment of DCB from the point E
(*+lftVDB)
DB,
DB) • DCB,
2n -f- 4
and the moment of DCA from the same point
= (sTrDA-*)DCA-
But the areas DCB and DCA are proportional to DB and
DA, and the sum of the above moments zr EF • BCA, or
a-1, l representing the area; hence
^ = (* + STi DB)DB ~ •DA - *)D A
Ti I 1
= - 2—4 - DB2) + k (DB + DA)
= (D A + DB) • (- • (D A - DB) + *) ;
but DA — DB = 2k, and DA -j- DB = l; hence
V n + 2/
al:
a — k
w +2’
or kz= a’(n 2) (2).
lhat is, if the midship section DC is placed at such a dis¬
tance k from the middle point of the construction water¬
line, the centre of gravity will be in the point F assigned
to it.
These two equations (1 and 2) form the principal foun¬
dation of the parabolic method of construction. In the
first equation, any quantity may be known by assigning
values to the others ; and in the second, by fixing a value
for the distance of the centre of gravity before the middle,
the place of the midship section will be known. Then,
having by the first equation found the exponent of the pa¬
rabola, any abscissa GH or KL may be calculated. Sup¬
pose, for instance, GH to be required; then in the first
assigned equation yn = ax, n is known ; also y and x are
known for a certain point B, through which the parabola Chapman’s
passes; the value of y for this point is DB, and of x is Parah0’ic
     1 System.
DC. This gives
DB"
DC
= (by cutting DB =/)-^-....(3).
Now GH is easily determined in the above equation, by
assigning a value to CG; if CG or any other ordinate is
expressed by y', the corresponding abscissa GH = x" is de¬
termined by the equation
*=y-
.(4).
This equation is sufficient for calculating the areas of all
the sections for the fore-body ; and for those of the after¬
body we have the equation (3), in which, by substitut-
*ng f for DA, we get the value of the parameter a' of
the parabola of the after-body; and substituting this value
for a in equation (4), and giving to if any value CK, a
corresponding abscissa LK is obtained. And in the same
manner as many may be found as may be thought proper.
It is evident that GH and LK must be subtracted from
the largest ordinate DC, to give G’H and K'L, which re¬
present the areas of the corresponding sections.
This method of first calculating the abscissas, and then
subtracting them, may appear indirect, as the true lines
G'H and K'L could have been obtained at once by trans¬
forming the equation of the parabolic line to another, be¬
ginning at the point D; but it would then have lost its
simplicity, and the calculations would not have been easier
than by this method. One thing may, however, be done,
which is to substitute the area of the midship section in¬
stead of its quotient by the breadth, by which the whole
areas of the other sections will be obtained, instead of the
lines which represent them.
The principles of the parabolic method being now ex¬
plained, it will be easily seen how very useful its applica¬
tion is to the comparison of all ships, whether they were
constructed with or without reference to it.
By referring to equation (1), we find that the displace-Exponent
ment, area of midship section, and the construction water-of the line
line, being known, the exponent of a parabola that coincides of sections*
most nearly with the line of sections is easily found; and we
shall have (putting M for the midship section) the value of
D
n~ IM. — D 
This value of n shows the degree of fulness of the ship.
The parabolic method may also be applied to show the
relative fulness of the midship section, of any of the water-
lines, of the displacement with respect to the water-line,
and of several other elements.
Let ABC (fig. 23) represent
EF be a tangent to the curve
at the point of contrary flex¬
ure C; the small area ECD
not being of any importance,
may be neglected. If the
midship section is at all si¬
milar to those usually given
to ships, a parabola may be
assigned which shall pass
through the points B and C,
and have nearly the same
area with the midship sec¬
tion, and also nearly coin¬
cide with the curve, so that
the exponent will afford means
of ascertaining its relative fulness,.
a midship section, and let Exponent
of midship
Fig. 23, section-
A.   B
1
270
SHIP-BUILDING.
Chapman’s Call the breadth of the water-line AB — J>B, the depth
Parabolic =r h, and the area ABE = and let be the ex-
v Systen1' ponent of a parabola having the same area; then
The following tables are given as an illustration of this Chapa®
method, in its application to English ships. Parabo
■Mi
Exponent
of the mid¬
ship sec¬
tion,
and m —
_ M
.(5).
^BA —“ BA —M
In the same manner, the exponent may be found for the
water-line, by supposing a parabola with its vertex as the
greatest breadth, and passing through the points in which
the water-line cuts the middle line. Suppose the exponent
of this parabola = r, the length on the water-line — L, and,
as before, the breadth = B ; also let the area of the water¬
line = W; then
Exponent
of the wa¬
ter-section.
r -f- 1
L-iB — i W,
and r r=
W
BL —W
.(6).
Exponent
of the dis¬
placement,
Lastly, suppose the areas of the several water-lines, from
the load water-line downwards, to decrease in the propor¬
tion of the abscissas to a parabola; and let the exponent
= s, the depth from the water-line to the tangent of the
midship section ~ A, the displacement — D, and the area
of the water-line — W ; then
WA = D,
+ 1
D
Values of
nents.
Nelson 
Bulwark...
Endymion
Length
on the
Water¬
line.
Breadth,
extreme.
Depth from
the Water¬
line to the
lower edge
of the Rab¬
bet.
Feet.
203-3
180-3
157-0
Feet.
53-5
490
41-9
Displace¬
ment, in¬
cluding the
Plank.
Feet.
23-5
19-8
160
Area of
the Load
Water-
section.
Cub. Feet.
185182
105584
55807
Sq. Feet.
10027
7706
5656
Area of
the Mid¬
ship Sec¬
tion.
Sq. Feet.
1099
791
510
Then from the equations (a), (5), (6), and (7), the fol¬
lowing results may be obtained :—
Nelson 
Bulwark...
Endymion.
Value of n,
the Exponent
of the Line
of Sections.
Value of m,
the Exponent
of the Mid¬
ship Sections.
2-836
2-851
2-300
6-9447
4-4141
31795
Value of r,
the Exponent
of the Water¬
line.
Value of s,
the Exponent
of the Dis¬
placement.
11-8034
6-8273
5-1235
2-3445
2-2538
1-6088
Applicaa
of the s i
tern to Et
list shi(,8
and s— 4W —D 
By calculating these different exponents for ships already
built, and which have been found to possess good qualities,
a very correct idea of their shape will be obtained, which,
in making new constructions, may be referred to ; and after
a very short practice the constructor w ill be enabled to de¬
termine, not only the principal dimensions, but the outlines
of the body, before a drawing is begun.
A collection of such calculations w-as begun by Chap-
these seve- man, and has since his time been considerably augmented,
ral expo- \ye now therefore know what the value of the exponents
ought to be in the different classes of ships, for the services
to which they are destined. It is always found that large
ships are fuller than small ones, and in consequence have
larger exponents; and that, merchant-men have larger ex¬
ponents than men-of-war of equal size.
The exponent of the line of sections in the Swedish navy,
in ships of the line, varies from 2-5 to 2-7; of the midship
section, from 5 to 3-8 ; of the water-line, from 6-6 to 5-9 ;
and of the displacement, from 2-2 to 1-8; of course the
larger exponent belongs to the larger class of ships.
In frigates, sloops, and brigs, they are smaller ; the ex¬
ponent of the line of sections varies from 2-3 to 2*1; of the
midship section, from 3 to 1-9; of the water-line, from 5-2
to 3’25 ; and of the displacement, from 1-6 to 1-25. These
exponents show that small ships have much larger dimen¬
sions in proportion to their displacements than large ones.
The above results were obtained from the displacements
and breadths, not including the plank; and the length is
that of the construction water-line, which, in Swedish ships,
is Jjth less than the whole water-line between the rabbets,
T7oths of which deduction is made from forward, and -^jths
from aft. In finding the exponent for the water-line, its
whole length between the rabbets is taken.
These calculations are equally applicable with the plank
on as with it olf; in the first-mentioned case, the sections
near the extremities will have, relatively to the midship
section, a larger area, and there will therefore be scarcely
any hollow at the ends of the curves, and it will not be im¬
proper to take the length of the water-line the whole length
between the rabbets.
r 1
.(*>);
BL in
From this table of exponents we may judge with cer¬
tainty of the shape of the vessels. The Nelson, for instance,
has a very full midship section, and an exceedingly full
water-line; but she is not relatively so full towards the ex¬
tremities as the Bulwark, and her displacement is not re¬
latively much fuller than that of the Bulwark. The Bul¬
wark has a small midship section, is full towards the ex¬
tremities, and has a very large water-section in proportion
to her displacement. The Endymion is a very sharp ship
of her class, has a small midship section, is rather clean to¬
wards the extremities, but her water-line is not very sharp;
its proportion to her displacement is very large.
The four exponents which have been described will, se¬
parately, only show the degrees of fulness in one direction;
but they may be combined in such a manner as to express
at the same time the longitudinal and transversal fulness;
to effect which the value of the area of the midship section
— ——— • BA must be substituted in equation (1), which
m \
gives
• B • A. = D.
« 4- 1 m -j- 1
also, by substituting the value of W =
equation (7), we have
. r— - —— • L • B * A = D
r-pl $4-1
^ n m r s
In these equations the products ‘ ^+1 ’ f+l
show the relative fulness of the different ships in compari¬
son to the circumscribing parallelepiped. When the con¬
struction water-line is equal to the whole water-line, as was
supposed in calculating the foregoing table,
n m   r s
7*-j-l 4- 1 r 4. 1 s-j-l
By this equation any error in determining the exponents
may be detected; and also by using the whole equations
(A) and (c), errors in the dimensions or exponents will be
detected*
By a method of interpolation, formulae of very easy ap-
plication have been deduced; by which the depth of the1™^
centre of gravity of the displacement below the water-sec-fin(lillg
tion, the height of the metacentre, and several other essen- 0ther ele
tial elements, may be approximated to without the usually merits,
long calculations; and thus most of the qualities of a ship
which are determinable by calculation may be ascertained,
.(c).
SHIP-BUILDING.
s ian’s compared, and altered, with very little trouble, before the
'°lic construction is begun.
In order to apply this method of construction to practice,
ationnothing more is requisite than to know the limits between
me- which the exponents generally are for the class of ships in
thap question, the proportion between the principal dimensions,
pra : e. and the distance the centre of gravity should be before the
middle of the load water-line. In Swedish ships of the line
and frigates, the distance of the centre of gravity of the
displacement before the middle of the load water-line is be¬
tween y^th and A th of the length, and in smaller vessels it
is a little more, depending on the manner in which their
stores and rigging are distributed. This distance being de¬
termined, the weight the ship is to carry, the weight of the
hull, and the relative proportions of the different dimensions,
or the value of the exponents, the calculations will give
the areas of every section, leaving the constructor the power
of giving them whatever form he may wish.
Exipeof Captain Carlsund was employed in this country inbuild-
its .Uca-ing steam-boats for the Swedish post-office service. He
has given the calculations of one of these boats, which were
all constructed on Chapman’s parabolic system, as an ex¬
ample of its practical application.
Suppose the ratio of the breadth to the length to be a,
and that of the breadth to the depth to be /S; by substitut-
. ing them in the equation (b), it will become
271
and m — 3-0 ; the proportion between the length and the Chapman’s
breadth, or a, was taken rr 5*25; and that between the pfrabolic
breadth and the depth, or /3, = 0-32. By substituting this.kSystem'
value in the equation, we have ^
B
JJZ
~ V 9.1
3900X3-12X4
= 16-58.
TO
/3- B3 = D.
W + 1 TO + 1
The values of to and n are known, being assumed from
former experience ; the displacement is determined by the
weight of the engines, added to the weight of the stores,
&c. and an approximation to the weight of the hull. By
assigning values to a and (3, the value of B is obtained, and
from that the values of the length and depth. The dimen¬
sions being now known, the scantling may be determined,
and the true weight of the hull estimated; which, if very
different from the approximation which was used, will cause
a corresponding alteration in the dimensions, &c. With a
steam-boat the stability is of minor importance, therefore
it is not necessary to refer to equation (c).
The vessel in question was intended for two twenty-five
horse-power engines, the weight of which, with the neces¬
sary stores, and the other articles, was estimated to be about
2050 cubic feet of water, and the approximation which was
at first made to the hull was 1850 cubic feet, which sup¬
posed the whole displacement to be 3900 feet.
The vessel was intended to be sharp both at the midship
section and at the extremities ; hence n was taken = 2-12,
2-12X 3X5-25X0-32
Length = 5-25 B = 87-04,
Breadth = 0-32 B = 5-31.
By calculating the weight of the hull according to these di¬
mensions, it was found that the approximation was too small
by 175 cubic feet. By adding this quantity to the displace¬
ment, and retaining the other values, it will be found, from
the above equation, that the
Breadth = 16-822,
Length = 5-25 X 16-882 = 88-315,
Depth = 0*32 X16-882= 5-383.
The weight of the engin e, its situation, and that of its centre
of gravity, must determine the place of the centre of gravity
of the vessel, which was found to be about 2-25 feet before
the middle of the length on the construction water-line;
and consequently, from equation (2), the situation of the
midship section was determined to be 9-27 feet before the
middle of the construction water-line.
The stations of the other sections were determined by
the room and space. The parameters for the fore and after
bodies were first determined by substitution in the equation
(3). In the fore-body
. I , 88-315 „„„ _
/=--—£ = —_ 9-27 = 34-887,
and in the after-body
f=^ + k = 53-427.
The area of the midship section, from equation (5),
= —^ , B/i = | x 16-822 X 5-383,
= 67-912 square feet,
and the half area = 33-956.
Hence, by equation (3), the parameter of the fore-body
34-887I212
33-956 “ 54-895;
and for the after-body,
, 53-427|2'12
= 135-499.
“ 33-956
The calculations for the sections are contained in the
following table.
For the Fore-body, x — 
l 54-895'
Sections.
Name.
End,
* ...
u ...
9
Midship section,
Distance from
the Midship
Sect, or y.
Abscissa, or x.
Feet.
34-89
32-24
30-
24-
18-
12-
6-
0-
Square Feet.
33-960
28-730
24-660
15-360
8-349
3-535
•813
•0
Half the Mid'
ship Section,
Square Feet.
•0
5-23
9-30
18-60
25-611
30-425
33-147
33-96
For the After-body, x ■.
212
135-499
Sections.
Name.
End  
34  
32  
28  
24  
20  
16  
12  
8  
4  
Midship section.
Distance from
the Midship
Sect, or y.
Feet.
53-43
50-76
48-
42-
36-
30-
24-
18-
12-
6-
0-
Abscissa, or x.
Square Feet.
33-960
30-460
27-060
20-390
14-700
9-990
6-225
3-382
1-432
•329
•0
Half the Mid
ship Section,
Square Feet.
•0
3-50
6-90
13-57
19-26
23-95
27-735
30-578
32- 528
33- 631
33-96
272
SHIP-BUILDING.
Timber. The areas of the sections being tints rletermined, the
——' construction of the draught was begun. 1 he midship sec-
tion, and one or two sections in each body, being drawn in,
and their areas ascertained to agree with the tables, one or
two diagonals were got in, and the rest of the sections drawn,
always keeping their areas precisely equal to those given
by the table. The direction of the diagonals at the extre¬
mities determined the places of the rabbets of the stem and
stern-post, and from these the length of the whole
water-line was found to be 0-44 feet longer than that of the
construction water-line ; that is, 0‘3.3 at the fore-end, an
0-11 at the after-end ; consequently the length of the load
water-line between the rabbets was equal to 88* 155 feet.
As, in a ship constructed according to this method, the
situation of the centre of gravity with respect to the length,
and also the displacement, are known correctly, during the
progress of the work much tedious arithmetical calculation
is avoided ; and, after a very little practice, it will be found
that the forms of the different sections may with great ease
be drawn to contain the requisite areas ; consequently, by
the general adoption of the method, an amazing saving of
time and trouble would be effected.
There can be no doubt that this parabolic system offers
great advantages, especially to the student of naval archi¬
tecture, in the great facility with which it may be applied
to institute comparisons between ships by means of the ex¬
ponents. The mere repetition of the digits which number
the displacement of a ship, or the area of either of her sec¬
tions, will convey no idea of the form either of the body or
of the section. Again, the ratio of the displacement, or of
the area of the section, to that of th£ circumscribing pa¬
rallelepiped or rectangle, will convey a scarcely more de¬
finite idea of shape; whereas the exponent of the displace¬
ment or of the section, presenting itself to us not only as
an arithmetical measure of quantity, but referring us at the
same time to a geometrical line, the mind becomes imme¬
diately almost as conscious of the peculiarities of the form
of the body or of the section as if a drawing of either were
present before the eye. A very slight attention to the com-
parisons which have been drawn between the Nelson, Bui-
wark, and Endymion, by means of their exponents, will con¬
vince the reader of the advantage which the system posses¬
ses in this respect, and of the value in which an extensive
digest of ships of various forms and qualities, calculated on
this principle, would be held by naval architects. At the
same time, it is quite evident that even the inventor, Chap¬
man, would not have recommended the parabolic system
as a total substitute for the more rigorous applications of
science, but only as accessory to them. Also, the parabola
affords facilities for variations in form, which may be almost
said to leave the architect at perfect liberty in his design.
General Observations on the Physiology of Timber.
As we cannot, in the space allotted to this article, enter into
a particular examination of the nature and qualities of the
different varieties of timber used in building a ship, we must
confine ourselves to such observations on the physiology of
timber in general, as may be of practical application.
Timber, when forming a component part of the structure
of a ship, is subjected to many deteriorating influences that
7! 1 ilitv have no analogies in other combinations of wood-work. Al-
< f the royal though particular instances may be quoted of ships which
navy. have resisted decay for long periods, the average durability
of the royal navy is reported not to exceed fifteen years.
This we consider now an unfavourable statement; but, in the
wear, tear, and neglect incidental to the constant services
Of the mer-of war, even this average must be considerably lowered. The
caiitile na- duration of the mercantile navy is stated at a higher ayer-
vy. age; but it must be remembered that the merchant-ship is
not necessarily maintained in such perfect repair as the ship
of war; and also, that the system of insurance enables both
merchant and shipowner to freight and to sail ships, of which Tyrtl
Lloyd’s books record a most fearful and a most astounding v1'
tale ; a tale which proves, that the longer average durabi¬
lity of the mercantile navy is in part purchased at a most
sinful expenditure of human life ; an expenditure which no
amount of insurance can compensate.
The occasional instances of lengthened durability in someOccasi
ships of the royal navy tend to prove, that it may be pos-^am
sible much to increase the average, by insuring a combi- 01
nation of the same causes which, perhaps accidentally in
these cases, produced this effect. That this is a most im¬
portant consideration is evident; for if we knew how to in¬
sure to our ships the durability recorded of the Montague,
we should diminish the expense of our navy by one half;
while if we could insure to them that recorded of the Royal
William, we should diminish the expense to one sixth!
The deterioration and decay of ships may be advantage-Class- ;■
ously considered under several distinct heads. One may in-^™1' I
elude the decay to which timber is subject, in common with^
all organized matter, and which may be either hastened or
retarded, according as destructive or preservative influences
prevail; another may include the variety of decay to which
the name of 44 dry rot” has been applied ; and another may
include that decay which appears to be not only prematurely,
but unnaturally induced, dependent on the injudicious com¬
bination of destructive agents with the inorganical com- |
pounds of the timber.
That large masses of timber in combination should be
more subject to the deteriorating influences which tend to
accelerate decay, is what we may be led to expect fiom
analogy. All organization of which we have any knowledge,
becomes eventually decomposed by the chemical action
which takes place in its constituents. During the life and
health of a plant, the various components acting under the
influence of their common vitality, perform their several
functions in accordance to the end of their original combi¬
nation ; but with the cessation of life that influence ceases,
and the constituents of the organized structure assert their
individual existence, and resume their original affinities.
Some separate, some form new compounds, and others which
the vital principle had retained in harmless combination
now act energetically and destructively on each other; while
the original mass, under the influence of these several
causes, gradually deteriorates, and is eventually decomposed.
This result may be accelerated or retarded by the presence Deca; *
or absence of those circumstances which are favourable or be act;
unfavourable to it. Temperature, moisture, the vicinity or
remoteness of agents either destructive or preservative, all
have great influence in promoting or retarding decomposi¬
tion, principally in as far as they promote or retard the fer¬
mentative process, which appears to be the preliminary steP i
towards the rapid decomposition of vegetable matter. ®er"'
certain degree of moisture is necessary to induce this fer-^^ :
mentation ; but when the other circumstances that are fa¬
vourable to the process exist, this moisture is always to be
found even in the best-seasoned timber, in which, on the
authority of Count Rumford, there still remains one fourth
of its weight of water. This will be readily understood when
it is remembered, that a very large portion of moisture is al¬
ways contained in the atmosphere, to the influence of which
the timber has been exposed. While moisture to a certain
extent appears essential, a continued immersion, or perfect
exix-iit      - * . „ e
saturation, is inimical to this vegetable fermentation. Agai , ^.
a moderate temperature, not so low as to induce congelation, cnces
nor so high as to cause evaporation of the moisture, appears
to be favourable to it. The unavoidable dampness of the
atmosphere in ships, and the difficulty of maintaining a free
circulation of air, contribute much to the process of fermen¬
tation, and consequently to the destruction of the ongmii
structure of the fermenting mass, by the distribution of 1 s
several constituents, and its consequent decomposition.
SHIP-BUILDING.
273
The difficulty of maintaining a circulation of pure air in
those portions of the vessel below the surface of the wa¬
ter might be removed by adapting the openings between
the timbers of the frame to this purpose. Pure air might
by their means be easily supplied to the lower part of the
“ between decks,” or even to the hold, through pipes; and
the foul, heated, and therefore rarefied air, would rush from
the upper part of the between decks, or of the hold, through
a second series of pipes. The writer of this article proposed
a plan for effecting this to the Admiralty, on his return from
a cruise in the experimental squadron of 1827. The same
principle is adopted now, very generally, to ventilate ma¬
nufactories and other large and closely-peopled buildings.
The most active agent in the work of the decomposition
of timber is the oxygen which it contains, whether this de¬
composition be rapidly induced by fermentation, or is more
slowly and gradually taking place under the influence of the
law which renders decay the necessary consequence of or¬
ganization. The oxygen, which, during the vitality of the
plant, wras held in harmless combination, is set free, and im¬
mediately begins to act upon the woody fibre of the felled
timber, and induces a slow combustion, the effect of which
is the evolution of carbonic acid gas, and the carbonization
of the wood, by which the tenacity and adhesiveness of its
several parts are gradually destroyed. Timber, therefore,
coni fnces begins to deteriorate and to decay from the moment of its
'vj|} jie being felled ; and indeed a gradual diminution of its strength
the ber.raay be observed during the process of its seasoning, which
‘ L' only ends with its total decomposition. The hastening the
seasoning process is, however, advantageous, by depriving
the timber of the superabundant moisture, and of the juices,
which might otherwise induce an unduly rapid decomposi¬
tion.
The decay of timber has been frequently classed under
two heads, natural decay, and decay from dry rot. Proba¬
bly there is not such a marked distinction between these
two decomposing principles as might be imagined. Very
Ox !.
ItS |!Ct.
Dec
Dry: t.
Dist -
Deri
of til
term
Fun{
It
E
Gene
i cause
this c
live rac-frequently the decomposition of timber is attended with the
ten' apparently spontaneous vegetation of parasitical fungi; and,
according to common acceptation, that species of decay
which is accompanied by the vegetation of these fungi has
ion received the appellation of dry rot. The term was applied
to it in consequence, probably, of the peculiarity attending
it, that the decomposed wood had become a dry friable mass
iW wbb°ut fibrous tenacity. Whether the seeds of these plants
are lying dormant in the juices of the timber while in a
state of life and health, and the vegetative principle in them
becomes active only when decomposition has furnished them
a nidus, or whether they are floating in the atmosphere,
and vegetate whenever favourably placed, is a point not yet
established. However this may be, as in general this pe-
av> cffiiar decay may be traced to imperfectly seasoned mate¬
rials, we consider it may fairly be supposed that the seeds
of the fungi are contained in a fit state for vegetation in the
juices of such timber; and although it sometimes occurs and
spreads among seasoned timber, it appears previously neces¬
sary that damp should have renewed and revived the vege¬
tating principle in the seeds, and fermentation and decom¬
position have provided them a nidus. They then flourish and
acquire strength on the sustenance which they draw from
t ie decomposed wood; and in the same manner, and with
a similar deteriorating effect as the parasitical plants which
sometimes vegetate on the living tree, these destroy the
ueatl timber, by abstracting all but the earthy particles,
which are left without fibrous texture.
ryness, cleanliness, a free circulation of air, or the en-
ire exclusion of it, appear to be the best preservatives
against, or checks to, vegetable decomposition ; while damp
Tentfel a(x'l™u|atl0Iis, and a vitiated atmosphere, rapidly induce it.
. 6 Agoing statement of the principles on which the
ik-tm. ^composition of timber depends be correct, it is evident
VOL. XX.
Preve
fives
that its tendency is progressive, and that the decay must Timber,
rapidly spread, from the accumulation of the deteriorating —
influences. It is also evident that the only means to check
undue decay is by a removal of the inciting causes; and
that the only means to prevent it, is to* guard against those
circumstances which are most liable to induce it, and to
avoid the use of those materials in which it is most easily
induced.
Unseasoned timber should never be used, and even thePrecau-
most seasoned timber should only be used when in a dry tionary
state. When kilning plank was first adopted, now up-ineasuies'
wards of a century ago, the planks, after being set to the
form of the body, were taken off' to dry; this, however, was
unnecessary, kilned plank drying almost at the mouth of
the kiln. All decayed and all diseased portions of the wood
should be carefully removed, and also the whole of the sap
or imperfect wood, which, from being more soft and spongy
in texture than the spine, absorbs moisture more easily, and,
being also more filled with the vegetating principle and the
vegetable juices, is more liable to fermentation, and conse¬
quently to decomposition, and to the growth of the fungi.
We shall now consider the premature decay of timber Influence
induced by the substances which are used in connectionof extrar‘e-
with it. Of these the iron for fastenings has by far theous Sllb‘
most injurious influence. This is probably owing to theSta‘lces’
great affinity which exists between that metal and oxygen, ir0n fas.
so that each fastening becomes an absorbent of oxygen, tenings.
either from the atmosphere or from the wood which sur¬
rounds it, and which is again supplied from the atmosphere.
The surface that is first subjected to this change is con¬
verted into the brown oxyde of iron, which may be termed
a supersaturated oxyde, and parts with its superabundance
of oxygen to the lamina of pure iron immediately beneath
it, while the surface absorbs a fresh store of oxygen from the
wood ; and thus the process of oxidation goes on through Cause of
successive laminae of the iron, until the whole of its metallic their de¬
nature is changed, and its utility as a fastening is destroy- structive
ed, while it becomes a reservoir of oxygen, which acts6^4,
evidently on the woody fibre around it, and, by carbonizing
it, rapidly and effectually destroys its tenacity.
In this view of the action of iron in accelerating the de- Constitu-
composition of timber, we may trace the reason why its entsofoak-
effect varies so much in different woods. Mackonochie, in tinfiber.
his admirable Prospectus, says that oak is found to contain
a much smaller proportion of oily or resinous particles than
many other kinds of wood ; and that, besides the lignic acid
which it has in common with them, it contains an acid pe¬
culiar to itself, called the gallic acid, and that, therefore,
the quantity of oxygen in oak is very considerable; that,
on the contrary, in teak it is much less, while in this wood Of teak,
the resinous particles are so abundant as to have procured
the teak-tree a place amongst the terebinthinous plants.
He argues, that the iron, which cannot easily be protected
before being applied as a fastening, acquires a protecting
covering from the oily or resinous juices of the wood,
pressed from the abraded vessels in the action of driving.
This coating, which cuts off its influence on the oxygen, Effect of
will be more or less perfect, in proportion to the quantities iron on
of the protecting substances contained in the wood. Heteak less
states, on the authority of the experience of the shipping1,1^1011/'
built in India, and used in the India trade, that the average fore
duration of an iron-fastened teak ship is thirty years; and be used in
consequently he argues that it is a misapplication of ex-teak,
pense to use copper fastening with teak, as the additional
advantage gained is not at all commensurate with the ad¬
ditional expense. But with oak the circumstances are dif- Action of
ferent; the action of oak on copper is not near so destruc- C0PPei' on
tive of its metallic structure as it is on iron ; and, on the03^
other hand, the re-action of the metal on the wood is not
so destructive of its ligneous fibre. The oxyde of copper,
which forms almost immediately on its coming in connection
2 M
274
SHIP-BUILDING.
Timber, with the wood, is not a supersaturated oxyde, but the por-
''"-“V—tion of oxygen it has absorbed is held in strong combina¬
tion ; and, consequently, instead of the process of oxidation
continuing from lamina to lamina, as has been described to
be the case in iron, the surface oxidation becomes a natural
protection of the copper from the action of the wood, and
of the wood from the action of the copper, equivalent to the
resinous or oily coating which supervenes in the case of iron
driven into teak.
Various With this view of the process of decomposition in timber,
means of we have an insight into the rationale of the various means
preserving pr0p0se(j for its preservation. Several writers on timber
*jfmb*r* have more or less urged the foregoing principle. Macko-
a< °" nochie, in his Prospectus, has adopted this theory; and
though his reasoning on the causes of decomposition is not
given with his usual perspicuity, his deductions as to the
means of prevention are perfectly free from this objection.
He recommends, that whatever iron is used for fastening,
a protecting coat of paint or some other substance should
be interposed between the iron and the wood, to cut off, as
far as possible, the connection between the metal and the
woody fibre.
He also recommends that, in seasoning timber, care should
be taken to expose it to the light, which will have great in¬
fluence in making it give out its oxygen. But as it must
re-absorb oxygen in the night, and will at least be supplied
with it from the atmosphere, the only effectual means is
at once to expel it, and fill up its space with some other
Saturation substance; for which purpose, he says, “ oil presents itself
":1 as the fittest, its use in defending timber from the action of
the weather having been long acknowledged and practised.
He recommends the following process as an easy means of
impregnating the timber with this or any other similar sub¬
stance. The wood is to be placed in a steam-tight cham¬
ber, and subjected to the action of steam, by which the air
and gases will be expelled both from the chamber and the
timber. Then, by condensing the steam, and repeating the
process until the whole of the elastic fluids are withdrawn
from the wood, and the non-elastic converted into vapour,
the wood becomes freed from them, and if plunged into
oil, and subjected to the atmospheric pressure, the whole
interior of the wood will be filled with the oil. Macko-
nochie asserts that he then has (6th August 1.803) in daily
use a steam-chamber on the above principle, capable of con¬
taining from twenty to thirty planks forty feet long, or a
proportionate quantity of timber, in which, while the planks
are steaming to render them flexible, they are impregnated
Oil may be with teak oil. He says the oil may easily be procured from
nochie.
Use of
paint.
Seasoning
timber in
the light.
with oil.
Means of
effecting
this.
procured t}ie chips and saw-dust used for the fuel of the steam-boil
*rori;errefUSe ers > f°r it has been ascertained that Malabar teak contains
tj.iunr. sucfi a quantity of oleaginous or terebinthinous matter, that
the chips from the timber and plank of a ship built of it will
yield, by a proper process, a sufficient quantity of tar for all
its own purposes, including the rigging ; and that although
oak-timber does not contain so much of these substances,
the chips of the fir consumed in the royal navy would be
more than sufficient to supply tar to saturate the oak.
There have been numerous proposals to impregnate tim¬
ber, in a greater or less degree, with foreign substances.
By M. Pal- In 1779 a proposal was made by a M. Pallas to mineralize
las, to mi- timber by steeping it to saturation in a solution of green
neralize it. vjtr-0i; an(j tilen precipitating the green vitriol by means
Mr Bill, to of lime-water. A gentleman of the name of Bill, about the
year 1822, produced some samples of timber of large scant¬
ling, impregnated throughout their substance, apparently,
with asphaltum. The samples thus prepared were subjected
to a trial of five years’ duration in the dry-rot pit at Wool¬
wich ; and we have it on the authority of Mr Knowles, the
able secretary to the late committee of surveyors of the
navy, that they perfectly withstood the “ fungus rot,” while
numerous unprepared specimens were destroyed in one fifth
saturate it
with as¬
phaltum.
of the above time. Sir John Barrow, whose long expe- Tim»
rience and acknowledged talent render his opinions on allv>-v
naval matters extremely valuable, recommends the kreosote
from the distillation of tar, which, in the shape of a gas,
will, he says, penetrate every part of the largest logs, “ and
render the wood almost as hard as iron, so hard as not easily
to be worked.” Another plan, that proposed by Mr Kyan, Mr Ky
is to soak timber in a solution of corrosive sublimate. 1 his, "“W
on the principle advocated in this article, would be effec-^-
tive in all cases where the saturation was complete and per- e'
manent. Where the application is only of the nature of a
surface application, there does not appear to be a.ny reason ,
why the corrosive sublimate should preserve the interior of
the timber, or have more effect on that part than any other
surface applications, excepting that it would more certainly
destroy any vegetative principle which might exist in that
portion near the surface to which it could penetrate.
The rationale of Mr Kyan’s process may be best under- Mr K;
stood by the following quotation from a lecture by Drprocei,
Birkbeck. “ Aware of the established affinity of corro¬
sive sublimate for this material (albumen), he applied that I
substance to solutions of vegetable matter, both acetous
and saccharine, on which he was then operating, and in
which albumen was a constituent, with a view to preserve
them in a quiescent and incorruptible state ; and obtaining
a confirmation of his opinions by the fact, that during a pe¬
riod of three years, the acetous solution openly exposed to
atmospheric air had not become putrid, nor had the sac¬
charine decoction yielded to the vinous or acetous stages
of fermentation, but were in a high state of preserva¬
tion, he concluded that corrosive sublimate, by combina¬
tion with albumen, was a protection against the natural
changes of vegetable matter....He conceived, therefore, it
albumen made a part of wood, the latter would be protect¬
ed by converting that albumen into a compound of pro¬
tochloride of mercury and albumen; and he proceeded to
immerse pieces of wood in this solution, and obtained the
same result as that which he had ascertained with regard
to the vegetable decoctions.’’ The writer of this article
has seen most conclusive experiments as to the beneficial
effect of “ Kvanization,” especially on the softer woods.
Innumerable nostrums have been recommended as sur-Numb:
face applications for preventing the decay of timber.lessn°
Knowles, in his work on the Preservation of the Navy,^^
gives a list of twenty-nine, besides many others the com-pose(1
ponents of which were kept secret by their projectors.
There does not appear to be sufficient evidence to prove
the decided advantage of any of these applications; on the
contrary, unless the timber to which they are applied should
be thoroughly seasoned, all coatings on it which prevent the
progress of the seasoning process, and confine the vegetable
juices, have been proved to be injurious. If timber be
already well seasoned, the principal preventives to decay
appear to be ventilation and the exclusion of damp; and
with unseasoned timber the same means will accelerate
the process of seasoning. Those means of preventing de¬
cay by saturation with some chemical agent, and thus al¬
tering the nature of the timber by a chemical action on its
constituents, appear to be the most likely to produce de-
cided results. The physician-general of the navy, Sir W n-
Ham Burnett, finding that the precipitate caused by the
kyanization was soluble in salt water, has lately substitute
for that process saturation with the chloride of zinc; the
precipitate which this forms with the albumen being un¬
affected by the action of the salt water. The benencia
effect of this chloride is very decided, in those specimens
which the writer has had an opportunity of examining.
There has been much controversy as to the proper seasonfj”i(
for felling timber, into which we cannot devote space tober 0
enter. The argument appears to be in favour of the greater
durability of winter-felled timber. In fact, the controvert
SHIP-BUILDING.
275
Sb - plan.
B. plan.
II:
br tth
ph
d.-gOff. appears more to have arisen from a desire to prove that
' spring-felled timber was not unequal to winter-felled, than
for the purpose of eliciting truth; the bark being more
easily detached and more valuable from olf a spring-felled
than from off’ a winter-felled tree.
Laying Off.
General observations and definitions.—Laying off' is deli¬
neating the form of a ship according to its actual dimen¬
sions, in order to supply the workmen with the exact shape
and proper positions of the principal pieces of timber which
compose the structure. If the floor be sufficiently spacious,
the ship may be laid off in one length; if otherwise, the
operation must be performed in two or more lengths, ac¬
cording to circumstances.
The principal plans of a ship are the sheer, body, and
half-breadth plans.
ls£, The sheer plan is a projection on a vertical longitu¬
dinal plane, dividing a ship into two equal parts. Plate
CCCCL. fig. 24.
2d, The body plan is a projection, on an athwartship
plane, of transverse vertical sections of the ship, which sec¬
tions are square to the keel. Fig. 25.
3d, The half-breadth plan is a projection, on a horizontal
plane, of various sections of the ship. Fig. 26.
The principal lines employed, as well in the construc¬
tion of a draught, as in laying off a ship, are water-lines,
level lines, diagonal lines, and buttock and bow lines.
V; -lines. ls£, Water-lines,in the sheer plan,are straight linesdrawn
parallel to the surface of the water. In the half-breadth
plan, the water-lines show the boundaries of the sections
of the ship, at the corresponding heights in the sheer and
body plans. Figs. 24, 25, 26.
M'lines. 2d, Level lines are similar to water-lines, except that
they are drawn parallel to the kfeel instead of to the water.
To avoid confusion, the level lines are omitted in the sheer
draught, but they are drawn in Plates CCCCLI. and
CCCCLII.
Di jnal 3d, Diagonal lines show the boundaries of various sec¬
tions formed by planes which are oblique to the vertical
longitudinal plane, and which intersect that plane in straight
lines parallel to the keel. Plate CCCCL. figs. 25 and 26.
4jA, Buttock and bow’ lines are the boundaries of verti-
,0'v cal sections of the ship, parallel to the vertical longitudinal
plane. See B. L., figs. 24, 25, 26.
The main-breadth line is the boundary of the widest part
!“ of the ship in each of the three plans. Plate CCCCL.
fhe top-breadth or top-timber line, in the sheer plan, is
jth anda drawn to the sheer of the ship, fore and aft, at the
Me height of the under side of the gunwale amidships; and the
top-side line is a sheer line drawn above the top-timber line,
at the extreme height of the side of the ship. Plate CCCCL.
ng- The cutting-down line is a curve in the sheer plan which
line, corresponds to the upper surface of the throats of the floors
amidships, and to the under side of the keelson. Plate
CCCCL.
lodies ^°re an^ a^er bodies. These combined constitute the
Kl( lLS‘ whole of the ship. They are supposed to be separated by
an imaginary athwartship section, at the widest part of the
ship, called the midship section, or dead-flat.
Midship body, as sometimes used, applies to an indefi¬
nite length of the middle part of the length of a ship, in¬
cluding a portion of the fore and after bodies.
Sn L ami . Square and cant bodies may be considered as subdivi-
lodies. sions of the fore and after bodies. There is a square fore¬
body, a square after-body, a cant fore-body, and a cant
after-body. In the square body the sides of the timbers
are athwartship vertical planes, whereas in the cant body
the sides of the timbers, although vertical, are not athwan-
ship planes.
Bil ck
Ml up
bo,
Moulding and Siding. These terms are nearly synony-Laying Off.
mous with thickness and breadth ; observing that the mould- '
ing of a piece is the dimension of the side on which the mould
is applied for determining its shape or curvature. For in-an S1 ing‘
stance, the moulding of a beam is its depth or thickness ;
its siding is its fore and aft dimension, or breadth.
Room and space is a certain distance determined by the Room and
siding of two adjacent timbers, together with the openings space,
between them; or it is the distance apart of the joints of the
frame, as from A to B in the disposition of the timbers, or
one half the distance apart of the stations B, D, F, &c. in
the sheer plan. Plate CCCCL. fig. 24.
Shift. This, in its general sense, refers to a certain ar- Shift,
rangement among the component parts of a ship. Thus
we speak of a shift of plank, a shift of dead-wood, meaning
thereby the disposition of the buts of the timber or plank,
both with respect to strength and economy. In a more li¬
mited sense, “ shift” means the distance apart of two neigh¬
bouring buts or scarphs.
The bevelling of a timber is the angle contained be-Bevellings,
tween two of its adjacent sides. Bevellings are either
acute angles, right angles, or obtuse angles. These three
separate cases are denominated under bevellings, square,
and standing bevellings.
Sirmarks are certain stations marked on the moulds ofSirmarks.
the timbers at which the bevellings are applied. These
sirmarks are denoted in the body plan by the various dia¬
gonals.
Description of the draught, consisting of the sheer, body,
and half breadth plans.—The principal dimensions of a
ship are length, breadth, and depth. Connected with and
dependent on these three dimensions, are three plans,
named the sheer, half-breadth, and body plans. These
combined constitute what is termed the draught of a ship.
We purpose to describe them separately. Plate CCCCL.
Is#, The sheer plan or elevation (fig. 24) is the represen- Sheer plan,
tation of an imaginary longitudinal section, dividing the
ship into two equal parts, by a vertical plane passing through
the middle of the keel, stem, and stern-post. This section
is bounded by the fore part of the knee of the head, under
side of the keel or false keel, aft side of the rudder, rake
of the stern, and the sheer of the upper part of the top-side.
Besides this plan being a section of the ship amidships,
showing the sheer of the decks, cutting-down line, stations
of the masts, &c., on it are also projected, in lines perpen¬
dicular to the aforesaid longitudinal section, the ports, cat¬
head, head-rails, side counter-timber, quarter-gallery, main-
breadth line, channels, dead-eyes, &c. From all this we
see that the chief use of the sheer plan is to obtain heights
and lengths ; heights measured from the upper edge of the
rabbet of the keel, and lengths measured from the after or
the fore perpendicular. These perpendiculars, which define Perpendi-
the length of the ship, are drawn in most ships of war at culars.
the ends of the lower or gun deck ; the foremost perpen¬
dicular at the aft side of the rabbet of the stem, the after¬
most at the foreside of the rabbet of the stern-post.
Occasionally the interior fittings and accommodations
are shown on the sheer plan, as the beams, magazines,
store-rooms, well, pumps, capstans, cabins, and other mi¬
nutiae ; but as these produce confusion by multiplying lines,
it is usual to represent the interior economy of the ship on
a separate plan, called the “ profile,” or plan of the inboard Profile,
works.
2d, The half-breadth plan (fig. 26) principally shows Half-
the form of the ship, Is#, when cut by water-lines; 2d, by breadth
level lines; and, '3d, by diagonal lines. As before observed, P*an'
the planes of these diagonal sections intersect the longitu¬
dinal plane of the ship, in straight lines parallel to the keel.
Besides the above, the form of the decks, main-breadth
and top-breadth lines, may be also delineated on the half¬
breadth plan; together with the projection of the planes of
276
SHIP-BUILDING.
wood, a first futtock stepping against the dead-wood, a second Laying
iy cApiaiiicu m ntM,iti. futtock on the head of the floor, a third futtock on the head of''—vr
3c?, The body plan (fig. 25) is simply a representation of the first futtock, a fourth futtock on the head^of the second ^ 5.v
Laying Off. the fore and after cant timbers, which will be more particu
larly explained in the sequel
Body plan.
vertical transverse sections, before, at, and abaft the widest
transverse section, which is termed “ dead flat,” and usually
denoted by the symbol 0.
The sections in the body plan in the fore-body are dis¬
tinguished by letters, A, B, C, &c., those in the after-body by
figures, 1, 2, 3, &c., corresponding with the same letters and
figures in the sheer and half-breadth plans. It must be un¬
derstood, that the sections in the body on the right of the
middle line represent the starboard fore-body, whilst those
on the left of the middle line represent the larboard after¬
body, of the ship.
It is thus seen, that from the aforesaid three plans we
may derive correct ideas of the form of a ship, which form
is obtained
r by vertical fore and aft sections
\ parallel to the vertical longitu-
) dinal plane, as seen by the but-
( tock and bow lines ;
!by athwartship vertical sections,
square to the keel, and at right
angles to the vertical longitudi¬
nal plane;
fls£, by water-lines, or by planes
I parallel to the water; 2d, by level
J lines, or by planes parallel to the
keel; 3c?, by diagonal lines, or
by planes inclined at any angle
to the horizon.
The reader will also perceive from the preceding remarks,
that
.The sheer plan ) o c
The body plan e-.2
The half-breadth
plan
From the sheer plan,
From the body plan,
From the half-breadth
plan,
( on a vertical longitudinal plane ;
< |
Profile.
Disposi¬
tion.
Midship
section.
^ 0 . on a vertical athwartship plane ;
^ I on a horizontal plane.
As before remarked, the three above-described plans con¬
stitute the draught of a ship. We shall presently see their
mutual dependence on each other, so that any two being
given, the third may be obtained.
Besides the sheer draught, it is customary to furnish the
architect with a profile of the inboard works before ex¬
plained ; the “ disposition,” or the appearance of the tim¬
bers which constitute the frame, showing the heads and
heels, and general arrangement of the futtocks; the mid¬
ship section, on which is described the moulding, or athwart¬
ship size of the timbers, the thickness of the exterior and
interior planking, the connection of the beams to the side,
the dimensions of the water-ways, shelf-pieces, the descrip-
Scheuie of tion and fastening of the knees, &c. These, together with
scantlings. a scheme of scantlings, which is a document containing the
dimensions, and other particulars, of the principal pieces
which enter into the construction of the fabric, constitute
all the preparatory information required by the builder.
After these general observations, we shall now enter more
in detail into the description of the draught of a ship; but
as laying off and practical building are so intimately con¬
nected, that a perfect knowledge of the one cannot be at¬
tained without some acquaintance with the other, it becomes
previously necessary to describe, in general terms, the me¬
thod in which the timbers of a ship are combined and dis¬
posed, both in the square and cant bodies.
This constitutes another division of our subject.
Frame of a The timbers of a ship are combined together in assem-
ship. blages which are technically called “ frames ;” these are put
together in a certain predetermined order, depending on a
variety of circumstances, as the size and form of the ship to
be built, the nature and dimensions of the timber to be used,
the skill and judgment of the architect employed. We will
suppose each frame to consist of a floor crossing the dead-
futtock, and, lastly, a top-timber on the head of the third
futtock. The above arrangement accords with the old sys¬
tem of building. A.n economical modification of the planShork
was introduced of late years, by diminishing the length, andber frai;
therefore by increasing the number, of the timbers. Thus
the long floors are abolished, and their place is substituted
by shorter floors, called cross timbers. To the sides of these
cross timbers, giving scarph to and projecting beyond them,
are bolted and dowelled pieces, called half floors. The first
futtock will then but on the head of the cross timber, the
second futtock on the head of the half floor, the third fut¬
tock on the head of the first, the fourth on the head of the
second, the fifth on the head of the third, the sixth on the
head of the fourth, and the top-timber on the head of the
fifth. Occasionally lengthening pieces are added to the
upper timbers, when required by the conversion. See figs.
34, 35, 36.
Figure 49, Plate CCCCLVII., represents a disposition
with the buts of the frame arranged like those of a shift of
plank, there being three timbers between every two buts,
wdiile in the usual disposition there is only one timber be¬
tween every two buts. j
By reference to the disposition of the frame, Plate
CCCCLIV., it is seen that the timbers are not in contact
sideways, but are kept apart a certain distance; although, for
the sake of simplicity in laying off, we suppose them to touch
each other from the keel to the top-side. This imaginary Joints,
junction of the futtocks of a frame is called the joint. The
joints of the frames are, with one exception, equidistant.
This exception is seen in fig. 24, Plate CCCCL., in which the
distance between the joints 3 and (2) is greater than be¬
tween the other joints. This variation is for the purpose of
introducing an additional timber, called the “ single tim-Single
ber,” so that there will be five timbers in the space 3 (2),timber,
w hereas there are only four timbers between the other joints.
Hence the opening in question is called the five-fourth open¬
ing; and one frame, instead of consisting, like all the others,
of two adjacent timbers, will consist of an assemblage of
three timbers. The reason of the introduction of the single
timber is, because the position of the various futtocks is re¬
versed in the fore and after bodies, i. e. those which in the
fore-body are on the fore side of the joint, are placed in the
after-body on the aft side of the joint. Hence, were it not
for the single timber breaking the shift of the heads and
heels, wre should have a series of two buts together, as two
first-futtock heads, and so on. The timbers being square
to the keel, the joints will obviously be represented in the
sheer and half-breadth plans by straight lines square to the
keel.
As before explained, these joints and their corresponding Square
frames are distinguished in the fore-body by letters, as A, body.
B, C, D, &c. and in the after-body by figures, as 1, 2, 3, 4,
&c. Thus it is seen that the sides of the timbers already
described are athwartship vertical planes. This arrange-cant bej
ment, however, is departed from at the two extremities of
the ship; for if the sides of the frames were athwartship,
timber of much larger scantling would be required, which
would be more costly, more liable to decay from converting
older trees, and would be still farther objectionable, from
the fastenings, which ought to be square to the curve, cut¬
ting the timbers more obliquely. To obviate these incon¬
veniences, the timbers, in technical language, are “ canted.
It has been before explained, that the sides of square Square,
timbers are vertical planes; so also are those of cant tim- cant o
bers. Again, the intersection of the plane of the square tim¬
ber with the vertical longitudinal plane of the ship, is a verti¬
cal straight line: the same remark is applicable to the cant-
timber. Further, the plane of the square timber is at right
SHIP-BUILDING.
git
dr; :ht of
a I).
ijigOff. angles to this longitudinal plane, whereas that of the cant
timber is oblique to this plane. The subject of square and
cant timbers has been explained by the following familiar
illustration. Imagine the before-named vertical athwart-
ship plane to be fixed at its intersection with the vertical
longitudinal plane, but still allowed to revolve on the ver¬
tical line of intersection as an axis. It may be considered
as a door on its hinges. When the door is wide open, in
other words, when the plane stands athwartships, it repre¬
sents a square timber; when the door is partially closed, or
allowed to revolve on its hinges, it represents a cant timber.
This imaginary revolution, of course, takes place forward
in the fore-body and aft in the after-body. Thus, in the
half-breadth plan, Plate CCCCL., AB, drawn perpendicular
to the middle line of the ship, represents the joint of a square
frame ; but if it is made to revolve forward round the point
A, till it comes into the position Ab, it then represents the
joint of a cant frame.
We have now to explain the manner of drawing the va¬
rious lines and sections of a ship, and of transferring them
from one plan to another. For this purpose it will be con¬
venient to imagine the draught complete, and in a general
way to retrace the steps by which the completion was ef¬
fected, by explaining the adaptation and correspondence of
the three plans with each other. Below the upper edge of
the rabbet of the keel are drawn the depth of the rabbet and
the under sides of the main and false keels. At a distance
apart, equal to the length of the ship, are drawn the fore¬
most and aftermost perpendiculars, at right angles to the
keel, and respectively intersecting the aft part of the rabbet
of the stem, and the fore part of the rabbet of the stern-
post, at the height of the lower deck. The stem and stern-
post, together with their respective rabbets, are likewise
delineated. From the calculation of the weight of the ship
when fully equipped, as already explained, is determined
the position of the upper or load water-line; the other water-
lines are drawn at pleasure parallel to, and generally equi¬
distant from, the load water-line. They are severally mark¬
ed No. 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. (Plate CCCCL.), observing that they
are characterized by the same figures in the body and half¬
breadth as in the sheer plan.
The load water-line being drawn in the sheer draught,
the height of the lower deck may be determined. It is to
be observed, that a deck is delineated by three lines, the
upper two of which are parallel to each other, and represent
the thickness of the deck at the middle; the third or lower
line denotes the under surface of the deck at the side of the
ship. Supposing the height of the deck determined amid¬
ships, forward and aft; let these heights be set above the
load water-line, and through the three spots thus obtained
draw a segment of a circle ; this curve defines the deck at
the middle. To obtain the deck at the side, proceed as
follows. Draw a straight line, equal in length to the breadth
of the ship amidships, to the interior of the timbers. Per¬
pendicular to and at the middle of this Jine, set off the
round-up of the beam, through which point and the extre¬
mities of the line draw the segment of a circle, which will
represent the round-up of all the beams. Draw a tangent
to this curve at its middle point, which will evidently be
parallel to the first-named line, or chord of the are. Now,
to obtain the round-down of the deck at any particular sta¬
tion, take the half-breadth of the ship at that station, and
set off this half-breadth on the tangent from the middle of
the curve. Next take the perpendicular distance (at right
angles to the tangent) of the curve from the point last ob¬
tained, and set it oft’ on the sheer plan at the corresponding
station below the under side of the deck at the middle ; the
spot thus obtained is the deck at the side. By proceeding
in a similar manner at other stations wre obtain several spots
through which a fair curve must be drawn, and thus is de-
tei mined the under surface of the deck, or the upper sur-
Pef'ii di-
cui ;•
Sti > and
stt post.
LO' vva-
teri ie.
face of the beam at the side of the ship. In like manner haying Off.
are the other decks delineated, their height and round-up
being known. At present, however, only the lower deck
can be decided. Before the upper deck, quarter-deck and
forecastle, and round-house, are drawn, it wfill be necessary
to draw, in the sheer draught, the midship and side coun¬
ter-timbers. We here remind the reader that we are al¬
luding to a two-decked ship, wLereas the sheer draught
(Plate CCCCL.) represents a frigate, which has one fight¬
ing deck less than a line-of-battle ship.
As the heels of the stern or counter-timbers rest on and Wing-tran-
are connected to the wing-transom, this transom may besom-
considered as the foundation of the stern. To draw the
wing-transom, set up in the sheer plan, from the upper edge
of the rabbet of the keel, the height of its intersection at
the middle line of the ship with the fore part of the rabbet
of the stern-post. At this point draw a horizontal line, be¬
low which draw a second horizontal line, at a distance from
the former equal to the round-down of the transom. On
the upper horizontal line set off the round-forward of the
transom, which square down to the second horizontal line.
Next join the last-named point and the point of intersection
of the upper surface of the transom, with the fore part of the
rabbet, and we thus obtain the after upper edge of the tran¬
som. It is to be understood that the method just described
for drawing the wing-transom is only an approximation to
truth : thus we have supposed the after upper edge of the
transom a straight line, whereas in reality its projection is
a curve ; but as this description is sufficiently accurate for
our present purpose, we shall reserve any further remarks
on the subject until we explain the method of laying oft’ the
transoms.
Having drawn a line to represent the after upper edge
of the wing-transom, the fore and after extremities of this
line will be respectively the terminations of the after parts
of the lower ends of the midship and side counter-timbers;
but before these timbers are described, it w ill be necessary
to make a few observations on the stern of a ship.
If we imagine the stern to be cut by a vertical fore ante The stern,
aft plane, the after boundary of this section, above the wing-
transom, will consist of the hollows of the lower and upper-
counters, and a straight line from the upper knuckle to the
top of the side. Moreover, the stern has two curvatures, a
round-up and a round-aft. The round-up is variable, where¬
as the round-aft (above the upper knuckle) is constant.
The round-up of the stern gradually increases from the
wing-transom to the taffrail; that is, the right aft rails,
which include the tuck-rail, the lowTer counter, upper coun¬
ter, foot-space, and breast-rails, have more and more cur¬
vature as they ascend. The round-aft of the stern, from
the upper knuckle to the taffrail, is the same in equal
breadths ; in fact, the stern is a portion of a cylinder, and
therefore all sections square to its axis, or square to the
rake, which is parallel to its axis, are portions of the same
circle.
We may now proceed to draw in the midship counter-Counter¬
timber. The stations of the upper and lower knuckles
being determined, draw a circular arc to the hollow of the
upper counter; and from the lower knuckle to the intersec¬
tion of the upper edge of the wing-transom with the lore
part of the rabbet of the stern-post draw another curve to
the hollow of the lower counter. From the upper knuckle
draw a straight line to the rake of the stern, and we thus
complete the projection of the midship counter-timber.
To draw in the side counter-timber in the sheer plan. Side ccmn-
At the height of the upper knuckle of the midship counter- tu-timber.
timber draw a horizontal line ; at the distance of the round-
down of the upper counter below this line draw another
horizontal line, on which set off the round-forward of the
upper counter square to the rake. The point thus obtained
will be the upper knuckle at the side. In like manner is
S'TS
SHIP-BUILDING.
Stern.
Laying Off. obtained the lower knuckle at the side. From the two
--y''—' knuckles draw in the hollow of the upper counter, and hom
the lower knuckle to the fore part of the after edge of the
wing-transom draw in a curve for the hollow of the lower
counter.
Now if the top-side had no “ tumbling home, the side
counter-timber above the upper knuckle would be parallel
to the midship counter-timber; and further, in proportion
as the “ tumbling home” is great or small, so will the heads
of these timbers approximate to or recede from each other.
To obtain a point for the head of the side counter-timber,
it will be first necessary to draw the round-aft of the stern.
Strike a straight line at pleasure, the length of which is
equal to the breadth of the stern at the lower knuckle. At
the middle of this line erect a perpendicular, and on it set
off the round-aft of the stern ; through this last point, and
the extremities of the line, draw a circular arc, from which
we may obtain the round-aft of the stern, square to its rake,
at any breadth. For instance, to procure the round-att at
the head of the side counter-timber, set off the half breauth
of the ship at that height from the middle of the chord of
the arc; then take the distance of this point (square to
the chord) from the circular arc; this distance is the round-
aft required, which, when set off square to the midship
counter-timber, determines the aft side of the side counter¬
timber at its head. We have now to obtain spots for draw¬
ing in this timber between the head and the upper knuckle.
As before remarked, the stern above the upper knuckle
is cylindrical, and as all sections of a cylinder parallel to its
axis are bounded by straight lines, while those sections
which are oblique to its axis are bounded by curves, it fol¬
lows, that in the sheer plan the midship counter-timber, as
explained above, is a straight line, while the side counter¬
timber is a curve.
Further, as all sections of a cylinder made by a plane
square to its axis are circles, while those sections which are
oblique to its axis are ellipses, it follows, that in the half-
breadfh plan the round-aft of a plane, which in the sheer
iilan is at right angles to the rake of the stern amidships,
will be circular, while the round-aft in the half-breadth plan
of all other planes will be elliptical.
Bearing this in mind, we proceed to show the manner
of obtaining the elliptical round-aft of the level line Q at the
height of the upper knuckle a at the sides (Plate CCCCLIII.
fig. 31). In the sheer plan, from the point a draw ab at
right angles to the midship counter-timber produced. Pro¬
ject the point a in the sheer plan to the middle line of the
half-breadth plan, as e. From e draw cf at right angles to
the middle line, and on ef set off the half breadth of the
ship at the lower knuckle. Draw eg equal to ab, a.nd
through g and/draw a circular arc ghf, the radius of which
arc will be equal to half the diameter of the cylinder; then
will ghf be the round-aft of the stern square to its rake.
AgainI in the half-breadth plan draw any number of lines
W, X, parallel to the middle line, intersecting the round-aft
ghf in the points h and i. Take the horizontal distances of
h and i from ef, and set these distances off on the line ah
from the point a. Through the points thus obtained on ab
in the sheer plan, draw lines parallel to the rake of the
stern. Square down the points of intersection of the last-
named lines, with the level line Q, to the corresponding
lines W and X in the half-breadth plan. Lastly, through
the intersections thus obtained draw a curve, which will
represent the elliptical round-aft of the stern w hen cut ho¬
rizontally. Further, as all parallel sections of a cylinder
are similar curves, we infer that the round-aft just obtained
will serve for the round-aft of any number of level lines
drawn above the upper knuckle.
Therefore draw level lines above the upper knuckle, at
a distance of from tw o to three feet apart, both in the sheer
and body plans. Hun off these level lines in the half-
Round-aft.
breadth plan. Square down the intersections of each of Laying |{
these lines in the sheer plan, with the midship counter-tim- ,
her, to the middle line of the half-breadth plan. From these
points draw the horizontal round-aft of the stern, and the
intersections of this round-att with the corresponding level
lines will be the terminations of the said level lines. Square
up these terminations to the respective level lines in the
sheer plan, and through these spots drawr a curve, which
will be the projection of the after edge of the side counter¬
timber. < • , •
To represent the projection of the side counter-timber in Side co
the body plan, take the distances square from the middle tev-tbL
line in the half-breadth plan of the termination of each level
line, and transfer these distances to the corresponding level
lines in the body plan; through the spots so obtained pass
a curve, wdiich will represent the required projection of the
side counter-timber. (Plate CCCCLIII. fig. 33.}
Following the previous directions, the decks above the Decks,
lower deck may now be drawn.
The joints of the frames are drawn perpendicular to the-
keel. The previous explanation on the frame-timbers of £
ship renders any further remarks on this subject unneces¬
sary. The ports are drawn to the sheer of the ship. Their Ports,
number, size, and distance apart, of course, depend on the
determined armament. I
The main-breadth, top-breadth, top-side, and other lines, Breadth
have been already explained ; and with respect to the chan-lmes-
nels, head-rails, and other details, our limits preclude the
possibility of entering into a description. We must there¬
fore conclude our account at present of the sheer plan by
referring to Plate CCCCL., and proceed to a brief de¬
scription of the body plan. Fig. 25 represents the body Body pi
plan. A horizontal line is drawn for the upper edge of the
keel. On this line three perpendiculars are raised, at a dis¬
tance apart equal to half the moulded breadth of the ship.
The middle of these three lines represents the middle line ot
the ship, or rather the projection of the vertical longitudinal
plane which divides the ship into two equal parts. The other
two lines are the boundaries of the ship at the widest part,
or dead-flat, 0. The curves A, B, C, &c. in the fore-body,
and 1, 2, 3, &c. in the after-body, represent vertical trans¬
verse sections of the ship, at the corresponding joints A, B,
C, &c. 1, 2, 3, &c. in the sheer plan. It is to be understood
that these sections correspond to the exterior surface of the
timbers, on the supposition that the plank of the bottom and
top-side is not yet on the ship.
Independent of the joints of the frame, many other lines
in the body plan originate in the sheer plan, as port-sill
lines, top-breadth, top-side, water-lines, &c. We shall pre¬
sently describe the manner of transferring them from the
sheer to the body plan. But there are other lines which
may be said to originate in the body plan. Among this class
may be mentioned buttock, bow, and diagonal lines. But-Butte'
tock lines are vertical lines drawn at discretion at any dis- 1
tance from and parallel to the middle line. 1 hey are mark-
ed Nos. 1, 2, 3, &c. Plate CCCCLII. The position ofDiagt®
the diagonal lines drawn in the body plan is not, however,
arbitrary, because it has reference to two considerations,
the length of the timbers, and the station of the ribbands
and harpins: thus those marked floor-head, first futtock-
head, second futtock-head, &c. show the lengths of the
floors and futtocks, together with the heights of their heads
and heels above the keel; while those marked first sirmark, Rn ^
second sirmark, third sirmark, &c. show the heights and “
situations of the various harpins and ribbands, which are
placed between the heads of the respective timbers, in or¬
der to give support to the ship whilst in frame. Fig. 30.
The half-breadth plan is in most draughts placed below
the sheer plan, the stations being squared down to its middle ,
line. (Plate CCCCL.). Occasionally, however, the upper ^
edge of the keel in the sheer plan answers to the middle line
SHIP-BUILDING.
279
&C.I
Laj Off. of the half-breadth plan, as in Plates CCCCLI., CCCCLIL,
w —' and CCCCLIIL This is generally the case in laying off,
because the dimensions of the mould-loft floor would not
admit of any other arrangement.
From the description of the draught we proceed to ex¬
plain the manner of transferring the various lines from one
plan to another.
D;a ;ials. To run off the diagonals in the half-breadth plan. From
the point of intersection of the diagonal with the middle line
in the body plan, take the distances of the intersection of
every timber with the said diagonal, which distances set
off on the corresponding timbers in the half-breadth plan.
Through the points thus obtained pass a curve, which will
represent a vertical projection of the diagonal on the half¬
breadth plan, not in its original position, but after it is sup¬
posed to revolve until it comes into a horizontal position.
The axis of revolution is a fore and aft line parallel to the
keel, being the intersection of the diagonal plane with the
vertical longitudinal plane of the ship. It remains to ex¬
plain the method of ending the diagonals ; but before the
process can be clearly understood, it will be necessary to
enter into a brief explanation of the rabbets of the stem and
stern-post.
Ra' ts of The upper part of the rabbet of the stem, and also of the
the tin, stern-post, is an equilateral triangle, whose sides are equal to
the thickness of the bottom plank, the middle of the rabbet
being half the distance between the fore and after edges.
But at the lower part of the stem, although the fore part
of the rabbet remains fixed, yet the middle and the after
edges vary considerably from their relative positions at the
upper part.
This variation is technically termed the “ opening of the
rabbet,” and it arises from the alteration of the form of the
body. Thus, if we conceive the bow to be of the same
shape above and below, no alteration would be required in
the form of the rabbet. Again, if the bow were so sharp
near the keel that its horizontal section becomes a fore and
aft straight line, then the ends of the bottom plank should
be cut off square, and therefore in the sheer plan the middle
of the rabbet would coincide with the fore edge. Hence
we see that the middle of the rabbet approximates to or re¬
cedes from the fore edge, according to the sharpness or ful¬
ness of the lower part of the bow. In general, it wall be
sufficiently accurate for all practical purposes to place the
middle of the rabbet at the lower part one third its breadth
from the fore edge, from which point it gradually recedes
from the fore edge till it arrives at the upper end of the
stem, where, as before observed, it is midway between the
fore and after edges.
The same remarks obviously apply to the rabbets of the
stern-post and keel; observing, that with respect to the
keel, the rabbet amidships is an equilateral triangle, the
middle of which is equidistant between its upper and lower
edges, whereas forward and abaft, the projection of the
middle of the rabbet of the keel, in the sheer plan, with
respect to the lower edge of the rabbet, partakes of a simi¬
lar variation, as before described with respect to the rabbet
of the stem. In general it should be understood, that that
form of rabbet is to be adopted which most conduces to
its utility as a security of the wooden ends, and the ef¬
ficiency of their caulking, so that there shall be no tendency
to set off the buts of the plank,
dia 'i^6c ^or fietermining the endings of the diagonals, it is
S 19. further necessary to observe, that the half siding of the
stem and stern-post must be drawn in the body plan, to¬
gether with the depths of their respective rabbets; observ-
mg, that with respect to the stem, it is usual to make it of
a parallel siding from the head to the lower side of the
ower cheek, in order to afford greater support to the bow¬
sprit and knee of the head. From the lower cheek down¬
wards it gradually tapers to the siding of the keel. The
stern-post either tapers the whole of its length, or is of a Laying Off.
parallel siding from the head to the lower side of the deck- •y-—
transom, from whence it tapers to the heel. From our
preceding remarks, it will be perceived, that in the half¬
breadth plan the upper diagonals will terminate at the aft
part of the rabbet of the stem, and the lower diagonals at
the middle of the rabbet. Hence there will be an . inter¬
mediate point depending on the comparative fulness and
sharpness of the bow, at which one diagonal will terminate
both at the middle and at the after part of the rabbet; or
rather this one diagonal will break in fair with both the
middle and after part of the rabbet.
To determine the endings, we proceed thus : In the body
plan take the heights of the intersections of the diagonal with
the outside of the stem, and with the inside of the rabbet;
transfer these heights to the sheer plan, to the after side
and to the inside of the rabbet; square down these two
spots to the middle line of the half-breadth plan, at which
points raise two perpendiculars ; along the diagonal in the
body plan take the distances from the middle line to where
the diagonal intersects the inside of the rabbet and outside
of the stem, and set these distances off on the correspond¬
ing perpendiculars in the half-breadth plan ; thus will be
obtained two points, one of which will be the termination
of the diagonal according to the form of the body, as before
explained.
Or, in the half-breadth plan, with the fore part of the
rabbet as a centre, and the after part of the rabbet as a ra¬
dius, describe a portion of a circle, and let the diagonal at
its termination be a tangent to this circle. The after ends
of those diagonals which are below the wing-transom ter¬
minate in the rabbet of the stern-post, in a similar manner
to the fore ends in the rabbet of the stem.
The termination of those diagonals which cross the wing-
transom is thus explained. In the body plan, take the dis-
taoce square to the middle line of the intersection of the
diagonal with the margin. Set this distance off in the half¬
breadth plan, square to the middle line, to intersect the
margin. Through the spots thus obtained draw a perpen¬
dicular to the middle line, on which perpendicular set off
the diagonal distance of the intersection of the diagonal with
the margin in the body plan. This gives the termination
required.
The foregoing remarks will serve to elucidate the plan Water and
of terminating water-lines, and also all level lines which are level lines,
below the wing-transom; excepting that the distances in
the latter cases are taken horizontally instead of diagonally.
To run off the diagonals in the sheer plan : In the body To run off
plan, take the perpendicular heights, that is, the heights diagonals in
square to the upper edge of the keel, of the intersection oft,ie slieer
the diagonal with each of the timbers, and transfer these plan‘
heights to the corresponding timbers in the sheer plan.
Through the points thus obtained draw a curve, which will
be the line required.
These lines terminate forward at the aft side of the rab¬
bet of the stem, and aft at the fore side of the rabbet of
the post, at the respective heights of their intersection in
the body plan, with the sides of the stem and stern-post.
These lines are chiefly required in the sheer plan, when
making a disposition of the timbers of the frame; as by
their means we show the heights above the keel, of the floor-
heads, first futtock-heads, &c.
To run off the horizontal ribbands in the half-breadth The hori-
plan. Having run off the diagonal planes, as just explain-zontal nl>“
ed, in their true form, it will be necessary to obtain their
vertical projections in the half-breadth plan, without ima-^g^L
gining them, as before, to revolve into a horizontal position, plan.
The diagonals, when projected according to this second me¬
thod, are called “ horizontal ribbands.”
Observe the points of intersection of the diagonal in the
body plan with each timber. Take the horizontal distance
280
SHIP-BUILDING.
Lavir
Water and
level lines
in the half¬
breadth
plan.
Buttock and
Off. of each of these points from the middle line, and transfer
it on the corresponding timber in the half-breadth plan.
Through the points thus obtained draw a curve which will
terminate both forward and abaft on the same lines as the
corresponding diagonal, only observing that the distances
of the terminations must be taken in the body plan hori¬
zontally instead of diagonally.
To run off level lines and water lines in the half-breadth
plan. Take the horizontal distances, from the middle line
of the ship, of the intersection of each timber with the
level or water line in the body plan, and set off these dis¬
tances from the middle line of the half-breadth plan on the
corresponding timbers. Through the points thus obtained
pass a curve.
The terminations of these lines below the wing-transom
have been already explained.
To terminate the after end of a level line above the wing-
transom. From the sheer plan square down the intersec¬
tions of the level line with the aft part of the midship and
side counter-timbers, to the middle line of the half-breadth
plan. From the foremost of the two points thus obtained,
erect a perpendicular to the middle line, and the point where
the round-aft of the stern drawn from the aftermost point
intersects the perpendicular, will be the termination of the
level line.
Without further explanation, this method will serve for
the terminations of the top-breadth, top-side, port-sill, and
other similar lines. T. he fore ends of these lines may ter¬
minate in the half-breadth of the stem from the middle line.
To run off buttock and bow lines in the sheer plan. In
cording to discretion ; observing, however, that it is essen- Laying)
tial to have one near the end of the wing-transovn.
bow lines the body and half-breadth plans, buttock and bow lines
in the sheer - - ... .. •, i, t rI'   c—
plan.
Main-
breadth
line.
Transfer-
are straight lines parallel to the middle line. To transfer
them from the body to the sheer plan, proceed thus: in
the body plan, from the upper edge of the keel, take the
heights of their intersections with each timber, and set oft
these heights on the corresponding timbers in the sheer
plan. Through the spots thus obtained pass a curve. Those
lines which do not cross the wing-transom may terminate
in the sheer plan, at the main-breadth line. Those which
cross the wing-transom terminate at the margin as follows.
Square up the intersection of the buttock-line with the mar¬
gin of the wing-transom in the half-breadth plan, to the
margin in the sheer plan. The spot thus obtained deter¬
mines the ending of the buttock-line.
To run off the main-breadth line in the sheer and half¬
breadth plans. In the body plaa this line is a curve pass¬
ing through each timber, at its widest part. It is transfer¬
red to the sheer plan by levelling in its intersection with each
timber, to the corresponding timbers; and it is drawn in the
half-breadth plan in a manner similar to that before de¬
scribed with respect to water-lines.
We now suppose the draught is complete, and that due
precautions have been taken to make the various curves in
the three plans perfectly fair. We proceed to explain the
method of laying off the more important parts of a ship.
It will be unnecessary to allude to the manner of transfer¬
ring to the ring the sheer and body plans from the paper on which they
floor- are first drawn to a small scale, to the mould-loft, on which
they are to be delineated the full size of the ship. The pro¬
cess will be sufficiently obvious to any intelligent person. We
will therefore suppose the sheer and body plans transferred
Fairing the to the floor of the mould-loft. This being done, the next
body.
Proof tim¬
bers.
operation is to fair the body, by horizontal, vertical, and ob¬
lique sections, which is effected by running off in the half¬
breadth plan, according to our previous description, level
lines, buttock-lines, and diagonal lines.
It should be understood, that, forward and aft, it is neces¬
sary to run off a few vertical sections nearer together than
the other sections. This is done on account of the sudden
curvature in the bow and buttock of a ship. These sec¬
tions, which are called “ proof timbers,” may be placed ac-
When the body is perfectly fair on the floor, it becomes Joinu
necessary to get in all the alternate timbers, or rather joints the fra
of the frames, which have been omitted. In the half-breadth
plan, bisect the spaces between every joint already laid off,
and strike in the new joints, which, like the others, will be
square to the middle line. Then in the half-breadth plan
take the distances from the middle line, of the intersections |
of these joints with each of the level lines and diagonals,
and transfer these distances to the corresponding level lines
and diagonals in the body plan. Thus will be obtained a
series of spots through which curves must be drawn to re¬
present the new joints, when all the moulding edges in the
body plan will be complete.
Supposing the body plan complete, the moulds may be Mould:
made for the timbers in the square body. With respect to
the floors, it is customary for one large mould to contain
them all, the fore and after bodies being placed on its oppo¬
site sides. This mould, for lightness and convenience, is
made of battens; it is connected at the middle line by a
pair of hinges, so that when not in use it may be shut to¬
gether, and thus occupy only one half the space. In trim¬
ming a floor, after the spots are obtained from the mould
for its curvature, it is sometimes customary to apply the ad¬
jacent first futtock-mould through them. With respect to
the futtocks, for the sake of illustration, let us imagine one
frame of the ship (as starboard, K), instead of consisting of
a floor, first futtock, second futtock, third futtock, fourth
futtock, and top-timber, to consist simply of two long tim¬
bers, each extending from the dead-wood to the top of the
side, one on either side of the joint. Were we to make a
mould to K in the body plan, it is obvious that it would
give the form of both these imaginary long timbers. The
only difference in the application of the mould would be,
that in moulding the foremost of these timbers the after
side of the mould would be uppermost, whereas in moulding
the after timber, the fore side of the mould would be upper¬
most. The reverse would obviously be the case in mould¬
ing the larboard timbers. Now, bearing this principle in
mind, the moulds are made for the various futtocks, con¬
forming in their length to the respective diagonals which
denote the stations of their heads and heels. I he scantling
of the timbers is marked on the moulds, together with the
stations of the ribbands and bevelling spots. As each edge
of a mould may be used, one mould answers for two timbers,
and their opposites. Where rigid ecoftomy is of importance,
one mould may serve for several futtocks, in which case the
various joints are inked on the surface of the mould, and
are bored through the mould to the timber in order to ob¬
tain its curvature. This method, however, is not to be ge¬
nerally recommended, because a set ot moulds will, witn
care, convert for several ships in succession.
After the moulds are made, it is customary to take the Bevellu
bevellings of the square body. This subject will, however,
be explained generally under the head of cant-timbers, to
which we now direct the reader’s attention.
We have already explained that the plane ot a cant-tim-Laying
ber is vertical, and inclined at a certain angle to the longi*^^,
tudinal plane of the ship; its projection, therefore, in the
half-breadth plan, will be a straight line inclined to the
middle line.
In the disposition of the cant-timbers, strength and eco¬
nomy should be considered; hence the propriety of dimi¬
nishing their curvature and bevelling as much as possible.
No particular rule can be laid down for their number and
disposition, as these must depend on the form of the bow
and buttock of the ship. As a general rule, they should be
placed as square as possible to the body, and be equal y
spaced on the main-breadth and middle lines; their sidings,
together with the openings between them, or, in other
\
SHIP-BUILDING.
281
'H' ^
H: «-
pit •
Ki it-
ig gOff. words, their “ room and space,” should assimilate as near as
may be to the square body. The hawse-pieces should be
so situated that they may not be too much wounded by the
hawse-holes ; and in order that the knight-heads may not
be injudiciously weakened by the bowsprit, their heads
should be separated from the stem, at least in large ships,
by a timber of from six to eight inches siding.
It should be remarked, that in the square body every
other joint only is laid off, the intermediate joints being
drawn in after the laying off' may be said to be complete.
But in the cant-bodies every joint is laid off, each joint, as
in the square body, serving to mould the adjacent timbers
on its fore and after sides. Still, if the opening between
the timbers of a cant-frame should be very great, it would
be more accurate to strike in the openings on the half¬
breadth plan, and to lay oft' each timber independent of the
other, that is to say, the after edge of the foremost, and
the fore edge of the aftermost timber.
Supposing the disposition of the fore and after cant-bo¬
dies completed as in the half-breadth plans(Plates CCCCLI.
and CCCCLIL), in which the joints of the cant-frames are
marked c, we proceed to lay them oft’ in the body plan.
This is generally done by one of two methods ; either by
horizontal ribbands, or by level lines. We must here re¬
mind the reader, that the square timbers in the body plan,
as A, B, C, &c., 1, 2, 3, &c., are not only projections of the
same timbers in the sheer plan, but they are absolutely the
real shape of the said timbers, on the supposition that the
ship was cut asunder athwartships at those stations. Now,
if we conceive a vertical section of the bow to be made, not
athwartships, but in the direction of the plane of a cant-
timber, as W, Plate CCCCLI. fig. 27, and if we project
this section to the body plan, this projection will not be
the shape of the cant-timber. But if keeping the plane of
the cant-timber W fixed at its vertical intersection w ith the
longitudinal plane, we make it revolve round the said in¬
tersection as an axis until it comes athwartships, and if in
its new position we project it from the sheer plan into the
body plan, then, as in the square body, we not only obtain
a projection, but also the true form of the timber, to which
a mould may be made for trimming it. We shall now ex¬
plain the manner of performing this ingenious process, se¬
lecting as an example the cant-timber W in the fore body,
off To lay off cant-timbers by horizontal ribbands. Observe
i20n'the intersection of the cant-timber, marked W, with the
upper horizontal ribband in the half-breadth plan, Plate
CCCCLI.; take the nearest or perpendicular distance of
tnis point from the middle line; set this distance off hori¬
zontally from the middle line of the body plan, so as just to
intersect the corresponding diagonal. In like manner, ob¬
tain similar spots from the remaining horizontal ribbands
in the half-breadth plan on all the other diagonals in the
body plan, and if through the spots so obtained a curve
were drawn, this curve would be the projection, not the true
shape, of the cant-timber. Next through all the above-
named spots on the diagonals in the body plan, draw ho¬
rizontal lines. In the half-breadth plan, take the distances
along the cant-timber from where it intersects the middle
line to its intersection with each of the horizontal ribbands.
Transfer these distances to the body plan, by setting them
off from the middle line, on each of the corresponding ho-
iizontal lines before named. Lastly, through the spots so
obtained pass a curve, which curve will be the absolute
snape of the cant-timber, which has thus been made to re¬
volve round the point W in the half-breadth plan, from its
original position, wrhich was oblique to the middle line, until
dl^l^16 *nt0an athwartship position, or square to the mid-
We have thus delineated the form of the cant-timber at
an below the upper diagonal. To obtain its form at the
op-side, proceed thus. In the half-breadth plan, square up
bv!
tal
bai,
the intersection of the cant-timber with the main-breadth Laying Off.
line, to the corresponding main-breadth line in the sheer ^
plan. Transfer the height so obtained to the middle line
of the body plan, through which point draw a level line.
In the half-breadth plan, take the distance in the direction
of the cant-timber, from its intersection with the middle
line to its intersection with the main-breadth line, and set
off the same distance from the middle line of the body plan,
along the level line just drawn. Proceed in like manner
w ith respect to the top-breadth, top-side, port-sill, or any
other similar lines, and we thus procure a series of spots
through which the cant-timber may be continued from be¬
low.
To obtain the ending of the timber. Draw in the beard- Ending the
ing line or the half thickness of the dead-wood in the half-timbers,
breadth plan, parallel to the middle line. Square up the
intersection of the cant-timber with this bearding line, to
the bearding line in the sheer plan. Level in this height
to the middle line of the body plan, where a horizontal line
must be drawn, on which line set off from the half-breadth
plan the distance between the intersection of the cant-
timber with the middle line, and its intersection with the
bearding line. The spot thus obtained determines the end¬
ing of the timber.
Having laid off the moulding edge of W, we proceed to Bevelling
lay off its bevelling edges. Parallel to and on either side ofedSes-
the joint W, draw two lines ac, bd, to represent the sidings
of the adjacent timbers. The side extremities of these lines
terminate like the joint at the top-breadth line ; their mid¬
ship extremities are bounded by a small line ah drawn at
right angles to the joint W at its intersection with the middle
line.
In our former description w^e supposed the joint of the
timber to revolve round the point W, until it, the joint,
came into an athwartship position. Now, instead of ima¬
gining the joint only to be thus circumstanced, let us sup¬
pose the whole cant-frame to revolve round the point W ;
in which case thebeveiling edges or, W, will become athwTart-
ship lines, and ab will become a fore and aft line, and may
be regarded as the middle line, or rather a small part of the
middle line, of the ship. Hence, in laying oft' the two bevel¬
ling edges ac, bd, we proceed as was before described for
the joint, with this exception, that we take the cant dis¬
tances along ac, bd, from the points a and b, instead of, as
before, from the point W, at the middle line.
The bevelling edges are delineated, as just explained, in Bevelling
the body plan, in which plan they fall without, coincide with, of cant¬
or fall within, the joint; and these three conditions deter-timbers*
mine whether the timber has a standing, square, or under
bevelling. Therefore, across a board the breadth of which
is equal to the siding of the timber, draw a line square to
its edges. In the body plan, at the various bevelling spots,
as sirmarks, port-sills, heads, &c. take the nearest distances
of the joint from the bevelling edges, and set these distances
on the right-hand side of the board, either above or below
the square line, according as the bevellings are standing or
under. Then join the points so obtained, and the intersec¬
tion of the square line, with the left-hand side of the board.
The angles formed by the left-hand side of the board, and
the various lines across the board, denote the respective
bevellings at the corresponding stations in the body plan,
which bevellings will be applied square to the curve of the
timber.
For trimming and cutting off the heel two bevellings are Heels of
necessary. The bevelling against the dead-wood is simplycant-tim-
the angle formed in the half-breadth plan by the directionbers*
of the timber and a fore and aft line, and is therefore taken *
by placing the stock of a bevel to the cant of the timber,
and the tongue to the bearding line.
To obtain the bevelling for cutting off the heel against
the stepping. Square up from the half-breadth plan to the
2 N
282
Laying Off.
Laying off
by level
lines.
SHIP-BUILDING.
Bevelling
edges.
Cant-tim¬
bers in the
sheer plan
To lay off
the tran¬
soms.
sheer plan, the intersectran of the joint of the cant-timber
with the bearding line. From this point in the sheer plan
erect a perpendicular to the keel. Place the stock of the
bevel to this perpendicular, and the tongue to the direction
of the stepping line, and the required bevelling is obtained.
To lay off the cant-timbers by level lines. The reader
will observe that two processes were necessary in laying off
cant-timbers by the horizontal ribbands ; for, first, we had
to take the square distances of the intersection of the timber
with each horizontal ribband from the middle line in the
half-breadth plan, and transfer these distances to the cor¬
responding diagonals in the body plan ; and, secondly, we
had to take the oblique or cant distances of the timber with
the same horizontal ribbands in the half-breadth plan, and
transfer them to the body plan. But the method of laying
off these timbers by level lines is far more simple, only
one process being required. Thus, to lay off the joint of W,
take the cant distances from the middle line in the half¬
breadth plan to the intersection of the joint with each level
line, and transfer these distances from the middle line of
the body plan, along each of the corresponding level lines.
A curve through the spots thus obtained gives the true form
of the timber.
In considering these two.methods of laying off cant-tim¬
bers, the reader will remark, that the difference between
them consists in this particular, viz. in the first method, or
by horizontal ribbands, the heights in the body plan along
which the cant distances are set off, are procured from the
half-breadth plan; whereas in the second method, or by level
lines, these heights are already given in the body plan.
But it may be naturally asked, which is the preferable
method ? To this we reply, if the student can rely on the
fidelity of his labours, let him by all means lay off the cant-
bodies by level lines : if, however, he mistrusts the accuracy
of his work, let him adopt the plan by horizontal ribbands.
The reason of this opinion is, that as the level lines cut the
body obliquely, any inaccuracy is more magnified by them
than by the diagonals, which cut the body nearly at right
angles. With this explanation, we leave the choice of these
plans to the discretion of the student.
The bevelling edges are laid off by level lines in the same
manner as the joint, except, as in the former method, the
cant distances are taken from the points a and b, instead of
from the point W. The bevellings of the timber are taken
as explained in the former method.
To obtain the projection of the cant-timbers in the sheer
plan. Square up the intersections of the timber with any
of the lines except diagonals, in the half-breadth plan.
Diagonals are excepted, because in the half-breadth plan
they are not in their natural position, but are supposed to
revolve into a horizontal position before they are projected
into this plan. Through the spots thus obtained pass a
curve, and we obtain the projection required.
This operation is necessary for a variety of purposes.
Thus the projection of the fashion-pieces into the sheer
plan, shows the boundary of the ends of the transoms.
(Plates CCCCLII. and CCCCLIII.) A like projection of
the other cant-timbers in thefore and after cant-bodies, shows
the arrangement of the heads and heels of the cant-timbers,
and their disposition with respect to the bow and after ports.
To lay off the transoms. As the ends of the transoms are
bounded by the fashion-pieces, it becomes necessary to ob¬
tain the projection of the fashion-pieces in the sheer and
body plans. This is done as previously described with re¬
spect to any other cant-timbers. In Plate CCCCLII. the
transoms are projected into the half-breadth plan ; but as
this creates confusion from the multiplicity of lines, it is
customary to lay off the transoms by themselves, and to show
both sides of the ship. With this view Plate CCCCLIII.
is drawn, where fig. 32 represents the plan of the transoms
in which the square timbers 29, 31, the buttock-lines 1,
2, 3, 4, 5, the middle line, the bearding of the post, theLaym
fashion-pieces, and the wing-transom, are transferred from '—y'
the half-breadth plan.
In the sheer plan, where the wing-transom intersects the
fore part of the rabbet, a line is drawn at right angles to the
keel. This line is called the perpendicular to the transoms.
A corresponding line is drawn in the plan of the transoms.
Transoms may generally be divided into four kinds.
Is#, Those which have a round-up and a sheer: 2d, those
which have a round-up and no sheer: 3c/, those which
have neither a round-up nor a sheer, their upper and
lower sides being level both athwartships and fore and
aft; they are called horizontal transoms: and, 4#A, those
which are square to the stern-post, or rather as square to
the body as they can be drawn. These are called cant-
transoms ; their upper and lower sides are planes.
The deck-transom must necessarily have the round-up
and sheer of the deck. We have supposed the wing and
filling transoms also to have a round-up and sheer to them,
although they are sometimes designed, particularly in small
ships, without any sheer. It is customary to distinguish
the transoms under the deck-transom as No. 1, 2, 3, &c.
They are delineated in fig. 31 as horizontal transoms; occa¬
sionally, however, they are canted, as AB, Plate CCCCLII.
fig. 29.
From the nature of horizontal transoms, as previously ex- Lajjngj
plained, they will be represented in the sheer and bodyh()nwc'
plans by level lines. (Figs. 31 and 33.) This being done,transe!i
we have next to make a horizontal section of the ship, at
the upper side of each of these transoms, which will of
course give the curves to which the moulds are to be
made. As the after part of the transoms is terminated
either by the fore side of the rabbet, or by the bearding
line of the stern-post, in the sheer plan take the distance
from the intersection of the upper side of the transom with
the fore part of the rabbet, or with the bearding line, to
the perpendicular of the transoms. Set this distance off
in the plan of the transoms, on each bearding line square
from the perpendicular to the transoms, then by joining
these two points we obtain the after part of the transom
amidships. Again, in the sheer plan, observe the inter¬
section of the upper edge of the transom with each but¬
tock-line. Take the distances of these intersections from
the perpendicular to the transoms; transfer the said dis¬
tances to the plan of the transoms, by setting them off
from the perpendicular to the transoms on the correspond¬
ing buttock-lines. A curve line passing through these
spots will give the form of the upper after-edge of the
transom. The accuracy of this curve may be tested thus.
In the body plan, take the distances from the middle line
of the intersection of the upper side of the horizontal tran¬
som with each square timber, transfer these distances from
the middle line on each square timber in the plan of the
transoms ; the spots so obtained ought to correspond with
the curve drawn by means of the buttock-lines.
To lay off a transom which has a round-up and a sheer, Transo
it should be understood that the mould given to the work-with a
men for trimming the transom to its round-up is generally™1*11^
a circular arc, applied square to the sheer; and that the
mould for trimming it to its round-aft is applied flat upon
and bent round its upper surface.
In the sheer plan, at the height of the intersection of the
middle of the transom with the fore part of the rabbet of
the post, draw a line to the sheer of the transom. Con¬
tinue this sheer line until it meets the perpendicular to the
transoms, at which point draw a line downwards at right
angles to the sheer line. Fig. 31.
In the body plan, at the height of the upper side of the’
transom amidships, draw a level line; draw also a circular
arc to the round-down of the transom, square to the sheer,
the before-named level line being a tangent to this arc ;j
\
SHIP-BUILD IN G.
I Jig Off.at each buttock-line take the distances of the level line
»/ from the arc, and set them off in the sheer plan, upon the
line drawn square to the sheer of the transom, below the
point of intersection of the square and sheer lines. From
these points draw lines parallel to the sheer, and where they
cut the corresponding buttock-lines, draw a curve which
will represent the round-down of the transom below the
sheer. To transfer this curve to the body plan, level in
its intersection with each buttock-line in the sheer plan to
the corresponding buttock-lines in the body plan ; through
the points thus obtained pass a curve. To delineate the
curve in the plan of the transoms to which the mould is
to be made, proceed thus. In the sheer plan, observe the
points of intersection of the sheer-lines with the buttock-
lines ; take the distances of these points in the direction
of the sheer to the line drawn at right angles with the
sheer. Transfer these distances to the plan of the tran¬
soms by setting them off on each buttock-line,, from the
perpendicular to the transoms. Through the points thus
obtained pass a curve, which will represent the mould for
the upper after-edge of the transom. This curve may be
Corrected, by means of the square timbers, on the principle
before explained with respect to the horizontal transoms.
We may here remark, that, strictly speaking, the buttock¬
lines in fig. 32 should have been expanded, by taking their
distances fiom the middle line in the body plan round the
curve of the transom, and transferring them to the plan of
the transoms. But as the variation wmuld be very trifling,
this operation is unnecessary in practice
283
With respect to the wing-transom, it must be observed, Laying Off.
that the margin is of a parallel depth all round. The be- 'v——-
veiling of the margin conforms to the direction of the fore ^TarS;.n of
side of the rabbet of the post. Below the margin the be-^' Wing"
veilings are taken as before described.
Moulds may be made to the after lower edges of the Moulds to
transoms, which moulds are applied on the under sui’faces,tile tran-
through the spots obtained from the bevellings. soms.
We shall next proceed to lay off the side counter-timbers. Laying off
We have already explained the manner of obtaining thetheside
projection of the after edge of the side counter-timber incounter
timber.
To lay off a cant-transom. In the sheer plan, from the
Bev
ofti
SOI);
-tran-perpendicular to the transoms, take the distances along the
upper side of the transom to the intersection of the upper
side with each buttock-line and with the bearding line.
Set these distances off in the plan of the transoms, on the
corresponding buttock and bearding lines, from the per¬
pendicular to the transoms. A curve through these spots
will give the form of the transom.
To test the accuracy of this curve, in the sheer plan
project the heights of the intersections of the upper sides of
the transom with the square timbers and buttock-lines, to
the corresponding timbers and buttock-lines in the body
plan. A curve passed through the spots thus obtained will
represent the transom in the body plan. Next, in the sheer
plan, from the perpendicular to the transoms take the cant
distances of the intersections of the transom with the square
timbei s and with the fashion-piece. Set off these distances
in the plan of the transoms, from the perpendicular to the
-ransoms, and through the spots draw lines parallel to
the said perpendicular In the body plan take the horizon-
ta distances from the middle line, to the intersections of
tne transoms with each square timber and square fashion-
piece. Lastly, in the plan of the transoms set off these
distances from the middle line on the lines just drawn, pa¬
rallel to the perpendicular of the transoms. The spots
thus obtained should correspond wdth the curve previously
drawn by means of the buttock-lines.
The bevellings of the transoms may be taken in the sheer
1 n Tl'/AY-V-l _1 I* 1 t m , -
ran-
plan from the buttock-lines, by placing the stock of the
bevel m the direction of the upper surface of the transom,
and the tongue in the direction of the buttock-line. In
us case the stock of the bevel must, when applied, be placed
in a fore and aft direction.
If it be thought more desirable to set off the bevellings
square to the curve, it will first be necessary to lay off the
under sides of the transoms, as before described with re¬
spect to their upper sides. This being done, in the plan of
me transoms take the shortest distance apart of the upper
n ower sides of the transom, at any assigned station,
ims distance denotes how much the transom is under
square in its depth, and therefore determines the bevelling
at the assigned station.
the sheer and body plans. The fore edge is drawn in the'
sheer plan by setting off from the after edge the intended
size or moulding of the timber. To draw the fore edge in
the body plan, square down from the sheer plan the points
where it cuts the various level lines, to the corresponding
level lines in the half-breadth plan ; take the half-breadths
of the ship at the points thus obtained, and transfer these
half-breadths to the body plan on the corresponding level
lines. Hence we obtain the projection of the fore edge of
the side counter-timber in the body plan.
Now it is evident that the lines in the sheer plan repre¬
senting the fore and after edges of the side counter-timber
do not give its true form, and that, on account of the tum¬
bling home of the side, a mould made to the above lines
would be shorter than the timber itself. Hence it becomes
necessary to expand the timber, by making it revolve on a
horizontal axis at the heel until it becomes vertical. This
process is thus performed. In the body plan draw a straight
line, about three fourths of an inch from the upper and lower
part of the fore edge of the side counter-timber, as seen in
fig. 33, Plate CCCGLIII. This straight line represents
the upper side of the mould; its lower end terminates on
the level line of the wing-transom at the side; it is marked,
in figs. 31 and 33, “ base.” Having all the level lines
marked on this line, imagine it to revolve round its lower
end until it comes into a vertical position; mark in the
level lines in their newr situation, and transfer them to the
sheer plan, in which plan the intersections of the edges of
the side counter-timber with the original level lines are to
be squared up by perpendicular lines to the new level lines.
Through the points thus obtained draw curves for the fore
and after edges of the side counter-timber in their expand¬
ed or vertical position. To these curves the mould must be
made.
Next, in the body plan, take the distances along the va¬
rious level lines, from the straight line representing the
mould, to the fore and after edges of the timber. In the
sheer plan let the distances just taken from the body plan
be marked upon the fore and after edges of the mould at
the new or expanded level lines. When the mould is ap¬
plied on the timber, these distances or spilings are set off
in the direction of the tumbling home. After the outside
of the timber is completed, the inside may conform to the
scantling of the top-side.
We may observe, that instead of the spilings being mark¬
ed on the mould, brackets are sometimes nailed on the
mould, corresponding to the spilings. These brackets are
shown in fig. 31, marked b. In this case, when the outside
of the side counter-timber is completed, the under edge of
each bracket exactly conforms to the timber. For the sake
of illustration, brackets are also showm in fig. 29.
^i° ir^e t-hf bevellings of the side-counter timber from Bevellines,
the half-breadth plan, place the stock of the bevel to a fore
and aft line, and the tongue to the horizontal round-aft of
the various level lines. In applying these bevellings, the
stock is placed on the mould to the level lines, and the
tongue is placed in the direction of the tumbling home.
^Ve have thus described some of the principal operations
in laying off. We have endeavoured rather to illustrate
the general principles than the details of the subject; and
284
Practical although in this short treatise many things are necessarily
Building, omitted which are of importance, as illustrative examples
J of the art of laying off, it will be found to embrace all those
points which are likely to occur in the ship-building of the
present day, or at least render them comparatively easy.
Practical Building,
SHIP-BUILDING.
Ship-build- We now come to the consideration of the branch of our
ing. subject to which the term “ ship-building” may be correct¬
ly applied; that is, the mechanical construction of the fa¬
bric of a ship. We have already, in the preliminary re¬
marks to the “ Laying Off,” described generally the rela¬
tive position of the principal timbers which compose the
frame-work of the hull, and that are necessary to give the
contour of the body. Technically speaking, it is usual only
to apply the term timbers to the frame-timbers of a s up.
We shall, however, for the sake of perspicuity and brevity
of description, adopt the term as one of more general ap¬
plication, and use it to designate the larger pieces of woo
work which enter into the construction of the hull, rie-
viously to any detail, we shall mention severally the various
internal timbers used as supports and ties to the frame, and
the combinations of external and internal plank by which
it is covered. This is necessary in order to render the
subsequent descriptions intelligible to those unacquainted
with the technical names used in ship-building. YY e must
also refer our readers to the plates which are intended to
illustrate this part of our article, for much information that
may be more easily obtained from them than from descrip-
Deflni- ^The apron is fayed (or fitted) to .the after side of the
tions. stem, and is intended to give shift to its scarphs ; t e ow tr
end scarphs to the dead-wood. The keelson is an internal
longitudinal range of timbers, situated immediately over
the keel, and fayed to the inside of the throats of the
floors, its use being to give shift to the scarphs of the keel,
and to secure the frames down to the dead-wood. 1 he
foremost end of the keelson scarphs to the stemson, which
is intended to give shift to the “ boxing scarph,” or con¬
nexion between the stem and keel. Ihe after end of the
keelson formerly scarphed to the sternson, a timber which,
in a similar manner aft, strengthens the connexion between
the keel and stern-post. The keelson is now generally
rounded off short of the heel of the sternson, and latterly
the boxing scarph of the stem has been discontinued, the
additional keelsons, sometimes also called sister-keelsons,
are timbers brought on the inside of the frame on each side of
the keelson, to receive and to diffuse the weight of the main¬
mast. Timbers which cross the stemson or keelson for¬
ward, for the purpose of connecting the two sides of the
ship, are called hooks. Those which are placed to receive
the ends of the decks are called deck-hooks. 1 imbers which
for a similar purpose cross the sternson or keelson aft, are
called crutches. These hooks and crutches are frequently
combinations of timber, or of timber and iron. They are
then formed of twro half hooks called ekeings, and the
middle or connecting piece. Timbers which are fayed to
the inside of the frame, or upon the inside plank, solely for
the purpose of supporting the frame, aie called riders.
Timbers which in a square stern fay to the fronts of the
transoms, and run forward to strengthen the connexion be¬
tween the stern and the ship’s side, are called sleepers.
The two sides of the ship are prevented from collapsing by
transverse timbers called beams, which are generally con¬
nected at their ends to the ship’s side by knees either of
wood or iron. The beams are spaced, first with reference
to the mast-holes, to the hatchways, ladderways, or pas¬
sages from deck to deck, and other arrangements connected
with the economy of the ship, and then in reference to the
ports, that they may afford support to the artillery.
Those beams which do not extend from one side of the Practieu
ship to the other are called half-beams ; they are placed in
intervals between the beams that would otherwise be too
devoid of support for the plank of the deck, which is laid
on the upper surface of the beams, and called the flat of
the deck. Timbers worked round the interior of the ship
for the purpose of receiving the beams of the several decks,
are called shelves to these decks; and those timbers which
are worked uoon the ends of the beams, and also round the
interior of the ship, are called water-ways; thus, gun-deck
shelf, gun-deck water-wav, or upper deck shelf, upper deck
water-way. Chocks, internally, are timbers brought under
the ends of the beams, or under the shelf that is imme¬
diately beneath the beams, to support them, and to receive
the bolts of the knees which connect their ends with the
ship’s side. A chock is a name applied very generally to
any piece of timber filling an interval, or supplying a defi¬
ciency in any of the combinations, either of timber, or of
timber and iron. Bits are timbers projecting through the
decks, either vertically or slightly inclined, and are used for
facilitating the management of the ropes for the rigging.
The riding-bits are for securing the cable when the ship is
riding at anchor. Standards, generally, now, are timbers
used for supports, as to the bits. On the old system of
building, standards were sometimes placed where they could
only act as ties, as the standard to the stern. There were
also standard-knees on the decks, both to support and tie
the ship’s sides. . .
The plank, both external and internal, is of various thick¬
nesses : a thick strake, or a combination of several thick
strakes, being worked wherever it has been supposed that
the frame required particular support; as internally, over
the heads and heels of the timbers; both externally and
internally between the ranges of ports ; and internally, to
support the connexion of the beams with the side.
Of the internal planking, the lowest strake or combina¬
tion of strakes in the hold is called the limber-strake. A
limber is a passage for water, of which there is one through¬
out the length of the ship on each side of the keelson, in
order that any leakage may find its way to the pumps ; and
it is from this that the limber-strake takes its name. A
strake of planking is a range of planks abutting against each
other, and extending, excepting in particular cases to be
afterwards mentioned, the whole length of the ship.
The whole of the plank in the hold is called ceiling.
Those strakes which come over the heads and heels of the
timbers are worked thicker than the general thickness ot
the ceiling, and are distinguished as the thick strakes over
the several heads. The strakes under the ends of the beams
of the different decks, and down to the ports of the deck
below, if there be any ports, are called the clamps of the
decks to the beams of which they are supports; as yf
gun-deck clamps, middle-deck clamps. The strakes which
work up to the cills of the ports of the several decks are
called the spirketing of those decks, as gun-deck spirketing,
upper-deck spirketing. The upper strakes of planks, or
assemblages of external planks, are called the sheer strakes.
The strakes between the several ranges of ports, beginning
from under the upper-deck ports of a three-decked ship,
are called the channel-wale, the middle-wale, and the main-
wale. The strake immediately above the main-wale is
called the black strake. The strakes below the mam-wale
diminish from the thickness of the main-wale to the thick¬
ness of the plank of the bottom, and are therefore called tne
diminishing strakes. The lowest strake of the P^an 0 5
bottom, that of which the edge is in the rabbet of the keeh
is called the garboard. In merchant-ships the rabbet is
generally worked out of the middle of the side of the kee ,
and not, as in ships of war, at the upper part of the. si e.
Several methods of working this garboard, and the *o\u
strakes of the bottom, have been lately adopted, both in tne
\
SHIP-BUILDING.
285
Pi tical royal and in the mercantile shipping. One of these plans,
lift Itog' see fig. 37, Plate CCCCLIV., called “ Lang’s safety keel,”
from the inventor, Mr Lang, the master shipwright of Wool¬
wich yard, has, we believe, been very extensively applied to
the keels and garboards of steam-boats; and several of Her
Majesty’s ships have been built with their garboards so
worked. A represents the keelson, B the floor-timber, C
the keel, D the outer keel, E the false keel, F, F solid
pieces continued fore and aft the vessel, as substitutes for
the chocks on the floors and the planking of the bottom.
The pieces of timber, either secured or placed to re¬
ceive the heels of the several masts, are called steps, as the
main, fore, or mizen step. The heel of the bo'wsprit is also, in
small ships, sometimes on a step. In general, the bowsprit
steps on a frame-work, called the bowsprit partners. The
frame-work of timber which is formed round the mast-holes
in each deck is called mast-partners. Partners, generally,
are the principal timbers in a framing formed for the support
of any thing passing through a deck, as the masts and cap¬
stans. Carlings are pieces of timber forming a part of the
framing for a deck, lying in a fore and aft direction, and
from beam to beam, to receive the half beams, to aid in
supporting the deck, and for various other purposes. Ledges
are pieces also forming a part of the framing of a deck, ge¬
nerally smaller than carlings, and which are placed athwart-
ships in the same direction as the beams. Coamings are
nieces of timber generally faying on carlings, and raised
higher than the flat of the deck, forming the fore and aft
boundaries to openings in it, as hatch or ladder ways. Head-
ledges in the same manner form the athwartship boundaries
to these several openings.
The knee of the head, which has been already inciden¬
tally noticed in the laying off, is a prolongation of the fore
part of the ship, principally of use as a security for the bow ¬
sprit, which is firmly lashed to it by portions of the rigging,
called the gammoning and the bob stays. The cheeks are
knees fayed on each side of the knee of the head, and also
against the bows, in the direction of the sheer, in order to
afford support to the knee of the head.
We do not profess that this is a perfect list of the com¬
ponents of the hull of a ship. We have merely enumerated
some of the more important pieces, or combinations, of tim¬
ber, the names of which may occur again in our further re¬
marks. It would be impossible, in an article so limited in
extent as the present, to enter much into the detail of prac¬
tical building. We shall content ourselves with endeavour¬
ing to illustrate some few general principles, which may
guide the practical builder in his arrangements.
There are several very voluminous works explanatory of
the detail of practical ship-building. By far the most per¬
fect information on the practice, as it exists in Her Majesty’s
yards, will be found in the very excellent plates to Fincham’s
Outline of Ship-Building. We believe the most modern
work on the construction of the mercantile navy is Hed-
derwick’s Treatise on Naval Architecture, which contains
very minute details of the practical building in the mer¬
chants’ yards.
fbing \ye shall now consider the most important disturbing
forces which are in action, either to injure or to destroy the
several combinations of the hull of a ship. Some of these
forces are inherent to the form of the body, while others
are only brought into action when the body is in motion.
In the theoretical portion of this article it has been ex¬
plained, that when the ship is at rest on still water, the to¬
tal weight of the vessel is equal to the upward pressure of
the water; but it does not necessarily follow, that the weight
of every portion of the vessel shall be equal to the upward
pressure of that portion of water which is immediately be¬
neath it. On the contrary, the shape of the body is such,
that these weights and pressures are very unequal. We
will suppose the vessel to be divided by transverse vertical
Db
foil
sections into a number of laminee of equal thickness, which
will all be perpendicular to the vertical longitudinal section.
It is evident that the after laminae comprised in the over¬
hanging stern above water, and the fore laminae comprised
in all the projecting head, also above water, cannot be sup¬
ported by any upward pressure from the fluid, but their
weight must be wholly sustained by their connexion with
the supported part of the ship. The laminae towards each
extremity immediately contiguous to these can evidently
derive a very small portion of their support from the water;
but as their stations in both the fore and the after bodies
approach towards the middle of the ship’s length, a greater
proportionate bulk is immersed, and the upward pressure of
the water is increased; so that at some certain station from
the middle of the length in each body, the upward pressure
will equal the weight of the superincumbent lamina, and
all the laminae comprising that portion of the body between
these two stations will be subjected to an excess of pressure
above their weight, tending to force them upwards, which
upward pressure will be the greatest at the lamina having
the greatest transverse area of section.
Nowr, as we know that the total pressure upwards is equal
to the total weight of the vessel, this excess of upward pres¬
sure, to which the midship part of the length of the body is
subjected, must be just equal to the excess of weight over the
upward pressure in the parts of the vessel before and abaft
those laminae at which we have represented the pressure and
weight to be in equilibrio.
A ship floating at rest may be considered as a beam loaded
at each extremity wuth a weight, and supported at tw'o points
in its length, which are at some distance on each side of its
centre, while the part between its points of support is sub¬
jected to a force acting upwards equal to the sum of these
two weights. A beam thus acted upon would have a ten¬
dency to assume a curved shape; and it would gradually as¬
sume such a form, as the effect of the weights and forces
overcame the rigidity of its particles. This is precisely the
effect of the action on the ship ; and the upward curvature,
when it does ensue, is what is technically called “ hogging.” Hogging.
As long as the fastenings remain unaffected from the con¬
tinued operation of the disturbing forces, and the abutments
of the several timbers and plank composing the fabric also
maintain their close contact, this curvature will not take
place ; but when these become partially deranged, the up¬
ward pressure, and the downward gravitation of the several
portions of the body, can no longer be considered as ten¬
dencies only to deterioration of the fabric, but as active
agents in the work of destruction.
It does not necessarily follow, from all that has been said, Sagging,
that the hogging will give a regular curvature to the form :
on the contrary, the various actions of the weight and pres¬
sure will produce varied effects. Thus, before the introduc¬
tion of the additional keelsons, the body frequently “sagged,”
the contrary or opposite curvature to hogging, under the
weight of the main-mast.
A corresponding action to that described as hogging, takes
place in relation to the breadth of the vessel, especially on
account of the weight of the ordnance; so that the central
portion of the body is subjected to an upwTard pressure
forcing it above the water, and the outer portions are strong¬
ly acted upon by their unopposed gravity immersing them
beneath it. The effects of this action will be modified by
the form of the vessel; longitudinally it produces the up¬
ward curvature that we have described, and transversely it
either tends to a separation of the sides both above and be¬
low throughout their extent, or, if the “ tumbling home”
be great, a separation at the main breadth and below it, and
a collapsing of the sides above it.
Another force tending to alter the form of the ship when Horizontal
she is at rest, arises from the horizontal pressure of the fluid pressure of
on the surface below the load water-section, which tends to t^ie water*
Practical
Bui] ding.
286
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical reduce the dimensions below that plane, and therefore to
Building, hogging.
" Though these are the disturbing forces when the ship is
at rest, their action is not confined to that state; they are
also in operation when she is in motion. Other injurious ef¬
fects are produced by, and belong only to, a state of motion.
Pitching If the surface of the sea be very uneven, so that the ship’s
and rollwg. passage may be over its undulations, her support becomes
variable, and the opposing forces of upward pressure and
gravitation will have a tendency to produce a corresponding
undulation in the body.
Force of When the ship is on a wind, the lee side is subjected to
the waves. a ger}eg 0f shocks from the waves, the violence of which
may be easily imagined, from the effect they sometimes
produce in destroying the bulwarks, tearing away the chan¬
nels, and washing away the boats, &c. The lee side is also
subjected to an excess of hydrostatic pressure over that upon
the weather side, resulting from the accumulation of the
waves as they rise against the obstruction offered by it to
their free passage. These forces tend in part to produce
lateral curvature. Also in this inclined position the forces
which, when she is upright, tend to produce hogging, now
partly contribute to produce lateral curvature. By experi¬
ments made on Her Majesty’s ship Genoa, in the year 1823,
by Mr Moorsom, formerly a member of the late School of
Naval Architecture, he ascertained that this lateral curva¬
ture amounted to one inch and a half on each tack, making
an alteration of form to the extent of three inches, from
being on one tack to being on the other.
Tension of The strain from the tension of the rigging on the weather
the rigging, when the ship is much inclined, is so great as frequent¬
ly to cause working in the top-sides, and sometimes even to
break the timbers on which the channels are placed.
Taking the Ships also, especially those designed for the service of
ground. commerce, are liable, either from intention or from accident,
to take the ground. This contingency must be provided
against, as has been already mentioned, in the laying off.
These are the principal disturbing forces to which a ship
is subjected. It must be remembered that they are in al¬
most constant activity to destroy the connexion between
the several parts of the fabric ; and that whatever “ work¬
ing ” may be produced by their operation, tends most ma¬
terially to increa&e their effect; because the disruption of
the close connexion between the several parts admits an
increased momentum in their action on each other, and
the destruction proceeds with an accelerated progression ;
while the admission of damp, and the unavoidable accumu¬
lation of dirt, soon generate fermentation and decay. To
make a ship strong, is at the same time to make her dur¬
able, both in reference to the wear and tear of service, and
the decay of materials. But, there is one very important consi¬
deration which should be remembered in the construction
of all fabrics with so perishable a material as timber ; it is,
that ail strength beyond that which is necessary to insure
durability to the fabric equal to the durability of the ma¬
terial, is a waste both of labour and material; or, in other
wwds, if a ship, built at an expense of LAO,000, will last
twelve years, it would be false economy to expend L.60,000
in building one to last fifteen years.
If, by any means, the durability of wood should be much
increased, it would be also necessary to increase the strength
of the ships built of it, that the durability of the construc¬
tion might equal the durability of the material.
Hogging as We see from this outline, that the forces which cause the
if aifects hogging, which are the most important disturbing influ¬
ences, commence their action at the moment of launching
of the ship, and are thenceforward in constant operation.
This curvature can only take place by the compression of
the materials composing the lower parts of the body, and
by the elongation of those composing the upper parts.
We therefore have to determine the divisional line sepa-
the struc¬
ture.
rating these two actions, and to form the combinations Practic;
above and below this line, to offer opposition in accordance Buildir;
to the different directions of the strains to which they will ''—v''
be subjected. Dupin, in his able paper on Seppings’ Diago¬
nal System, fixes this line of inaction at about the surface
of the water. According to the accepted theory of the
strength of bodies, it would be situated lower than this in
large ships; but the horizontal pressure of the water, al¬
ready mentioned, makes the case of a body supported on a
fluid an exception, and the station assumed by Dupin must
approximate nearly to the correct position.
The portion of the ship about the surface of the water
must therefore be considered in the light of a foundation to
the fabric, and should be strengthened, not only to resist
the inequalities of the strains to which it will be itself sub¬
jected, especially when the ship is in motion, but also to
constitute it a firm basis, from which to extend supports to
those portions of the hull both above and below it, that will
be subjected to yet greater disturbing forces than itself.
In order to resist the tendency to hogging,'the object of
the ship-builder should be to form an incompressible mass
below this line of inaction, and to render the body rigid
and inextensible above it; hence the immense advantage
gained from Sir Robert Seppings’ plan of filling in the
openings in the lower part of the frame, and especially of
the plan which he introduced of filling them with cement
that so far exceeds any timber in hardness. The various
abutments of this part of the body should be as closely fay¬
ed as possible. In the dead-wood the buts of the shifts
should all be cut off1 square to the joints, and the abutting
surfaces multiplied by the interposition of dowels in these
joints, the abutments formed by which are certain, and hence
the advantage of dowelling the keelson, rather than scor¬
ing it over the floors. In this part of the body the length
of the scarphs is not of so much importance as the close
abutment of the lips, to insure which the scarphs should
be keyed. The keel scarphs are an exception to these re¬
marks, as they require additional and different security, from
being external openings.
The tendency of the hogging will be to alter the angles
formed by the post and the stem with the keel; therefore it
is necessary to strengthen the connexions of these timbers
by every means which will oppose this tendency, as elon¬
gating all the shifts, hooking all the scarphs, and judiciously
distributing and supporting all the fastenings. Hence the
advantage of a dead-wood knee, as adding most considerably
to the strength of the connexion abaft, and enabling a more
regular and advantageous application of the bolts to be
made. This object of strengthening the connexion of the
post and stem with the keel, is therefore the consideration
to be attended to in shifting the after shifts of the after dead-
wood and the sternson, and in shifting the fore dead-wood
with the stem, apron, and stemson, and also in disposing the
fastenings which pass through these timbers. The old plan
of running the keelson aft to scarph with the sternson add¬
ed materially to the tie. Another important support to the
stern in line-of-battle ships, is a carling brought up under
several of the after beams of the gun-deck, and secured to
them; its after end being connected to the head of the
sternson by side-plate knees.
There is more necessity for attention to the support of
the stern than to that of the bows, because, when a ship is
under weigh, the after part beneath the water, as it has been
already explained, is deprived of much of the pressure to
which it was subjected when at anchor, and therefore the
effect of the gravitation is less opposed. Hence also the
“ cambering,” or curving outwards, of the stern-post. 1 he
cambering of the post might, however, be greatly prevented,
by a tie-bolt connecting it with several of the after beams
of the lowest deck, among which the strain would be dif¬
fused by the carlings between them. This might now be
SHIP-BUILDING.
j :tical done even in line-of-battle ships, as they carry their orlop-
I hng. beams right aft.
" Since compression is the action to which the lower part
of the body is subjected, we see the evident inutility of sa¬
crificing economy in order to obtain length of shift for the
plank ot the bottom, or, indeed, of making any great sacri¬
fice of plank for this purpose below the surface of the water,
excepting for the foremost and aftermost shifts, at the bluff
of the bow, and under the buttock.
The deck below the water, that is, the orlop, in ships of
the line, and the lower deck in frigates, though near the
neutral line, are below it; and therefore the action to which
they are subjected is compression, to resist which the ranges
of carlings should be maintained from one extremity of the
vessel to the other, and all their abutments should fit as
closely as they can be got in place.
We have mentioned the keel scarphs as an exception to
our general remarks. They are usually in England verti¬
cal scarphs, with coaks raised in the lip-ends of the scarphs,
to fit into mortices sunk for their reception in their but-
ends. These coaks serve as a stop to the caulking, and, in
connexion with the scarph-bolts, are well devised, in the
event of the curvature of the keel, to enable the scarph to
partake of it, and to prevent leakage. In France, and gene¬
rally in the foreign yards, the scarphs of the keel are hori¬
zontal. Very lately the horizontal scarphs have been adopt¬
ed in the English service. We consider the vertical scarph
much to be preferred, for the reasons above stated.
In those parts of the ship situated above the line of in¬
action, every means should be taken to-multiply longitudi¬
nal ties. Since, in order to resist compression in the lower
parts of the body, the openings are filled in, and form a solid
mass; to produce the opposite effect, that is, to enable the
frame to resist extension, it should be chain-bolted together
towards the upper parts of the body, wherever the continuous
range of bolts can be placed not to interfere with the in and
out fastenings; as opposite the openings between the shelf
and water-way of the several decks just above the scuppers.
1 his plan has been pursued in several of the modern ships.
I he shifts of the different wales, spirketings, and clamps,
should be long, the regular shift of the buts most carefully
maintained, and the buts of the inside assemblages made
to give shift to the buts of those outside. Sir Robert Sep-
pings plan of supporting the fastenings, and compensating
tor tne weakness of the buts in some of the principal as¬
semblages of plank, by dowels into the timbers in the strakes
immediately above and below the buts, is of great utility.
Also the plan of connecting several strakes together by tie-
bolts placed opposite the openings between the timbers in
ie frame, where they could not interfere with any fasten¬
ing, was admirably adapted to diffuse strength, and to pre¬
vent longitudinal working of the planks, or the sliding of
one edge past another, from any partial weakness. These
might advantageously be much more extensively applied
than was contemplated in the instructions issued by Sir
mbert; indeed, to all the internal assemblages of plank in
which they can be driven. 1
« !!;lnl;18 e!ther worked in parallel strakes, when it is called
s laight-edged,” or in combinations of two strakes, so that
every alternate seam is parallel. There are two methods
or working these combinations, one of which is called “ an-
m 0r,s^0c ’ anci other “ top and but.” The difference
Plntf^rnrnT ^nrrT6 hest seen by a reference to
: ^ VtXLVUI., fig. 43. The difference in the intention
thn kW10 method of working two strakes anchor-stock,
°n,e Strake always occurs opposite to the widest
he j1*161' strake, and there is consequently the least
from 11° Sl" 0n interruption of longitudinal fibre arising
used wlf abutment ’ therefore this disposition of plank is
butsfralere*vftr0ngth-1S €sPecia% desirable. In top and
strakes the intention is, by having a wide end and a nar-
Tfe ank.
mg
287
row end in each plank, to approximate to the growth of the Practical
tree, and to diminish the difficulty of procuring the plank. Building.
The shift of plank is the manner of arranging the buts
of the several strakes. In the ships of the royal navy the
buts recur with intervals of three whole strakes between.
In merchant-ships there are often not more than two whole
strakes between the recurrence of the buts. The regula¬
rity of the shift of plank is far more carefully maintained
in English building-yards than in those abroad.
The fastening of the plank is either “ single,” by which
is meant one fastening in each strake through each timber
of the frame which it crosses ; “ double,” or two fastenings
in each timber; and “ double and single,” meaning alter¬
nations of the double fastening in one timber with the single
fastening in the next.
This fastening consists generally either of nails or tree¬
nails, excepting at the buts, which are secured by bolts.
Several other bolts are driven in each shift of plank as addi¬
tional security. These additional fastenings are far more
plentifully diffused in the royal yards than in those of pri¬
vate builders. Whatever system of securing the plank may
be determined upon, great care should be taken to guard
against a repetition of fastening, which will otherwise occur
from the various bolts that will come through the bottom as
securities to the riders, shelves, water-ways, knees, and bolts
connected with the service of the guns. These bolts should
evidently, for economy, and also for the sake of avoiding
unnecessarily wounding the timbers, supply the place of the
regular fastenings of the plank.
Before copper sheathing was introduced, iron was used
for fastening. Since then, either bolt-nails cast of a mixture
of zinc, copper, and grain tin, technically called “ metal,”
or pure copper bolts, are used in addition to the treenails.
Experiments are now being made in Holland to protect iron
bolts, used for fastening the plank on ships’ bottoms, from
the galvanic action induced by the copper. The bolts are
punched within the wood, and covered with a cement made
of equal parts of lignum vitae saw-dust, smiths’ ashes, and
“ minium.’ In France also several ships’ bottoms have
lately been iron-fastened, with Roman cement over the
bolts; they were then felted and sheathed, the sheathing
being secured with copper nails, and the bottom afterwards
coppered. This inquiry as to the possibility of applying
iron for the fastening of ships in connexion with the copper
sheathing, is of great importance, as, independently of the
difference in the expense of the two metals, the difference
in their tenacity is as 995 to 546, or copper is only about
Mtks of the strength of iron, or little more than one half.
Ihe plank in the royal yards is not usually permanently
fastened for some time after it is trimmed and brought on
to the bottom of a ship, but is temporarily secured by
Blake s screws, and allowed to season and shrink. About
one strake in eight or ten is left out for the purpose of
making good the shrinkage and refaying the strakes. With¬
out this precaution there would be such an alteration of
edge as would throw the holes made for the temporary se¬
curities out of the ranges of the strakes; but this precau¬
tion being taken, it is very seldom that the. alteration of
edge is such as to require new holes, especially as the iron
screw eye-bolts used for this temporary fastening are of
much smaller diameter than the permanent treenail fasten¬
ing, and therefore the holes for the screws will make good
holes through the plank for the treenails.
This method of securing the planks in a temporary man-Temporary
ner is of immense advantage in enabling them to be brought fastening-
into close contact with the timbers, in the saving of bolt-
fastenings, and in causing a good and regular seam to be
given for the caulking.
The circumference of the bottom being much larger at
t ic midship part than towards the extremities, that is, at
the bow and buttock, the lines for the strakes of plank must
288
Practical
Building.
Hang.
Caulking.
SHIP-BUILDING.
close, and the strakes taper as they recede from midships.
They also acquire an upward curve, called “ sny,” which
renders it difficult to work the plank. When the sny be¬
comes too great, a strake is ended short of the rest, an
this is termed a “ stealer,” as it diminishes the sny tor the
succeeding strakes. Under the buttock it is often neces¬
sary to work some of the after plank wider at the after end,
which has the same effect of diminishing the sny of the bil¬
lowing strakes. “ Hang” is the exact reverse of “ sny.
It mostly occurs in working plank on the inner surface ot
the timbers, and outside above the main breadth.
The various plans for fastening the plank and for secur¬
ing the buts will be most easily understood by a reference
to Plate CCCCLVIII. fig. 43.
When the plank is worked and fastened, the seams, or
the intervals between the edges of the strakes, are fille
with oakum, or “ caulked,” with such care and force, that
the oakum, while undisturbed, is almost as hard as the plank
itself. If the openings between the strakes were of parallel
width throughout the thickness of the plank, it would be
impossible to make the caulking sufficiently compact to re¬
sist the water. The inner part of the edges of contiguous
strakes should be in contact throughout their length, and
from this contact the edges should gradually recede from
each other to the outer surface of the plank, so that at a
thickness of about ten inches they would be about jjfths ot
an inch apart; that is, about -^th of an inch seam for every
inch in thickness of plank. The practice in the royal yards
is to allow a double thread for every inch in thickness ot
plank, and an additional double thread for every five inches ;
besides which, one, or sometimes two, threads of spun-yarn
are driven in as a bottom to the oakum. In the merchant-
yards on the Thames, and where the larger merchant-ships
are built, the caulking is nearly the same as in the govern¬
ment establishments. But in the smaller ships built at the
outports, the oakum is seldom “bottomed” home to the
inner edge of the seam, the consequence of which is, that
the uncovered edges of the planks decay, and the second
caulking drives the oakum through, after which the seams
cannot long be kept tight.
It is the generally received opinion, that however the
French may have excelled us in designing the body of a
ship, our practical building has always been incomparably
superior to theirs. In so far as the skill of the workman is
involved in this opinion, we believe it to be strictly correct.
The workmanship of English mechanics is probably un¬
rivalled, certainly not surpassed by that of any other me¬
chanics in the world, either in solidity or in neatness of exe¬
cution ; but we cannot in justice urge the claim of supe¬
riority further.
However weak the French prizes taken during the last
century may have been from defective workmanship, the
materials were in several instances much more judiciously
combined for the purpose of obtaining strength than in the
contemporary ships in our service. Indeed it was not un¬
til after Sir Robert Seppings became surveyor of the navy,
that the absurdity of having the sheer of the ship and the
sheer of the ports different from each other, was disconti¬
nued. The effect of this difference in their sheer was, that
the assemblages of thick strakes brought round the sides
for the purpose of strengthening them, were actually cut off
from being crossed by the sheer of the ports. In the ma¬
jority of the French and Spanish ships taken at so early a
period as the middle of the last century, the sheer of the
ports was the same as the sheer of the ship, consequently
the whole strength of the thick strakes was preserved. The
shelf was also originally copied from the French; and
though they have now discontinued it, it was at the period
of its introduction an important improvement. Also we
have only followed them in the adoption of iron knees for
the security of our beam-ends. In making these animad¬
versions, we speak wholly of the past. For many years Bi i- Practio
tish ships have been unequalled for strength, as well as for
perfection, of workmanship.
It has become almost a fashion to decry the improve¬
ments introduced by Sir Robert Seppings. It would be well,
perhaps, to remember the complaints continually made, ot
the weakness of the ships before he became surveyor ot the ^
navy, and to contrast the fleets of England at that time
with the fleets which he left in the service when he relin¬
quished the surveyorship. There is no doubt that many of
his plans were imperfect, and are susceptible of great im¬
provement. No change ever yet was made, or ever will
be made, that was not and will not be susceptible of yet
further improvement.
We have already mentioned the decks which are situated Decks,
below the line of non-action; those above it must all be con¬
sidered as most valuable longitudinal ties. Their sheer has
been most properly much diminished within these last twen¬
ty years. It is evident, that for rigidity, decks without any
sheer would be advantageous. The sheer was probably given
them to facilitate the run of water to the scuppers, and may
perhaps be desirable for this purpose ; but certainly, as
strength is lost by their curvature, the sheer of the decks
should be as little as possible. It may be objected, that
perfectly straight decks would be injurious, or at least very
unsightly, in the event of hogging taking place. The ob¬
jection is not valid; strength must not be sacrificed in order
to prepare for the occurrence of a contingency which we are
endeavouring to prevent, and which evidently may be pre¬
vented for a great length of time, since the various improve¬
ments introduced during the last five-and-twenty year© have
certainly almost wholly prevented the weakness in ships,
which was before such a source of constant complaints.
The only consideration, in fastening decks, is to preserve Fastenic
their contact with the beams, and to withstand the action decks,
of caulking : more than enough to effect this object is use¬
less, and therefore the numerous bolts introduced with the
system of diagonal decks were unnecessary. It may pro-
bably be proper to observe, that the harder the material
used for the flat of decks, the greater should the quantity
of fastening be, as there wall be less yielding of the edge to
the caulking; and although it is usual to allow more seam
for caulking planks of a hard than of a soft material, the
caulking will bring far more strain on the fastenings of the
harder than on those of the softer ; besides which, strict y
speaking, though it is not practically expedient, seam should
depend upon thickness alone. It may not be improper to
mention here, that the quantity of fastening must increase
with the thickness of the plank, whether of deck or bottom,
which is to be secured ; for the set of the oakum m caulk¬
ing will have the greater mechanical effect the thicker the
6 The diagonal deck, whatever advantage it might have Diagoni
been presumed to possess in other respects, was certainly a a
great loss of strength in as far as longitudinal tie was in¬
volved, and, we consider, has been most judiciously discon¬
tinued. The rapid deterioration arising from the wear oc¬
curring across the fibre of the w ood, with the additional in¬
convenience, that the partial wear along the working pas¬
sage of the deck, by crossing every strake, involves the
shifting the whole flat, is alone a strong argument against
any alteration in the system of laying the strakes o ec
fore and aft. Mackonochie proposed to lay decks m three
layers, one diagonally from starboard to larboard, ano e
diagonally from larboard to starboard, and an upper layer
fore and aft. He also proposed a somewhat similar system
for the outside plank, from the garboard to the wales. er,
chant-vessels have been built in America, and boats an
steam-vessels in this country, on this system of ayers o
planks laid diagonally. .
Sir Robert Seppings was apparently awrare of the imp
SHIP-BUILDING.
289
Pi ical
B : kg-
Bea
Iron
ed t(
built
ant tie which a deck is to a ship, as he retained some of the
midship-binding strakes, and introduced dowels to render
' their connexion with the beams and with the extremities of
the vessel more perfect and more unyielding than could be
effected by the old plan of scoring down, with its attend¬
ant evils from the shrinkage of the materials and neglect of
workmanship.
The aftermost and the foremost beams of each deck
might be advantageously made to afford support to the pro¬
jecting bows, and especially to the raking sterns of the mo¬
dern ships, by connecting the bow and stern timbers to
them at each deck by long tie-bolts passing through se¬
veral beams, clenched on the aft side of the aftermost for¬
ward, and on the fore side of the foremost of them aft.
These beams should have several ranges of carlings let
down between them, to diffuse the strain. This would
be far preferable to forelocking the bolt on the fore side
of each beam ; first, because, generally speaking, the strain
would only fall upon one beam, that which was most close¬
ly forelocked; and, secondly, because by experiment we
find that the size of the bolt being the same, the forelock
would give way, or the bolt break at the forelock-holes,
under about one half the strain which the clench would
withstand.
Several Dutch ships have been built with a round-up to
the decks in the direction of the length ; the keels of the
same vessels were built to sag or curve downwards towards
the midships of the length, and the fore and after extremi¬
ties were so constructed that the longitudinal vertical sec¬
tion should form an elongated ellipse. Only steam-boats
have, we believe, ever been built on this plan.
The beams which support the deck have a curve upwards,
in the direction of their length, to the middle of the ship,
called the “ round-up.” This is for the purpose of strength,
and for the convenience of the run of water to the scuppers.
Beams are single piece, two, three, or four piece (Plate
CCCCLIV., figs. 39, 40, 41, 42), according to the number
of pieces of timber which are combined to form them. The
several pieces are scarphed together, and coaked and bolted,
the scarphs being always vertical. Hooked scarphs, with
keys of hard wood or iron driven in, to bring the buts in
close contact, have been lately introduced with much advan-
tage in great additional neatness of appearance, great reduc¬
tion of weight, and consequently of materials and expense, by
Mr Edye, the master-shipwright of Pembroke yard, fig. 38.
It is rather surprising, that in the very general applica¬
tion of iron for ship-building, the wooden beams which oc¬
cupy so much space between deck and deck, and so mate¬
rially contribute to the height of the vessel above the wa¬
ter, have not either been superseded by beams of iron, or
at least by wood beams of much less moulding, to which
the necessary rigidity might be given by iron plates at their
sides. An objection to beams wholly of iron would arise
from the great expansion and contraction of that metal un¬
der variations in its temperature.
The beams of ships are supported at each end, and the
strain to which they are subjected is a downward pressure;
consequently the upper part of the beam must compress,
and the lower fibre elongate, before there can be any alte¬
ration in the curvature. It is desirable therefore that the
fibre of the wood towards the lower part of the beam should
not be wounded, and that, whether for the purpose of se¬
curing the beam, or of security to the beam, no incision
should be made, excepting in the upper, or compressed,
ranges of the fibre, which may be cut through, according
to Du Hamel’s experiments, one half, and according to
rofessor Barlow’s, five eighths, of their depth, without im¬
pairing the strength. Nay, if the carling or material to be
inserted in the score be of harder texture than that which is
removed, the strength is increased.
The connexion of the ends of the beams to the sides of
VOL. xx.
the ship has afforded scope for the display of much ingenui- Practical
ty. We have in our plates (CCCCLV. and CCCCLVIII.) Budding,
given sketches of those plans which have been adopted in
the navy of England, and also of several taken from foreign of°beanN ”
works or observed in foreign yards. There are three things ends to"
to be considered in the connexion of the beam with the ship’s side,
side : that it shall act as a shore to prevent the sides from
collapsing; as a tie to prevent their falling apart; and be
perfectly rigid, that there may be no working.
That the beam may be an effective shore, nothing more
is necessary than that the abutment of the end against the
ship’s side may be perfect. In order to constitute it a tie
between the two sides, it is generally dowelled to the upper
surface of the shelf, and the under surface of the water-way
is dow elled to it. These dowels connect it therefore with
the fastenings of the shelf and water-way, which pass through
the side. There is also in the ships of the royal navy a
plank called a side-binding strake, scored dowm over and
into the beam-ends, at some distance from the side, and
bolted through the side between the beams. The scoring
into the beams connects the in and out fastening of this
strake wuth the longitudinal tie of the beam. There are
also the various bolts forming that part of the fastening of
the beam-ends, whether in the knees or in the chocks, which
passes in and out through the ship’s side.
It will be very easily conceived, from the short outline
which we gave of the disturbing forces acting on a ship,
that the strain on the ends of the beams to destroy the ri¬
gidity of their connexion with the side must be very great
when the ship is under sail either on a wind or before it,
that is, either inclined or rolling.
The principal action of these forces is to alter the verti- Forces to
cal angles made by the beam and the ship’s side; and it will which they
be seen that the action is alternately to decrease and to jn_^subject-
crease the angles made by the beam and the part of thecd‘
side below it, or, what is the same thing, alternately to in¬
crease and decrease the angles made by the beam and the
ship’s side above it. Now the first of these actions takes
place on the lee side; the gravitation of the weather side,
and all connected with it, of the deck and every thing upon
it, as well as the upward pressure of the water, all tend to
diminish the angle made by the beam and the ship’s side
below it, and increase the angle made between them above
it. The contrary effect is produced on the weather side,
the angle above the beam being closed, and that below
opened.
In investigating the nature of the action of these forces, Beams con.
we shall find that in each case the beam may be considered sidered as
as a lever. The power being supposed to be applied at thelevers-
opposite end of the beam to that at which the forces under
investigation act, the weight being the fastening applied to
prevent alteration in the angle formed by the beam and the
ship’s side, and its action being supposed to take place at
the point in which it should be applied to produce the most
advantageous effect.
The lever is of the first order, that is, with the power and Effect on
weight on opposite sides of the centre of motion or fulcrum, lee-beam
when its effect on the lee arm is considered; and it is ofarm-
the second order, that is, with the power and weight on the!?" vTea'
same side of the fulcrum, when its effect on the weather
arm is considered.
The object in securing the beam-ends in each case should
be to diminish the effect of the power and increase that of
the weight. \\ e lessen the effect of the powder by dimi¬
nishing the distance between the point at which it acts and
the fulcrum, and we increase the effect of the weight by
increasing the distance between the point at which it acts
and the fulcrum. In the lever of the first order, that is,
when we are considering the action on the lee arm, this is
accomplished by bringing the support of the under side of
the beam, the midship side of which support is the fulcrum
2 o
290
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical of the levev, as far from the ship’s side as it can be extend-
lluilding. gj consistently with the accommodation of the decks ; and
v "by having the weight, that is, the security to keep down
the beam-end, as close to the end of the beam, and conse¬
quently to the ship’s side, as it can be placed.
In the lever of the second order, that is, when we are
considering the action on the weather arm, the eftect of the
power is diminished by increasing the distance between t ie
fulcrum and the weight. The fulcrum, in this case, is the
support of the lower side of the extreme end of the beam ;
the weight is the strength of the knee, or whatever con¬
nexion is intended to tie it to the ship’s side, and maintain
the angle invariable which is formed by them. The eftect
of this weight is increased by approaching it to the point
at which the power is supposed to act. therefore, in ordci
to resist the action on the weather arm of the beam, the
fulcrum, which, as we have said, is the support of the ex¬
treme end of the beam, that is, the edge of the clamp 01
shelf which fays to the timbers, should be most firmly con¬
nected to them; and the weight, which is the downward
tie, should be extended as for from the side as it may be
consistently.
The difference of the action to which the two arms are
subjected, points out therefore at once the principle which
should guide us in all plans for connecting the beams to
the side, and it may not be useless to recapitulate our con¬
clusions. , c
The action on the lee arm requires the extreme end of
the beam to be closely tied down, either to the clamp or the
shelf, as the case may be, and which is necessarily pre¬
sumed to be firmly connected to the ship’s side. This ac¬
tion also requires the centre of motion to be extended tar
from the side, in order to diminish the effect of the power.
Therefore, the downward fastening close to the ship s side,
and the upward support far removed from it, is that which
is necessary in this case.
The action on the weather arm requires an exactly different
disposition of the securities. The extreme end of the beam
is here the centre of motion, and is the part which ought
to be supported; and it is the downward tie which should
be as for extended from the side as may be consistently.
It may be urged against these views, first, that if work¬
ing be presumed to take place in the lee-beam arm, round
the midship or outer edge of the shelf, the distance between
this fulcrum and the fastenings which keep the beam-end
down will cause greater motion in that end, and greatei
strain on the fastening ; and, secondly, that it the weathei-
beam arm be presumed to work from the side or inner edge
of the clamp or shelf, the distance between this point and
the fastening intended to keep the beam down, will cause
an increased strain on that fastening.
These objections are both true, but they do not embrace
the correct view to be taken. The object is how to dis¬
pose the fastenings in the best possible manner, in order to
prevent working. And this is attained in each case by ex¬
tending the distance between the weight and the fulcrum.
In the system of building the ships of the royal navy,
introduced by Sir Robert Seppings, the shelf was brought
upon the clamp (m, Plate CCCCLV.); it is now worked
home to the timbers (i, k, /), and its front is therefore less
extended from the side. One joint, that between the clamp
and shelf, is avoided by this method, but security to the
beam-end is lost by it. An arm of the iron knee, which
has superseded Sir Robert Seppings forked knee, is ex¬
tended under the beam to compensate for this diminution
in the width of the shelf; but unless the rigidity of this
arm be such that the fulcrum in the case of the lee-beam
arm, and the weight in the case of the weather-beam arm,
be removed from"the ship’s side a distance at least equal to
the diminution in the extension of the front of the shell
from the ship’s side, the object is not attained.
One of the most perfect securities for a beam-end, in Pract
point of principle, and combining at the same time simpli- ^mlii
city of workmanship, which is another important requisite, p ^
especially in all iron work, is the plate-bolt (a), frequently
adopted for round-house beams, and for the lower decks of
frigates. The extreme end of the beam is tied downward
by3 bolts, and supported by the shelf, and the extended
downward fastening is by a dog-plate. These securities,
and the upward support airorded by the chock to that plate,
are, according to the foregoing reasoning, correctly applied,
but are insufficient in amount of security for the beams ot
principal decks, as the downward tie depends wholly on the
itrap,
Shelf and
clamp as
securities
of the
beam-end.
clench of the dog-plate. Probably a strap passing round St
the beam, as shown in fig. 44, Plate CCCCLA ill., might be
an advantageous and simple modification of the above plan.
For easiness of execution, and smallness of expense, it would
be better if the strap wras merely bent over, and scored into i
the top part of the beam, and the ends brought down and
fastened on the sides of the chock, which would then re¬
quire to be only of the same siding as the beam. In this
case there could be no in and out foste-ning through the |
strap ; the only in and out bolts would be those through
the chock. The fastenings of the strap might be screws, as in
the French knees (Plate CCCCLVIII. figs. 45, 46), which
we shall describe. The disadvantage attending this sort of
strap would be, that to obtain an equal degree of downward
security for the weather-beam arm, the chock must be more
extended from the skip’s side than it the ends of the strap
were brought in front of the chock, and took their own in
and out fastening.
The extension of the security from the side ot the ship Ad™,
by means of a chock, is preferable to gaining the samegMi
breadth by bringing a shelf on to the clamp with a chock
under it, in so for as extending the support to the beam is
involved; because the chock presents “ end-grain,” in which
there is comparatively but little shrinkage, to receive the
downward pressure of the w eather-beam arm. A wrell se¬
cured and firmly supported clamp is sufficient to resist the
downward pressure of the weather-beam arm ; and if this
clamp be of a sufficient thickness to receive the up and down
bolts through the w^ater-ways and beam-end, that is all that
is indispensable, and this would be little, if any, addition to
the thickness of clamp already usually w orked. We there¬
fore doubt much whether the shelf might not be advanta¬
geously discontinued, and substituted by a clamp with
chocks under the beams, stepping on the projecting edge
of the spirketing. We shall speak of the support to tins
clamp when we consider the short stuff between the ports.
Of course this change presupposes a maximum of advan¬
tage to be derived from all the other combinations tor
strengthening the side. . i . o
An obiection is urged against chocks, which is, that they Object!
occupy space against the ship’s side; but they afford atoew
security to the beam-ends which cannot be well obtained
without them; and it is questionable whether the foundation
of the objection is correct, because the contnmous breadth
of shelf should also be considered, and that effectually pre¬
vents a man’s standing erect close to the ship s side, while
the obstruction from the chocks is only partial, with inter-
ValRoberts’0plate-knee (</, Plate CCCCLV.) is a veryRj
strong method of fastening, as a preventive to any alter-! •
ation of the angle formed by the beam and the side, pro¬
vided the in and out security of the chock to the sale i»
sufficient to resist the strain that is brought on it.
knee-plates, together with up and down bolts >n the beam-
ends, fulfil all the requisites for a correct mode of fastemng,
unless it may be the objection against the chock whic
have stated.’ The great objection which has been urge
to their use arises from the fore and aft bolts throug
beam, which, it is said, are liable to split the beam-en •
\
SHIP-BUILDING.
291
i'r «*1
Bi ng-
Ho !.
Gertie
All fore and aft bolts through the beam-end, as they do not
pass through the fulcrum round which the beam would
work, are nearly equally liable to this objection, whether
they occur in the same range of fibre or not, because when
motion ensues they must all act to split the beam-end. But
we have already said we do not consider this line of argu¬
ment should be urged. The occurrence of working should
not be presupposed in determining securities to prevent it,
because such a course would frequently militate against the
application of the most advantageously disposed preventives
to motion; not however that we are arguing in favour of
fore and aft bolts through beam-ends ranking among these;
on the contrary, we think they should be avoided.
The foregoing observations embrace the main outline of
the principles which should be kept in view in connecting
the two sides of the ship by means of the beams.
The bows, as we have already said, are connected by
timbers called hooks. It is important to remember that the
hooks above and those below the surface of the water are
subjected to an opposite strain. The tendency of the pres¬
sure of the water on the bow is to make the sides collapse,
and therefore the hooks below the water’s surface should
not only act as ties to the bow while the ship is grounded,
as, for instance, when in dock, but should be formed more
especially to resist the pressure of the water when she is
afloat. Those hooks which are above the surface of the
water act principally as ties, the rake of the bow and the
gravitation of its parts tending to separate the two sides of
the ship. These observations are of little importance when
the hooks are of wood; but when they are formed partly of
wood and partly of iron, they materially affect the applica¬
tion of the iron plate. Below water it should evidently
be brought as close to the inner surface of the bows as
possible, and therefore on the fore side of the hook. It
should also be secured to the wooden ekeings, independently
of the bolts which secure the hook to the bows. Very slight
consideration will suffice to prove, that by these means the
utmost advantage is obtained from the materials employed,
to resist the pressure, while at the same time they form
a sufficient tie to support the sides of the bows when the
ship is in dock, before launching, or aground. In made
hooks above the water, the iron plate should be on the
aft side, as far from the bow, and as straight as may be,
that it may be a more effective tie.
We shall now7 pass to the several systems of strengthen¬
ing the sides, and of preventing the hogging, which have
been successively introduced.
In the system of building which was superseded by that
termed the diagonal system, the whole of the interior sur-
iace of the frame was planked, and a series of internal frames
worked upon this planking, agreeing in direction with the
timbers of the ship (Plate CCCCLVI. fig. 47). They ap¬
pear principally to have been intended to support the frame
in the event of the ship’s grounding, as they could add no
longitudinal strength to the fabric. There were about eight
“bends” of the “riders” in three-decked ships, and six
bends in two-deckers. There were other timbers running
np to the top-sides, called breadth, middle, and top riders.
1 hese were more closely spaced than the bends in the lower
parts of the body, and were placed in a diagonal direction
evidently only to avoid the ports. The beams were se¬
cured to the side by hanging and lodging knees of wood:
they rested on the clamp, there being no shelf. The wa¬
ter-way w7as merely a thicker strake of deck gouged out, or
chined down,” as it is technically called, from the front of
• ie spirketing, to the same thickness as the flat of the deck.
his chining down is for the protection of the water-way
seam, by keeping it above the run of the water. There
T VT c™erent methods of shifting the bends of riders in the
10 several of which we have introduced in the plate.
An enormous quantity of timber was thus massed to-
Practical
Building.
gether, having the appearance of great strength ; but in
fact, from its weight, injudicious combination, disposition,
and fastening, much of it was, if not injurious, at least use-
less. 1 he riders in the hold were no doubt originally ne¬
cessarily introduced when ships were “ grounded” for re¬
pairs ; but that necessity has now ceased to exist. In the
earliest drawings representing them there are “ pointers,”
or shores, extending from them at the bilge of one side, to
the gun-deck at the opposite side of the middle line, which
we shall presently refer to.
I he system we have described was partially superseded
by single riders in the hold, scarphing to chocks under the
orlop-beams, and running down to give shift to the floor-
heads. The top-sides were supported by standard knees
brought on the deck over the beams; and the beams were
secured by Roberts’ plate-knees brought on the sides of
chocks under the beams.
The idea of diagonal trussing was not novel at the time
the system of Sir Robert Seppings was first proposed : It
may even be observed in Plate CCCCXLVI. in the vessel
of the fifteenth century, under repair. In the plates of a
Dutch work of the date of 1697, there are diagonal pointers
in an athwartship direction from the floor-heads on one side,
to the quarters of the upper-deck beam of a two-decker
on the other. Sir Walter Raleigh also mentions this
mode of strengthening ships; and the Dutch author, Van
\ k, gives the drawing as a representation of the English
system of building at the date of the publication of his work.
Somewhat similar also were those afterwards proposed bv
Mr Snodgrass, the surveyor of shipping to the East India
Company, though his were to step upon the keelson and ex¬
tend to the clamps of the lowest gun-deck, and were there¬
fore less judiciously placed to resist the strain in grounding
than those represented in the Dutch work. Diagonal truss-
ing between the keelson and the gun-deck beams along the
vertical longitudinal section of the ship, had also been pro¬
posed, and partial experiments of various diagonal supports
or shores made, both abroad and in England ; but until the
introduction of the diagonal riders and trusses by Sir Ro¬
bert Seppings, there had been no permanent results from
these experiments.
We quote the following description of the system from a
paper communicated by the inventor to the Royal Society,
and which is printed in the Philosophical Transactions for
1814.
“ An accurate conception of the state of a ship’s hold may Diagonal
be formed by referring to the longitudinal section (fig. 48), frame. ‘
which is termed the Jesuit’s perspective, or bird’s-eye view
of the internal part of one side of a seventy-four-gun ship
in a complete state, with fillings in the openings between
the timbers of the frames, instead of the planking over
them.
“ In this state the diagonal timbers are introduced, inter¬
secting the timbers of the frame at about the angle of forty-
five degrees, and so disposed as that the direction in the
fore is contrary to that in the after part of the ship (as may
be seen in the engraving), and their distance asunder from
six to seven feet or more ; their upper ends abutting against
the horizontal hoop or shelf-piece of the gun-deck beams,
and the lower ends against the limber strakes, except in the’
midships, where they come against two pieces of timber
placed on each side of the keelson (called additional keel¬
sons), for the purpose of taking off the partial pressure of
the main-mast, which always causes a sagging down of the
keel, and sometimes to an alarming degree. These pieces
of timber are nearly as square as the keelson, and fixed at
such a distance from it, that the main step may rest upon
them. They may be of eak or pitch-pine, and as long as
can be conveniently procured. Pieces of timber are next
placed in a fore and aft direction, over the joints of the
frame-timbers, at the floor and first futtock-heads; their
292
SHIP-BUILDING.
Practical ends in close contact with, and coaked or dowelled to, the
Building, gjjeg 0f the diagonal timbers. In this state the frame-work
''-“'•'v''-' in the hold presents various compartments, each represent¬
ing the figure of a rhomboid. _ •
« a truss-timber is then introduced into each rhomboiu,
with an inclination opposite to that of the diagonal timbers,
thereby dividing it into two parts. The truss-pieces so in¬
troduced into the rhomboid, are to the diagonal frame what
the key-stone is to the arch; for no weight or pressure on
the fabric can alter its position in a longitudina direction,
till compression takes place at the abutments, and extension
of the various ties. ,
“ This arch-like property of the diagonal frame not only
opposes an alteration of position in a longitudinal direction,
but also resists external pressure on the bottom, either from
e-rounding or any other cause, because no impression can
be made in its figure in these directions, without forcing the
several parts of which it is composed into a shorter space.
« The beams are disposed in the new system nearly as
usual, except that in midships, where a ship necessarily re¬
quires the greatest security, two additional beams have been
introduced. , , .
“ The beams of the several decks are attached to the
ship’s side in the following manner. . , ,, .
“ ls£. By shelf-pieces or internal hoops, distinguished by the
letter E. These shelf-pieces are composed of several lengths
of timber, scarphed or joined together by coaks or circular
dowels, so as to form a kind of internal hoop, extending from
the hooks forward, to the transoms abaft—(in the plate the
transoms are not shown, as we have chosen the perfected
application of Sir Robert Seppings’ system, after the adop¬
tion of the circular stern into the service),—to the under side
of which, as well as the under parts of the beams, they are
securely coaked, and being then firmly bolted to the side,
instead of becoming a mere local fixture of the beam to the
ship’s exterior frame, as knees were, they are one continued
and general security. The shelf-piece is also a tic to the
top-side in a fore and aft direction, co-operating with the
trussed frame, as already explained.
“ 2dly, By chocks, represented in Plate CLLLL V. (w, o),
which are placed under all the shelf-pieces in wake of the
beams, except the orlop, in such a manner as to receive the
up and down arm of the iron knees. The lower ends of
those under the gun-deck shelf-piece step on the ends of the
orlop-beams ; and those of the several decks above, step on
the projecting part of the spirketing below. The chocks,
particularlv those between the orlop and gun decks, admit of
their being driven into their respective places very tightly,
thereby acting like pillars. Another advantage attending
them is their great tendency to stiffen the ship’s side, and
to prevent the beam-ends from playing on the fastenings
when the ship is rolling, or straining under a press of sail.
a The curved iron-plate knees for securing the orlop-
beams, and the iron forked knees of the other decks, are
described in (n) and (m), Plate CCCCLV.
“ The tendency of the ship to stretch or draw asunder
in her upper works being by no means obviated by the
short planks on the inside between the ports, a truss piece
of plank is substituted in lieu of them, which being well
secured at the abutments, very materially aids the trussed
frame, and gives great stiffness, thereby opposing the in¬
clination to arch or hog aloft.”
These various alterations from the old system of building
had the effect of very greatly increasing the strength of the
ships of the royal navy. Among so many changes, it is not
improbable that erroneous conclusions may have been drawn
as t0 the relative importance of each. We incline much to
the opinion that this has been the case to a very great de¬
cree, and that a part hitherto considered as quite subordi¬
nate! and now wholly discontinued as useless, was one prin¬
cipal cause of the increase of strength which enabled ships
This we shall presently endeavour Pracfe
Buildin;
to preserve their sheer,
t0 The lower ranges of riders and trusses, which were brought t'^'Tv
on the upper surfaces of the floors and first futtocks, could g0naj
have but little effect in preventing arching beyond that frame,
which arose from the additional resistance they offered to
compression, and the additional rigidity they gave to the
structure in the event of grounding, or of being ashore.
They certainly served as a firm base upon which to erect
a series of riders with diagonal trusses, which were more
advantageously placed to afford efficient support to the ex¬
tremities of the body. Yet these upper riders only extend¬
ed to the securities of the gun-deck, and therefore not very
far above the line of non-action. Presuming, however, that
this second series of riders was of considerable utility, a
firm base for them mightjprobably have been obtained with¬
out so much incumbrance to the hold, and consequently
without the objection being urged against it, which was
made to the diagonal riders, of diminishing the stowage.
According to the estimates made by Sir Robert Seppings,
the actual cubical contents of the diagonal frame were less
than those of the ceiling which it superseded.
The trussing between the ports has been discontinued in Trussing:
Her Majesty’s ships. We cannot but regret the change, asbetweei
we consider this was the most advantageous innovation con- CeFcr-»
nected with the diagonal system, and one in which the be¬
nefit was unaccompanied with compensating inconveniences.
In investigating the reasons on which we found this
opinion, we shall merely describe the manner in which we
consider this trussing must have acted, to prevent any alter¬
ation of form in the upper parts of the ship.
We commence, then, with the gun-deck of a three-decker.
The gun-deck, from its proximity to the line of inaction,
from the support of the trussed frame, which extended to
its shelf, and from the wales, may be assumed, at least in a
new ship, as a most firm base on which to raise a series o
supports. At some point on the upper edge of the gun-
deck spirketing, a shore, that is, the truss, firmly cleated at
its heel, extended upwards and aft, in the after-body of the
ship, to the lower edge of the middle-deck clamp, where it
was securely cleated; immediately above the hea 0 18
shore a second was fixed on the upper edge of the middle-
deck spirketing, and extended upwards to the lower edge ox
the main-deck clamp, where it was secured ; and immediate¬
ly over the head of this shore a third was secured, on the edge
of the main-deck spirketing, and extended upwards to the
lower edge of the quarter-deck clamp, where it was hnaiiy
secured : so that a point in the range of securities to the
quarter-deck was continuously and firmly shored up from *
point in the most rigid and unalterable part of the ship, an ,
in the same manner, a series of points along the range o se
curities to the quarter-deck became shored up from the same
foundation. This is in the after-body. In the fore-body a
corresponding system of shoring ran in an opposite direc¬
tion forward, and in a similar manner supported the range
of securities of the forecastle, while each intervening deck
partook of the same advantage. .
Radiating as these shores did in opposite directions fro
the most rigid part of the ship as their base, while they at-
forded a series of points of support to the principal longi¬
tudinal ties, they formed with them a system of tnang es,
and the triangle is a figure which admits of no alteration
of form; for as long as the sides remain the same, the ang e
are invariable. It might almost be said to be impossible,
therefore, for the range of quarter-deck and forecastle se¬
curities, by which we mean the clamp, shelf, and water-v.a\,
to drop at the extremities, excepting in so far as the con.
pressibility of the materials would admit.
To adapt another, and perhaps a stronger, view o m
system of trussing, we may consider the whole top-sic es
a ship, with the securities of the gun-deck as a base.
SHIP-BUILDING.
293
,'iv ical
Bi ing-
be a series of horizontal ranges of materials, supported by
alternations of firmly secured triangles, so placed, that the
' bases of the superior ranges of these triangles derive firm
support from the triangles of the inferior ranges. Con¬
sidering the unalterability of form of the triangle, and the
advantage of the pressure being brought upon the end
grain, in which there .is comparatively little shrinkage, this
is certainly a mode of constructing a top-side which must
be possessed of great rigidity. In fact, if there was an
error in the system of trussing the top-sides adopted by
Sir Robert Seppings, it was, that he did not extend it to
the extremities, even round the bow and stern, and also
apply a similar system to the short stuff outside between
the ports.
The advantages to be derived from triangular combina¬
tions of the timber composing the hull of a ship are yet
but imperfectly appreciated. We have no doubt that great
improvement in ship-building is to be effected by these
means, unless, indeed, timber should be superseded by
iron, and the stupendous and costly line-of-battle ship be
destined to give place to small but powerfully armed steam¬
boats. An iron sailing vessel is being built in Scotland, of
between five and six hundred tons burthen. It seems also
not improbable that the introduction of so destructive a mis¬
sile as the hollow shot into naval warfare, will render it ex¬
pedient to diminish the aggregate loss from their effect, by
lessening the size and increasing the number of the vessels
used in naval battles. This is, however, as yet merely spe¬
culative.
Another important part of the diagonal system, as it is
described in the foregoing account given by Sir Robert
Seppings, was the making the bottom a solid mass, by filling
in the openings between the frame-timbers. This we have
already mentioned as most effective in resisting alteration
in form. It possessed a more important advantage, in the
immense additional safety it assured to the vessel in the
event of grounding, or of starting a but of the plank.
The introduction of the system of solid bottoms into the
mercantile navy, which Mr Ballingall has so long and so
strenuously urged, would be an incalculable advantage,
not to the merchant or ship-owner, for the system of in¬
surance is their refuge, but to a class of men of equal
value to England with either merchant or ship-owner—sea¬
men, whose lives are often most cruelly sacrificed to the
present immunity from pecuniary loss which marine in¬
surance guarantees to their employers.
We are no friends to the system of marine insurance.
We doubt much whether the evils which have resulted from
it, in the loss of human life, and its attendant miseries to
survivors, the system of gambling which it encourages
among all classes of commercial men engaged in it, and
the fraud and crime which it often occasions, do not more
than counterbalance its advantages, which, after all, may
be summed up in this, that in the event of shipwreck, the
merchant and ship-owner are indemnified for a loss which,
in a majority of cases, would not have occurred had it not
been for the recklessness and carelessness engendered by
the very knowledge that this indemnification was to be
purchased. We here advance no unsupported opinion: the
Report of the committee of the House of Commons on ship-
wiecks says, “ The system of marine insurance, though
affording the means of protecting individuals from excessive
loss, has nevertheless a tendency, by transferring the pe¬
cuniary responsibility for such losses from the owners of
ships to the underwriter who insures them, to induce less
caie in the construction of ships, less efficiency in their
equipment, and less security for their adequate management
at sea, in as much as the risk of such loss to the ship-owners
can e covered by a fixed premium of insurance, which,
eing charged on the freight, and then recharged on the
goods conveyed, fixes the real responsibility and real loss
ultimately on the public; as all the parties actually engaged Practical
in the transaction can insure themselves from any partici- Building.
. pation in such loss, by the aid of marine insurance.” This, V ” v ^
f too, is from the Report of a committee composed principally
of merchants, of ship-owmers, and of ship-builders. But to
return to our more immediate subject, though we can hardly
call this a digression, connected as it is with the progress of
the science wre are writing on.
The system of wooden riders, longitudinal pieces, and Modern
trusses (Plate CCCCLVI. fig. 48), is now discontinued indiag°Jial
Her Majesty’s ships, and is superseded by a modification of ®“PPgorts» •
the iron riders or braces, which were formerly only proposed
by Sir Robert Seppings for frigates and the smaller classes Building,
of vessels. In the recent adaptation of these braces to line-
of-battle ships, there are several material differences from
the original plan. The ceiling, with its thick strakes over
the heads and heels of the timbers, is restored, excepting
that the planking between these thick strakes is laid dia¬
gonally, as shown in Plate CCCCLVII. fig. 49. There
are also two ranges of iron riders; the lower range is brought
upon the inside of the timbers of the frame, and the ceil¬
ing worked upon and scored over them. The upper ends
of this range of riders extend forward in the fore-body and
aft in the after-body, and the heads run high enough to
turn out upon the orlop clamps, and bolt through them.
The riders of the upper range give long shift to those of
the lower range, and their direction crosses that of the
lower range at right angles. Both ranges are very secure¬
ly bolted through the bottom.
It will have been evident from the foregoing remarks,
that we do not consider the hold as an advantageous situa¬
tion for any great expenditure, either of workmanship or
materials, simply for the purpose of preventing the altera¬
tion in the form of a ship.
After having obtained the greatest degree of incompres¬
sibility compatible with the materials used, the next ob¬
ject, in this part of the body, should be to insure adequate
local strength to resist the strain of taking the ground;
and we assume it for granted, that it is for this purpose
the thick strakes at the heads and heels of the timbers
have been restored, and also that the lower tier of iron
riders is worked. The placing the ceiling diagonally be¬
tween the several assemblages of thick strakes, was proba¬
bly with an idea that it would act as a trussing; but, accord¬
ing to the views of the action of the disturbing forces which
we have taken in this part of our article, it can have little,
if any, effect in preventing alteration in form, beyond that
of ceiling worked in the ordinary and less costly manner, and
is inferior in other respects.
In the upper range of riders the iron bars are placed with
their upper ends extending inwards from the extremities of
the ship, offering a series of very effective ties, or braces, to
connect the unsupported extremities of the vessel to the
midship, or supported part, and to the firm basis of the
zone about the surface of the water. This series of braces
is unquestionably advantageous, and is also correct in prin¬
ciple, as affording support to the extremities of the vessel,
by connecting them with the most unalterable part of the
fabric, and to that portion which is abundantly supported by
the external fluid. We think it probable that the addi¬
tional strength resulting to the lower part of the vessel
from the lower range is scarcely adequate to the additional
expense incurred by wmrking them, with all the accessory
fastening and fitting. This method which we have describ¬
ed of strengthening the floor, has not near the rigidity to
resist damage from grounding, of the system that it has
superseded, which certainly did, according to the intention
of the inventor, partake of the nature of an inverted arch,
or rather dome. It has, however, one, and that too a very
considerable advantage, over the wooden diagonal system*
as it offers a fair surface for stowage.
*
294:
SHIP-BUILDING.
Circular
stern.
Practical The system of iron diagonal riders which we^ have de-
Building. scribed is that adopted in line-of-battle ships. I here are
^ ^ v ~r, J several variations from this system, in its adaptation to t ic
smaller classes of vessels. 1 he general features are hovv -
ever the same. The modifications all tend more or less to
simplify it in its details. There are, however, some instan -
ces in which the iron bars have their upper ends extending
outwards, towards the extremities of the vessel, probably m
order to assimilate them to trusses; but this is evident
next to the vertical, the least advantageous position they
could be placed in. t , ,
Stern. Of all the modern innovations in ship-building, tne al¬
teration from the square termination to the round m tne
sterns of ships was received with most general reluctance,
so wedded is the eye to the forms it has been habituated
to gaze upon; yet it may be fairly questioned whether, it
cannon had been used for naval warfare when ships were
first built, a square stern would have ever been construct¬
ed, and also whether the curvilinear termination to a body,
every outline of which presents curves to the eye, is not
more consistent with the requirements of a correct taste.
Be these questions answered as they may, it is certain tha
the alteration was attended with a great local increase o
strength in a part which had always previously been con¬
sidered the most imperfectly combined in the whole hull.
This was in consequence of the various changes in the
timbering which were required to maintain the angles m
the contour of the square stern. (Plate CCCCLIX.) First,
the ends of the transoms were very insecurely connected
with the sides of the ship; then the connexion between
the counter-timbers and the transoms was equally insecure;
and, lastly, the planking along the sides had no connexion
with, and consequently formed no tie to, that on the stern.
In the round stern, the timbers of the frame continue to
o-ive shift to each other, and to be firmly connected to¬
gether all round the curve of the stern; the various inter¬
nal supports are uninterrupted ; and the principal planking,
being continued from side to side, binds the whole together,
and makes the stern little inferior to the broadside in local
strength. . , ,
The obiect for which the circular stern was introduced
was not so much increased strength in mechanical structure,
as increased strength in defence from attack. Most of the
modifications of the round stern which have been introdu¬
ced to preserve the appearance of the square form, and yet
obtain the same increase of means of defence or of aggres¬
sion, have been considerable improvements in point of me¬
chanical construction on the old square stern, but they are
certainly inferior to the circular stern in strength. This is
partly in consequence of the great rake given to them, which
also diminishes the advantage that was the object of the
original alteration ; the increase of the means of attack or
defence, as the explosion from the muzzle of the gun will
scarcely clear the ship’s side.
The great extent to which this rake is now carried is
exemplified by comparing the rake of the stein of the
Queen, an English first-rate, which is three feet nine inches
in ten feet, with the rake of the stern of the Achille, a
French line-of-battle ship, which is only two feet two inches
in ten feet. We quite grant the beauty of appearance aris¬
ing from the rake of the stern ; but beauty of appearance is
not an essential for a ship of war. In fact, we believe
that the stern adapted for a ship of war is yet to be designed,
and that sterns will eventually be towers of strength, nearly
vertical from the counter to the taffrail.
The three modifications of ships’ sterns of which we have
been speaking will perhaps be more clearly understood by
an examination of Plate CC CGLIX.
Bows. The drawings (Plate CCCCL.) which w^e have select¬
ed for exemplifying the various plans, sections, and lines
connected with the draught and the laying off, are those of
the Vindictive, a frigate having an important improvement Pract
in the form of the bow above water, introduced by Mr bu'toj
Blake, the master-shipwright of Portsmouth yard, by which ^
her battery for chase is very considerably increased in
strength and efficiency. These advantages are gained with¬
out the loss of any strength, and without the addition ot cost,
in building; so that it is highly to be desired that this ship
should have a fair trial at sea. The stern of this ship is a
modification of the circular formed stern, also from the de¬
sign of the same gentleman.
We shall now proceed to notice some of the peculiarities
observable in the French practice of ship-building. The
characteristic difference in their system from our own,
which would strike an observer accustomed to English
ship-building, would evidently be a less expenditure of
material.
The French have retained the old system of frames and Freni1
filling timbers. Frequently the frames are close jointed shlP-i.
throughout their height, and the filling frames put up asm&-
single timbers, as is shown in fig. 50, Plate CCCCLVIII.
The filling timbers are also frequently of fir. Both frames
and filling timbers are chain-bolted. There is no shelf
under the beams, only a thick clamp, and a wide chock
■worked upon the short stuff, and up to the beam (Plate
CCCCLVIII. fig. 45). There are generally three side bind¬
ing strakes faced one inch on, and scored one inch oyer y
the beams, and bolted together by in and out bolts passing
through the water-way, which is also faced and scored in
the same manner. These bolts are secured with mils and
screws at the points, on the outside plank.
The water-way is not always scored over the beams, but Water
is sometimes brought plain on their ends (fig. 46). The way.
bolts of the binding strakes, which are then also merely
brought on to the beams, secure its lower edge ; and in both
cases it has in and out bolts through the ship s side, to se¬
cure its upper edge.
The method of connecting the beam-ends with the ship sBeam
side, which appears to be most generally adopted in the
French ships at present, consists of a chock under the beam
(fig. 45), securely bolted through the ship’s side, the points
of the bolts being set up with a nut and screw. The beam-
end hooks over the head of this chock. A plate-knee si¬
milar in shape to that known in the English service as
Roberts’ knee is brought on each side against the chock and
beam; but these knees, instead of having a short arm against
the ship’s side for taking in and out fastenings, themselves
form the bolt, each knee having an arm which is driven
through the side by means of a shoulder worked in the
knee, similar to the shoulder of a dog-bolt. Ihe outer end
is secured by a nut and screw. The security of the plate-
knees to the beam and chock consists only of three sG^ews
in each arm, and one screw in the diagonal brace. 1 yse
screws are not above five inches long. Thus the security
of either knee is completely unconnected with that on the
opposite side of the beam.
The wales, diminishing stuff, and plank of the bottom, plant
are all treenail-fastened, the buts are secured with two bolt-
nails in the timber on which the but is placed, and a
through-bolt is driven in the timber next the but. In some
instances the plank is nail-fastened, but whether with nails
or treenails it is double fastened. The treenails are no
caulked on the ceiling, but wedged with conical wedges.
Most of the principal bolts, as those of the water-ways an
chocks, under the beams, are set up outside with a nut an
screw; and great care is taken to omit the fastening o ®
wmles and outside planking, wherever these bolts can
advantageously made to answer as fastenings for them.
There is no regular system observed in shifting the u
of the plank, as there is in the English service; but e
planks are worked to their full length, without reference
the shift: the only rule wdiich appears to be observed is,
SHIP-BUILDING.
Sn!' tim-
Id
La there shall be about two feet shift between the buts of fol¬
lowing strakes.
Rather an interesting experiment as to the possibility of
diminishing the scantling of the timber, to any great ex¬
tent, which is used for building large ships, is in progress
in the French navy. The Surveillante, a large frigate, was
built wholly of small timber, about ten years ago, and as
yet the reports on the system are favourable.
The following is an outline of the plan on which she was
built.
The keel, stem, and stern-post are formed of various pieces
of timber combined as in the section, Plate CCCCLVIII.
fig; 51-
The several lengths of the centre piece, or core, are
scarphed together, while the side or strengthening pieces
only but with plain buts; care being taken that the buts
and scarphs give good shift to each other.
There are in this system no other frames than those which
form the sides of ports, and the timbers composing these
frames are bolted together, without leaving any opening
between them, that is, close jointed. The spaces between
the frames are filled in with single timbers, or rather with
a frame-work of timber fitted together in the manner shown
in fig. 52.
The cant-bodies are framed as in the ordinary method,
the after-body timbered round to the post without transoms
or fashion-pieces.
From the main-deck upwards the scantlings of the frames
are not different from those of a ship of a similar size built
in the usual manner; but below this line there is a very con¬
siderable reduction. This reduction commences at the
lower edge of the gun-deck clamps, and there a couple of
thick strakes are worked up to the lower edge of these gun-
deck clamps, to form an abutment for a series of internal
timbers, brought on the inner surface of the timbers of the
frame, and crossing them at an angle of 45°, the upper ends
being placed forward in the fore-body, and aft in the after¬
body. These timbers but at their heels on the heads of a
series of internal floor-timbers, brought on the upper sur¬
faces of the floors of the frame. These internal floors are
laid athwartships. The openings between the timbers of
this internal diagonal frame are filled in with wedge-fillings,
so that the whole hold presents one smooth surface for
stowage.
Wherever there is an athwartship bulk-head, there is a
system of riders worked on the inner surface of this diago¬
nal frame, but taking a vertical direction. The timbers of
these bends of riders are not wrought side by side, but one
series of timbers is worked on the inner surface of the other,
and the bolts pass in and out through both, and through
the bottom. These riders run up to the lower deck, and a
beam is so disposed with respect to each bend of riders, as
tb e,securec^ their heads, and form a part of the system,
the bulk-heads which necessarily fill in the space between
e an(^ ^ r|ders run diagonally up on either side
the middle from a midship pillar to the beam and riders.
&ach bulk-head is water-tight.
L.iu
ling,
On Launching.
Ships are generally built on blocks which are laid at a
uecliyity of about fths of an inch to a foot. This is for the
laciljty of launching them. The inclined plane or sliding
piank on which they are launched has rather more inclina-
0r..ah0l!t ^ths of an inch to the foot for large ships,
, a s]lght increase on this for smaller vessels. This in-
ination will, however, in some measure depend upon the
WbT Waier mt0 which the shiP is to be launched,
is rvl,i a sh'P 1S,in the Pr°gress of being built, her weight
shnrfi - ^ j’TPorted by her keel on the blocks, and partly"by
es. In order to launch her, the weight must be taken off
295
these supports, and transferred to a moveable base; and Launching,
a platform must be erected for the moveable base to slide ''““'"'v-'—'
on. This platform must not only be laid at the necessary
inclination, but must be of sufficient height to enable the
ship to be water-borne, and to preserve her from striking the
ground when she arrives at the end of the wmys.
For this purpose, an inclined plane, a, a (Plate
CCCCLVIII. figs. 53, 54), purposely left unplaned to di¬
minish the adhesion, is laid on each side the keel, and at
about one sixth the breadth of the vessel distant from it,
and firmly secured on blocks fastened in the slipway. This
inclined plane is called the sliding plank. A long timber,
called a bilgeway, h, b, with a smooth under surface, is
laid upon this plane ; and upon this timber, as a base, a
temporary frame-work of shores, c, c, called “ poppets,” is
erected to reach from the bilgeway to the ship. The up¬
per part of this frame-work abuts against a plank, d, tem¬
porarily fastened to the bottom of the ship, and firmly
cleated by cleats, e, e, also temporarily secured to the bot¬
tom. When it is all in place, and the sliding-plank and
under side of the bilgeway finally greased with tallow, soft
soap, and oil, the whole framing is set close up to the bot ¬
tom, and down on the sliding plank, by wedges, f f tech¬
nically called slivers, by which means the ship’s weight is
brought upon the “ launch.” '
When the launch is thus fitted, the ship may be said to
have three keels, two of which are temporary, and are se¬
cured under her bilge. In consequence of this width of sup¬
port, all the shores may safely be taken aw'ay. This being
done, the blocks on which the ship was built, excepting a
few', according to the size of the ship, under the foremost
end of the keel, are gradually taken from under her as the
tide rises, and her weight is then transferred to the two
temporary keels, or the launch ; the bottom of which launch
is formed by the bilgew'ays, resting on well-greased in¬
clined planes. The only preventive now to the launching
of the ship is a short shore, called a dog-shore (g), on each
side, with its heel firmly cleated on the immoveable plat¬
form or sliding plank, and its head abutting against a cleat
(h), secured to the bilgeway, or base of the moveable part
of the launch. Consequently, when this shore is removed,
the weight of the ship forces her down the inclined plane
to the water. To prevent her running out of her straight
course, two ribbands are secured on the sliding plank, and
strongly shored. Should the ship not move when the dog-
shore is knocked down, the blocks remaining under the fore
part of her keel must be consecutively removed, until her
weight overcomes the adhesion, or until the action of a
screw against her fore foot forces her off.
Ffig. 55 (Plate CCCCLIII.) will give an idea of a method French me-
of fitting the launch which is practised in the French yards, thod of
It must be observed, that the plan requires a firm foundation launching,
to the slipway, and therefore it is not generally applicable.
The two pieces (a, a) which are shown in the figure as
being secured to the ship’s bottom, are the only pieces
which need be prepared for each ship ; the whole of the re¬
mainder will be available for every launch. These pieces
were, in the launch fitted to the bottom of a fifty-gun fri¬
gate, seven inches thick on their outer edges at the mid¬
ship bend, and w'ere in length one third that of the ship.
A space scarcely more than half an inch was left between
them and the baulk-timber, which was placed beneath them
(b, b), as it was not intended that the ship should bear on
these baulk-timbers in launching; they are only to support
her in the event of her heeling over. The ship was intended
to launch wholly on the sliding plank (c), which was fitted
under the keel. This sliding plank was, in the case in ques¬
tion, about four inches thick. The groundways were of
baulk-timber, laid about four feet apart, extending across
the slip ; between these groundways stacks of blocks were
built, so that the sliding plank was supported along its whole
SHIP-BUILDING.
296
Launching.length with scarcely greater intervals than about fifteen
s—w-—' inches between the supports. The slip was cut from ou
of the solid rock. c
Launching 56 (Plate CCCCLIII.) represents a section ot a
without method of launching a ship which has been coppered on the
subsequent and which therefore need not be afterwards docked
d0ckin£* for that purpose. This method of fitting the launch avoids
the necessity of docking to remove the launch, by not hav¬
ing any part secured to the ship. The two sides of the
cradle are prevented from being forced apart when the
weight of the ship is brought on them, by chains passing
under the keel. Each portion of frame-work composing
the launch has two of these chains attacned to it, and
brought under the keel to a bolt a, which passes slackly
through one of the poppets, and is secured by a strong
fore-lock b, with an iron handle c reaching to the ports, at
which, when the ship is afloat, it may be drawn out of
the bolt; the chain then draws the bolt a, and in talhnB
trips the cradle from under the bottom. There should be Launch^
at least two chains on each side secured to the fore-poppets,
two on each side to the after-poppets, and two on each side
to the stopping-up (fig. 54) ; and this is only for the launch
of a small ship. The number will necessarily increase with
the weight of the vessel.
We close this article with some most valuable tables of Experi-
experiments. The first is compiled from one in Moseley’s»
Illustrations of Mechanics, the other three we have been
kindly favoured with by Mr Parsons, a member of the late
School of Naval Architecture, and formerly belonging to
Her Maiesty’s dock-yard service. These experiments, with
a number of others on various securities, were most care¬
fully made by this gentleman; and we regret much that
he has not yet made them public to the world, as we are
not aware of any similar information being accessible to
naval architects or to engineers.
v. . v.i cf No T • its tenacity is 9} tons per square inch, and its resistance to compression
* « The strongest quality of cast iron is a Scotch iron known as the Devon hot-bla , • -
65 tons.”
, „ • r- r J n frmpv Knits driven into sound Oak with the usual Drift,} not clenched, and
“ Table of the Adhesion of Iron and Copper Bolts dn
J subjected to a direct strain, as mjig. o i.
+ Drift is an allowance made to insure
hole bored for its reception.
sufficient tightness in a fastening; it is therefore the quantity by
which the diameter of a fastening exceeds the diamete
S H I
^ ,ston- “ In Riga fir the adhesion was on an average about one
>t°ur third of that in oak, and in good sound Canada elm it was
Jp about three fourths of that in oak.
ney.
V—' “ Table of the Strength of Clenches and of Forelocks, as se¬
curities to Iron and Copper Bolts, driven six inches, with¬
out Drift, into sound Oak, either clenched or forelocked on
Rings, and subjected to a direct Strain, as in fig. 57.
S H I
the strength of the rings in comparison with the clenches.
1 he rings were of the usual size, viz. the iron of the ring'
one eighth inch less in diameter than that of the bolt. It
was found that the rings always carried away the clenches,
but that they were drawn into the form of a link with per-
fectly straight sides. The rings bore, before any change
of form took place, not quite one half the weight which tore
oit the clenches. It appears that the rings are well pro¬
portioned to the strength of the clenches.
Table of the Transverse Strength of Treenails of English
Oak used as fastening for Planks of three and of six
inches in thickness, and suljected to a Strain, as shown to
be applied in Jig. 58.
Number
of the
Experi¬
ment.
1
2
3
4
5
(>
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
Diameter of the Treenails.
H Inch.
li Inch. | if inch.
Thickness of the Plank.
3 In.
6 In.
T. C.
2 12
2 2
T. C.
1 7
1 15
1 10
2 3
1 Iti
\verage 1 11
T. c.
1 14
2 2
1 17
1 13 | 2 6
6 In.
T. C.
2 8
2 2
2 19
2 2
1 15
2 10
3 In.
2 6
T. C.
2 0
2 6
2 15
2 4
2 18
2 6
6 In. 3 In
3 18
2 16 |3 2
T. C.
3 0
2 10
4 0
2 8
3 10
3 10
3 5
T. C.
4 10
4 2
3 10 4 6
“ In the experiments on the clenches, the clenches always
gave way; but with the forelocks it as frequently occurred
that the forelock was cut off as that the bolt broke ; and
m the cases of the bolt breaking, it was invariably across
the forelock hole. According to the tables, the securitv of
a forelock is about half that of a clench.
“ It appears an anomaly that the strength of a clench on
copper should be equal to that of one on iron. But, in con¬
sequence of the greater ductility of copper, a better clench
is formed on it than on iron. Generally the thickness of
the fractured clench in the copper was double that in the iron.
With rings of the usual width for the clenches, the wood will
break away under the ring, and the ring be imbedded for two
or^more inches before the clench will give w'ay.
“With the inch copperbolts, all the rings under the clenches
turned up into the shape of the frustum of a cone, and allow^-
cd foe clench to slip through at the weights specified.
Experiments with ring-bolts were made to ascertain
“ In all these experiments on treenails, when the tree¬
nails were evidently good, they gave way gradually. In
some of the rejected experiments, however, the treenails
certainly did break off suddenly, but then they were evi¬
dently on examination either bad or over-seasoned tree¬
nails. It is no uncommon remark in caulking down the
bottom of a vessel, that the caulkers break off the treenails by
caulking, and that they hear them crack or break off suddenly.
Now I do not believe that this cracking of the treenails takes
place so frequently as it is supposed. What the men hear
is the starting of the plank on the different fastenings. It
has been asserted that the treenails made from the Sussex
oak are much stronger than those made from the New Forest
timber, or any other English oak. To ascertain the truth
of this assertion, some experiments were made with Sussex
and New Forest treenails of all sizes ; and the result was
that there was not the least difference in them, the New’
Forest were on experiment quite as strong as the Sussex.
“ In the experiments on treenails, the plank generally
moved about half an inch previous to the fracture of the
treenaik” ^ ^
SHtPSTON-ON-STocR, a town of the hundred of Os-
aldslow, in the county of Worcester, but detached from
.and surrounded by Gloucestershire. It is eighty-three
es rom London, has little trade except w hat arises from
_ grea sheep-fairs. It has a large market on Friday,
nepopulation amounted in 1801 to 1293, in 1811 to 1377,
n 1»21 to 1562, and in 1831 to 1632.
townT'-!/0”eyuWaS a? charged upon the ports,
JZ nf veS' hfri?b\ amI c0unties of England, in the
writs , i Ehai'!es L, by writs, commonly called ship-
and lfiqffeJthugreat.Seal of Eng,and> in the years 1635
for thp > the Providir)g and furnishing of certain ships
vol x;ngS semce’ was declared to be contrary
to the laws and statutes of this realm, the petition of right,
and the liberty of the subject, by statute 17 Car. I. c. 14.
SHIRAZ, or Shirauz, a large city of Persia, the capita’
of the province of Fars, and, at different periods, of the who f
kingdom. According to Fraser, the city of Shiraz is sitr > e
ed in the midst of a brown, barren plain, without a vif ia,t“
or any living thing, to relieve it. There were, when ’ . ^ge,
sited the place, only one or two gardens on the w . ,ie vE
panse, which resembled black spots in the desert. ' ,<fe ex*
that a nearer view does not present any more / . e adds»
impression, the aspect of its mud-walls, surra javouraEle
ruins and broken ground, impressing the most r anded with
Kinneir, on the other hand, gives a different >,ooniy ldeas-
account of its
2 p
297
Shiraz.
298
Shiraz.
S II I
appearance, which, he says, is pleasing than grand,
• ,1 city being surrounded with many beautiful gardens.
The season of the year when Shiraz was
former traveller seems, however, to have been ™fev0ur“ble
for the display of vegetable beauty ; and he according y
serves! that at this time the richer a"d irrigated spots were
burnt up; and to this circumstance maybe trace
nancy in the accounts of these two writers,
howtever, agree in their account of the « “f*'^
which has an extremely foemhing within
small, and the streets narrow and filthy, tn ery t b
the town marks the total neg ect of even the attemp1«
nrovement. The bazaars and maidans or colleges ai e tailing
mtoridns; the streets are choked with dirt, and with heap* of
ruins from decaying houses ; their inmates squahd and 10^
lent craw ling forth in a state of rags and wretchedness, >
Si^ R Porter says, no pen can describe. The impure state of
the water brought into the city affords one among many gross
“es of public neglect, more especially oon,denngU e
abundant supply of this pure element »;* »h.ch 'he u^y
was furnished in ancient times, and the facility w t 1
the spring at the tomb of Sadi, or the limpid nils of the
Rocknabad, might again be introduced and distributed f
the supply of the city. The town has six gates, and”
vided into twelve districts or parishes, ^Jhich af
fifteen considerable mosques, besides many others of m e
rior note, eleven colleges, fourteen bazaars, thirteen cara
vanserais, and twenty-six mummums or baths.
Of the mosques, the Mesjed Ah, built m the khahUt of
Abbas, is the most ancient, and the Mesjed No the largest.
It was converted from a palace to a mosque by
Shah, whose son was lying in a dangerous 1 ness;an.^ W ^
consulting one of the priests, was answered, that fo the
recovery of his son he must devote to the Ain 0
that which of all his worldly goods he vaiued m0^t. Th
Mesjed Jumeh is likewise an ancient structure, and there
are six others of an older date than the time of Kerim
Khan. Of the modern mosques the Mesjed Vakeel, t _
only one built by this prince, is the most beautifu .
the colleges, one of the earliest was founded by Imaum
Kouli Khan. Kerim Khan began a college which he neve
finished; and another was founded by Haushem, fatier of
Haiee Ibrahim, the vizir of the late king. Ihe great
bazaar, or market-place, wax built b, Kerun khan, aud
forms a contrast to the mean appearance of the other parts
of the city. It is about a quarter of a mile in length, made
of yellow burnt brick, and arched at the top, with nume¬
rous sky-lights, which, with its doors and windows, always
admit of sufficient light and air, whilst the sun and the rain
are completely excluded. The bazaar is allotted to the dif¬
ferent traders in the city, all of whom have their separate
quarter, in which their shops are extended adiacent to eac
other on both sides of the building* .
Of the caravanserais, the one built by Imaum Kouli
Khan, and now in ruins, is the most ancient. 1 mre is
another old structure, which was restored from a state of
ereat decay, and assumed the name of its second founder.
All Khan. There are five others ; one for the dressers of
\ sheep-skins for caps, another for dyers, and one for Hin¬
doos Three other caravanserais were added by Kerim
Khan, and two others have been since erected. Ihe ar
citadel, in which the governor of Pars resides, is a
fortified square of eighty yards. The royal palace within
k 1 tr from being an elegant structure; and some of its hnest
ornamental pillars were removed by Aga Mahommed Khan
to adorn his palace at Teheran. , . ,
The environs of Shiraz, in its ancient splendour, have fur¬
nished a theme for poets, and have been celebrated by Hafiz,
S H I
the favourite bard of Persia, who was a native of this city, Shi
and who is buried in a small garden about half a mile from ^
the town. A monument was erected to his memory by Kerim
Khan • it is placed in the court of a pleasure-house which was
much frequented by the poet; the building has a small court
before it and another behind, and in the centre .s an open
vestibule, supported by four marble columns, opening on each
sSe into neaf apartments. The tomb is placed m the back
court at the foot of one of the cypress trees w hich he planted
with ids own hands, it consists of a block of white marble
in the form of a coffin, exquisitely carved. One of the poet s
odes is inscribed on the marble, and the letters appea as
if they had been sculptured with the finest pen, rather
than carved with a chisel. Sir R. K. Porter, who visited
this tomb ten years after Moner, gives a melancholy ac¬
count of the decay which has taken place in the interval,
from neglect: the spot is no longer held sacred, being
covered with promiscuous graves ; the trees are gone, and
the stone itself, already defaced, will not, unless it be se¬
cured from profane hands, long remain the memorial of de-
narted genius. The population of Shiraz has been variously
estimated at from 40,000 to 10,000. M. Moner, who w^a
some pains to make an accurate estimate, says 19,000. Ihe
commerce of the city is of some extent, and has been increas¬
ing of late years. The principal trade is with Bushire, through ,
whose ports is brought into the country a supply of foreign
produce and manufactures, such as sugar, pepper, cinnamon,
chintz, glass, hardware, piece-goods, &c. These articles are
exported to Yezd and Ispahan, and the manufactures of these
cities received in return. The prosperity of Shiraz decayed
after the death of Kerim Khan ; its commerce was diverted
into other channels, and its numerous manufactures perish¬
ed for want of purchasers. Two, however, have survived,
and are prosecuted with diligence and success; one is mak¬
ing glass for windows, bottles, and goblets, which are sold
alf over the kingdom ; the second is the formation of sword-
blades and daggers, which are deemed exceilent for genCTd
use. In the hills which bound the plain of Shiraz, w
formerly produced a wine which is celebrated over all the
east. Long. 52. 44. E. Lat. 29. 36. N.
SHIRE is a Saxon word signifying a dlvlsl«n ; bat J
county, comitatus, of the same import, is plainly derived
from comes, the count of the Franks ; that is, the ea
de°rmml as’,he Saxons called him of *0 fwe, ,o whom
the government ot it was intrusted. . k j
ercised by his deputy, still called in Latin vice-corns, and
in English the sheriff; shrieve, or shire-reeve, s,gmfymg J
officer of the shire ; upon whom, in process of time, the
cWn administration of it totally devolved. ^ -me cou-
ties there is an intermediate division between the s^ire ^nd
the hundred; as lathes in Kent and rapes m Sussex, eac
of them containing about three or four hundred a piece
These had formerly their lathe-reeves and rape-ree >
acting in subordination to the shire-reeve. M here a co V
““vided into three of these intermediate jur^t*
they are called trythings, which were anciently g°^r
by I trything-reeve. These trythings St,11 subsist m the
Targe county of York, where, by an easy corruplton, “y
are denominated ridings; namely, the north, the ea ,
^SHIRT, a Kose garment, commonly of hnen or
worn next the body. Shirts were not worn bY tbe d in
Greeks, or Romans, but their place was suPPlied b^nt8
tunicce of wool. The want of hnen among
made frequent washings and ablutions necessary. ^
SHIRVAN, or Schirvan, a province m the no
Persia, now claimed by Russia. It is the arg
most important division of the Southern Caucasus.
Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, p. 94 , Geographical Memoir of the Persian Empire, P- 62.
S H O
oad tends along the Caspian, 200 miles from the mouth of the
I Cyrus, to the little river Rubas ; and forms a large trian-
oe' gular peninsula, the point of which stretches into the Cas-
pian. From its form it varies extremely in breadth, which,
at the extremity of the peninsula on the Rubas, is scarce¬
ly sixteen miles; near Kuba it amounts to forty ; from
the mouth of the Ata it is above fifty ; while in the in¬
terior part it amounts to 160. It has the Caspian to the
east; Daghestan to the north; the Kur and the plains of
Mogam to the south and south-west, being separated by the
river Kur from the provinces of Ghilan and Azerbijan;
and the kingdom of Georgia to the north-west. The north¬
ern part of this province consists of a plain, which is formed
by the mountains that extend toward the sea near Derbend,
and which, gradually receding behind that city, approach
again in a circular form near the sea at the mouth of the
river Ata. Numerous streams, issuing from the mountains,
greatly contribute to fertilize this plain, and, at the same
time, to secure it against the access of an invading army.
They branch off in various directions, and being generally
mountain-streams, are uncommonly rapid, though they
are shallow, with a wide channel, and a rough and sandy
bed. The plain is interspersed with small woods and clumps
of bushes, and the villages are surrounded with orchards,
t vineyards, and plantations of mulberries. The second
division of Schirvan extends on one side along the coast
from the Ata to the plains watered by the Kur; and on
the other it is bounded by the higher range of mountains,
which run in a south-east course through the province.
The length of this district is about eighty miles ; but as
the coast projects considerably, the breadth varies. The
higher portions of the country are here the most fertile;
the part towards the sea is barren, being devoid of water;
and to the north of Baku is a desert tract of about fifty miles.
The plain along the left of the Kur is about 140 miles in
length, and from forty to fifty in breadth. The district is
in a great degree surrounded with mountains, and, being
exposed to frequent inundations, is overgrown with rushes
to a considerable distance. The most elevated division of
Schirvan is that which extends from the Rubas to Lesges-
tan. This tract varies much in breadth, and is intersected
by narrow valleys, in many of which are small lakes, which
continue filled even in the greatest heat of summer. This
province is abundantly watered by streams, which fall, some
into the Caspian, and others into the Kur. The most con¬
siderable are the Samur, Deli, Sagaite, and Persagat. This
province was annexed to Persia in the year 1500, and con¬
tinued subject to that empire till the decline of the Sefi
dynasty, when the native princes, taking advantage of the
weakness of Persia, re-established their independence. Of
late, however, the Russians have obtained possession of the
sea-coast, though the interior is still in the hands of the
native chiefs. The principal towns are Schamachi, the ca¬
pital, and Baku.
SHOAD, among miners, denotes a train of metallic
stones, serving to direct them in the discovery of mines.
Shoad-Stones, a term used by the miners of Cornwall
and other parts of this kingdom, to express such loose
masses of stone as are usually found about the entrances
into mines, sometimes running in a straight course from
the load or vein of ore to the surface of the earth.
SHOAL, in the sea-language, denotes a place where the
water is shallow; and likewise a great quantity of fishes,
such as a shoal of herrings.
SHOAL-WATER BAY, on the east coast of New Hol¬
land, visited by Captain Flinders in 1802. Long, of Aken’s
island at its entrance, 150. 15. E. Lat. 22. 21. S.
SHOE, a small island in the Pacific Ocean, near the
coast of Waygoo. Long. 130. 53. E. Lat. 0. 1. S.
Shoe, a covering for the foot, usually of leather. Shoes
among the Jews were made of leather, linen, rush, or wood;
S H O 299
those of soldiers were sometimes of brass or iron. They Shoket
were tied with thongs, which passed under the soles of the II
feet. To put off their shoes was an act of veneration ; it S
was also a sign of mourning and humiliation. To bear N Y *
one’s shoes, or to untie the latchets of them, was consider¬
ed as the meanest kind of service.
Among the Greeks, shoes of various kinds were used.
Sandals were worn by women of distinction. The Lace¬
demonians wore red shoes. The Grecian shoes generally
reached to the middle of the leg. The Romans used two
kinds of shoes; the calceus, which covered the whole foot,
somewhat like our shoes, and was tied above with latchets
or strings; and the solea or slipper, which covered only the
sole of the foot, and was fastened with leathern thongs.
The calceus was always worn along with the toga when a
person went abroad; slippers were put on during a journey
and at feasts, but it was reckoned effeminate to appear in
public with them. Black shoes were worn by the citizens
of ordinary rank, and white ones by the women. Red shoes
were sometimes worn by the ladies, and purple ones by the
coxcombs of the other sex. Red shoes were put on by the
chief magistrates of Rome on days of ceremony and tri¬
umphs. The shoes of senators, patricians, and their chil¬
dren, had a crescent upon them, which served for a buckle ;
and these were called calcei lunati. Slaves wore no shoes;
and hence they were called cretati, from their dusty feet.
Phocion also and Cato of Utica went without shoes. The
toes of the Roman shoes were turned up in the point; and
hence they were called calcei rostrati.
In the ninth and tenth centuries the greatest princes of
Europe wore wooden shoes, or the upper part of leather
and the sole of wood. In the reign of William Rufus, a
great beau, Robert, surnamed the horned, used shoes with
long sharp points, stuffed with tow, and twisted like a ram’s
horn. It is said that the clergy, being highly offended,
declaimed with great vehemence against the long-pointed
shoes. The points, however, continued to increase till, in
the reign of Richard II., they were of so enormous a length
that they were tied to the knees with chains, sometimes of
gold, sometimes of silver. The upper parts of these shoes
were in Chaucer’s time cut in imitation of a church window.
The long-pointed shoes were called crackowes, and con¬
tinued in fashion for three centuries, in spite of the bulls
of popes, the decrees of councils, and the declamations of
the clergy. At length the parliament of England inter¬
posed by an act passed in the year 1463, prohibited the
use of shoes or boots with pikes exceeding two inches in
length, and forbade all shoemakers from making shoes or
boots with longer pikes, under severe penalties. But even
this was not sufficient. It was necessary to denounce the
dreadful sentence of excommunication against all who wore
shoes or boots with points longer than two inches. The
present fashion of shoes was introduced in 1633, but the
buckle was not used till 1670.
Shoe of an Anchor, a small block of wood, convex on
the back, and having a small hole, sufficient to contain the
point of the anchor-fluke, on thb fore-side. It is used to
prevent the anchor from tearing or wounding the planks on
the ship’s bow, when ascending or descending; and for this
purpose the shoe slides up and down along the bow, between
the fluke of the anchor and the planks, as being pressed
close to the latter by the weight of the former.
SHOKET, a village of Syria, in the pachalic of Damas¬
cus, on the Orontes, 140 miles north of Damascus.
SHOLAPOOR, a town and district of Hindustan, pro¬
vince of Bejapoor, situated in about the 18th degree of la¬
titude. The town is 125 miles south-east from Poorat.
Long. 75. 40. E. Lat. 17. 43. N.
SHOLAVANDEN, a town of Southern India, district of
Madura, ten miles north-west from the town of Madura.
Long. 78. 10. E. Lat. 9. 50. N.
300
SHOOTING.
Shooting. The pursuit and destruction of wild animals for security*
food, clothing, or pastime, have been amongst the occupa¬
tions of men in all ages, since the primeval bruere over¬
spread the earth,
And w’ild in woods the noble savage ran.
Before the more refined arts are introduced mto any coun¬
try, the chase is a necessity, and the chief business of life.
The stronger and more noxious animals are destroyed for
individual safety; the weaker for food. It is not until
civilization and her handmaid luxury have seated them¬
selves, that the chase becomes a pastime. It does not ap¬
pear when the sportsman first sprang into existence. There
is no corresponding word in any ancient language, since
that could not be called a sport which w^as a necessity. It
is probable that in the earliest a^es of society the dog was
the sole agent employed by the hunter. Afterwards vari¬
ous weapons, manual*, missile, and projectile, as the club,
the dart, the arrow, were used by the hunter and fowler.
Then would follow springes, traps, nets, and all that class of
devices for the capture of beasts and birds yc/v?? nfituToi,
comprehended in the term toils. As dogs were employed
to hunt quadrupeds, so, in process of time, hawks were
trained to bring down birds for the service of their master.
The arbalest, or cross-bow, preceded the matchlock, which,
however, could scarcely be called an implement of the
chase, but which, in the order of succession, brings us down
to the rifle, and original fowling-piece 'with its long heavy
barrel and flint and steel lock ; and, lastly, we arrive at the
double barrels and detant locks of the modern shooter.
In the days of the Saxon and Norman kings, and long
previously, the Britons were famous for their skill in arch¬
ery, both in war and in the chase. The feats of the bow
were often introduced into the songs of the bards of the
ancient Britons, and into the ballads of the Troubadours.
Avcl.ery. Archery is now confined to shooting at the target.
Ladies not unfrequently contend for the prize in this ele¬
gant amusement. Their bows, however, are not such as
were used by the amazons of yore, nor are those of the
gentlemen of the archery clubs such as decided the battle
of Cressy.
Falconry. Falconry, coeval with, and subsequent to the decline of
archery, occupied that rank in British field sports which is
now enjoyed by shooting. Falconry is of high antiquity;
but at what time hawks were first trained to the sport does
not appear. Aristotle informs us that “ there was a dis¬
trict in Thrace, in which the boys used to assemble at a cer¬
tain time of the year, for the sake of bird-catching ; that
the spot was much frequented by hawks, which were wont
to appear on hearing themselves called, and would drive
the little birds into the bushes, where they were caught
by children ; and that the hawks would even sometimes
take the birds and fling them to these young fowlers, who,
after finishing their diversion, bestowed on their assistants
part of their prey.” Martial has the following epigram on
the fate of a hawk :
Preedo fuit volucrum, famulus nunc aucupis, idem
Decipit, et captas non sibi, moerit, aves.
There is no record of trained hawks previous to the time
ofEthelred. Under the Welsh laws of Hoe! Dha, (a.i>.
940), “ the falconer has a privilege, the day that the hawk ShootiJ
shall bill a bittern, or a heron, or a curlew. Three services
shall the king perform for the falconer on such a day ; hold
his stirrup whilst he dismounts; hold the horse whilst he
goes after the birds; and hold his stirrup whilst he mounts
again. Three times shall the king that night compliment
him at table.” Shakspeare often uses the language of
falconry. It is chiefly employed in a scene in the second
part of Henry VI., wherein the king, queen, lord protector,
and cardinal, are the chief speakers; which goes to prove,
that the falconer’s terms were, at one time, household words
at the English court. . ,
Hunting and archery, which were then almost synom-Hunting|
mous terms, (for the sport was somewhat similar to wdmaj1(1 arc-
deer-stalking now is, the rifle being substituted tor the ^
bow',) were in high i*epute with the Danish, Saxon, and
Norman kings, whence arose the forest law's. Wolves and
boars, which formerly infested the forests, were nearly ex- J
terminated in king Edgar’s time, when that monarch pro¬
hibited the killing of deer and game in his woods. The
punishment depended upon the will of the king, until the
celebrated forest laws of Canute, which defined the rights
and privileges of the monarch and others; but those laws
were little regarded by succeeding kings, whose arbitrary
will afterwards regulated the laws of the forest. “ Besides
other prerogatives of the Saxon kings,” says Selden, “they
had a franchise for wild beasts for the chase, which we com¬
monly call forest, being a precinct of ground, neither par¬
cel of the county, nor the diocese, nor the kingdom, but
rather appendant thereto.” And these prerogatives, he
quaintly observes, were maintained, “ that the world might
see the happiness of England, where beasts enjoy their
liberty as well as men.” Another old writer says, that
“ the Saxon kings and the Danish king Canute made no
new forests, but were contented with the woods that were
their own demesnes, and were never granted to, or pos¬
sessed by the subject; but the kings of the Norman race,
not being satisfied with sixty-eight old demesne woods or
forests, depopulated well-built towns and villages, to make
to themselves places appropriated to their own diversion
only. William the Conqueror laid waste thirty-six towns
in Hampshire to make a forest, which still retains the name
of the New Forest; and his forest officers exercised such
arbitrary rule, as to abridge even the great barons of the
privileges they enjoyed under the Saxon and Danish kings,
not at all regarding the liberties given to the subject by
Canute’s forest laws. His son William Rufus is recorded
in history for the severity of his proceedings against all
that hunted in his forests, inflicting the punishment of death
upon such as killed a stag or buck in his forests, without
any other law than that of his own will.” The killing of
deer was punished with loss of sight by William the Con¬
queror.1 William Rufus “ did so severely forbid hunting
a deer, that it was felony and a hanging matter to have
taken a stag or buck.”2 In Cceur de Lion’s time, the law
was very severe against offenders taking the king’s venison;
it was even unlawful to carry a bow, or take dogs through
a royal forest. “ Qui arcus vel sagittas portaverint ve
canes duxerint sine copula per forestam Regis, et inde at-
taintus fuerit, erit in miserecordia Regis.”3
The forest law's professed to be for the protection of
“ vert and venison.” Vert was whatsoever bore green
* John Selden.
2 William of Malmsbury.
England’s Epinomis, p. ^4.
\
SHOO
, ig. leaves, and afforded food or cover to the deer ; and venison
signified such beasts of the forest or the chase as were the
food of man. When reading old books, it is necessary to
keep in mind this acceptation of the word venison.
This state of things continued until by the Charta de
Foresta the forest laws were better defined and the penal¬
ties mitigated. The vast importance attached to the Forest
Charter may be inferred from the fact, that although granted
by king John at Runnymede, at the same time as the Great
Charter, it was not incorporated in it, but was made the
subject of a separate and distinct document. The Forest
Charter was likewise confirmed by Henry III., contempo¬
raneously with the Great Charter. On the latter occasion the
Forest Charter was counter-signed by sixty-four bishops, ab¬
bots, and barons; and sentence of excommunication against
all persons who should violate it was, with great ceremony,
denounced in Westminster Hall, by the archbishop, in the
presence of the king, bishops, and nobles, the bishops being
robed and bearing torches.
The oath administered, at twelve years of age, to every
young man dwelling within the precincts of a royal forest,
was in the following rhymes:
You shall true Hesre-man be
, Unto the King's Majesty:
Unto the beasts of the Forest you shall no hurt do,
Nor to anything that doth belong thereunto :
The offences of others you shall not conceal.
But to the utmost of your power, you shall them reveal
Unto the Officers of the Forest,
Or to them who may see them redrests
All these things you shall see done,
So help you God, at his Holy Doom
After the Forest Charter was granted any one was allowed
to kill game, except in the royal and other forests, and certain
other privileged places,1 until the reign of Richard II., when
alanded qualification of forty shillings per annum became ne¬
cessary to entitle a person to keep “ any greyhound, hound,
dog, ferret, net, or engine, to destroy deer, hares, conies,
or any other gentleman’s game.” The qualification required
was increased with the improved value of land, from time
to time, until, in Charles the Second’s reign, it was enacted,
that persons not having L.100 per annum arising from free-
! hold, or L.150 from leasehold property, or not being of
the degree of esquire, or otherwise privileged, should not
keep or use “ any guns, bows, greyhounds, setting dogs, fer¬
rets, coney-dogs, lurchers, hays, nets, lowbels, hare-pipes,
guns, snares, or other engines for taking or killing game.”
It was not until the early part of the reign of George III.
that killing game was taxed as a luxury, and made a source
ot revenue to government. A tax of two guineas was first
imposed on all persons who should go out in pursuit of
game, but the price of the certificate was afterwards raised
T I N G.
to three guineas, arid subsequently to threeand a half guineas.
The property qualification is abolished, and now any person
who has taken out a certificate and obtained permission
from the owner or tenant of the land, in which soever the
right at the time may happen to be, is privileged to kill
game at all seasonable times. During a long period the
sale of game w as prohibited, which gave a peculiar value
to it, as it was not attainable by any but qualified and cer¬
tificated persons and their friends, except by indirect means.
It is now publicly sold by persons taking out licences for
the purpose, and such licenced persons are liable to penal¬
ties, and are incapacitated from renewing their licences,
should they purchase game from any but duly certificated
sportsmen. The licenced dealers are, however, largely sup¬
plied by poachers, notwithstanding the penalties to wdiich
they subject themselves by trading with uncertificated per¬
sons.
Falconry fell into dissuetude in the days of the Georges.
It is now scarcely known but by name, although the honor¬
ary distinction of hereditary Grand Falconer of England is
still extant. As falconry fell into disuse, another kind of
sport, which is now considered as disreputable, and practised
only by poachers, was pursued by the country gentle¬
men ; the capturing of birds of the game species by°means
of nets and setting dogs. The dogs were trained to lie
down when near to game, and to suffer the net to be drawn
over them, so that both dog and birds were entangled in
the toil. In this manner partridges are still frequently
taken by poachers in the night. A poacher’s dog is some¬
times known by his habit of crouching when close upon
game, and this circumstance not unfrequently leads to a
detection of the practices of his master. Netting was con¬
sidered as a fair mode of taking game until the fowling-piece
came into general use.
On the accession of the house of Hanover to the throne
of Great Britain, falconry, netting, and shooting, were con¬
temporary amusements. I he number of shooters was very
limited, the inferiority of the guns and ammunition being
such as not to induce their general adoption ; hawking was
going out of favour ; and, of the three sports, netting was the
most commonly practised, until the beginning of the reign
of George III., after which time it was no longer deemed
the sport of gentlemen. At what time the fowling-piece
first came into use is uncertain. We learn from Pope that
pheasant shooting was in vogue in Windsor forest during
the reign of Anne.
Shooting, as practised with guns to which flint and steel
locks were attached, may be said to have risen and fallen
with the Georgian era. During the latter part of that
period, great improvements were made in all the imple¬
ments and materials of shooting. Double barrels came into
use, horse-nail stubs were employed in the manufacture of
301
Shooting.
To these be added a deco, to water.
to re/r,d abiy torein ttfS-e° oraSon Tth’, if 'f'f plf?":*• '’"ff"' f” ''ild, b“s« ^ fowls of forest, chase, ind warren,
and bounded with nnro 11 ^ ^or ^ls and pleasure; which territory of ground so privileged is meered
of vert for the sucronrnfJh^16-^^’ "T™’ and,boundaries> and replenished with wild beasts of venery or chase, and witlfgreat coverts
•nd pri,Cs beTo S e fthefl T 1° f°r 'he ‘»<1 continuance of which, /here are par.ieuT.r „Ers E
p. 143. " BeLs cl ZZlZZ”- TTlifVf' l,lT,S<\""' prol>er onl>'t0 a fore,t “nd no ‘>th«r I’h'ce." ManuxwTs Forest Zam
vol. i. p. 233 « A nurlien is ^ ^ y Y ’f ln^’ hare, boar, and wolf, but legally all wild beasts of venery.” Coke’s Institutes
“ A dioseis a priviCd n w T 1°^ " Was “^ted by the Charta de Foresta.” Manwood, 242. ’
commonly less than a forest and ^n/pndn °1 and beas‘s,of the lorest> and ‘s of a middle nature, betwixt, a forest and park. It is
having more officers and game than I naS F h f° T17 llb!rtles’as ^cers laws, courts, and yet is of a larger compass than a park.
,10t inclosed.” Manwood 49 147 E Rp^t^frh 18 3 ^ cha8e 19 not a forest- differetb Rom a park in that it is
“ A park is a Wenarll nf , Be.fts ?{the f;base are> ‘be buck, doe, fox, martern, and roe. ” Manwood, 144.
Game. “ The beastfof2"k ^nerTextnd' thT °l ^ th i grant’ 0r by Prescr'Ption' A park must be inclosed.”
fad. Game. P k Pl0Perly extend to the buck, doe, fox; but in common and legal sense to all the beasts of the forest.”
hares, conie^rnTtridges1 ^ PTf01’^?'1 °r grant of.the kin£’ for tlre preservation of the beasts and fowl of the warren, vi*
ner could no fol o v it butlrt fh Manwood’P; 44‘ “ If a Pheasant, or other bird of warren, flew into a free warrenX fdco
A decoy for wild fowl iA T" th • °f the owner of the warren.” Manwood.
ls allowed to fire a gun or cthendst'make aTt ’i S° ^ ^ the °Wner 1,98 tbe exclusive ri&ht to the birds frequenting it; and no person
g otherwise make a disturbance within a reasonable distance of it, without permission from the owner. ^
ono SHOOTING
;s decidedly the best; if it be in the winter season, a Shooti
Shooting, barrels, the patent breech and percussion-cap were irwem- % . preferable. Owing to having flint locks,
- - ■ed.and the wire-cartridge has since been introduced Not detonate ^ one occas.on) nlissell firei whlch ht
the least improvement has been that in the manufacture ot D y ded with most serious consequences; a large
gunpowder. The excellence of our guns ^d dogs has desirable. The best points to hit a bear or any
tended much to spread the love of ^00^n|;.7j1^dllsapS0rts. other animal, are in the forehead, in the breast, under the
come the most popular and universal of British field spo ^ ^ the back of the shoulder ; bullets p aced in other
It has been remarked, that England (Oreat Bntam) is pe ’ of the bod of an old bear USUally have little immedi-
culiarly the land of sportsmen, the very name being unkno wn p If the gnow be deep> and the bear is crossing
in all other countries. The observation is in a great mea- & he should a]wayg aim very low ; he must often in¬
sure true, for, if we look around the globe, jefind that d J die snow, if he expects to hit the heart of the
wherever wild animals are killed for the sake ot sport, it is , „
mostly by the Englishman. In Sweden the ^nghshman ^ ^ 82g it wag found necessary to destroy an elephant in
alone kills the bear for sport. The natives k 11 it tor the ,Change> A detachment of foot guards were cal ed
sake of reward, or to rid themselves of a noxious ne g^b • directed by surgeons where to fire ; and 152 bullets
Their method is generally thus: The 8 ® w^e fired before it was disabled. This proves how utterly
is summoned en masse, and several ineffectual the leaden musket ball would be in the forest,
armed, form a circle many miles cir^™ffeb^e;bicb Captain Harris, in his South African tour, in 1837, took
march forward until they meet m the centre, by w with him a double-barrelled rifle, carrying balls two ounces
means great numbers of bears, wolves, and lynxes^are de ^ no beagt ld stand before him
Englishman alone. In Africa, it is not so dangeren-** it is
the Englishman who hunts the lion, the hippopotamus, and ^ thought to be. He says, indeed, that during part of his
the giraffe. And in America, it is the Enghshman, or Eng- y u & ^ pasged witbout our seeing two or
lish settler, who hunts the panther, the bison, and the bear, ^ like the rest of the ammal creation, they
for sport; the natives do so from necessity. Since, Wen retreated when disturbed by the approach of
the Englishman is the universal sportsman, it behoves the ^ however troublesome we found the intrusions ot
officer, the emigrant, and the tourist, to ma e em ^ feline race during the night, they seldom, at any other
acquainted not only with what may be calle l e h^t Pi n ghewed the least disposition to molest us, unless we
ciples of sporting, but more especially with the sPorts Pe nced hostilities.” He, however, does justice to the
culiar to the countries to which they are proceeding, a of the maned monarch when he says “ those who
theoretical knowledge of which may be gleanedfrom the ^ ^ the monarch of the forest in crippling captivity
volumes which annually proceed from the pens ot our ad- immured in a cage barely double his own length, with
his sinews relaxed by confinement, have seen but the sha-
. i  4-Vv xiritn hlfi mil-
ingFlyLtow-DEER Shooting. There are only three kindsofFalk
deer in Great Britain; the red, the fallow, and the roe. The |
fallow deer, which was the dun deer of the days of Robin Hoo ,
The Rrte.V~ “.r'&y fire-arm, used by the ,p„r«= desert with hi, roll-
are the rifle, the musket, and the fowling-piece; the latter may
be classified into the swivel-gun, which is fired from a rest,
and the shoulder-gun. A short, wide-bored musket, chaig-
ed with a round or oval iron ball, was formerly used for t e ^ ^ue YVIJ1U11    .
destruction of such animals as the hon, tiger, or bear ln ^ ^ common deer of the parks. The positions of a stag at
modern times, the musket has been superseded by the ntle’ restwhen fired at may be reduced to three, for each of which
and the iron ball by a leaden one, hardened with tin and ^ aim should be adopted. First, when presenting
weighted with quicksilver. A short piece is said to be pre- ^ g.de to the sbooterj tbe aim should be low behind the
ferred to a long one for shooting tigers, bears, and the like, ghoulder< Se(.ondly, when standing obliquely from the shoot-
as it may be more readily loaded, and is more easily - ^ ^ ^ sbou]d be just under the ear, which is a vital
naged in cases of emergency; indeed we apprehend the > . there is t00 the chance, when this aim is selected,
shooter should seldom fire, except when the animal is Pf reachi tbe brain through the upper or back part of
near to him that if he aim coolly he can scarcely fail to ^ cheek, or of striking the animal in some other part of
lodge a ball. We subjoin the method of taking aim at wi d ^ neck which W;U generally bring him down or so disable
beasts from practical sporting writers. Captain Williamson ^ ^ he wiU be r°adlly recovered. It may be observed
gives the following instructions for shooting tigc . bere5 tbat the quickest mode of dispatching a dog, horse,
the motion of an animal through the grass be Pe™e^ed, other don?estic animal is to shoot them through the
nearest elephant should be halted; and its left shoulder ^ • t under the ear. Thirdly, when standing or moving
being pointed towards the moving object, ^ the niost ^ } shooter, the aim sl.ould be at the back o
& •• ^ • '• —A The hunter uireeuynu. ,   tb* nnrt aimed at
favourable position for taking a good aim.
should fire without hesitation, observing to proportion his
level as far within the space between himself and the tops
of the yielding grass as the height of the coyer may dictate;
bv this precaution, equally necessary when shooting fish that
are in any degree beneath the surface of the water, the iron
ball will, in general, take effect.” Mr. Lloyd says, “ If a
man purposes attacking a bear at close quarters, a double
directly irom me shuouji, me aim —
the head; thus a chance is secured, should the part ainL
not be struck, of lodging a ball in the neck or spine,
a deer is approaching the shooter, or standing with its hea
towards him, he should wait until he can have a cross, an
oblique, or a driving shot. When a deer is wounded, how
ever slightly, one or more dogs should be instantly sipp^
The dogs for this purpose should, as far as practicable,
> Oriental Field Sports, by Captain Thomas Williamson. London, 1805.
2 Field Sports of the North of Europe, by L. Lloyd, Esq. London,
» Wild Sports of Southern Africa, by Captain William Cornwallis Harris. London, 183 •
SHOOTING.
303
si
vj,
Mi
ing. bine the nose of the bloodhound with the speed of the grey¬
hound. A kind of wiry-haired greyhound is used for this
purpose in the Highlands.
D stalk- Deer Stalking. The red deer, which is larger, and
the roe-buck, which is smaller than the fallow deer, are
found chiefly in the uncultivated mountainous districts of
the North. To destroy the deer of an adversary was once
a mode of annoyance. Chevy Chase, it would seem, from
the three first stanzas of the famous ballad of that name,
was an expedition of this description :
“ To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Piercy took his way;
The child may rue that was unborn,
The hunting of that day.
“ The stout Earl of Northumberland,
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods.
Three summer's days to take,
“ With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need,
To aim their shafts aright.”
The pursuit of deer with the rifle is termed deer-stalking.
To kill the semi-domesticated fallow deer requires little skill
beyond that possessed by a good marksman. The skill of
the deer-stalker, in pursuit of the red deer, is not only de¬
pendant on a good use of the rifle, but is shewn in his abi¬
lity to find and approach deer; to do which successfully re¬
quires the most unwearied perseverance. Many of the
Scottish forests wherein the stalking of deer in their wild
state is practised, are of immense extent. It is on such
tracts of land as the forests of Mar and Athole that the red
deer is sought. The forest of Athole alone is said to be more
than fortymiles long,and in one part eighteen broad,ofwhich
about 30,000 imperial acres are devoted to grouse, 50,000
partly to grouse and partly to deer, and there are reserved sole¬
ly for deer-stalking 52,000 imperial acres. In these vast soli¬
tudes, the Highlander stalks the antlered monarchs of the
herd, harts which, a century ago, bore the scars of the wea¬
pons of his ancestors. An old Celtic rhyme which has been
thus Englished, shews the great age to which the deer and
the eagle are supposed to arrive.
Thrice the age of a dog is that of a horse ;
Thrice the age of a horse is that of a man ;
Thrice the age of a man is that of a deer ;
Thrice the age of a deer is that of an eagle.
So far as regards the age of the eagle, these lines contain
an assertion which can neither be proved nor negatived. It
is different as regards deer. There has long existed a cus¬
tom of marking fauns that have been caught, and as each
forester has a distinct mark known as his own, the age of a
marked deer can generally be nearly ascertained.
The deer-stalker has recourse to a thousand manoeuvres
to approach a herd or solitary stag. The animals are usual¬
ly descried at a long distance, either by the naked eye, or
by the aid of an achromatic telescope, and the mode of ap¬
proaching them entirely depends upon the situation in which
they are discovered. Should it seem impracticable to steal
upon them while at rest, the stalkers, armed with rifles, wait
in the defiles through which the deer are expected to pass,
whilst the attendants make a circuitous movement to get be¬
yond the deer and drive them in the direction required.
The deer-stalker, besides being an excellent shot, should
have good judgment of ground and a hardy frame, combin¬
ed with the patience and power to undergo extreme fatigue
and privation.
When the red deer is fired at, he is usually at a conside¬
rable distance, and perhaps bounding away at full speed. Shooting.
Behind the shoulder, therefore, is the favourite mark. “ In
killing deer,”1 says Mr. Maxwell, “ it is necessary to select
the head, or aim directly behind the shoulder. A body-
wound may eventually destroy the animal, but the chances
are that he will carry off the ball.” Mr. Scrope,2 whose ex¬
perience and success in deer-stalking render his remarks
valuable, says, “ the most perfect shots and celebrated
sportsmen never succeed in killing deer without practice;
indeed, at first, they are quite sure to miss the fairest run¬
ning shots. This arises, I think, from their firing at dis¬
tances to which they have been wholly unaccustomed, and
is no reflection upon their skill. It is seldom that you fire
at a less distance than a hundred yards, and this is as near
as you would wish to get. The usual range will be between
this and tw’o hundred yards, beyond which, as a general rule,
I never think it prudent to fire, lest I should hit the wwong
animal, though deer may be killed at a much greater dis¬
tance. Now the sportsman who has been accustomed to
shot guns, is apt to fire with the same sort of aim that he
takes at a grouse or any other common game ; thus he in¬
variably fires behind tlie quarry; for he does not consider
that the ball, having three, four, or perhaps five times the
distance to travel that his shot has, will not arrive at its des¬
tination nearly so soon; consequently, in a cross shot, he
must keep his rifle more in advance. The exact degree,
as he well knows, will depend upon the pace and remote¬
ness of the object. Deer go much faster than they appear
to do, and their pace is not uniform, like the flying of a
bird; but they pitch in running, and this pitch must be cal¬
culated upon.”
The interest and anxiety attending this sport must be as
intense as the pursuit is laborious. After climbing for hours
the mountain side, w ith the torrent thundering down the
granite crags above him, and tremendous chasms yawning
beneath him, the stalker, with his glass, at length descries
in some remote valley, a herd too distant for the naked eye.
He now descends into the tremendous glen beneath, fords
the stream, wades the morass, and by a circuitous route
threads the most intricate ravines to avoid giving the deer
the wind. Having arrived near the brow of the hill, on the
other side of which he believes them to be, he approaches
on hands and knees, or rather vernacularly, and his attend¬
ant, with a spare rifle, does the same. A moment of breath¬
less suspense ensues. He may be within shot of the herd,
or they may be many miles distant, for he has not had a
glimpse of them since he first discovered them an hour ago.
A moment, and the antlers appear; another, and the herd
is in sight. Resting his rifle on the heather, he takes a
cool shot at the finest hart, which falls; the rest bound
away; a shot from the spare rifle follows, the “ smack” of
the ball is heard, and the glass tells that another noble hart
must die. The dogs, which had been kept far back, are
slipped, and are out of sight in a moment. The sportsman
follows ; he again climbs a considerable way up the heights ;
he applies the telescope, but nothing of life can he behold,
except his few followers on the knolls around him. With
his ear to the ground he listens, and amidst the roar of in¬
numerable torrents, faintly hears the dogs baying the quarry,
but sees them not; he moves on from hill to hill towards
the sound, and eventually another shot makes the hart his
own. The deer is then gralloched, and partially covered
with peat; the horns are left upright, and a handkerchief
is tied to them to mark the spot, that the attendants may
find it at the close of the day. Let the reader imagine how
much the interest of all this is enhanced by the majestic
scenery of an immense, trackless, treeless forest, to which
domesticated life is a stranger, where mountain, corrie, cairn,
1 Wild Sports in the West, by W. H. Maxwell, Esq. London, 1833.
2 The Art of Deer-Stalking, by William Scrope, Esq., F.L.S. London, 1839.
304
SHOOTING.
Shooting, and glen, thrown promiscuously together, present the grand-
est of savage landscapes, which, as the field of wild adven¬
ture, cast into shade what Mr. Scrope calls “ the tame and
hedge-bound country of the south.”
The Fowl- The Fowling-piece. Before making choice of a gun,
ing-piece. the shooter should determine what weight he can conveni¬
ently carry. The heaviest gun, as regards shooting, will be
most effective, but he should recollect that unless he be a very
robust person, a light gun will, on the whole, bring him more
game, as a few additional pounds intheweightof a gun makes
a deal of difference in the distance a person can travel in a
day, and, moreover, he cannot shoot as well when fatigued.
The most approved guns under the system which pre¬
scribes a heavy charge of powder, and a light one of very
small shot, are double barrels, weighing, according to the
fancy of the shooter, from six to nine pounds, and bearing
the following relative proportions of length to guage: four¬
teen guage, thirty-four inches long; seventeen guage,
thirty-two inches long; twenty guage, thirty inches long.
Taking the season throughout, we are convinced, that the
most effective gun is a short, wide-bored one, each barrel
being charged with rather less than 1?? drams avoirdupois
weight of powder, and full 2 oz. of No. 2 shot, containing
220 pellets. This is the general charge, but it may be
varied according to circumstances. When game is wild, we
would charge the reserve barrel, and, on some occasions,
both barrels, with 2^ drams of powder, and a No. 5 blue
cartridge for partridges, and with a No. 4 or 5 red cartridge
for grouse shooting. No. 7 shot is best for snipe shooting.
Small shot may be used for partridge shooting in Septem¬
ber, though we do not see any reason for not adhering to
No. 2, except that birds very near the gun are liable to be
more disfigured by it.
Barrels twenty-six or twenty-eight inches long, and four¬
teen or sixteen guage, are of convenient size. We think
it will not be questioned that these barrels are as efficient
as long narrow-bored ones for short distances, viz. under
thirty-five yards, and nine-tenths of game brought to the
bag is killed within that distance. And for making long
shots, the wire-cartridge has obviated the necessity of using
long guns. A most material advantage attending the use
of a short gun is, the comparative ease with which it may
be carried. A pound additional weight at the breech is not
so fatiguing to the arm as half that weight added to the
end of the barrel; it is the top-heavy gun that distresses
the shooter.
Different proportions of powder and shot are required for
different sizes of shot. The following may be the proper
proportions for a gun not exceeding eight pounds:
Size of shot.
No.
2
3
4
5
6
7
Weight of shot.
Weight of powder,
drams.
H
r
1A
h
If
2
2%
These proportions cannot be materially deviated from
without destroying the effect. If the powder is decreased,
the discharge is weakened; if the powder is increased, the
shot spreads; if the weight of shot is decreased, there will
not be a sufficient number of pellets for effective shooting;
if the weight of shot is increased, the discharge is weakened.
The usual objection to large shot is, that after it has tra¬
velled thirty yards it becomes dispersed; but let the powder
be reduced to less than 1 ^ dram, and that objection fails. If
it is not overcharged with powder, a gun will shoot No. 2 Shoot
shot close enough to kill at from thirty-five to fifty yards,
with more certainty than if charged with small shot, and
two or three drams of powder.
It is not so much the velocity as the momentum of a
shot that renders it effective. The momentum of a shot
increases in a direct ratio with its weight. The momen¬
tum of a No. 2 shot much more than compensates for the
diminished weight of powder and additional weight of lead
that we have recommended. Large shot droops more than
small, and sooner comes to the ground, as it is not carried
with the same velocity. It is the momentum, and not the
velocity, that the shooter must look to.
We do not suppose that feathers or fur of game present
any serious obstacle to either large or small shot; but if
they did, the fact that large shot is most effective for shoot¬
ing wild fowl armed with down, at once tells that it must
be so for shooting game which is not so protected. Ano¬
ther advantage of large shot is, that when the aim taken is
not quite correct, a single outside pellet will often bring
down a bird, when it would require many small shots to do
so.
The shooting of barrels depends mainly on three things,
viz., the metal of which they are made, the boring, and the
breeching. The quality of the metal is of much impor¬
tance. All barrels expand when fired; and those made ot in-
feriormetal expand more than those made of stub-twist. Mr.
Greener, in his excellent treatise on the “ Gun,”1 says,
“ that a barrel is a spring on an extended scale, and the
more we can make it partake of the nature of a spring, the
better. If we must have expansion, let us have it in its
most beneficial form ; an expansion that will aid the pow¬
der in expelling the lead. This cannot be entirely obtain¬
ed, nor can the quantity of expansion be entirely destroyed,
though you were to make your barrels of the weight of a
twenty-four pounder. We must, therefore, decrease it, by
making our iron as elastic and tenacious as possible. The
qualities of elasticity and tenacity can only be obtained by
hammer-hardening the iron. Barrels hammer-hardened will
shoot as well without any artificial friction, as those whose
friction is extreme, yet have not yet been benefited by the
process.”
The term friction implies a gradual contraction of the bar¬
rel towards the muzzle, which retards the progress of the
shot, that more time may be allowed to the powder to burn.
“ The shooting of all barrels,” says Mr. Greener, “ depends
on a certain degree of friction. The degree of friction ne¬
cessary varies according to the nature and substance of the
metal. Those metals that require least shoot best. The
object of the friction is to create a greater force, by detain¬
ing the charge longer in the barrel. If, then, there should
not be an extra quantity of powder to consume, the friction
would be a decided evil.” A greater degree of friction is
generally allowed to a short barrel than to a long one.
A gradual expansion of the barrel towards the muzzle is
termed relief. Relief accelerates the progress of shot through
the barrels. What is the proper degree of relief or friction
for different descriptions of barrels, is a subject fruitful of
much controversy ; as is also the form of the breech. 1 he
best breech is that which will cause the greatest quantity of
powder to consume in the barrel.
Mr, Greener would not prevent the barrel expanding
when fired, by increasing its thickness, but by improving
the quality of the metal. When the barrel expands much,
or is held loosely when fired, a loss of strength is induced,
as that power which, if possible, should be exerted on t ic
shot, is uselessly expended in a contrary direction, whereas,
when the barrel is firmly fixed, and made of metal that on y
1 The Gun, by William Greener. London, 1835
SHOOTING.
ting, expands in a trifling degree, or, as Mr. Greener observes,
■/*** operates as a spring, that portion of the explosive force
which strikes in any direction, except against the shot, is
forced back, or rebounds upon the shot, and consequently
becomes a portion of the available strength of the charge.
Much of the force that is thrown on a solid fixed surface
is returned, but not that which is expended on an yielding
one.
Mr. Greener shews that much loss of strength is indu¬
ced by barrels not being firmly held when fired; and argues
that the mode of proving barrels by allowing them to fly
back into sand is defective, as, by reason of the projectiles
giving way in one direction and the barrels in the other at
the same time, there is not a sufficient strain on the barrels
to prove them effectively. On this subject he says, “ Let
any one take his gun and load it as usual; suspend it by
two ropes so as it can fly back; place a quire of brown paper
as directly in front of it as possible ; fire it, by squeezin(ir
the trigger and the back side of the guard together, so as
not to displace the gun; examine the impression the shot
has made in the paper. If they have stuck in at the dis¬
tance of forty yards, they have done well. Load again,
and fire from the shoulder, and you will find the shots
driven through a great number of the sheets. Load again,
but first take the barrels from the stock, lest you should
happen to break your stock, as I have seen “done by a
gentleman placing his gun on a stone wall; while he rested,
the gun by accident went off and shivered the stock into
many pieces, and severely cut his hand by the snlintering.
(So severe is the recoil from a gun on being fired, when
. resisted by a solid, unyielding substance. When fired from
the shoulder it is different, as the body yields to the recoil,
and thus prevents that which would inevitably be inflicted,
if the shoulder were placed against a solid substance.) Se¬
cure the barrels on a piece of wood, and behind place any¬
thing firm; for instance, a piece of lead sufficiently heavy,
and that will not injure the end of the breeches, technically
called the huts, when they strike it. Having secured them
perfectly, fire the barrel in any w^ay you can, and then ex¬
amine the force of the shots in the paper, and if you do not
find that they have penetrated further than they did when
fired from the shoulder, say my doctrine is false. It follows,
as a matter of course, from these experiments, that in shoot¬
ing, the more firmly a gun is held to the shoulder, the better
it will shoot.
"It is upon these experiments that I found my objections
to the practice of allowing best barrels, when proved, to fly
back into sand. Such a mode of proof is of no use. W'ere
they fixed like common barrels, the force of the proof
would be increased one-half. I doubt whether the present
method be any test at all. I am satisfied that the force ex¬
erted in this mode of proof on the barrel, is not equal to the
pressure of a large sporting charge, when fired from the
shoulder.
The fact that the shooting powers of a gun are increas-
• k ,!tS bein£ fixed in an immoveable frame, is proved
with the practice of mortars. Mortars on iron beds, and
these firmly embedded in the earth, will throw a shell
tarther when on the ground, than when placed on a plat-
orm, or on board a ship. It is for the purpose of destroy-
mg t e recoil, that mortars for sea-service, though of the
same calibre as those intended for land-service, are made
three times the weight. Dr. Hutton states, that he found
no advantage byretarding the recoil in practice with artillery.
^tneans, that no advantage is gained by stoppingat three feet
a gun accustomed to recoil to the distance of six. The state¬
ment is perfectly true. If he were to allow a gun to recoil
wnllrf1 • ’ then Strike against a solid substance, he
Wo •gam n0tlVn»- Fonl'it recoil ever so little, the shooting
ce is as much weakened as if it recoiled twice as far.
° increase that force, a steady fixed resistance is re¬
305
quired. The velocity of the projectile depends on the force Shooting,
of the immediate impulse. Before a gun, suffered to recoil, ''-'"V*'*-
could rebound from striking some solid substance in its re¬
coil, the charge would be gone, and could, therefore, re¬
ceive no additional impetus from that rebound. The truth
of this fact may be illustrated by throwing a hand-ball
against any loose body with sufficient force to displace it.
However hard or elastic that body might be, the ball would
not rebound from it, but would fall perpendicularly down.
Fix and secure that same body, and then the ball will re¬
bound with little less force than that with which it was
thrown against it. So it is with gunpowder. If it meet
with a firm resistance, it will rebound and project the bail
or shot with additional force.”
On Chargingthe Fowling-piece. It may be premised
that all powder, before being put into the barrel, is more or
less damp; and most barrels, especially if they have been only
imperfectly cleaned, or have been fired and laid by since
being cleaned, are also more or less liable to damp. A
portion, therefore, of powder should be flashed off in each
barrel immediately before charging, for the triple purpose
of expelling damp, proving whether the passage through the
pivots on which the caps are to be placed, is open, and
warming the barrels, so that any little moisture in the charge
of powder may be absorbed. The barrels are then held per¬
pendicularly and the powder poured in, in such manner that
the whole charge may reach the bottom; and a wadding is then
pressed down upon it. The shot is next poured in and an¬
other wadding pressed upon it. The shooter next removes
the remains of the caps, and looks whether the powder has
found its way to the orifice of the pivots, and if it has, he
places fresh caps on. If the powfler is not visible at the ori¬
fice of the pivots, he removes any obstacle with a pen-knife
or pricker, and contrives to push down a few grains of
powder.
W ire-Cartridges. I he wrre-cartridge(fig. 1.) was invent- Wire-car-
Fm. 1.
edin 1828byMr.Jenour. Itconsistsofacylin
drical case or net-work of wire, the meshes of
which are somewhat more than an eighth of an
inch square; at the lower end the wire partially
Closes; the wire case is then enveloped in fine
paper, and at the upper end a cork wadding,
cut so as to fit the guage of the gun, is af¬
fixed; thecaseis then filled with shotand bone
dust. The first cartridges made, though
ingenious in construction, were defective in
operation. It was a matter of no ordinary
difficulty to fabricate them in such a manner
that the shot should leave the case at the pre¬
cise distance required. This at first, could
not be done so that they might be trusted in every in¬
stance. Every alternate cartridge might fire well ; but
the rest would fire irregularly, being liable to ball; that
is, the shot would not leave the case until fifty or sixty
yards from the gun, and such cartridges were, of course,
not only useless but dangerous. They have been from
time to time improved, and almost every difficulty has been
overcome. The sporting cartridges now made never ball;
they act with a considerable degree of precision and cer¬
tainty; and that they may be safely trusted may be inferred
from the fact that they are often preferred by persons en¬
gaged in pigeon matches. Various materials were used ex¬
perimentally to fill up the interstices between the pellets,
but nothing seems to answer so well as the material now
used. Another difficulty in their construction presented
itself. It was requisite to accommodate them to the vari¬
ous methods of boring pursued by different gunmakers, and
the unequal length of barrels, the object in view being to
produce a cartridge that would suit all barrels of the
same guage; and this has been, in a great measure, if not
wholly, accomplished. The liabilitv to ball which, notwith-
2 Q
tridges.
306
SHOOTING.
Shooting, standing various improvements made in .them’
• - — 'effectually obviated for many years, during which they
were tried, and in many instances prematurely condemned,
either from real defects, or from the parties not knowing how
to use them. They were not brought to perfection until
th The wire-cartridges possess two principal advantages over
loose shot; they are propelled with greater velocity and
thrown more evenly. A loose charge is always thrown in
patches ; the shots of a cartridge, as seen on a target, a e
comparatively equi-distant from each other. There are fou
classes of wire-cartridges, which the patentees have named
the battue, the blue, the red, and the green; each intended
for a different range. There is some little difference in t e
construction of each of the three kinds ; the -eshe8 of die
frame-work are larger in the battue and the blue than in the
red, and in the red than in the green, and there are doubt¬
less other differences not perceptible to the uninitiated.
The battue and the blue cartridges are intended for genera
use; the battue for the shortest distance; the blues will
kill several vards further than loose shot °f the sa"16 size»
and of the four kinds, are, in our opinion, decidedly to be
preferred; each blue cartridge being thrown more nearly
alike, they are more certain in their operation than the re
and the green, which are intended for longer distances. The
red may be serviceable in open places, when game is wi ,
and the shooter is provided with a gun of not less than four¬
teen guage, or with a very short barrel, which does not
throw its shot very strongly. The green cartridges are in¬
tended chiefly for wild-fowl shooting; these should be used
in barrels of not less than twelve guage. The red and
green cartridges retain the shot in the case longer than the
others, and are carried with an astonishing force to an in¬
credible distance, and at the same time very closely. 1 he
red may generally be trusted for long distances, especially
from barrels of large calibre; but at short distances the
smallness of the circle they describe renders them objection¬
able. The green cartridges should never be used tor shoot¬
ing game. °The blue and battue only should be used in
barrels of small guage. . .
The wire-cartridges do not require either a greater or
less charge of powder than loose shot, but there is this pe¬
culiarity attending them. A heavy charge of powder throws
the shot from the cartridge more closely than a small charge,
by reason of its allowing more time for the escape of shot
from the net-work. This is exactly the reverse of the
manner in which the loose charge acts. The greater the
charge of powder when loose shot and wadding are used,
the more is the shot dispersed, and vice versa. Either loose
shot or cartridge shot is projected with greater force and ve¬
locity when a heavy charge of powder is used. W hen buds
lie well, we would recommend the shooter who adopts the
cartridge to charge lightly with powder, to give the shots
time to spread well; when moderately wild, we would charge
lightly with powder in the first barrel, and heavily in the
reserve barrel; but when birds are very wild, both barrels
should be charged with as much powder as the shoulder
can conveniently bear, so as to give the charge the greatest
possible force, and at the same time the greatest practicable
decree of closeness. It is at long distances that the supe¬
riority of the cartridge is conspicuous; when the loose
charge is used, the increase of force that is obtained by
loading heavily only tends to dispersing the shot, thereby
rendering the increased momentum of little avail.
Amongst the advantages attending the adoption of wire-
cartridges, it may be mentioned, that the recoil is not so
severe, and consequently a lighter gun may be used, than Shooti.;
with the loose charge, and this is a great relief to the ^
shooter in a heavy country, and especially on the hills m
August, when the heat of the sun is frequently overpower-
inp- The cartridges act well when fired from short barrels,
perhaps more satisfactorily than when fired from long ones.
The increased facility and expedition Or loading is another
advantage which should not be overlooked.
The main objection to wire-cartridges, and it is a ma¬
terial one to a person who is an indifferent marksman, is,
that they do not describe a sufficient circle at short distan¬
ces. When game is wild they are invaluable for the re¬
serve barrel of a double gun. . - ,
The wire-cartridges usually kept on sale contain, for the
different guages, the following weight of shot.
Calibre.
20 ..
19 •
18 .
17 .
16 .
15
Weight
of shot.
ios-
1
1
1
18
11
*4
Calibre.
14 .,
13 .
12 .
11 .
10 .
Weight
of shot.
. l|oz.
1-j,
If
l!
1^
When ordering cartridges, it is necessary to give the
auaqe of the barrel, the weight oi the cartridge, the size of
shot, and the description', that is, whether battue, blue, red,
°r The green cartridges, fired from a common-sized fowling-
piece, are not to be depended upon for any distance nearer
than fifty yards; and, for that reason, they should only be
used for wild-fowl shooting, for which sport they may answer
very well when fired from a reserve barrel. \Ve would not
recommend their adoption, even for wild-fowl shooting,
to a person using a common-sized single gun, since by so
doing he would hazard missing when the most favourable
opportunities of killing presented themselves. A No. 3 red
cartridge would suit better.
The wire-cartridge has been proved to be much superior
to the loose charge for the stanchion, and heavy shoulder
guns used on the sea-coast and rivers. For the largest
shoulder guns, B or BB loose shot, or a No. 1 cartridge is
usually adopted. A A loose shot, or a B or No. 1 cartndge
will better suit the stanchion gun.  
Taking Aim. As the manner of taking aim is a matter Tab:
of primary importance to success in shooting, a few obser¬
vations on that head may not be misplaced here. When
the dog points, or when birds rise near to him, the sboote
should immediately draw back both hammers with the right
thumb d but should the birds rise at a considerable distance,
to save time he need only cock one barrel, as in this case,
he has only to fire once. He should never be m haste, it
is more prudent to let the bird escape than to fire hastily.
If on open ground, he should not fire until the bird is at
least tu enty-five paces distant, by which means he avoids
on the one hand, the hazard of mangling it, and, on the othe ,
a probability of missing ; for at the distance of from twen -
five to thirty yards, whether the piece be charged wdh
loose shot or the wire-cartridges, the range of ^ "
charge will be wide, yet the pellets will be so close togethe
that nothing can escape, if the aim be true, and, what is ot
no less moment, the finger also obedient to the eye.
should be deliberate in bringing up the piece to his shoulder,
and in making it to bear on the object, but the mom
has brought it to bear, the finger should act in co-op6^
with the eye, the eye being kept open the while, so th
• Many coerced sportsmen disapprove of the practice of should 17*^74'toVmd'tteretteMke"
^“Lharged, itshon.d he put bach to the ha,fro*
and the left re-loaded.
SHOOTING.
S ting-
the shooter may see whether the bird falls, or feathers fly
from it; for if he does not, he may rely that there is some¬
thing defective in his system of managing the fowling-piece.
A shooter only requires coolness, a very little mechanical
knowledge, and a gun properly mounted. Possessing these
requisites, he will not be deficient in any other which he
will not be easily able to supply. The novice should
learn to shoot high enough at winged, and low enough at
footed game, and well forward at both. He should seldom
shoot directly at the object; but at the wing, if the bird is
moving obliquely from him, the head, if the bird is rising,
the legs, if descending ; but if crossing, or flying obliquely
at a considerable angle, he should make an allowance of a
few inches according to the distance of the object from him.
It is not usual to shoot at any object approaching the shooter.
It should be allowed to pass, when he turns round and fires
at it as it moves from him.
Tit -look. The Rook. We commence our notice of the different
kinds of shooting with the fowling-piece now chiefly prac¬
tised, with a few observations on those birds, not coming
under the denomination of game, which occasionally afford
the first lessons to the younger brethren of the trigger, and
which therefore may properly take precedence, in descrip¬
tion, of the more difficult branches of the art.
Young rooks, in the month of May, are generally shot
whilst sitting on the branches, near their nests, on the tops
of the loftiest trees, so that it requires a steady aim, and
hard-stricken shot to bring them down with certainty; for
if only wounded, they will frequently cling to the bough
with their claws, and die suspended in that manner. The
rook should be fired at with a small charge of rather large
- shot, and a heavy charge of powder. Rooks are gregarious,
and feed on grain, worms, and insects. It is only during
the season of incubation, and until the young ones can fly,
that they frequent the rookery, which is mostly a small
plantation, or clump of old trees, and near to some habita¬
tion. When rooks choose any particular cluster of trees, or
plantation to build in, the same trees will, if standing, be
tenanted again the next year by the same rooks and their
offspring, notwithstanding they may have been much fired
at, or in some other way disturbed. This opinion is not
universal. In some counties there exists a prejudice against
the practice of firing at rooks with gunpowder, especially
when the rooks are few, and the number of trees limited,
lest the rooks should desert the rookery ; and, therefore, that
as little alarm as possible may be created, they are fired at
with balls from the air-gun, and sometimes the young shooter
will try his skill with the cross-bow. The old rook is
distinguished from the young one by the thick end of
either mandible being w'hite; and the beak of the young rook
is black to the insertion. They are distinguished from
other birds of a somewhat similar appearance, by a slight
variation of colour ; the rook has a blue, the carrion-crow
a brown tinge, the jackdaw is partially grey, the raven is jet
black.
Alter young rooks have been fired at several times, some
of the strongest and best-fledged will quit the rookery, and
alight on hedges or trees at some distance, where the shooter
flushes them, and they afford good sport to the tyro learning
to shoot birds on the wing. A warm sunny day is best for
look-shooting. In cold weather, particularly on windy days,
young rooks will not quit their nests.
The Wood-pigeon. 1 he wood-pigeon is little regarded
by the sportsman. A shot may be obtained by lying in
ambush early in the morning, near to some wheat stubble,
T ^ newly-sown grain) where the birds feed; but
the best sport the wood-pigeon affords is at the roosting
places, where the shooter ought to take his station an hour
)etore sunset. It is difficult to obtain a shot ii\ any other
manner, except when the birds are young, when they are some-
iffles killed in trees, in the same manner as young rooks.
307
The ood-
plLV
The shooter in pursuit of game often sees them, but rarely ob- Shooting.,
tains a shot at them. Sometimes, but it is usually when he
is not aware of them, they will suffer him to approach close
to the tree in which they are perched. The tree is gene¬
rally a large one, and perhaps in full foliage, and the shooter
hears the rustling of the wings of the decamping birds, but
seldom secures a shot. Whenever a wood-pigeon leaves a
tree, the shooter should prepare for others, since, when
there are several in the same tree, they will not leave it
simultaneously, but move off in succession. They are
large strong birds, and require heavy shot to bring them
down.
Shooting tame pigeons is becoming a very common
amusement; but it is oftener practised to decide a wager, than
prove the skill of the parties. The Red House at Battersea,
near London, is the scene of the principal matches. The
birds are sprung from a trap, which is usually placed twenty-
one yards from the gun ; the birds of each person are pro¬
vided by his opponent; blue rocks are the favourites ; very
heavy guns are used, but the weight of shot is usually li¬
mited. The birds must fall within a limited distance
from the trap, or they are not counted amongst the success¬
ful shots.
The lark, field-fare, lapwing, golden plover, and dottrel. The Lark,
Larks and field-fares are often the object of the youn" &c.
shooter’s pursuit. Field-fares, the blue-backs and red-wings,
arrive in October, and remain during winter. They are
easily approached during a frost, or when the ground is co¬
vered with snow. They will then be found in search of the
berries of the mountain-ash, the holly, and the hawthorn,
and are killed in great numbers. Like wood-pigeons,
field-fares do not leave a tree, or rise from the ground
simultaneously, so that when one bird flies off, if the
shooter will hasten to the spot, he will, in all probability,
meet with a lagger.
The lapwing or pewit is a bird much sought for by the
juvenile shooter. Lapwings are commonly found on marshes,
or wet land abounding in rushes. Except during the sea¬
son of incubation, they collect in flocks, and are so very
wary as to be difficult of approach. They are often killed
for the sake of their toppings, which are useful to the an¬
gler. As they wing round the shooter, it is extremely dif¬
ficult to decide whether they are within range or not;
they should be within a moderate distance when fired at,
or they will escape in the interstices of the charge, as the
size of the body bears a small proportion to the apparent
size of the bird when on the wing. It is not uncommon to
see several feathers cut out of the wings, and the bird fly
away as if unhurt.
All these birds afford amusement chiefly to schoolboys.
The sportsman in pursuit of game does not think them
worthy attention ; but the golden or whistling plover, and
the dottrel, which are birds often met with in hilly districts,
aregenerally considered as worth firing at, if they accidentally
come in the way, but are not worth the trouble of follow¬
ing.
The Land-rail. The land-rail or corn-crake is a bird of The Land-
passage. It may be found with pointers or spaniels early rail,
in spring, in hedges or long grass. The dogs for this sport
should not be staunch ; such as will foot the birds are best
as it is with great difficulty they can be made to rise. It is
only during the first fortnight after their arrival that they
may be fairly killed in spring; after that time they begin
to pair. In August and September, the sportsman some¬
times casually meets with a land-rail, whilst beating for
other birds.
\V iim-FOWii. Wild-fowl shooting is practised in vari- Wild fowl
ous ways. The method of proceeding depends entirely on
the situation in which the shooter expects to find the birds.
In some of the inland counties, except during hard frosts,
they are not met with anywhere but on large pools and ri-
308
Shooting.
SHOOTING.
vers; and are only to be approached by having recourse to
some stratagem, as waiting in a shed, or on an island, m
on the banks of a pool, or stalking behind a horse trained
to the purpose. The largest shoulder gun that is at hand
mav be used charged with the red or green wire-car¬
tridges, the size of shot being regulated by the boie of the
F During a severe frost, wild-fowl are compelled to leave
the pools, and are then found in small rivers, brooksorin
drains where there are springs of fresh water. The fhgh
being broken, ducks are found singly or only few in num-
ber, and are consequently easy of access, andmay be shot
with a common fowling-piece. The size of sh
No. 2, or 3. Wild-fowl are so fortified with down on some
parts as to resist any but hard-stricken shot. Their back
t the most vulnerable part, and aM kinds of wild-fowl pre¬
sent it to the shooter ‘as they rise. They are also easi y
brought down when they present a cross shot, but when
approaching it is not advisable to fire at them. g
accompany the shooter, it should follow at heel. As the
shooter pursues the course of a river or brook, be should
keep out of sight as much as possible, and come suddenly
on every turn or winding. When there is a mist during a
frost, wild ducks will remain in the brooks and gutters all
day. The earlier in the morning the better for this sport.
Ducks may also be killed on the wing, on the verge o
n'udit, by the shooter lying hid near to fresh water springs.
Iflt be a dark evening, he need only wait about a quarter
of an hour, but if moonlight he may wait fbout an hour.
They may also be walked up on a moonlight night when,
if they rise above the horizon, they may be killed a-
most as easily as in the day time. The objection to mg it
shooting is, that birds knocked down are often lost, fhese
are the'principal methods by which ducks are killed by any
but professed wild-fowl shooters.
The larger kinds of wild-fowl, such as hoopers (wild
tneamJ and geese, can rarely be brought down by the
common fowling-piece, unless struck on the head or back.
Wild-fowl shooting, in creeks and harbours on the sea-coast,
is conducted in a very different manner, and on a larger
scale of operations. There are two kinds of guns used for
of shot for a punt-gun averages from ten to twenty oun- Shootiif
ces; the shot is much larger than any used for shooting
^The Colonel, and we apprehend he is the only practical
writer on this department of the subject, describes the va¬
rious kinds of punts (which are flat-bottomed boats or ca¬
noes, so constructed as to be manageable either on sands, or
in mud, or water,) used in several different counties, and
srives the following directions for shooting wild-fowl, from
a punt, with a large shoulder-gun. “ Sit down on some
straw or rushes, with your gun by your side, and take with
you a small Newfoundland dog. Row about, till you can
see or hear a flock of wild-fowl on the mud. To find them
sitting, if by night, look at first very low, so as to bring the
surface of the mud in contrast with the horizon, by which
means you will overlook the black edges of the creeks and
holes, instead of seeing, and perhaps mistaking them tor
“ When you have rowed within two or three gun-shots
of the fowl, take in your oars, and reconnoitre the creeks.
Having ascertained which is likely to be the best, he down,
and push along with the spiting pole or gunning .gwead,
and while the mud banks stand above the little channels,
you are so completely hid, that you will seldom fail to get
a shot, provided there is a creek within reach of the birds,
and you do not go directly to windward of them.
« On arriving sufficiently near, should the water be so
low that vou cannot present your gun at the birds without
kneeling or standing up, you must get aground at the side
of the creek, or steady your canoe by means of forcing
each oar from between the thowls into the mud, otherwise
the recoil of the gun will set her rocking, and thus you
might probably be tipped out. Having made all fast, rise
up and fire. Take care, however, to rise high enough
to be well clear of the mud, or not a feather will you
touch; and present as follows: By day, or moonlight, it
the birds are close, directly at them; or if beyond forty
yards, shoot at their heads; unless they are feeding in a
concave place, where the tide has left a kind of plash, m
which case you must level rather under them, or you will
only graze their back feathers. In star-light, take your aim
scale of operations, there are two kinds of guns use£ ™ • Rt the t of the narr0w black line, in which birds al-
the purpose, the shoulder-gun a,nd the punt-gtm .*ela J - • me who is low down , and when so dark
beffia fired from a rest, or frame, or carriage, either in a
boat or some other floating craft. Mr. Greener, to whose
work we have already referred, says, “ Never make duck
arms (shoulder-guns) above seven-eighths in the bore, it you
wish them to kill at a great distance, and not less than
fifteen or sixteen pounds weight, and full four feet
Colonel Hawker,1 who has devoted nearly one hundred and
fifty pages to the subject of wild-fowl shooting, says, ‘ I he
ways appear to one who is low down ; ,, , , .
that you cannot see your gun, present, as you think, about
a foot over, or you will most likely shoot above a foot un¬
der them. .
“ Should you have been successful, you wall, if at nignt,
generally hear your cripples (wounded fowl) beating on the
mud, before you can sufficiently recover your eyes, irom
being dazzled by the fire, to see them. \our man then
fifty pages to the subject of wild-fowl shooting, says, e ^ mud-boards, ’(which are flat square pieces of
barrel of a punt-gun, to be in good proportion, should, I co p , , . „nauje tj)e ,)arty to walk or
ceive, (including the patent plug, of about six pounds weig t, uooi as en takin°- the setting pole to support him,
and from two to three inches in length), be about seventy wade tough ^^tflecfrng the killed and wounded ;
or eighty pounds weight, from seven to nine leetAong, a ^ ^ cp^irp first the outside birds, lest they should
from an inch and a quarter to an inch and a half bore, ac
cording to the one length and weight, or the other, ihe
smaller the bore is, in reason, the further you can kil at a
small number of birds; but the larger size of these two shoots
the best, and is the most regular pattern. Any thing be¬
yond that size seldom answers.” Both these writers seem
to agree that the common punt-gun, though it weigh eighty
or one hundred pounds, cannot be charged to the extent oi
its shooting powers, bv reason of the tremendous recoil that
would result; but each advises that the additional weight
should be gained by using the barrels double. Thus more
than a double advantage would be secured, for not only
would there be two barrels at command, but the discharge
from each barrel would be more effective. I he charge
ana assist tne uug in uuncvt-iug “p- ,11
taking care to secure first the outside birds, lest they should
escape to a creek. During this time you are left in charge
of the punt; and should, if possible, keep a look out, in 0 -
der to see if any more birds foil dead or wounded from tlie
company, before they have flown out of sight.
« The gunner generally calculates on bringing horn
half only of what he shoots, from the difficulty oi catching
the whole of his winged birds, which he calls cripples, and
those that (to use the pigeon phrase) fall out of boun ’
which he calls droppers. If the birds fly up, he gene >
declines firing, knowing that the moment they are on t
wing, they become so much more spread, that ne co
seldom get more than three or four, for which it would
hardly worth while to disturb the mud; particularly
Instructions to Young Sportsmen. Eighth edition. London, 1838.
SHOOTING.
j ling, widgeon, by night, if not fired at, will, in cold weather, pro-
t ^^bably settle again at no great distance.
“ In following wild-fowl, it is easier to get within twenty
yards of them by going to leeward, than a hundred and fifty
if directly to windward, so very acute is their sense pf
smelling.
“ The best time, therefore, to have sport with a canoe
and a shoulder-gun, (provided it be low water, or half ebb,
while you are hid in the creeks), is in clear, frosty, moon¬
light nights, when the wind happens to blow towards you
as you face the moon. It is then impossible for the wild¬
fowl to smell you; and you may, by getting them directly
under the light, have the most accurate outline of every
bird, and even distinctly see them walking about, at a much
greater distance than a gun would do execution. From
thus being on the shining mud-banks, they appear quite
black, except some of the old cock widgeons, on the wings of
which the white is often plainly to be seen.
“ It does not follow, however, that nothing can be done
without a bright moon. So far from it, that some of the
best shoulder-gunners in the kingdom prefer but very little
moon, even for the mud. Here, by constant habit, they
can easily distinguish the black phalanxes of widgeons from
the shades on the places they frequent, and particularly if
they are feeding among the puddles which have been left
by the tide. In this pursuit, and when not favoured by the
best of light, there are a few cautions to be given to an in¬
experienced shooter. First, to ascertain that the black
patch to be seen is a flock of birds, which he will do, by
observing the occasional change of feature in the outside
- of it. Secondly, on approaching them, to be careful that
their enormous masses and tremendous noise do not de¬
ceive him in the distance, and tempt him to fire out of shot.
And, thirdly, not to be too eager in getting his dead birds,
as it sometimes happens, in hard weather, that the remain¬
der of the flock will again pitch down among them, parti¬
cularly if he has winged some of the younger birds, which
have not the cunning to make off for a creek, like the old
ones. In this case, a reserved gun would, probably, more
than double the produce of his first shot. It should be un¬
derstood, that this night shooting is chiefly at the widgeon,
as the geese, of late years, (since there have been so many
shooters), have seldom ventured much in harbour by night,
except sometimes at high spring tides, w ith a full moon;
and the greater part of the ducks, teal, flunbirds, and such
like, repair inland to the ponds and fresh springs, unless
driven to the salt feeding ground by severe frost.
“ A company of widgeons, when first collecting, may be
heard at an immense distance, by the whistling of the cocks
and purring noise of the hens; but when they are quietly
settled, and busy at feed, you sometimes can only hear the
motion of their bills, which is similar to tliat of tame
ducks.”
Geese, ducks, widgeons, hoopers, curlews, and other wild¬
fowl, are killed in this manner; but the most destructive
method of killing them is with the heavy staochion or swivel
punt-gun, used by the persons on the coast who make a
trade of wild-fowl shooting. W hen a fair shot can be ob¬
tained by this method, from twenty to fifty birds may be
killed at one discharge ; but it is laborious, wearisome work,
and, except for a single occasion, can scarcely be called
sport. This kind of shooting is carried on in the night,
usually in frosty weather, at which time sailing about on
water, or working the canoe through mud, cannot be ac¬
companied with very agreeable sensations.
The size of shot for punt-shooting should, in some mea¬
sure, be regulated by the size of the birds expected to be
met with, and their degree of tameness; yet it is well to be
prepared with shot of sufficient size, as hoopers, geese, and
other large birds, are sometimes found when least ex¬
pected
209
The Water-hen, §c—There are various kinds of wild- Shooting,
fowl, which will dive rather than fly away when disturbed,
They are, for the most part, clumsy birds on the wing, and
are killed wdthout difficulty when they can be made to rise.
When shot at swimming, the shooter takes aim, and fires
instantaneously, or they will be under water whilst he is
drawing the trigger.
Sporting Dogs. Before noticing the different kinds Dog*.
of game which are the object of the shooter’s pursuit, a
few observations on sporting dogs may not be irrelevant.
The shooter’s dogs are of four kinds ; the pointer, setter,
spaniel, and retriever.
Pointers and Setters. If dogs were unknown in Europe, Pointers
and some traveller from a distant part of the southern he-and setters*
misphere were to relate that he had seen a new species of
quadruped with wonderfully fine olfactory nerves, by the
aid of which it was enabled to hunt to death the hare, stag,
fox, or jackal, the tale would readily be credited; for the
instinct of the hound, as compared with that of other ani¬
mals, is not such as to excite surprise. But were the tra¬
veller to relate that he had seen a quadruped which, un¬
taught, would stand motionless, as if converted into a sta¬
tue, on coming in contact with the slightest scent of game,
lie would not be believed; it would appear incredible,
such is the extraordinary instinct of the pointer and setter.
We use the term extraordinary advisedly. There are other
animals, and indeed other dogs, which possess a degree of
instinct more nearly approaching to reason, but none pos¬
sessing so extraordinary an instinct, an instinct not analo¬
gous to that of any other living creature that we are aware
of. The pointer seems to be endued with it for the exclu¬
sive service of man ; whereas the instincts of all other ani¬
mals are conducive to the supply of their individual wants,
and their usefulness to man is secondary thereto. It would
be difficult to controvert the argument that this instinct was
given to the pointer fpr the purpose of aiding men to cap¬
ture or kill game, by means of such engines as nets or guns.
This, we are aware, may be a doubtful position to maintain ;
but who can say for what other apparent purpose this pe¬
culiar faculty was given ? It may, indeed, be urged, that
the propensity to point, in the pointer, is a means ordained
by providence for his subsistence in a wild state, by ena¬
bling him to approach within reach of his prey, and thus
to accomplish, by another species of stealth, what the tiger
a,nd other animals ol the cat tribe effect by ambuscade.
Such an argument, however, is presumptively rebutted by
the fact, that all existing races of wild dogs are gregarious,
and resort to the chase lor food; nor is there any record of
the existence of dogs in a state of nature, except those cal¬
culated for the chase. It is therefore gratuitous to assert,
that the instinct or faculty of pointing was bestowed upon
the pointer as a means of subsistence, since he has ever been
dependant on man for food.
It is strongly argued, that all dogs have descended from
one common stock, and that by difference in food, climate,
and training, they have become what they are at present;
nor is it more improbable that such is the fact, than that
the human race are descended from one common parent;
for dogs are not more dissimilar than the various tribes of
men, who differ not only in outward form, but morally and
intellectually, as much as dogs vary in size, shape, tem¬
per, and sagacity. Those animals which can be domes-
itcated improve by acquaintance with man, as the wild
fruits by cultivation. All wild dogs have some qualities in
common ; but their instincts are somewhat limited, or not
called forth. It is only in its domesticated state that we
find the various qualities which render the dog so useful a
servant to man. Wild dogs are, in comparison with do¬
mesticated dogs, what savages (for wherever they have been
found, savages bear some resemblance to each other, and
are engaged in similar pursuits) are to civilized society. It
810
SHOOTING.
Shooting, is inconceivable that the mastiff, terrier, cur, and number-
less other dogs besides the pointer, could ever have been
in a wild state, as they do not seem to be possessed of any
instincts or faculties that could enable them to subsist un¬
attached to the human race.
The long received opinion that the lion, as the king ot
brutes, is possessed of the highest degree of physical cou¬
rage, is exploded. The palm of courage is now awarded to
the dog. Courage, however, in the common acceptation of
the term, is not a characteristic trait of the pointer or set¬
ter, which are, perhaps, except the cur, the least courageous
of the canine race. The dog is the only brute animal that
prefers the society of man to that of its own species; and no
dog is more affectionate or faithful to man than the pointer
or the setter. .
England is not less famous for its horses than for its sport-
in0, dogs. Our grey-hounds, fox-hounds, and harriers are
unequalled, and that they are so results from the care that
has been taken to keep each species distinct. All our
pointers are, in some degree, of Spanish extraction, and
such of them as have most Spanish blood in their veins are
unquestionably the best. The Spanish pointer is about
twenty-one inches in height. He has a large head, is heavily
made, broad-chested, stout-limbed, with a large dew-lap;
his eyes are full, and widely apart, and his nose is broad;
his tail is straight, short, and thick, and his ears large, pen¬
dulous, and fine; he should have a round, and not a flat
foot. When pointing, he stands on three legs, one of the
fore legs being raised, and his face and tail are in a line
with his back. This is his invariable position when he comes
gradually upon the scent; but whenever, by running with
the wind, or from any other circumstance, he comes sud¬
denly upon game, he will stand in the most picturesque and
sometimes indeed grotesque attitude, frequently with his
body almost doubled. A pointer may be sometimes seen
standing with all four feet collected together on the surface
of a small stone on a wall when the birds are almost under
him. A very old dog of this description, when fatigued
with ranging and too enfeebled to maintain his point long
in the natural position, will sit down on his haunches with
his face towards the game, yet ever and anon turning his
head wistfully to see whether the gun be approaching.
Notwithstanding however the vaunted excellence of British
pointers, the generality of them are not such as they ought
to be. It is much to be lamented that the same care is not
taken in the breeding of pointers and setters as of hounds.
Scarcely two pointers are to be seen so much alike that a
naturalist would pronounce them to belong to the same
class of dogs, inasmuch as they are dissimilar in size, weight,
and appearance. There are, properly speaking, but two
classes, the Spaniard and the mongrel. Nearly all the
pointers we see are, in fact, mongrels, although each may
have more or less of the original Spanish blood. Such,
however, is the force of nature that a dog having in him
very little of the blood of the pointer may prove a very ser¬
viceable dog to the shooter. We frequently meet with very
good dogs, dogs deemed by their owners first-rate, which
bear little resemblance, in point of shape and appearance,
to the true pointer. Some have the sharp nose of the fox,
others the snubbed nose of the bull-dog ; some are slend¬
erly formed ; some long-legged, others short-legged ; some
heavy-bodied, others light; in short, there is every possible
diversity.
The attempt to lay down a written rule whereby to dis¬
tinguish between a good and an indifferent pointer would
be futile. How much of the blood of the pointer a dog
has in him will be read in his countenance, rather than in¬
ferred from his general shape and appearance. There is
an indescribable something in the countenance of a thorough ¬
bred or nearly thorough-bred pointer, which a little habit
of observation will enable the sportsman to detect with to¬
lerable accuracy, so that he may judge of the capabilities Shootirr
of a dog, as a physiognomist will read at a glance a per-'^v*
son’s disposition and ability in his countenance. It is to
the disciplined eye only that these all but infallible tokens
are discernible. . .
The instinct of pointing, we apprehend, is an inextin¬
guishable and indestructible principle in the blood of the
pointer, which, however it may be mingled with inferior
blood, will always, in some degree, manifest itself; and on
this ground we build our theory that the further any dog is
removed from the original Spanish pointer the worse the dog
is; and, consequently, that all attempts to cross the pointer with
any other blood must necessarily deteriorate the breed.
The grey-hound is seldom or never crossed to give him ad¬
ditional fleetness, nor the hound to improve his nose; why
then should the pointer be crossed with dogs which, in so
far as the sports of the field are concerned, scarcely inherit
one quality in common with him ? Attempts, however, are
constantly made to improve the pointer by a cross with the
blood-hound, fox-hound, Newfoundland dog, or mastiff,
sometimes with a view of improving his appearance, and
bringing him to some fancied standard of perfection; but
in reality inducing a deformity. One of these imaginary
standards of perfection is, that to one part thorough Span¬
ish blood, the pointer should have in him an eighth of the
fox-hound, and a sixteenth of the blood-hound. A cross
will sometimes produce dogs which are, to some eyes, the
beau ideal of beauty ; but however handsome such dogs
may be, they will necessarily possess some quality not be¬
longing to the pointer ; for instance, a cross with the hound
s:ives the propensity to trace hares, if not to give tongue. A
thorough-bred pointer carries his head well up when rang¬
ing; he will not give tongue, nor has he much desire to chase
footed game. The hound pointer may be sometimes de¬
tected by his coarse ears, by his tail being curled upwards,
and being carried high, or by bis rough coat. An occasional
cross with the mastiff or Newfoundland dog is said to in¬
crease the fineness of nose, but it is converting the pointer
into a mere retriever. The pointer, as we before observed,
is naturally cowardly, as compared with other dogs; there¬
fore, whenever a pointer is ferocious or courageous, it may
be inferred that the blood of some of the larger or stronger
dogs runs in his veins. Another and the main source of
the unsightliness of sporting dogs is the allowing an indis¬
criminate intercourse between pointers and setters. Good
dogs may be thus obtained sometimes, but they are invari¬
ably misshapen; they have generally the head and brush
tail of the setter, with the body of the pointer, and their
coats are not sleek, and instead of standing at their point,
they will crouch. When the sire is nearly thorough-bred,
dogs of a superior description, but certainly not the best
dogs, are sometimes produced by the Newfoundland or
some other bitch not strictly a pointer. We are not will¬
ing to allow that the pointer is improved in any quality that
renders him valuable to the sportsman, by a cross with the
hound or any other sort of dog ; though we cannot deny
that the setter is materially improved in appearance by a
cross with the Newfoundland dog, but what it gains in ap¬
pearance, it loses in other respects.
Breeding mongrels, especially crossing with hounds, has
given the gamekeepers and dog-breakers an infinity o
trouble which might have been avoided by keeping the
blood pure. The best pointer is the offspring of a pointer-
bitch by a pointer-dog ; such a dog is nearly broken by na¬
ture. The Spanish pointer seldom requires the whip ; the
hound pointer has never enough of it. One of the main
sources of the sportsman’s pleasure is to see the dogs point
well. A deal is said about this and that dog being remar
ably fine-looking; the only time to appreciate the beauty
of a dog is when he is ranging and pointing ; then let the
sportsman compare the real pointer with the spurious one.
SHOOTING.
9 uting. Courage1 is another attribute of the pointer; a high-cou-
raged pointer will continue ranging till he has not, as the
saying is, a leg to stand upon, even though he should not
meet with game.
The usual price paid for breaking a dog is from two to five
guineas. The breaker runs the dogs in spring, and again
in August, but without the gun; this, followed by a week’s
shooting in September, renders their education complete,
but unless they have sufficient practice afterwards, the ini¬
tiatory lessons will soon be forgotten. Young dogs will
learn more in six successive days, than in six weeks, if taken
out only at the rate of one day per week. The dog-breaker
should be a person of discriminating judgment, and possess¬
ed of a good temper; and the art of winning, not by brute
force, but by judicious management, an ascendancy over the
dogs entrusted to his care. Breaking dogs, when many
young ones are taken out together, is a very difficult and
tiresome task. One or more old staunch dogs are usually
allowed to accompany the young ones, to induce them to
back. A dog pointing is conscious of the presence of
game. A dog which backs another is not aware of the
proximity of game at the time, otherwise than by inference.
Whenever the dog in advance points, it is the breaker’s
duty to make all the rest that acknowledge the scent to
point, and all that do not acknowledge the scent should be
shewn the dog pointing, and be made to back, which is done
by the breaker holding up his hand, and crying, in an un¬
der tone, “ to-ho.” The dogs are taught to fall the mo¬
ment the game rises, or on the report of a gun. They
should come in on hearing their names or the whistle, and
' should never be allowed to pass a fence before their master.
The efficiency of the training which a dog has received
may be conjectured from his manner of quartering his
ground. He should range at a short distance in advance of
the shooter, alternately to the right and left; and this
should be taught rather by the motion of the hand than by
the voice. An offence should never be overlooked if the
dog seems conscious of it; but the breaker’s knowledge of
the disposition of the dog should be his guide in regulating
the punishment. Some dogs will not bear the whip, or
even rating, but require encouragment and good words on
all occasions. When it is necessary to flog a headstrong
dog, it should be done severely, the blows falling on the side,
from the shoulder to the flank. The lash or switch with which
the dog is punished, should not be made to lap round the
body, nor should the dog be kicked. When the dog is in
fault, and is very eager in pursuing the sport, no punish¬
ment that will be longer remembered, can be administered,
than making him crouch five or ten minutes. In common
with other sports, shooting has a vocabulary of its own.
We have elsewhere given a list of some of the words made
use of by the breakers and sportsmen to the dogs, which
we transcribe, many of them being anything but euphoni¬
ous to the unaccustomed ear. “ To-Ao spoken in an under
tone, when the dog is ranging, is a warning to him that
he is close upon game, and is a direction to him to stand.
There is no necessity for using it to a dog that knows his
business. Spoken in a peremptory manner, it is used to
make the dog crouch when he has flushed game, or been
otherwise in fault. Down-charge, or down-to-charge, is
used to make the dog, whether it be near or at a distance,
to crouch when the shooter charges, that the dog may not
flush game when the shooter is unprepared. When the
dog will not crouch, but continues beating, the leg-strap
m,ay put on. Take-heed, and he-careful, are used
^enthe dog ranges over ground where it is customary to
And birds. Take-heed, is a word of correction ; he-care-
311
ful, of encouragement. The former is used by way of cau- Shooting,
tion or notice to prevent the dog flushing birds by running
over the ground too fast; the latter is likewise a caution,
but used when the dog beats slowly or carelessly. ’ Ware
fence is used to prevent dogs passing a fence before the
gun. The dog should never, on any account, leave an
enclosure until its master has left it. 'TVare, or beware,
is used to rate a dog for giving chase to a hare, birds, or cat¬
tle, pointing larks, or approaching too near the heels of a
horse. Seek, is a direction to the dog to look for a dead or
wounded bird, hare, or rabbit. Dead is used to make a
dog relinquish his hold of dead or wounded game. The dog
should retain possession of wounded game until it is taken
from him; for should he suffer a bird that is only slightly
wounded to disengage itself from his grasp, another seek
becomes necessary, and the bird is either lost, or despoiled
of its plumage by the catching and re-catching. Some dogs
are taught to bring the game to their master. The breaker
should teach the dog, in all cases, to retain game until it is
taken from him, or until he hear the word dead, when he
should instantly drop it. The dog should be punished if
he break the skin with his teeth.”2
The most useful dogs are those which are best broken.
As much depends on the breaking as the breed of a dog.
Dogs should be constantly shot over during the season by
a successful shot, and exercised during the shooting recess,
by some person who understands well the management of
them, otherwise they will fall off in value. The half-bred
ones will become unmanageable, and even the thorough¬
bred ones will acquire disorderly habits.
We look upon the setter to be an inferior kind of point¬
er, perhaps originally a cross between .the pointer and the
spaniel, or some such dog as the Newfoundland, for it has
some qualities in common with each. The pointer has the
finer nose, and is more staunch than the setter. Pointers
are averse to water; setters delight in it; hence the ad¬
vantage of the latter on marshes to the snipe shooter. The
setter will face briars and gorse bushes better than the
pointer, which is in this respect a tender dog ; and for this
reason the setter is preferred to the pointer for cover shoot¬
ing. Besides, his being not so staunch as the pointer is an
additional advantage in heavy covers. The sportsman who
shoots over well-broken pointers, frequently passes game
in the woods, while the pointers, which are not seen by him,
are at their point; the setter, being more impatient to run
in, affords the shooter many shots in covet, which the over¬
staunch pointer would not. The pointer is always to be
preferred on open grounds. In hot weather the pointer
will endure more fatigue than the setter.
The Spaniel or Cock Dog. The spaniel is the best dog The Spa-
for beating covers, provided he can be kept near the gun.niel.
He is generally expected to give tongue when game is
flushed; some spaniels will give notice of game before it
springs, which may be very well where wood-cocks only are
expected to be found. Wood-cock and pheasant shooting
are usually combined; where covers are limited, pheasant
shooting cannot be conducted too quietly. Wherever the
underwood is so thick that the shooter cannot keep his eye
on the dogs, spaniels are to be preferred to pointers or set¬
ters, whatever species of game the shooter may be in pur¬
suit of. If spaniels cannot be kept near the shooter, they
are the worst dogs he can employ.
Retrievers. The business of the retriever is to find lost Retrievers,
birds. Newfoundland dogs are the best for the purpose.
They should have a remarkably fine sense of smelling, or
they will be of little use in tracing a wounded pheasant,
or other game, through a thick cover, where many birds
•nettle and^bottom^^a^applie^to'horses S^n^eS a w^^n®ness an(* ^etefmination to range; it is an union of the qualities known by the terms
The Oakleigh Shooting Code. London, Ridgways. Third Edition.
312
Shooting.
The
Partridge.
Plate
CCCCLXI.
SHOOTING.
» J . • -111X1W tTip swpr and in less than half an hour, if not prevented by the Shooti
have been running about ^ f00^ Yoind will presence of the shooter and his dogs, the whole covey will^,
bird on whose track he is first P^’ *s * ° d ht t0 ^ re.asSembled, probably in security in some snug corner,
that of a human being or deer. Thej should he taug where the shooter least thinks of looking for them. As the
bring their game or ,.ma"he shwttr season advances birds are longer in re-assembl ng after
wounded bird would be of no advantage tot dispersed. It is necessary to beat very closely for
We proceed next to give some description f ^ art a§ th do gtir for some time after
shooting game, in the course peculia- alighting, on which account dogs cannot wind them until
to confine our obseravtions to such of the habits an p ^ S them) especiaily as they resort to the roughest
rities of the birds and quadrupeds under noUce, M Y P dispersed. Birds dispersed afford the pnmest
sential the shooter should be made acquainted with, and at P often £autifill, the bird being
the same time to detail the means of proceeding most hkely ^ h ff rushes, or tuft of grass or fern, and
to ensure success in the P^ut ^ them. . , dose to the dog. When a bird has been running about
taxes precedence. Partridge shooting commences un me ^ of a ditchj no dog can wina it until close upon it, and
first of September, and ends on the first ot y, ^d the very best dogs will sometimes flush a single bird. In
the habits of the partridge at d‘ffe^nt b®a&° J \he molth Gf October, and afterwards, the shooter will find
be closely understood and studied by ^ d . difficult to approach within gun-shot of a covey, nor can
may be able, with a tolerable degree ^ ^ ^Tsperse the'm, except by firing at them when he chances
thefh at any given time. In the early part ot tne se , cioge them_ ghould he then be so fortunate
they will be found, just before sunrise, running to a , ^ ^ disperse a Covey, he may follow them leisurly, for
a spring, or marsh, to drink ; from which place they a I al hours ;n their lurking place, which
immedfately fly to some field where they ^ abun^- ^ as a patch of rules, a gorse
ance of insects, or else to the nearWt corn-field or st ^^h ^ ^ bottom of a double bank fence, or
field, where they will remain, according to the state o , ■ m wood. The length of time that will transpire
weather, or other circumstances, until nine or ten o c , I P di d vey win re-asSemble, depends, too, on
when they go to bask. The baskmg place Is commonly on ^^/XJhe day, Ld state of the weather. In hot
a sandy bank-side facing the sun, where the who e y the wil] lit; stiU for several hours. A covey dis-
sits huddled together for severa hours ^Aboht four ^ tbe morningi or iate at night, will soon re¬
o’clock, they return to the soibb es o t j assemble. A covey dispersed between the hours of ten
or^in a rough pas* and two, will be acme toe, in re-a^bling. A covey
Uie mg >   v,.,,!;!!,,,! tnerpther until morn
found in the morning in a stubble field, and dispersed, will
next assemble near the basking place. A covey dispersed
after two o’clock, will next assemble in the stubble held at
feeding time. A covey disturbed and dispersed late in the
afternoon, or evening, will next re-assemble near the jucking-
place. A covey being disturbed on or near to their jucking-
I « /-» i  ■ T—a Vk/-it * 4» f t*'
ture field, where they remain huddled together until morn-
in-. Such are their habits during the early part of the
season ; but their times of feeditig and basking varies much
with the length of the days. While the corn is standing
unless the weather be very fine or very wet, partridges will
often remain in it all day , when fine, they bask on the on - Pjaee. - “-“3h”onX perhips about two fields dis-
skirts, when wet, they run to some bare place in a shelter- pl»™, vv.ll seek a P l m their jucking.piacei
ed situation, where they will be found crowded toget ic , ’ q, ek another stubble field to feed in, and change
if basking, for they seldom remain long in corn or grass will seek another certain method „f
wlien it is wet. Birds lie best on a hot day. They are ^partridges from a farm, is to disturb them night
wildest on a damp or boisterous cay- nartridires in after night at their jucking-place, which is usually in a mea-
The Usual way of proceeding in search of Part"d^® , aclioinin- to aJ corn field, where the aftermath is suf-
September is, to try the stubbles first, and ne*j; the po J * or in a field rough with rushes, fern, thistles,
and tiirnif) field. Birds frequently bask among p heather When a covey is dispersed on a dry hot day,
or turnips, especially when those fields are contiguous ^ ,;ecesSary to search much longer, and beat closer, for
a stubble-field. 1 he best partridge shoo ing is ‘ , , disoersed birds, than when the day is cool, and the
^dUb A dog should be only slightly rated for
„ that case the headland will be a favourite resort of btrdb ^'a covey varies much, perhaps
After the middle of October it Is ever uncertain where The number or Dirusi ^ ^ some ^
birds will be foundf the stubbles having been pretty well the ^ after , fine hatching season, it
gleaned, birds do not remain m them so long as in the early ^ t0 see UpWards of twenty birds in a co-
part of the season. When d.sturbed at tins time they will is not o-common^te see^i P ^ ^ birds msy be
sometimes take shelter m woods, when they are flushed one ey, Birds are always most numerous
by one. The best shots that can he obtained at partridges darned a fhere are ,| Jnder-storms about
in Wllln’a^covtrseparates,X'shSr’wiU gefiemlly be f^mtesCsidts to etmTnts,'
a covey, he should proceed without loss'bf time in search and generally Wltll1" J - fair sportsman will
^ imrnetotely'tih’their - ^t^oM biMs, bn, will Cl in h,s dogs and ^
' The Oakleigli Shooting Code.
SHOOTING.
313
noting, the ground. At such times he should look well after the
^ young dogs, as, when they see the birds running, they are
apt to snap up such of them as cannot get out of the way.
The very young birds are called cheepers, from their ut¬
tering a scream as they rise. Full grown birds never scream
as they rise, except when the young ones are helpless, nor
do young birds after they are large enough for the table.
The cock partridge is distinguished from the hen by the
brown feathers which form a crescent, or horse-shoe, as it
is sometimes called, on the breast.
The pointer is decidedly the best dog for partridge
shooting. Markers and retrievers will be of much service
to the shooter whose object is to kill a great quantity of
birds, rather than to enjoy the sport.
] The Pheasant. The pheasant is the most splendidly
I asant. arrayed of undomesticated British birds. It is deservedly
I 2 in high request amongst sportsmen, and it claims the first
c clxi. attention of the game-preserver. The numberless plan¬
tations and coppices which are everywhere springing up,
afford yearly additional shelter. The pheasant prefers
woods of oak and beech, that it may feed on the acorns
and mast. The fine old woods consisting of these trees
may perhaps be diminishing, but they are more than re¬
placed by plantations of larch or other quick-growing
trees. Pheasants generally choose the larch or spruce-
fir to roost in, and plantations of this description, if near
corn, turnip, or potato fields, afford sufficient cover for
them. They are, in many counties, allowed to become
so numerous, as to do serious mischief to the labours of
husbandry.
During August and the early part of September, phea-
. sants will remain nearly all day in potato and corn fields.
Pheasant shooting commences on the first of October, and
ends on the first of February. In October, the shooter
usually meets with them in potato and turnip fields, deep
stubbles and rushy fields near covers, but especially under
hedges, holly trees, or in coppices near to covers. In such
situations they will suffer the shooter to approach very near
to them; they are generally pointed by the dogs, and, a
large majority of them being young birds, are easily killed;
but in that month the trees are so full of foliage, and the
briars and brushwood are so annoying, that it is seldom
possible to beat the woods with any degree of pleasure, for
not only are they almost impervious, but the pheasants are
seldom seen when they rise, or if seen and shot, are very
frequently lost, or not found without considerable loss of
time. It is in November, when the birds have moulted,
and when the leaves have fallen, and the brambles are de¬
caying, and the paths in the woods are beginning to be
worn, that pheasant shooting is in perfection. The birds
are then full grown, and also better fed than later in the
season.
It is not usual to kill the hens wherever pheasants are
strictly preserved; but it is necessary to kill the cocks where
they are too numerous. Pheasants do not pair, and as it
is better that there should be but few cocks, the shooter’s
being able to single them out and kill them, tends ulti¬
mately to the increase, and not to the diminution of the
number of birds in cover. At the commencement of the
season the shooter will frequently flush a nide of pheasants,
but in the after part of the season he will oftener find soli¬
tary birds. Pheasants will occasionally wander a consider¬
able distance from the wood to which they belong, especi¬
ally during winter, in search of food, and in wet and foggy
weather. 1 he pheasant basks at the root of a tree, or un¬
der a hedge, in the same manner as the partridge, but each
bird nestles itself separately. Pheasants approach nearer
to domesticated poultry than any other kind of game. Phea¬
sant shooting is most destructive where the plantations are
not more than forty yards wide; when the shooters remain
on the outside, while the beaters and dogs rouse the game
vol. xx.
within. The pheasant shooter does not expect set shots; Shooting,
his object is to cause the birds to rise as near to him as he
can. Having no notice of them, he should ever be on the
alert for snap shots.
A short double-barrelled fowling-piece, of wide bore, is
preferahje to a long one. The shot should be large, and
it is well to use plenty of it. A close-shooting gun is not
to be recommended to the pheasant shooter. The birds
should rarely be fired at in cover when more than thirty
yards from the gun, or they will escape wounded in the
underwood. They are generally brought down within
twenty yards from the gun. Pheasants are most plentiful
in Norfolk, Suffolk, and some of the adjoining counties.
There are some in every county in England, and in most
of the counties in Scotland. A perfect bird has a white
annular space on the neck, but this mark is often wanting.
The pheasant makes a considerable noise when rising,
sufficiently so to unnerve the young and over-anxious
shooter. The bird should be allowed to rise clear of the
bushes, and to its full height, before the shooter fires at it,
or it is probable he will fire too low; and again, the short
fan-like feathers on either side of the tail appear, as the
bird is rising, to be part of the bird, making the body seem
longer and larger than it really is; and this circumstance,
together with the rapidity of the movement of the bird
when rising, is the cause of the shooter firing too low. The
aim should always be at the head, unless the bird is cross¬
ing, and then well forward. Firing too soon, lest the bird
should be out of reach, is a very common error, particu¬
larly with young sportsmen.
For reasons which we have before adverted to, the set¬
ter, or cock-dog, is to be preferred to the pointer for phea¬
sant shooting. Pheasants will sometimes lie very close,
so that it is with great difficulty they can be made to rise ;
therefore dogs that will dash into the thicket are most use¬
ful. Beaters and retrievers are indispensable to the phea¬
sant shooter.
The Hare. The shooter seldom beats purposely for hares. The Hare
Birds are mainly the object of his pursuit. He chooses his
ground, and regulates the charge of his fowling-piece w ith
reference to the birds he expects to meet with. Hares are
started casually, as it were, while he is in quest of birds.
Leveret shooting often commences with grouse shooting,
on the 12th of August, though it is not uncommon, nor is
it considered unfair, to kill leverets during the summer
months. Hares are not in season until September. The
shooter should desist from killing them in February, but he
is not prevented from killing them at any season, by any
legislative enactment, if he have taken out a game certifi¬
cate. It is the prescriptive law of the chase, held sacred
by sportsmen, that prevents him.
In September, hares lie close, in hedges, in woods, or in
growing corn, and are somewhat difficult to be found. They
are scared from the woods by the leaves falling in autumn,
and they are then found, particularly after stormy weather,
in pasture and stubble fields. Dogs will frequently point
them. In November and December, they are often seen
on their seats, or forms, as they are sometimes called, by the
shooter keeping his eyes on the ground about eight or ten
2 R
314
SHOOTING.
Shooting, yards from him. It is usual, however, to allow the hare a
chance of escape, by starting her before firing at her ; it is
accounted unsportsmanlike to kill puss on her seat. In Jan¬
uary, hares are found on fallows, marshes, or in pastures, oi
in or near to gardens.
The shooter should fire well forward at a hare,,and not
too high. He should not fire at a long distance, as the pro¬
bability of his wounding her would be greater than that of
killing her. If running direct from him, a hare should not
be fired at, unless within twenty-five paces from the gun,
or she will often run off, though severely wounded in the
hind-quarters. A beater will render essential service to the
shooter in quest of hares, in the early part of the season ; the
beater walks on the contrary side of the hedge to the shooter,
and a few yards in advance, so that the hare, to avoid tne
former, jumps out on the side of the latter. W hen beating
hedges in the vicinity of covers, the shooter should take
care to place himself on that side nearest the covers. When
shooting at the edge of a cover, if the hare fired at is not
quite deprived of the use of her legs, it would be advisable
to fire again immediately, for should she crawl through the
hedge, the chances would be against her being retrieved.
bramble down the hole, and twisting it so as to entangle
the rabbit; but a more certain method, if the rabbit is not
too far down, is to screw the worm of the ramrod into its
body, and so drag it out, as a cartridge is drawn from the
barrel of a gun The best time for rabbit shooting is in the
evening, or during sunshine just after a shower, when great
numbers of the rabbits venture from their burrows.
The Bustard. The bustard is a rare but valuable acqui- The
sition to the game-bag. As it cannot be approached unless Busta:
the shooter takes advantage of some adventitious circum¬
stances, it is seldom an object of pursuit to the sportsman.
Bustard shooting commences on the first of September, and
ends on the first of March.
The The Rabbit. Rabbits are alternately deemed game and
Rabbit, vermin. They are sometimes shot for sport, sometimes for
profit, and sometimes on account of the mischief tney do to
trees and other vegetation. They sometimes seat them¬
selves all day long, after the manner of hares, but more fre¬
quently they remain the greater portion of the day in their
burrows. As they are shy of approach, and run under
ground on the least alarm, the shooter frequently finds it
expedient to hide himself at a little distance from the w ar¬
ren, and wait until they come out. Where rabbits are nu¬
merous, as in most warrens they are, some will be continu¬
ally playing within a few yards of the entrance of the bur¬
rows, and when found in such situations (for they are very
tenacious of life), they should be struck very hard, or they
will contrive to crawl, or rather roll into their earths, be¬
fore the shooter can pick them up. It is astonishing what
efforts they will make to escape, though three legs be bro¬
ken, when near to the entrance of a burrow. It is of little
use firing at them when they are more than twenty paces
distant from the gun. Rabbits afford more what are
termed snap-shots than any other game, as they are most¬
ly found in or near to plantations, or amongst brambles,
hollies, gorse or deep fern, in places of extreme difficulty.
It requires a quick eye and steady hand to stop a rabbit
running across furrows, or over uneven ground. Rabbits
for sale, or when destroyed as vermin, are oftener taken by
means of ferrets and nets, than killed by the gun. A short
gun, having a large bore, and charged heavily with powder,
and a small quantity of No. 4 shot, is best for rabbit shoot¬
ing. It would be well that a companion or servant should
lead a dog in a slip—a terrier is as good as any—to be loosed
the moment the gun is fired ; thus many a rabbit will be
secured, that would else have run into its hole. When
earthed, it frequently happens that a rabbit is not able to
crawl more than three or four feet deep from the surface,
where it dies, when it may be recovered by thrusting a
The Snipe. There are three kinds of snipes, viz. the soli- The Sri
tary or double snipe, the full or whole snipe, and the jack or
half snipe. The last is considered to be scarcely worth pow¬
der and shot; it is the full snipe which principally engages
the shooter’s attention. We have before given directions for
shooting this bird. “ The common or full snipe is a shy
bird when in company, but when alone will allow the
shooter to approach within a dozen paces ot it before it
springs. When it does spring, however, it moves with a
velocity that defies the epithet shiv ! It is best to shoot as
soon as possible. The shooter will bring down a snipe
with much less difficulty at from fifteen to twenty paces
than at any other distance. The aim is thus taken before
the bird begins to make its cross flights, and before it has
attained its full speed. The irregularity of its flight is of
little consequence during the first and second twirling, be¬
fore the bird is safely on the wing, since its flight is then
comparatively tardy. But let the snipe fly ten yaids from
whence it sprang,—let it be, for instance, twenty-five paces
distant from the gun, it is then at the top of its speed, and
in the very midst of its sidelong, elliptical gyrations, and
more than a match for the majority of shooters, especially
if the day be windy. A snipe killed at fifteen or twenty
paces distance, with No. 7 shot, the aim being true, wi
be struck by twenty or thirty pellets, but the chances are
more than twenty to one against the aim being true. I he
snipe, when struck, is generally three or four inches from
the centre of the cone which the shot forms as it flies, which
is very different from being in the exact centre. A section
of the body of a snipe does not present a surface as large
as that of a penny-piece. If any person will fire at a target
at fifteen yards distance, he will find that a snipe would not
be cut to pieces even at that distance, unless it chanced to
be precisely in the centre of the charge as thrown. When
speaking of a snipe presenting no larger a surface as a mark
than a penny-piece, we of course mean a snipe flying di¬
rectly from the shooter. It would be imprudent to shoot
at a snipe flying across at less than twenty-five paces dis¬
tance, as it then presents more than double the surface ot
one going straight from the shooter Thirty paces is the
distance we should prefer for a cross or oblique shot. At
thirty, or even at twenty-five yards, unless the barrel throws
shot remarkably close, there are interstices in the charge as
thrown, in which a snipe would escape untouched. *7.°'
vided the flight of a snipe were equally steady at all dis¬
tances, and that in every instance the shooter could choose
i joting. his own distance, a snipe would have the least chance for
i life at twenty yards. But there are two points to be at¬
tended to in determining the proper distance—the flight of
the bird, and the manner in which the shot is thrown. In
snipe-shooting the latter is subservient to the former. The
few full snipes occasionally found on heathery and rush-clad
hills, as well as in the enclosed grounds, lie much more
dispersed than the gregarious birds of the marsh. Hence
those found on the uplands are easy, and those on the fens
difficult of approach. It is, however, the same description
of bird that is found in both situations.” When the shooter
uses wire cartridges, which, by the bye, are not precisely
calculated for snipe-shooting, it would be prudent to allow
the bird to move to a considerable distance before firing.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that the shot used for snipe¬
shooting should be very small. When several snipes rise
together, they are styled a wisp.
SHOOTING.
315
T
\\ dcock.
The Woodcock. There is a proverb current among sports¬
men, that to kill a woodcock is to perform a day’s work,
which doubtlessly originated in the circumstance of a wood¬
cock being seldom found until a very large extent of wood
has been closely beaten by both men and dogs. In the
month of November, however, when woodcocks are most
abundant, it wmuld not be a difficult task, according to that
standard of labour, to do the w ork of a week in a day, in any
noted cover, for every cover frequented by woodcocks, (or
cocks as they are called in the sportsman’s nomenclature),
acquires a notoriety which it seldom loses, since any wood
we requented with cocks one year, has generally a fair
supply the next. . But whether the same cocks that fre¬
quent a wood this year, return the next, with their off-
spnng, or whether an entirely new set of occupants take
possession, we leave the ornithologist to decide. A certain
description of woods are seldom known to fail of woodcocks
uring the winter months; these woods or plantations are
such as are swampy, or have a stream of water running
tnrough them, or woods abounding in springs, or where,
rom the nature of the ground, or want of draining, the top
water encourages the growth of moss. The woodcock is
rarely tound where moss is not abundant. During a frost,
cocks are found near fresh water springs ; at other times,
they are most commonly flushed in the open glades of the
densest woods, or rather in those parts of the woods not
choked up at the bottom with fern, rushes, or brambles,
out where they can freely run about, and in those parts
ere willows, osiers, hazel-trees, or crate-wood is plentiful,
n sue i places it will readily be ascertained whether there
are cqeks or not, by the borings in the moss or dead leaves,
ana by the droppings. Should the cock not be brought
down, lt will not fly far after being fired at; it should,
hen practicable, be marked down, as by this means seve-
ai successive shots may be obtained at it when the gun is
unsuccessful. It is seldom that the skilful shooter springs
a cock which he does not eventually kill. The difficulty of
spring Sh?)°tinf,ai;iSes’ for the most Part> from ^e birds
WP: * S. 1” ^ tlllckest part of woods, and contriving to
Inffle t eir fl‘sht thr?uSh the trees> in suc‘h a manner as to
daffle the sportsman’s aim. After being fired at in a wood,
cocks will frequently alight amongst hedge-rows on the Shooting,
outskirts, especially under a hedge running close to and
parallel with a water-course, when they are easily killed
as they will not rise until the shooter is close upon them •
and their flight is not difficult to master when there are no
trees to obstruct the aim. Woodcocks are found in Octo¬
ber on moors, and in covers near the sea. About the last
week in October they find their way to the inland covers,
where they remain during the early part of the winter,
and they are sometimes found there again in March. A*
sharp frost, or a dense fog, at the end of October or begin¬
ning of November, is usually the shooter’s first intimation
°r i-u ■amval of cocks 5 and if lie is ambitious of the fame
of killing them, he must fag hard during the month of No¬
vember, or it is probable that his return for the season of
the numbers bagged will not be satisfactory. November
is unquestionably the best month for cock shooting.
i Grous<i- Grouse shooting commences on the The Ked
12th of August. We have already alluded to the vast ex- Grouse,
tent ot the northern moors. The number of birds killed Plate
on the opening day, on some parts, is very great. It isccccnxi.
not uncommon for an experienced and skilful shooter, on
the best moors, to bag fifty brace on the 12th of August.
What may be termed a good day’s sport, differs much on
different moors. On well-preserved moors, the average
may be from ten to twenty brace. On subscription moors,
the shooter should not be dissatisfied if he has the oppor¬
tunity of killing from three to five brace per day, during
the first week of the season, though this would be deemed
a low average for the Scottish moors. After the first week,
few sportsmen, except those residing in the immediate
neighbourhood of the hills, ever trouble the moor game.
Many causes contribute to the popularity of grouse shoot¬
ing, amongst which may be enumerated the following. It
commences during the parliamentary recess, and long vaca¬
tion the legislator’s, lawyer’s, and collegian’s holiday ; and
it is no wonder that after being cooped up all summer,
these, or any other classes of society, should seek relaxa¬
tion in the sports of the field. August is the season when
every one, from the peer to the shopkeeper, who can afford
the indulgence, either rusticates or travels. In that month
u6 15;asua tourist, the laker, and the angler, are often in
the North, when the temptation to draw a trigger is irresist¬
ible. Grouse shooting fascinates the young shooter more
than any other kind of sport, inasmuch as the season com
mences with it. The opening day is looked forward to
with pleasing anticipation all summer. To the more prac¬
tised sportsman, grouse shooting recommends itself bv rea¬
son of the superiority of the sport over every other kind of
shooting. Partridge shooting is a comparatively tame and
uninteresting amusement. Partridge shooting, as compar¬
ed with grouse shooting, may be termed domestic sporting.
1 o the majority of sportsmen, a grouse shooting excursion
only occurs once a year, and then lasts only a few days.
he sport therefore seldom palls; but during the long in¬
terval of time that elapses between each, the coming°sea-
son is ever looked forward to with additional interest.
Grouse shooting is, in many respects, a source of greater
expenditure to the sportsman: it requires more prepara-1
tion and is attended with more difficulties than any other
kind of shooting ; but these circumstances, whatever some'
people may imagine to the contrary, so far from detracting
from, serve to enhance the enjoyment of the sport; for we
are apt to estimate whatever is obtained with difficulty and
expense at a higher rate than what is gratuitously afforded
us. I o the lover of the romantic and the picturesque,
grouse shooting has attractions of the highest order. It is
the sport of all others peculiarly British : the partridge, the
p leasant, the black-cock, are widely dispersed over other
countries; but the red grouse is only found in the British
Islands.
316
Shooting.
SHOOTING.
There are seldom more than a dozen grouse in a brood;
'rarely indeed so many. Towards the end ot autumn, the
broods congregate together, and are seldom seen afterwards
until pairing time in'January or February, except in great
numbers. Broods thus associated are termed packs. When
it happens that the birds are well grown at the opening of
the season, and much fired at in August, they will pack be¬
fore September. When there is fine weather in August,
orouse, until the broods are packed, will suffer the shooter
to approach very near to them before they rise. In wet or
windy weather they are wild. Very few grouse are killed
by the sportsman after August; they are then scarcely ap¬
proachable. Grouse delight in tall young heather, when
there are plenty of bare places or pads or tracks. Hares
also, and cocks, and we may perhaps add, pheasants, in their
respective covers, delight in those parts where they can run
about freely. The brow of a hill is more likely ground
than either extreme heights or valleys, or flats. Solitary
birds lie better than broods. When birds are wild, the
shooter should follow an individual rather than a brood. It
is well understood by sportsmen, that the fewer birds there
are in a brood, nide, or covey, the better will they he.
Grouse bask on the sunny hill-side, oftentimes under a rock,
or in a stone pit, during the middle of the day, at which
time the task of ranging for them is toilsome in the extreme.
Grouse shooters should be accompanied by a guide and mark-
kers. The former is indispensable to a person not intimately
acquainted with every turn and knoll, during the mist that
nine mornings out of ten envelopes the hills in August. It
is inconceivable how completely bewildered a person who
fancies he is acquainted with every inch of ground may be
when surrounded by the haze. Neither sun, moon, nor
stars are visible; nor is there a fence, road, or building to
direct him. A stone pit, or mountain rill, are often the only
objects that present themselves, except the interminable
heather. The distant hills that would else be his guides,
are shut out from his view, which does not extend beyond
the range of his fowling-piece. At such times it requires
no ordinary precaution to prevent losing young dogs, which
can scarcely be prevented running off when a gun is fired
in the distance. During the continuance of the mist,
which generally disappears about eight o’clock, markers
can be of but little use, except that they may be employed
in carrving a basket, extra guns and shot, or leading dogs,
of which it is well to have a change. No dog can range
two days successively for grouse. Pointers, for reasons we
have before given, are preferable to setters, or any other
kind of dogs, for grouse shooting. Grouse shooters should
separate and range singly ; they should have no noisy at¬
tendants; nor any dogs that require rating. The sport
cannot be carried on too quietly. If the shooter throws off
before eight o’clock, which it is not prudent to do unless
there are many guns on the moors or foul weather is ex¬
pected in the afternoon, he should run only one dog as long
as the heather is wet, afterwards two, and in the afternoon
three dogs. In wet weather one dog is quite sufficient.
If hot weather, we advise rest from eleven to two. If the
shooter have not exhausted himself during the middle of
the day he will best fill his bag in the afternoon; he may
net, indeed, then find so many, but those he does find will
be dispersed birds that will almost lie to be trodden on.
An old shooter thus on a dry afternoon following a wet
morning will sometimes load himself or his attendant, after
the less experienced have left the moor disgusted, with
scarcely a bird in their possession. Shooters are generally
recommended to carry as heavy a gun as they can conveni¬
ently manage on the moors. It should be borne in mind
that*the heaviest gun will do most execution; but none ex¬
cept those accustomed to such exercise, can carry a heavy
gun with comfort all day long, exposed to an autumnal
sun. We would therefore not recommend barrels more
than thirty inches long, nor of a larger guage than sixteen, Shooti,
on account of the excessive heat of the weather at this sea-
son. As the sportsman, in grouse shooting, has ever an
opportunity of choosing his own distance when birds rise
near to him, he will be more certain of killing if he let the
birds fly twenty-five yards from him before he fires the
first barrel, when, if he have both barrels cocked, he will
have ample time to throw in the reserve barrel while the
birds are within reasonable distance. In nothing is the su¬
periority of the detonating over the flint lock more apparent
than in its allowing the shooter to fire the second so soon
after the first barrel. We suspect that the habit ot taking
the gun from the shoulder after the first barrel was fired,
originated in the necessity of waiting until the smoke from
the pan was blown away, which nuisance no longer exists.
A person who is a decidedly bad shot should not use the
cartridge in the first barrel, as the loose charge gives a
larger circle at a short distance, and consequently increases
the chance of killing.
The Blackcock. Black game shooting commences on the The
20th of August, and ends, with red grouse shooting, on the BlackD
10th of December. Black game frequent moors covered
with heather, but they are as often found in rushy fields, or
even in stubbles adjoining to moors. They are not met
with at any great altitude, but confine themselves chiefly to
the lower hills, or the base of the loftier mountains. They
are seldom found, except where there are plantations or
forests of fir trees. Black game do not frequent the cen¬
tral parts of large wastes so much as those parts bordering
on inclosed lands. Red grouse recede where civilization pro¬
gresses; and they are consequently in a fair way, at no very
distant period, of being banished from England. As a vast
extent of heath-land is not requisite for black game, there
is no room to fear their extinction for some centuries to
come. Although not so numerous as red grouse, they are
more widely scattered over England. Even in the south of
England there is cover congenial to them. Should both
black and red game become extinct in England, the hills
of Scotland will long afford shelter to each. With the ex¬
ception of the pheasant, black game is the only species ot
game not yearly diminishing in number in Britain. A full-
grown blackcock weighs the same as a fine pheasant cock,
about three pounds and a half. The female, which is call¬
ed the grey-hen, and ought never to be fired at, is much
smaller. Black game shooting on moors resembles red grouse
shooting, and in the woods, pheasant shooting. The black
cock is a magnificent bird, and an old one is ever deeme
a valuable addition to the contents of the game bag. Black
game have increased very considerably in England during
the last few years, still they are much more abundant m
Scotland. Sweden is perhaps the country best suited to
them. , T, (
The Capercailzie. Similar to the blackcock, in many re- ^
spects, is the capercailzie, or cock of the wood, once t. e
native, and now the denizen of the Highland forests. I he
SHOOTING.
g iting. capercailzie cock weighs sixteen pounds. Speaking of this
^ v^^bird, as it exists in Sweden, Mr. Lloyd says,1 “The°favour-
ite haunts of the capercali are extensive fir woods; in coppices
or small cover he is seldom or never found. The principal
food of the capercali, when in a state of nature, consists of
the leaves of the Scotch fir; he very rarely, however, feeds
upon those of the spruces; he also eats juniper berries, cran¬
berries, blaeberries, and other berries common to the north¬
ern forests; and occasionally also, in the winter time, the
buds of the birch, &c. The young capercali feed principal¬
ly at first on ants, worms, insects, &c.” It was the felling
of the timber, aided, perhaps, by the cross-bow, which is
not ill-adapted to the purpose, that exterminated this pri¬
meval habitant of the old Caledonian forests. Some years since
an attempt was made to re-introduce this bird to its ancient
haunts in Scotland, but without success. “ It is a pity,”
continues Mr. Lloyd, “ that attempts are not made once
more to introduce the capercali into the United Kingdom,
for, if the experiment was undertaken with judgment, it
would most probably be attended with success; the climate,
soil, &c. in Scotland, at least, not being very disimilar, in
many respects, to the south of Sweden. In Scotland, be¬
sides, independently of the natural forests, there are now
considerable tracks of land planted with pines, from which
trees, when the ground is covered with snow, those birds
obtain nearly the whole of their sustenance.” Since this
was written, several brace of these birds have been sent
over from Sweden; and on the estates of the Marquis ofBread-
albane the experiment of localising them »is in course of
trial. We believe they were procured by Mr. Lloyd him¬
self, and under his auspices, from his knowledge of the habits
- of the bird, we doubt not that the cock of the wood will be¬
come permanently established in the Highlands. It may be
inferred that the same description of country (the heaths and
forests being on a more extended scale,) which suits the
blackcock, would likewise suit the capercailzie, since, as
Mr. Lloyd observers, “ the capercali occasionally breed with
the black game ; the produce of which partake of the lead¬
ing characteristics of both species. Their size and colour,
however, greatly depend upon whether the connexion was
between the capercali cock and the greyhen, ov vice versa.”
In winter, the male birds congregate in packs after the
manner of black game. In Sweden the capercailzie is usual¬
ly shot with the rifle.
igan. The Ptarmigan. We have now for some time travers¬
ed, with the reader, the highest hills that are covered with
,xi. 1)eatller> but there are heights beyond. The poet says,
For Liberty! go seek
Earth’s highest rocks and ocean’s deepest caves!
Go where the eagle and the sea-snake dwell!2
It may be admissible in poetry to give the highest cliffs to
the kmg of birds, but zoology assigns a lower elevation to
e eagle s birth-place ;” yes, you may ascend above the
aerie of the eagle, where the croak of the raven is never heard,
where the fox and the weazel but seldom disturb the lonely
hi ,ou mayascen^ linf^»in the glowing language of
r. udie, “you begin at last to feel alone,severed entirely
fom the world of society, of life, and of growth, and commit-
ted to the solitude of the ancient hills and immeasurable sky.
ihe snow lies thick on the side of the summit, and even
peers over the top, defying the utmost efforts of solstitial
317
heat. There is no plant under your feet, save lichen on Shooting,
the rock, apparently as hard and as strong as that to which
it adheres it can hardly be said to grow—and moss in some
crevice, undistinguishable from the dull and cold mud into
which the storms of many winters have abraded the granite
You are above the reach of all sound from the inhabited
parts of the country.” And what do we find in this re¬
gion of snow ? “ A few mottled pebbles, or at least what
appear to be such, each about twice the size of your hand,
he at some distance, where the decomposed rock, and the
rudiments of what may be called the most elevated moun¬
tain vegetation, just begin to ruffle the surface. By and by
a cloud shadows the sun, the air blows chill as November,
and a few drops fall, freezing or melting in their descent,
you cannot well tell which. The mottled pebbles begin to
, move; you throw a stone at them to shew that you can
move pebbles as well as the mountain. The stone hits be¬
yond them; they run toward your feet, as if claiming
your protection ; they are birds, ptarmigan, the uppermost
tenants of the island, whom not even winds, which could
uproot forests, and frosts, which could all but comma] mer¬
cury, can drive from these their mountain haunts? It has
often been observed, that of all the human inhabitants of
the earth, the mountaineer, be his mountain ever so barren,
is the laat to quit; and the same holds true of the mountain
bird. Ihe same writer traces the different elevations at
which various species of game is found, beginning with the
pheasant, as the tenant of the lowermost woods ; the par¬
tridge, of the plain ; the blackcock, of the confines of culti¬
vation ; the grouse, of the lesser hills and mountain-side;
and the ptarmigan, of the snow-crowned summits. He also
adds, in these birds we trace a sort of resemblance to the
general colour of the places which they inhabit, though we
know not well the cause of the colour in either case. The
ptarmigan is mossy rock in summer, hoar frost in autumn,
and snow m winter. Grouse are brown heather, black game
are peat-bank and shingle, and partridges are clods and
withered stalks all the year round.” And we will add, the
capercailzie is the black branch of the pine. A similar
scale is appheatfie to the seasons at which these birds are
hatched. Although, taking each species individually, we
find the earliest birds in the warmest country and on the
richest land: collectively, the order is reversed; the higher
their location, the earlier do they arrive at their full growth.
Ihe ptarmigan is ready for the table before the period at
which it may be legally shot, the twelfth of August. De¬
scending the hill, we find the red grouse not three parts
grown at that period. A little lower, and the scarcely-
fledged black-cock rises almost helpless, on the twentieth
of August. Lower still, on the fertile plain, the young par¬
tridge does not assume his grey mantle and purple crescent
until long after the first of September. And in the warm
thefel/of thefleafi4 ^ ^ Pan°pIy °f S°ld Until
Few are the sportsmen who climb the granite cliffs, and
wade the winter snows in which ptarmigan delight to bury
themselves. A ramble there, is a journey of curiosity or
observation, rather than a sporting excursion. It is a pil-
gnmage to the loftiest Highland altitudes. The fowling-
piece becomes converted into the palmer’s staff; and the
sportsman merges in the adventurer, the enthusiast, the
worshipper of Nature ! (B# ^
fMeld Sports of the North of Europe 21?* • rn ~ ” ~
* T1,e Fe“t,lered Tribes °f Bri,“h % IW*« Mudie.
318
S H O
Shore, SHORE, a place which is washed by the sea, or by some
Shoreham. large river.
' -—r’' y * Count Marsigli divides the sea-shore into three portions ,
the first of which is that tract of land which the sea just
reaches in storms and high tides, but which it never covers ,
the second part of the shore is that which is covered in nig i
tides and storms, but is dry at other times; and the thir
is the descent from this, which is always covered with wa-
The first part is only a continuation of the continent, and
suffers no alteration from the neighbourhood of the sea,, ex¬
cept that it is rendered fit for the growth of some plants,
and wholly unfit for that of others, by the saline steams and
impregnations; and it is scarcely to be conceived by any
but those who have observed it, how far on land the eflects
ofthe sea can reach, so as to make the earth proper for plants
which will not grow without this influence ; there being se¬
veral plants frequently found upon high hills and dry places,
at three, four, and more miles from the sea, which yet
would not grow unless in the neighbourhood of it, nor will
they ever be found elsewhere.
The second part or portion of the shore is much more
affected by the sea than the former, being frequently wash¬
ed and beaten by it. Its productions are rendered salt by
the water, and it is covered with sand, or with the fragments
of shells in the form of sand, and in some places with a tar-
tarous matter deposited from the water. 1 he colour of this
whole extent of ground is usually dusky and dull, especial¬
ly where there are rocks and stones covered with a slimy
xn tt/0 r •
The third part of the shore is more affected by the sea
than either of the others ; and it is covered with an uniform
crust of the true nature of the bottom of the sea, except that
plants and animals have their residence in it, and the de¬
cayed parts of these alter it a little.
Shore, Jane, the celebrated mistress of Edward IV., was
the wife of Matthew Shore, a goldsmith in Lombard-street,
London. Historians represent her as extremely beautiful,
remarkably cheerful, and of most uncommon generosity.
The king, it is said, was no less captivated with her temper
than with her person. She never made use of her influence
to preiudice any person ; and if ever she importuned hi™) it
was in favour of the unfortunate. After the death of Ed¬
ward, she attached herself to Lord Hastings; and when
Richard III. cut off that nobleman as an obstacle to his am¬
bitious schemes, Jane Shore was arrested as an accomplice,
on the ridiculous accusation of witchcraft. 1 his, however,
terminated only in a public penance, excepting that Richard
rifled her of all her little property; but whatever severity
- might have been exercised towards her, it appears that she
was alive, though sufficiently wretched, under the reign of
Henry VIIL, when Sir Thomas More saw her, poor, old,
and shrivelled, without the least trace of her former beauty.
Mr. Rowe, in his tragedy of Jane Shore, has adopted the
popular story related in the old historical ballad, of her
perishing by hunger in a place where Shoreditch now stands.
But Stow assures us, that that street was so named before
her time.
SHOREHAM, a town of the county of Sussex, in the
rape of Brember and hundred of Fishergate, fifty-six miles
from London. It stands on the' river Adar, about a mile
from the sea, and has a bridge over that river. It has a cus¬
tom-house, which presides over that at Brighton. The har¬
bour is not deep, but useful as shelter, when the wind is
high, for vessels unloading on the beach at Brighton, although
there is scarcely any water when the tide is out. It is an
ancient place, ill built, with few good houses. The church is
old, and was originally monastic. It is a borough, which, on
account of bribery in 1771, was extended, to comprehend all
the forty shilling freeholders of the rape on which it stands,
and still continues to elect two members to the Llouse of
S H O
Commons. There is some trade in building ships, and a Sho:
considerable oyster fishery. A market, well supplied, is also Shoi
held on Saturday. The population was, in 1801, 987 ; in v'-,V|
1811, 980; in 1821, 1282; and in 1831, 1734.
SHORT, James, an eminent optician, was born m Edin¬
burgh, on the 22d of June in the year 1710. At ten years
of a<re, having lost his father and mother, and being left in
a state of indigence, he was received into Heriot’s Hospital,
where he soon displayed his mechanical genius, in construct¬
ing for himself little chests, book-cases, and other conve¬
niences, with such tools as fell in his way. At the age of
twelve he was removed from the Hospital to the High
School, where he shewed a considerable taste for classical
literature, and generally kept at the head of his forms. In
the year 1726 he entered the university, where he passed
through the usual course of education, and took his master s
degree with great applause.
By his friends he was intended for the church ; but aftei
attending a course of theological lectures, his mind levolted
from a profession which he thought little suited to his ta¬
lents, and he devoted his whole time to mathematical and
mechanical pursuits. He had been fortunate enough to have
the celebrated Maclaurin for his preceptor, who having soon
discovered the bent of his genius, and made a propei esti¬
mate of the extent of his capacity, encouraged him to pro¬
secute those studies in which nature had qualified him to
make the greatest figure. Under the eye of that eminent
master, he began in 1732 to construct Gregorian telescopes;
and, as the professor observed in a letter to Dr. Jurin, “ by
taking care of the figure of his specula, he was enabled to
give them larger apertures, and to carry them to greater
perfection than had ever been done before him.
In the year 1736 Mr. Short was called to London) at the
desire of Queen Caroline, to give instructions in mathema¬
tics to the Duke of Cumberland; and immediately on Ins
appointment to that honourable office, he was elected a fel¬
low of the Royal Society, and patronized by the Earls of
Morton and Macclesfield. In the year 1739 he accom¬
panied the former of these noblemen to the Orkney Isles,
where he was employed in adjusting the geography of that
part of Scotland ; and happy it was for him that he was so
employed, as he might otherwise have been involved m a
scuffle which took place between the retainers of Sir James
Stewart of Barra and the attendants of the earl, in which
some of the latter were dangerously wounded.
Mr. Short having returned to London, and finally esta¬
blished himself there in the line of his profession, was, m
1742, employed by Lord Thomas Spencer to make for him
a reflector of twelve feet focus, for which he received six
hundred guineas. He made several other telescopes o t e
same focal distance with greater improvements and higher
magnifiers ; and in 1752 finished one for the king of Spain,
for which, with its whole apparatus, he received twelve hun¬
dred pounds. This was the noblest instrument of the kind
that had then been constructed, and perhaps it has nevei
yet been surpassed, except by the astonishing reflectors o
Herschel.
Mr. Short used to visit the place of his nativity once every
two or three years during his residence in London, and in
1766 he visited it for the last time. On the 15th of June
1768 he died, after a very short illness, at Newington Butts,
near London, of a mortification in his bowels, and was burie
on the 22d of the same month, having completed his mty-
eighth year.
SHORT-Hand Writing. (See Stenography.)
Short-Sightedness, a certain defect in vision, by w ic
objects cannot be distinctly seen unless they are very near
to the eye. (See Optics). f
SHOT, a denomination given to all sorts of balls tor nre-
arms; those for cannon being of iron, and those for guns
and pistols of lead;
S H o
;-nshu,
Uel.
Case Shot formerly consisted of all kinds of old iron,
nails, musket-balls, and stones, which were used as above.
Shot of a Cable, on ship-board, is the splicing of two
cables together, that a ship may ride safe in deep waters
and in gi eat roads; for a ship will ride easier by one shot
of a cable, than by three short cables out ahead.
SHOUMSHU or Choumchoo, one of the Kurile islands,
the nearest to Asia, thirty-six miles in length and twenty
in breadth. It contains mines, which yield a small quantity
of silver. There are large lakes abounding with fish, and
the natives have an herb from which they extract brandy.
There are only forty-four male inhabitants, who pay tribute
to Russia. It is ten miles south from Kamtschatka.
SHOVEL, Sir Cloudesly, a distinguished British ad¬
miral, was born about the year 1650, of parents in the lower
rank of hfe. He was first put apprentice to a shoemaker;
but disliking this profession, he a few years afterwards aban-
doned it, and went to sea. He was at first a cabin-boy with
Sir Christopher Mynns, but having applied to the study of
navigation with indefatigable industry, his skill as a seaman
soon raised him above that station.
The corsairs of I ripoli having committed great outrages
on the English in the Mediterranean, Sir John Narboroudi
was sent m 1764 to reduce them to reason. As he had re-
ceived orders to try the effects of negotiation before he pro¬
ceeded to hostilities, he sent Mr. Shovel, who was at that
time a lieutenant in his fleet, to demand satisfaction. The
(ley treated him with a great deal of disrespect, and sent him
back without an answer. Sir John dispatched him a second
time, with orders to remark particularly the situation of
things on shore. The behaviour of the dey was worse than
-ever, and upon Mr. Shovel’s return, he informed Sir John that
it would perhaps be possible, notwithstanding their fortifica¬
tions, to burn all the ships in the harbour. The boats were
accordingly manned, and the command of them given to
lieutenant Shovel, who seized the guard-ship, and burned
our others, without losing a man. This action so terrified
the 1 ripohns, that they sued for peace. Sir John Nar-
borough gave so favourable an account of this exploit, that
ilr. Shovel was soon afterwards made captain of the Sap¬
phire, a fifth-rate ship. 1
In the battle of Bantry-Bay, after the Revolution, he
commanded the Edgar, and, for his gallant behaviour in
that action, was soon afterwards knighted by King William.
t e.xt year he ^as emP,0yed in transporting an army into
Ireland; a service which he performed with so much dili¬
gence and dexterity, that the king raised him to the rank
of rear-admiral of the blue, and delivered his commission
with his own hands. Soon afterwards he was made rear-
admiral of the red, and shared the glory of the victory at
a Hogue. In 1694 he bombarded Dunkirk. In 1703 he
commanded the grand fleet in the Mediterranean, and did
every thing m his power to assist the Protestants who were
m arms in the Cevennes.
Soon after the battle of Malaga, he was presented by
1 nnce George to Queen Anne, who received him gracious-
Tn ??n*nuXt year emPloyed him as commander-in-chief,
nf P f u 6 cTmanded the fleet’ together with the Earl
ot Peterborough and Monmouth, which was sent into the
; editerranean; and lt was owing to him chiefly ^ ^
Toulon T tMkfin; ^fter, an unsuccessful attempt upon
t onion, he sailed for Gibraltar, and from thence homewards
hifshinP f/nhe de1: °n the 22d of 0ctober> ** night,
Stilly P’ Wlth„thre? others, was cast away on the rocks of
the island °n Perisbed’ His body was found on
a va Si 0fScilly’b>: some fishermen, who stripped it of
purser or ^ forwards buried it. Mr. Paxton, the
fow, h?. A!'u,ldel> hearing of this, found out the fel-
thelindv °bhged them to discover where they had buried
mouth ^ n Ide ?arried 14 on board his own ship to Ports-
> y> ence it was conveyed to London, and interred
SHU
319
Shout
with great solemnity in Westminster Abbey. A monument
was afterwards erected to his memory by the direction of 0
the queen. He married the widow of his patron, Sir John Shukasku
Narborough, by whom he left two daughters. ‘ — ~
SHOUT, Clamour, in antiquity, was frequently used
on ecclesiastical, civil, and military occasions, as a sign of
approbation, and sometimes of indignation. Thus as Cicero,
in an assembly of the people, was exposing the arrogance
of Antony, who had had the impudence to cause himself to
be inscribed the patron of the Romans, the people on hear¬
ing this raised a shout to show their indignation. In the an¬
cient military discipline, shouts were used, first, upon occasion
of the general’s making a speech or harangue to the army
from his tribunal. This they did in token of their approv¬
ing what had been proposed. Secondly, they were used
before an engagement, in order to encourage and spirit their
own men, and fill the enemy with dread. This was a prac¬
tice of great antiquity ; but, besides, it wants not the au¬
thority of reason to support it; for as mankind are endowed
with two senses, hearing and seeing, by which fear is raised
in the mind, it may be proper to make use of the ear as
well as the eye for that purpose. Shouts were also raised
in the ancient theatre, when what was acted pleased the
spectators. It was usual for those present at the burning
of the dead to raise a great shout, and call the dead person
by his name, before they set fire to the pile.
SHREWSBURY, a town in the liberty"of the same
name, and the capital of the county of Shropshire, 156 miles
from London. It is situated on a peninsula formed by the
river Severn, which nearly surrounds it, and over which are
two stone bridges. It comprehends three parishes, with a
church to each, which were formerly collegiate, namely, St.
Alkmands, St. Marys, and St. Chads. The town was in an¬
cient times well fortified, and had a strong castle towards
tne north, a part of which still remains, and the keep has
been converted into a garden. There is a free grammar
school, at present in high repute, for communicating classical
instruction, which possesses some valuable exhibitions at
Cambridge. It is well endowed, and has a good library and
neat chapel connected with it. There is a county hall, a
jail, two bridewells, and a house of industry. The streets
are narrow, and some of them rather steep, and the greater
part of the houses are of ancient construction and fashion.
It is a borough, and the corporation has extensive judicial
power within the liberty, though it is now commonly trans¬
ferred to the assizes for the county, which are held here
Shrewsbury has some trade by the river Severn, and some
by a canal, which connects it with Ellesmere, and other
parts of the kingdom. The principal manufactory is that of
flannels, many of which, indeed, are woven in Montgomery¬
shire, and brought to Shrewsbury to be finished, but many
are made within the town, and of late years machinery has
been extended for that purpose. There are likewise some
linens, and some coarse woollen cloths made. The country
around is highly fertile, and the two markets, on Wednesday
and Saturday, are most abundantly supplied. The town
returns two members to parliament, and gives the title of
ear a"cient family of Talbot. The population was,
isSl, 2i,227 5 ^ ^ ^ 16,606 5 iU 1821’ 19’854 5 andi"
SHUGAWULPOOR, a large town of Hindustan, in the
province of Malwah, situated on the north-east bank of the
river Jummary. It consists of a fortified town or citadel, and
extensive suburbs, in which are some good houses, and an
extensive bazaar. It is a considerable market for shipped
Long. 76. 45. E.
muslins, 65 miles E.N.E. from Oojain.
Lat. 23. 24. N.
SHUKASKU, a large village of Irak in Arabia, on the
western bank of the Euphrates. It is a flourishing place,
and carries on a brisk trade with Bussora, the Euphrates
being navigable to this place by means of large boats. It
320
SHU
Shumsabad is surrounded by rich pastures; on which are reared nu-
Shuster. ^SHUMSABAD, a small town of the Sikh territorial pro¬
vince of Lahore, situated on the east side of the Jhylum
river, 100 miles N.W. by W. from Lahore. Long. 72.15.
E’SHUNDRABAND Y, a town of Southern India, in the
district of Tinnevelly, 40 miles S.W. from Madura. Lon0.
77.45.E. Lat. 3. 35. N. . ™ .
SHUS, a large mass of ruins in the provmce of Khu i -
tan, in Persia, eftending twelve miles from the Kerah to the
Ahzal They occupy an immense extent of ground, a a
are stpposedTby Major Rennel and Colonel Kmnerr, to be
“rTET“^"pal district of the province of
Khuzistan, in Persia, and composing a separatejovernmenL
It constitutes the finest portion of Susiana, being watered
bv four noble rivers, and a multitude of smaller streams, by
wliich means the land is fertilised, and rendered produc ,ve.
But the bounties of nature are here blasted by the oppre
sion and malignity of man, and the ignorant and rapacious
’ vc d' Pt iiia causing devastation and ruin over all the
™rnW s“rtteir sway. This wealthy province
accordingly, which was formerly rich in its productions of
suvar rice, and grain, is now a forsaken waste; from
the Abzal to the Tigris, and the river which Colonel Kmneir
considers the Gyndes, on the western and from the
banks of the Karoon to those of the fhat-ul-Arab, all s
dreary and desolate; and upon the east side ol Shuster, a
lonely wild, upwards of sixty miles in
that city to the entrance of the valley of Ram Hormuz.
Even in the most flourishing parts of the country, name y,
between Bundekeel and Dezphoul, the corn is reared by
the officers of the government, and the richer cxtizens of
Shuster and Dezphoul, the original cultivators of the soil
beino- all ruined by the heavy contributions imposed upon
them, and which had been exacted with such seventy, as
to drive them from their habitations. Ram Hormuz, which
forms part of this district, is one of the most rnmantm valleys
in Persia. It is ruled by five hostile cmefs, four of whom are
brothers, and have each a castle, from which they make fre¬
quent sallies, and carry off the corn and.f Ulef
1 Swttster a city of Persia, the capital of the province
of Khuzistan, and the residence of a Beglerbeg, is situate
at the foot of the mountains of Bucktian, on an eminence
overlooking the rapid course of the Karoon, across which
a bridge of one arch, upwards of eighty feet in height; hoi
summit of which the Persians frequently throw themselves
into the water without sustaining the slightest injury. The
streets, as in most eastern towns, are
though the houses are good, being principally built of stone ,
it is defended on the western side by the river, and on the
other sides by the old stone wall, which is now fallen into e-
cay The ruins which still remain attest the former magm
cence and extent of this city. Those most worthy of a en-
IkuP are the castle, the dike, and abridge. Part ofthewalL of
the former, said to have been the abode of Yalenan, are
still standing on a small hill at the western extremity o
town Ithon two sides defended by a ditch and on the
other two by a branch of the Karoon. It has but one gate¬
way, built in tile Roman fashion, and formerly entered by a
chain-bridge. Not far from the castle is the dike, built by
Sapor, across the Karoon, twenty feet in breadth, and four
hundred yards in length, with two small arches m the m.idhn
It is built of culstone, bound together by clumps of iron , and
having, from want of care, given way to the torrent, Prince
Mahomed Ali Meerza, governor of Kermanshaw, has rebm
it Over the artificial canal, formed by the building of this
dike is a bridge built of hewn stone, consisting of thirty-two
arches twenty-eight of which are yet entire. This city is
generallly believed to have been the ancient Susa, though
S I A
Colonel Kinneir, and Major Rennel, both good authorities, ShropsL
rather assign the ruins of Shus as the site of this renowned J
capital. Long. 48.59- E. Lat. 32. N.
SHROPSHIRE, or Salop, a county of England. (See^Y7
SHROVE-Tuesday, is the Tuesday after Quinquage-
sima Sunday, or the day immediately preceding the first of
Lent, being so called from the Saxon word to shrive, which
signifies to confess. Hence Shrove-Tuesday signifies Con-
fession-Tuesday, on which day all the people in every pa¬
rish throughout England, during the Catholic times, were
obliged to confess their sins, one by one, to their own pa¬
rish priest, in their own parish-churches; and, that this
might be done the more regularly, the great bell m every
parish was rung at ten o’clock, or perhaps sooner, that it
might be heard by all, and that they might attend, according
to the custom then in use. „ ,
SHROUDS, a range of large ropes extending from the
mast-heads to the right and left side of the ship, to support
the masts, and enable them to carry sail.
The shrouds as well as the sails are denominated from
the masts to which they belong. Thus there are the main,
fore, and mizen shrouds ; the main-top-mast, fore-top-mast,
and mizen-top-mast shrouds; and the mam-top-gallant, fore-
top-gallant, and mizen-top-gallant shrouds. The number o
shrouds by which a mast is sustained, as well as the size of the
rope of which they are formed, is always in proportion to the size
ofthe mast and the weight of the sail it is intended to carry.
Bowsprit shrouds are those which support the bowsprit.
Bumpkin shrouds are those which support the bumpkins.
Futtuck shrouds are shrouds which connect the efforts o
the topmast shrouds to the lower shrouds. Bentick shrouds
are additional shrouds to support the masts in heavJ
Preventer shrouds are similar to bentick shrouds, and are
used in bad weather to ease the lower rigging.
SHRUB, frutex, a little, low, dwarfish tree, or a woody
vegetable, of a size less than a tree, and which, instead o
one single stem, frequently puts forth from the same roo
several sets or stems. 4.
SHUTTLE, in the manufactures, an instrument usea
by weavers, which guides the thread it contains, either of
woollen, silk, flax, or other matter, so as to make it form .
woofs of stuffs, cloths, linens, ribands, and °ther fabric^by
throwing the shuttle alternately from left to right, and horn
right to left, across between the threads ofthe warp, which
are stretched out lengthwise on the loom.
In the middle of the shuttle is a kind of cavity, cal ed
the eye or chamber ofthe shuttle, in which is inclosed the
spoukwhich is a part ofthe thread destined forthewo^nd
district extends about 450 miles along nor*-«^ jst
This district has a considerable trade, which is car
by vessels from the coast of Coromandel, winch PP Y
e-oes of niece goods, and also raw silk, opium, and other ar
Ss whichtley provide at Prince of Wale^and or Ma¬
lacca, receiving in return gold, uax, sago,
fish roes, elephants’ teeth, camphire, rattans, an
canes. Spars and masts, and large supplies of frarae "
bemused to be imported by the Dutch East India Com
pany^for the use of Batavia/ The maritime power of the
kingdom of Siak has always been considerable.
The river Siak is one of the largest m the island, a d d^
charges itself into the sea opposite Malacca in N. •
From a survey ordered by the British governI"e^0iftown
of Wales’ island, it appears that front .Umou* »‘he W
of Siak, is sixty-five miles. The width of th
general from about a half to three quarters of am;
depth from seven to fifteen fathoms ; but on the bar at ^
water, there is only fifteen feet of depth, and there
veral shoals near its mouth.
Soi 'nd
protets.
SIAM, an extensive kingdom of India beyond the Gan-
^ges, situated principally between the 10th and 15th degrees
of north latitude, in the heart of the great peninsula be¬
tween India and China. It is bounded on the north by un¬
known tracts, that extend as far as Thibet and China; on
the south it has the Gulf of Siam and the Malay peninsula;
on the east it has ranges of mountains, by which* it is sepa¬
rated from Cambodia and Cochin China; and on the west it is
bounded by the Burmese dominions. The extent of this
kingdom, like many others in the east, appears to have varied
with the success of its arms. It formerly was estimated to
extend in length three hundred and sixty miles, by three
hundred in average breadth; but it has since been con¬
tracted by the encroachments of the Burmese within nar¬
rower limits. It may be considered as consisting of the
extensive valley through which the great river Menan
flows, on the banks of which all the principal towns are si¬
tuated ; and it possesses besides a great extent of sea-coast
along the Gulf of Siam, which is but thinly inhabited, as
the Siamese have an aversion to settle on the sea-coast,
from their dread of the Malay pirates. The valley of the
Menan is subject to be inundated during the rainy season
by the periodical floods of that river, the artificial sites of
the villages and the trees being the only objects that rise
above the expanse of the waters. It is only this part of the
country which is known to Europeans ; and it is an exten¬
sive flat, consisting of alluvial land, with many extensive
morasses, from which the exhalations under a tropical sun
are noxious to Europeans, causing fluxes, dysenteries, and
acute fevers. In those tracts which are beyond the reach
, of the inundations, the country is parched and dried up.
The country is described by those who composed the
British embassy which accompanied Mr. Crawfurd to Siam
in 1822, as rich and fertile in a high degree, and possessing
extensive commercial resources. This is almost entirely
owing to the peculiar fertility of the soil, very little of the
merit being due to native industry, except in the formation
of canals. It is to the overflowing of the river Menan and
its numerous tributaries, that this fertility is owing. The
country yields the most abundant crops of rice and of other
plants, which require a redundant supply of moisture.
Wheat is also reared on the higher grounds, but not in any
great quantity, so that it requires to be imported for the
use of the Europeans who reside here. All the richer pro¬
ductions of the tropical climates would also thrive in the same
place; but there is little industry amongst the people, who are
depressed by the tyranny of their rulers, and have no encour¬
agement to cultivate the country. There is no country in the
world w here ^11 sorts of fruits, the most luscious and exqui¬
site, arrive at greater perfection. The pine-apple, the ta¬
marind, and the banana, abound in Siam. Of the mangoes,
there are not less than thirty species, all excellent; and so is
also the coffee plant. The sugar cane grows to perfection,
though only for home consumption; for the rude natives
do not possess the art of refining it. The areka and the
betel-nut are produced; the latter is exported in consider¬
able quantities by the Portuguese in their ships, and also
in Chinese junks. Pepper, on the other hand, is not reared
to nearly the same extent as in Java. The cocoa nut is a
great resource to the indolent Siamese. It is applied to nu¬
merous uses ; its milk seasons many of the dishes, and the
oil affords an excellent seasoning; it is also used for torches,
and as a kind of pitch, which, when clarified, is well adapt¬
ed for painting. Here are, besides, many medicinal plants
and gums, and also oil of jessamine, benzoin, lack, crystal,
emery, antimony, oil, wax, lack varnish, wild cinnamon,
cassia buds, and iron wood, the last of which is much used
by the natives as anchors for their vessels. Cotton grows
abundantly, and is as fine as silk ; “ but,” says a European
visitor to this country, “ these wretches do not know how
to value it beyond stuffing beds and pillows.”
vol. xx.
Siam abounds in all the wild animals known in the tro- Siam
pical countries, which find ample cover in the deep forests v—v—
of the interior. The elephant ranges in the outskirts of Animals,
the kingdom, amongst the mountains and jungles which form
its eastern and its western boundary. The hunting of
this animal is a royal monopoly ; a great number are taken
every year, the finest of which are selected for the studs of
the king and nobles, and the rest are exported to other parts
of India. The white elephant is found in some parts ; it is
a very rare animal, and is so prized, that it has occasioned
wars between sovereign states. The rhinoceros also fre¬
quents the forests, whose skin is much sought after as an
object of trade. He is a dangerous animal when enraged,
and is not easily overcome, as his skin is so hard that it can
hardly be penetrated by a musket ball. But one of the most
numerous and most dangerous animals found in the woods
is the tiger, which grows to a large size, and is remarkably
fierce in the interior regions of Siam. The monkey race
are in vast variety, and spread over the cultivated fields,
which they speedily lay waste. There are numerous other
wild animals, namely, lizards of various kinds, cameleons,
tortoises, hedgehogs, and a species of porcupine, which
yields valuable bezoar.
The domestic animals are horses, cows, buffaloes, sheep,
goats, and elephants. Ihere is abundance of common
poultry; and besides, peacocks, pigeons, partridges, snipes,
parrots, and other birds. The horses are very inferior, the
best being imported from Batavia; and the same may be
said of all domestic animals except the hog, the flesh of
which is superior to the same animal in Europe. In¬
sects and vermin abound here as in other parts of India;
and the sea and rivers yield abundance of excellent fish,
on which a great proportion of the lower classes subsist.
There are besides lobsters and turtle of a good quality, and
the manjo fish, which is so much esteemed in Calcutta.
The mineral riches of Siam are but little known. It is Minerals,
inferred that gold must exist in the mountains, as it is col¬
lected in small quantities in the streams, by which it is
washed down. Iron, tin, lead, and copper, are likewise pro¬
cured, but in small quantities. The copper is of a good
quality. Iron is imported in considerable quantities from
Europe, no diligence being employed to procure it in the
country. The mountains in the interior yield diamonds equal
to those in Hindustan, also sapphires, rubies, and agates.
The Siamese, from the fertility of their soil, and the fa- Trade,
cilities of internal traffic afforded by the numerous streams
and canals which everywhere intersect the country, are less
dependent than most other nations on foreign trade. They
are supplied chiefly by the Chinese, who, from their simi¬
larity of character and other causes, are the only people per¬
mitted to trade freely here. The Chinese commerce with
Siam is said to be very extensive, and to employ no less
than from 30,000 to 40,000 tons of shipping annually in the
port of Bankok alone. It is to the supple character of the
Chinese, the long connexion that has subsisted between the
two countries, and the number of that nation resident in
Siam, that this great trade is to be ascribed. The articles
which chiefly attract the Chinese traders, are sugar, sapan
wood, of which 18,000 tons are exported annually, pepper,
cardamoms, sharks fins, birds’nests, beche de mer, hides, about
200,000 of which are exported annually ; bones of the ele¬
phant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the deer, and the buffalo;
indigo, cotton, wines, and a variety of smaller articles. The
Chinese traders, in their junks, arrive every year in Febru¬
ary, March, and April, from Hainan, Canton, Soukah, Amoy,
Ningpo, and other places. They take away, besides the
above articles, a considerable quantity of culmin. There
are annually about eighty vessels, mostly freighted by Chi¬
nese settlers at Bankok, or Siamese nobles, some of whom
engage in traffic. Rice and salt of the very best quality are
exported to all the European settlements to the eastward.
2 s
322
Siam.
SIAM.
Among the articles produced in smaller quantities, but
' which are still valuable for Indian or European cargoes,
are agil-wood, a perfumed or scented wood, benjamin, ivory,
and stick lac. Iron, formed into cooking utensils, forms an
extensive article of export from Siam. There are tour
American ships come annually for cargoes ot sugar, tor
which they pay in dollars.
Siam carries on a considerable trade with the British set¬
tlement of Singapore. This trade is chiefly managed by
the Chinese, either natives from China, or their descendants
settled in Siam, the Siamese being an indolent race, devoid
of the spirit of industry or of enterprise. 1 he vessels and
cargoes belong invariably to the Chinese. The principal
articles which they import, are British piece goods, or goods
of Indian manufacture, such as Bengal muslins, chintz,
gurrahs, and sannahs; gold dust, bees’ wax, gambier, rat¬
tans, tea, sago, sea-weed, cowries, and coarse paper, likewise
constitute articles of import. In addition to those articles,
cotton twist is much in demand. Amongst the imports into
Siam, opium is one of the most important, about two hundred
and fifty chests of this article being annually consumed, it is
brought chiefly in junks, from Penang and Singapore ; and
though a contraband article, for a length of time met with a
safe and speedy sale, the very persons appointed to enforce the
prohibition being the principal dealers. _ But since the laws
have been so rigidly enforced againstthe importation of opium
into Canton, and the whole stock seized by the Chinese autho¬
rities, the dealers of it being besides threatened with death,
and the British resident, Elliot, seized and imprisoned, the
same severities have been enforced against the trade in
Siam. The laws are equally strict against the importation
of the drug, a severe fine being the penalty, which, it the
offen ler cannot pay, as is commonly the case, his goods are
confiscated; and if the sum raised be still insufficient, he is
condemned, with his whole family, to perpetual slavery. In
June 1839 several unfortunate Chinese sailors were accord¬
ingly seized with opium on board, from Singapore, and were
cast into prison, where they w ere treated with great severity.
No impediment is offered to the admission of European
ships into the Siamese ports; nor are the imposts heavy.
The port charges for a ship of three hundred and fifty tons do
not amount to more than 1200 dollars, and the duties on im¬
ports are generally eight per cent., though many articles are
free. Sugar pays 3s. 2d. per cwt. The real impediments to
commerce, consist in the privileges of the king, who is, pro¬
perly speaking, the only merchant in the kingdom, as he claims
the right of pre-emption in the market, from which he de¬
rives a large profit. His agents are hard to deal with. 1 hey
regard foreign trade merely as a source of dishonest profit;
and European vessels are only admitted to give an oppor¬
tunity for extortion. It was to procure the abolition ot
those* oppressive monopolies that Mr. Crawfurds embassy
was sent to Siam in 1822. But he failed entirely to attain
this object. . ... .
The Menan, by which ships enter, discharges itself into
the Gulf of Siam ; but it has a bar at its mouth, to cross
which, the aid of a pilot is required. The southerly mon¬
soons is the best season for ships to visit Siam, and the
scription. Their names are enrolled in a register, and they
are bound to perform military service for six months m the
year; they receive no pay, carry their own provisions, and
are only provided with arms and accoutrements. rhe
country is divided into districts, and a chief is placed over
each, under whose colours they march to battle. Ihey
have made no progress in the science of w ar, and possess
neither discipline nor courage. Like the Burmese, they
trust to fortifications of stockades of trees, and posts encircled
bv a ditch. But the real defence of the country consists
the natural obstacles of jungles, morasses, and the
Sia
branches of rivers by which it is everywhere intersected.
Thev march without order, nor do they take any precau¬
tions* against a surprise. They seldom stand more than one
discharge, which is sure to frighten one or other of the par¬
ties engaged, when they quit the field in disorder. I heir chief
dependance is on theirelephants, which, when they are high t-
ened or wounded, become equally formidable to friends and
foes. There is nothing like a standing army. A body of
guards, composed chiefly of foreigners, who are attached to
the person of the sovereign, is the only force which is not
disbanded. They are chiefly Tartars, with a corps of
Mohars, who frequently display a desperate courage, how¬
ever, said to be owing to the stimulus of opium. A small
part of the taxes is levied in money, the greater part ot
the revenue being received in kind. .
The rules followed in the administration of justice, are
rude and barbarous. The tribunals are composed of three
members ; but the president alone decides. By the laws of
Siam, children are clothed for the first time, at the age of
four or five; and they are never afterwards uncovered tor
chastisement. Parents may sell their children. But they
never resort to this proceeding except from absolute
want. It is not true, as has been reported, that they sell
their daughters, if offended with them, for courtezans. 1 ie
duties between a pupil and his teacher are reckoned next
in importance to those of parent and child. I heir system
of education resembles that of the Burmese. Priests are
not allowed to become teachers of the female sex. ihe
principal object of their education is to enable them to
superintend their husbands’ affairs. Marriage is consid¬
ered merely as a civil contract, and the priests are not
called upon to assist in it. Polygamy is admitted, but is
onlv practised by the higher classes; and even they con¬
sider the first wife only as mistress of the house, whilst all
the rest are little better than slaves. In general, the lot ot
the females is severe in this country, the heaviest part ot
the labour falling upon them; nor are they allowed to eat
with their husbands, nor even to sail in the same boat; tney
attend no public amusements, but spend their time almost
entirely at home. In every intricate case, the ordeal is
resorted to as the easiest solution of all difficulties. 1 he ac¬
cused is required, as a satisfactory purgation of his inno¬
cence, to walk over red hot iron, or burning coals. Anotner
ordeal is by water, when the person who remains longest
beneath is declared innocent. Pills that cause vomiting are
also employed; and he on whom they first take effect is
adjudged guilty. But in some cases, the accused are sud^
soons is the best season for ships to visit Siam, and the adjudged gumy. xjul m suiiic which
northerly for retnrnmg to Hindustan, through the strait, of jected to the the * distinc
Govern¬
ment.
Malacca. Bankok, situated on the river near the bay, is
the chief place of trade. It is capable of making little de¬
fence against a European force ; it is indeed, in a military
point of view, quite defenceless; nor is there any fortification
at the mouth of the river, or all the way up to the capital.
A fleet of prows constitutes the whole naval defence of the
kingdom of Siam, the bar of the river affording a defence
against vessels of war.
The sovereign of this country exercises, as in other eastern
kingdoms, absolute sway. He has no hereditary nobility of
any3kind, nor any popular assembly to controul his supreme
will. The whole male population are liable to military con-
lecieu ujc ucinvuo ^ ^—&  ^ .
in their fury, will, it is supposed, make the proper is
tion between the innocent and the guilty. Ihe Puo'sJ
ments, as in all barbarous countries, are shocking by tneir
severity. Sacrilege is punished by fixing the head o
offender to the hearth, where it is consumed by a slow nre.
A stake is thrust through the body of assassins, in sue
manner as to cause exquisite pain. Noblemen are som
times subjected to degrading punishments, being condem -
ed to cut grass for the elephants; some are subjected to
pillory; others are allowed to languish in prisons in t iem
miserable state, or they are seen wandering about the ci y»
chained seven and seven together, begging their bread trom
v
SIAM.
E ion
Sci <?e,
lite are,
&c.
Alorflj ha.
ractei
door to door. They are confined at night within a circle
formed with stakes, and are obliged by turns, and at short
intervals, to call out their names.
The religion of Siam is the same system which has dif¬
fused itself so extensively over the east and north of Asia
which is variously designated in different countries, as the
doctrine of Boodh or Buddha, or of Gaudama, and in Tar¬
tary of Shamanism. The language of their sacred books,
like the Sanscrit and the Zend in Persia, differs entirely
from that in ordinary life, and is called Bali, apparently the
same Indian language which is called Pali by the Burmans.
The creed is singularly severe ; but the common people
escape from its austerities, as they believe that a rigid ad¬
herence to its maxims is only prescribed to the priests, to
whose mortifications they trust as an atonement for their
errors. They have an order of monks professing celibacy,
and residing in convents. They harangue the people from
morning to night, who not only express their feelings in
murmurs of applause, but load the preacher with costly gifts.
Their temples are distinguished above all those in Asia, by
their magnificence, and by the gigantic statues which they
contain. The principal pagoda in the city is of a long and
narrow form, covered externally with tin, whilst the interior
is one complete blaze of gold, and contains an idol, forty-five
feet in height, which reaches to the roof, and is said to be
composed entirely of that precious metal.
fhe Siamese have made scarcely any advances either in
science or literature. Their progress in mathematics is not
great, their attention being confined chiefly to arithmetic,
on account of its utility in commerce. They know little
of astronomy beyond some of its humblest practical appli-
' cations. They first learned from Cassini to find out the
place of the sun and moon by calculation. But they have
not turned their knowledge to any account in navigation,
theii junks making use merely of the compass, and creep¬
ing where they can along the coasts for safety. Time is
measured by vessels having a small hole perforated and
placed in a tub of water, the construction of clocks being
beyond their mechanical powers. Their system of medi¬
cine is equally imperfect, consisting chiefly in certain re¬
ceipts, the virtues of which they say have been ascertained
by experience. They are entire strangers to anatomy, hav¬
ing a religious scruple against opening dead bodies. They
are fond, like many other barbarous nations, of music and
poetry, and their bards are chiefly exercised in songs and in
impromptu recitations. Their festivals and pleasure ex¬
cursions upon the water are always enlivened with music.
Their taste, however, appears to be equally rude in this as
in all other arte or sciences. Instrumental music is chiefly
valued on account of its loudness; the organ is preferred
on this account to any other European instrument; and
next to it hautboys, drums, trumpets, and fifes. Their
theatrical amusements are, as might be expected, extreme¬
ly rude, consisting of extravagant fables or gross carica¬
tures, often levelled against the reigning monarch, or
against persons in power, who choose to wink at these li¬
berties, being the only vehicle of public opinion. Dancing
and wrestling are amongst their most favourite amusements;
and their puppet shows, the theatrical exhibitions in which
they chiefly delight, are got up with great parade and ex¬
pense by the king and the nobles for the amusement of the
people.
The moral character and habits of the Siamese are rated
extremely low by those travellers who have visited the
country. From the highest to the lowest, they are, accord-
mgto their account, mean, cowardly, and mercenary. Like
most of the Eastern nations, they have no regard to truth.
86 ‘^d qualities are perceived in every action of their
ilVeS iii ^lc^r raPacity in their intercourse with strangers
well known. To increase their wealth and promote their
own interest, form the lasting object of all classes, which is
323
Siam.
pursued by every indirect and fraudulent practice. Timi¬
dity is a remarkable characteristic of the nation, insomuch
that two Europeans would put to flight fifty of them ; and
the doctiine that cruelty and cowardice go together, is ex¬
emplified in theii treatment of those who are made prison¬
ers in their wars with the Burmese, or are kidnapped on the
frontier; they are employed in public works of the most
servile nature, with chains about their necks, legs, and feet,
and are condemned to this degradation for life. Amongst
their other evil propensities they carry on gambling to a
great excess; and some have attributed the low state to
which trade has occasionally fallen, to a species of lottery,
in which all classes engage, and which is countenanced by
the king. To such a length is the rage for these gambling
speculations carried, that it is the cause of serious disorders.
The victims of this vice, impoverished, and reduced to naked¬
ness, betake themselves to open and lawless violence for sub¬
sistence. They follow robbing as a trade, and herd together
in bands, so that it is not safe to venture out in decent attire,
as they plunder openly, and commit daily murders.
Europeans have no very accurate knowledge of the sta- Population
tistics of Siam, and the estimate of the population by differ¬
ent travellers is rather conjectural. According to such im¬
perfect statements as have been received, the entire popu¬
lation of the country was stated at four millions. The in¬
habitants resemble the Chineseand Mongols in their features;
they have a broad face, and very prominent cheek bones,'
whilst the remainder of their cheek has rather a hollow ap¬
pearance. The eyes are small, with a deep yellow tinge
in the white part; the mouth large, and the lips thick and
full. Both males and females take as much pains to blacken
their teeth, as the Europeans do to preserve them white. The
men eiadicate their beards, but allow their nails to lengthen
like the Chinese. They are extremely gross feeders, eat¬
ing rats, buzzards, grasshoppers, and other insects. They
are, as has been already stated, indolent, and have made no
progress in mechanical arts, nor in agriculture. It is chief¬
ly by the Chinese that the country is cultivated, and that
sugar and other productions are raised. They, along with
the Portuguese settled here, manage the commerce that is
earned on. They are strangers to the making of silk and
woollen cloths ; and even the fabrics of cotton are not near¬
ly on the same scale as in Hindustan. Their artists in ‘mid
are however remarkably expert, and their fillagree work is
extremely beautiful. I hey also excel in beating out gold
leaf, which is greatly employed in adorning their temples
and idols. 1
1 he Siamese annals affect to detail with much minute- History,
ness the events that have occurred in Siam and the adja¬
cent states and countries for the last fourteen hundred
years; but these, like most Eastern histories, consist of fa¬
bles or gross exaggerations. The kingdom of Siam was un¬
known m Europe until the discovery of the route to India
by the Cape of Good Hope. The first traces of their his¬
tory were received through the Portuguese, who frequently
acted as auxiliaries to the contending factions. In 1684
ambassadors were sent from Siam to Louis XIV., and in
consequence M. Cerberet and La Loubere were dispatch¬
ed as ambassadors to Siam, where they arrived in 1687,
and immediately attempted to make a proselyte of the king
to the Catholic faith. The monarch declined the religion
so freely proffered to him by the French, but entered into
a strict alliance with them, and allowed them two garri¬
sons, Bankok and Mergui. In 1688, the king was, however,
by a sudden revolution, dethroned and murdered, which was
followed by the expulsion of the French. From this period
Siam was the scene ot much internal discord, and of many
sanguinary massacres ; and in 1754 was involved in a seri¬
ous war with the Burmese, who having conquered Pegu,
and enlarged their territories, came in contact with the do¬
minions of Siam. A long war ensued, which terminated al-
SIBERIA.
together to the disadvantage of the Siamese, who were re- conquest ^yv
' peatedly defeated with great slaughter; their capital w-as sac v- Y P ^ r ti,e sway Df this rising power, which did
edby the Burmese in 1766, who besides took all their mantirne ^tthemu^ sixte^th century. In
possessions on the bay of Bengal and alonS / the reign of John Basilowitz I., indeed, an incursion had been
the Malay peninsula, including the mipoi tant places of I a y> » | Tartar tribes subdued; but these
Mergni, L'd Tenassorim. Though greatly reduced by to °we hear of no further
unsuccessful war, and frequently brought to the communication between Russia and Siberia till the time of
ruin, Siam still exists as an independent kingdom, Basilowitz II. It was opened again at that time by
it is indebted partly to the dissensions of the Burmese, and JolmBjWz & ^ wUo had
established some salt-works at a town in the government of
Archano-el. This man carried on a trade with the Samoie-
des who inhabited the banks of the Obi and the Petchora,
and who are accustomed to come along the river Vitenegda
to its confluence with the Dwina, where they exchanged
their furs with the Russians. He acquired in this manner
a considerable fortune in a short time ; and he determined
on exploring the districts whence these valuable commodi¬
ties were derived. He sent thither a party of his depend¬
ents, who, in exchange for Dutch toys and other trifles, ob¬
tained the most valuable furs. He judged it prudent, after
he had carried on the trade for some time, to communicate
partly to the actual strength of the country.
An embassy was sent to Siam by the British government
in 1822, which was placed under the charge of Mr. Craw-
furd, who had an audience of the king of Siam, by whom he
was received so favourably, that he had every reason to ex¬
pect a favourable termination to his mission. But these
hopes were frustrated by the jealous and unaccommodating
policy of the government. They made propositions one
day which were revoked the next; and displayed f beir
faithless character so clearly, that all negotiations were final¬
ly broken oft'; and the embassy were finally interdicted from
going about the town or on the river, and were not allowed
to trade. An American embassy was more agreea y re- ' .'^i^'to the brother of the reigning emperor,
ceived by this jea ous government in , Theodore Iwanovitch, and ultimately his successor. The
succeeded in concluding a commercial treaty * e S perceiving the advantage that might be derived by his
vernment. Asiatic Journal, new senes. Hamilton s Ga- ^ar percemng me^ ^ despatch.
^SIBERIA, a vast tract of terntory c„mFe,,entog to SStt^SS
northern regions of Asia, which has been par y e&c boundary of Europe, though they never seem to have
under Russia; so that it will only be necessaiy in ns p , the Irtysch or have penetrated beyond the western
to supply some particulars which have not been so fully de- Thl people they me with were rude
tailed in the former article. Siberia may be considered as a branch of the Obi. people^ oftown8
gradually descending plain from ^ ofall and villages, ignorant of bread, and subsisting entirely by
Stfr* nteondingo^^dervto.o^^a^nb.
History.
Russia, and of regular government, improvements have
been gradually diffused amongst its rude tribes; and although
cities, some of them populous and thriving, have risen up,
yet it is on the whole a barren and unproductive country,
the predominance of cold throughout the greater pait of it
chilling the progress of vegetation, and preventing either
fruits or grain from arriving at maturity. Nor, though it is
by no means destitute of rivers, is the direction which they
take calculated to favour the course of commerce, or to
give facilities for the transmission of its productions from
one part of the country to another. Flowing, as already
stated, from south to north, they run out of the regions of
civilization and commerce into those of perpetual win¬
ter; they lead into inhospitable deserts, to which there is no
resort either of goods or of men ; and therefore they are,
and will ever remain, useless for the purposes of trade, and
of little use to the country through which they flow. Nor
is there by sea anv easy access to this cold and inhospita¬
ble tract. The Frozen Ocean on the north presents an insu¬
perable barrier to navigation ; and the eastern shore, wash¬
ed by the Pacific Ocean, is so far removed from the great
seats of wealth and commerce in Europe, that no great in¬
tercourse can ever take place. Siberia has no surplus pro¬
duce that can tempt a European vessel to perform the cir¬
cuit of half the globe in order to obtain it.
This region was unknow n in the ancient world. The know-
ledo-e of the Greeks and Romans did not extend beyond
Scythia, or independent Tartary ; they were altogether ig¬
norant of the vast regions wdiich lay farther to the east and
north, from which issued those vast hordes of barbarians
w ho overthrew the Roman empire. During the devastations
and wars which succeeded, and by which the great empires
of Asia were shaken and thrown dow n, a greater knowledge
was obtained of these northern regions, especially by the Ma-
hommedan conquerors ; but it does not appear that they ever
rein-deer or dogs. The natives received with high gratifica¬
tion the presents that were brought to them, and they eager¬
ly in return desired to visit the Russian capital, of w hich their
visitors had given them a splendid description. 1 hey were
dazzled with the magnificence of Moscow and the emperoi.
Some Tartar tribes were laid under contribution, and a
chief named Yediger consented to pay an annual tribute ot
a thousand sables. But this produced no lasting advan¬
tage to Russia ; for, soon afterwards, Yediger was defeated
and taken prisoner by Kutchum Khan, a descendant ot the
great Genghiz Khan ; and thus the allegiance of this coun¬
try to Russia was dissolved.
For some time w'e hear of no further attempts made by
the Russians on Siberia ; but in 1577 the foundation o a
permanent conquest was laid by Yermac Temofeeft,a os-
sack of the Don. This man was at first the head of a ban¬
ditti who infested the Russians in the province of Casan;
but being defeated by the troops of the Czar, he retirea
with six thousand of his followers into the interioi parts o
that province. Continuing his course still eastward, he
came to Orel, the most easterly of all the Russian settle¬
ments ; and here he took up his w inter quarters. But is
restless genius did not suffer him to continue foi any eng
of time in a state of inactivity ; and from the intelligence
he procured concerning the situation of the neighbouring
Tartars of Siberia, he turned his arms towards that quarter.
Siberia was at that time partly divided amongst a num¬
ber of separate princes, and partly inhabited by the vanous
tribes of independent Tartars. Of the former Kutc um
Khan was the most powerful sovereign. His dominions
consisted of that tract of country which now forms the
south-western part of the province of Tobolsk, and stre ci
ed from the banks of the Irtysch and Obi to those of the o*
bal and Tura. His principal residence was at Sibir, a sma
fortress upon the river Irtysch, not far from the present town
SIBERIA
325
•ia. of Tobolsk, and of which some ruins are still to be seen.
After a course of unremitting fatigue, and a series of vic¬
tories which almost exceed belief but of which we have
not room to give the detail, our intrepid adventurer dispos¬
sessed this prince of his dominions, and seated himself on
the throne of Sibir. The number of his followers, however,
being greatly reduced, and perceiving he could not depend
on the affection of his new subjects, he had recourse to
the Czar of Muscovy, and made a tender of his acquisi¬
tions to that monarch, upon condition of receiving immedi¬
ate and effectual support. This proposal was received with
the greatest satisfaction by the Czar, who granted him a
pardon for all former offences, and sent him the required
succours. Yermac, however, being soon after drowned in
an unsuccessful excursion, the Russians began to lose their
footing in the country. But fresh reinforcements being
sent, they not only recovered their ground, but pushed their
conquests far and wide ; and wherever they appeared, the
Tartars were either reduced or exterminated. New towns
were built, and colonies were planted on all sides. Before
a century had elapsed, all that vast tract of country now
called Siberia, which stretches from the confines of Europe
to the Eastern ocean, and from the Frozen sea to the pre¬
sent frontiers of China, was annexed to the Russian domi¬
nions.
te. The air of Siberia is extremely piercing ; and it is re¬
marked that in advancing eastward it becomes more intense.
M. Gmelin, who was sent to explore this country in 1733,
gives some remarkable examples of the extreme cold which
prevails. He mentions, that at the foot ofKiringa, on the
. 10th of February 1738, the mercury, at eight in the morning,
stood at 254 in the thermometer which he had along with
him, and vrhich answers to 72° in Fahrenheit below 0. In
December, at the same place, it answered to 90° in Fahrenheit
below zero, about three in the afternoon ; and afterwards
in the course of the same month, to 99, 107, and 113 below
0, the greatest cold answering to 120° in Fahrenheit below 0.
At this time sparrows and magpies were seen to fall to the
ground struck dead with the intense cold, but revived if
they were speedily brought into a warm room. The air at
this time is represented as if it were changed to ice, a thick
fog, not dissipated by any exhalations as in spring and
autumn; and the writer states that he could scarcely stand
three minutes in the porch of his house for cold. At Ya¬
kutsk, on the Lena, in November, Captain Cochrane1 men¬
tions that Reaumur’s thermometerstoodat 32° and35°, which
answers to 40* and 46° in Fahrenheit below zero; in his
journey to Irkutsk it stood at 30° of Fahrenheit, and 35° be¬
low zero; and on the 13th of January the rapid waters of
Angora were bound up by the frost, and it became passable
on the ice. The Siberian rivers are however frozen ear¬
lier, and it is late in the spring before they are thawed.
The northern and eastern districts of Siberia are rendered
unfit for agriculture by the excessive cold. The whole
tract beyond the 60th degree ofN.lat. is a barren waste, yield¬
ing neither corn nor fruits. Pallas mentions, that to the
north of Demiansk, a village in the government of Demi-
ansk in about 592° N. lat., hardly any thing is reared but
barley and oats, at most but a little grain. Hemp and
ax are sown, but in three years they have scarcely one to¬
lerable crop. The cabbage that is sown produces no head,
hut spreads itself in loose green leaves. The repeated at¬
tempts that have been made about Okhotsk, between 59°
un 60° N. lat., and 160° E. long., or at Udskog-Ostrog,
0 20 lat., 150° 40/long, to cultivate corn, have been en¬
tirely unsuccessful, the long winter, and the night frosts in
autumn preventing either fruits or grain from coming to
perfection ; and in Kamtschatka, where the southernmost
course terminates in 510 N. lat., similar trials have been
made without success. A great part of the Siberian ter¬
ritory that is situated in a more temperate climate, being
composed of marshy and saline steppes, is extremely bar¬
ren. But there are other tracts that are equally produc¬
tive, that not only abound in extensive pastures, but pro¬
duce abundance of grain, not of wheat, but of barley, rye,
and other inferior descriptions ; whilst farther south there
are districts of remarkable fertility. Amongst the Ural and
other ranges of mountains, rich and verdant vales and glens
are to be met with, which afford pastures for numerous herds
of cattle ; a remarkably wealthy district extends along the
heart of the Tobol, Iset, and the Issim, and is so abundant
in grain, that it supplies the governnneut of Tobolsk, as
well as the provinces of Perm and Orenburg. Also in the
territory of Krasnoyansk, a circle town of the government
of Kolhyvan, between 55° and 56° of N. lat., such is the fer¬
tility of the soil, notwithstanding the severe and continued
winter, that no instance was known of a general failure.2 This
fertile tract commences at Krasnoyansk, and extends to
Baikal and the surrounding countries. The quality of the
soil is here so rich, being of a black and light mould, that
it rejects the use of manure. Most of the fields, if they are
left fallow for one year, continue to bear ten or fifteen
years more. In consequence of this fertility, provisions are
abundant and cheap. Not only are oats, barley, and rye
cultivated, but also wheat, though it is not so abundant.
These countries, which, if they were industriously cultivat¬
ed, might give subsistence to populous nations, are chiefly
covered with pastures. Beyond the lake Baikal, especi¬
ally towards the east, as far as the river Argun, they are
remarkably fruitful and pleasant; but such "is the indo¬
lence of the inhabitants, that several fine tracts of land,
which would make ample returns to the peasant for culti¬
vating them, lie neglected. The pastures are excellent,
and abound in fine horned cattle, horses, goats, and other
beasts, on which the Tartars chiefly depend for subsist¬
ence. However, there are several steppes or barren
wastes, and unimproved tracts in these parts; and not a
single fruit tree is to be seen. There is great variety of
vegetables, and in several places, particularly near Kras-
noia Sloboda, the ground is in a manner overrun with as¬
paragus of an extraordinary height and delicious flavour.
The bulbs of the Turkish and other sorts of lilies, are much
used by the Tartars instead of bread. This want of fruit
iind corn is richly compensated by the great quantities of
wild and tame beasts and fowls, and the infinite variety of
fine fish which the country affords.
In that part of Siberia which lies near the icy sea, as well
as in several other places, there are woods of pine, larch, and
other trees; besides which, a considerable quantity of wood
is thrown ashore by the waves of the icy sea, but whence
it comes, is not yet ascertained. On the Ural mountains also,
are found pines, birch, fir, cedar, larch, aspin, alder; and on
the opposite side a few oaks, elms, lindens, and other trees.
The extreme rigour of the climate, which stunts the ve¬
getation of Siberia, has no effect on the animal creation,
which abounds in the most frozen and desolate tracts. Na¬
ture, in protecting from the rigour of the cold those animals
with a thick fur, which in its rich gloss and softness no art
can rival, has rendered them valuable, and they are accord-
ingly hunted for their skin, which forms an important arti¬
cle of commerce. Of all these furs, the most valuable
is the sable, which is found on a species of weazel. This
animal is met with in Asiatic Russia, from the Aleutian is¬
lands, and from Kamtschatka to the districts of the Pets-
chora and the Kama. The finest sables are those which
come from Yakutsk and Wertschink; and amongst these are
Siberia.
1 Narrative of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia and Siberian Tartary, vol. ii. p. 108.
Tooke’s View of the Russian Empire, vol. iii. p. 238.
326
Siberia.
SIBERIA.
Mountains
found the rare and precious yellow, and still more rarely,
the white sable. In Kamtschatka, these precious furs are
to be found in the greatest abundance, but not of so fine a
quality; the skin being thick, and the hair long, but not very
black. When this country was first invaded by Europeans,
these animals were in such abundance, that for iron wire to
the amount often rubles, sables might have been obtained
to the amount of five or six hundred. But the animal has
been so diligently hunted, that it has become scarce, so
that one skin may be exchanged on the spot for ten pounds.
The great art is, to catch the animal without injuring toe
skin, for which purpose various contrivances are resorted
to. The hunter, following the track of the animal, disco¬
vers his covert, which is usually a burrow in the earth;
the animal, to escape him, ascends a hollow tree, which the
hunter immediately surrounds with a net; and kindling a
fire under it, forces the little creature to descend, when it
falls into the net and is caught. Various other animals are
hunted for their skins, which form a considerable article of
commerce. Wild-fowl abound every where in bibena,
namely, wild ducks and geese, swans, woodcocks, snipes,
bustards, snow-birds, pheasants, partridges, &c.; these are
so plentiful, that even in the governments which are the
poorest in wild animals, they form an ordinary and not very
costly dish. The eider fowl, which supplies the fine and
soft down that is so much esteemed in all countries, har¬
bours about the coasts of the White Sea and the Northern
Ocean. In Siberia are found the prodigious remains of ani¬
mals, none of which are now found to exist; the bones and
entire carcase of the mammoth, that extraordinary animal,
which surpasses in bulk every known species, is found pre¬
served in the ice on the shores of rivers in the north, and
on the coasts of the Frozen Ocean. The bones of the ele¬
phant and rhinoceros occur also in vast quantities, ine
seas that wash the coasts of Siberia, and the rivers, teem
with a great variety of marine animals and with fish. 1 he
Frozen Ocean and the Eastern Seas abound in whales, seals,
otters, also the narhwal, the pott-fish, from whose brain
spermaceti is prepared, the sea dog, the dolphin, the sea
lion, the sea cow, the sea bear, and various other speo.es,
which are sought after for their skin or their blubber. I he
Obi abounds beyond all the others in vast quantities of mi-
grating fish which pass from the sea ; not only those which
are found in other rivers, but a variety of fish which are
caught no where else, namely, sturgeons, starlet, white sal¬
mon, pikes, muroena, or white salmon of Pallas, quobbe,
and a multitude of other fish, of which the Russian names
would convey no information to the reader. The migrat-
ino- fish proceed up the rivers in June, and the fishing in
th| Obi is carried on by the Ostiacks and Samoiedes. 1 he
Irtysch, the Jenisei, and the Lena, as well as their nume¬
rous tributaries, contain abundance of excellent fish, mostly
resembling those already named. The fishing on the coasts
and islands of the Eastern ocean is remarkable for the va¬
riety and quality of its objects; and as agriculture is here
impracticable from the soil and the climate, the inhabitants
depend for their subsistence on the fishing, and the chase.
All the large cetacea of the Arctic seas are here pursued
with avidity, and the oil which they afford forms an article
of commerce. Of all the lesser animals which are objects
of the chase on the Eastern ocean, the sea otter is the most
important. Its beautiful fur is everywhere highly esteem¬
ed, and sells in China for a very high price. I he rivers in
Kamtschatka abound more especially with fish, which sup-
plv the inhabitants with subsistence, which no labour cou d
extract from the barren soil. These fish, which are mostly
of the salmon kind, proceed up the rivers in such vast mul¬
titudes, that the shores are often found covered with the
de The surface of Siberia is diversified by alternate ranges
of mountains and by widely extended plains. The Ural
mountains, so called from the Tartar word signifying a belt
or girdle, which form the natural boundary between Asia
and Europe, extend almost in a direct line above 1500 En-
glishmiles. The mountainsbetween the Caspian and the Aral
may be considered as the commencement of the Ural moun¬
tains ; which, after being divided by the straits of Weygat,
terminate in the mountain chain of Nova Zembla, several
subordinate ridges branching off in a western, as well as in
an eastern direction, from the same chain. These mountains
are rich in minerals, and they are in many parts also cloth¬
ed with tall firs, larches, birch, and other woods. 1 hey are
well watered by rivers, and at diflerent degrees of elevation
are found beautiful pellucid lakes, ponds, and numerous
streams, all teeming with fish. The breadth of the Ural
mountains at Sollkamskoi and Verchotuna, the high road out
of European Russia, is about forty miles, and their height
from four to five thousand feet. At their northern extre-
mitv, along the lower Obi, their elevation is not so great.
The Ural mountains, at their northern extremity, lock in
by several ridges with the great Altaic chain, which tra¬
verses northern Asia from west to east through its whole
extent, and fix the respective limits of the Chinese empire
from the Irtysch to the Amour. The great Altai stretches
northward beyond Siberia, into the regions of Tartary;
and proceeding with various windings toward the
throws out considerable masses, between which the head
waters of the Jenesei, the Obi, and the Irtysch, take then-
rise ; and the lesser Altai separates the Chinese territories
from the Russian government of Kohvane, through which
the streams mentioned above pursue their course. ear
its summit a Chinese patrol was found guarding the hniits
of the empire by the traveller Shcangin. The highest
mountains consist of granite, and are covered with perpe¬
tual snow. The lower mountains consist of porphyry, jas¬
per, and serpentine, and exhibit many beautiful varieties of
these rocks. The highest summit of these mountains, in the
government of Kolivane, does not rise more than 3000 feet
above the level of the sea. One summit, however, to the north
of the river Ouba, has an elevation of 5691 feet. Although
the Altai mountains bear different names, they range east¬
ward as far as the ocean. The higher parts are generally
bare, and the shores of the rivers which run through them
are generally clothed with forests. As they extend east
from the Jenesei to the Baikal sea, they assume a grander
character, and are called the Sayanskoi mountains, my
are chiefly naked granite rocks, sharp and abrupt, and tre-
quented chiefly by hunters; and they determine the bounda-
ries between Siberia and Mongolia. The mountains of
Baikal have nearly the same direction as that sea, and nm
down to the west on the right of the Angora, where it flat¬
tens in a morasse steppe of prodigious extent, io tne
east, it advances from the origin of the Lena on both sides
of that river, and here it is lost in a wide extended floetz
rid ere. In the inferior regions of the Angora and the Lena,
coal is frequently produced. Several of these mountain
ranges in the neighbourhood of the Baikal are so r >
that they are covered with perpetual snow. Ihe ^ert -
inskoi mountains, otherwise called the mountains of 1 aou ,
extend from the lake Baikal and the sources of the Selenga ana
the Amour, down the two sides of these rivers; on the one
side, as far as where the Argoon falls into the Amour; an
on the other, or northern side, up to the sources o
Niusa and the Oldekon, where it joins the spacious range
of Okhotsk. The portion of this range enclosed by t .
Amoor and Argoon, which is properly called the Ner s u
chain of mountains, is found to be the richest in minera
of any of the mountains hitherto explored in these regw ,
producing, amongst other sorts, zinc, iron, copper, and -
ores containing silver and gold. These mountatm presert,
according to the descriptions of a traveller who visited hem
in search of the rhubarb plant, a wild scene of desolation,
Siber.
SIBERIA.
S ria.
Sti'-es)
wits, mo-
Ri s.
Mi .
thick woods, torrents and precipices, without a human ha¬
bitation, except a few sheds erected by hunters when they
are in pursuit of game. In approaching the eastern ocean,
these mountains decline in elevation, and turning to the
north, run parallel to the sea, leaving a narrow space between
them. The mountains of Okhotsk run northward down
the Lena to Yakutsk; one runs eastward to the sea of
Okhotsk, whilst another continues its course writh the penin¬
sula of Kamtschatka, which consists of a rocky chain of
mountains, about which little information has ever been ac¬
quired.
The surface of Siberia comprises every variety of soil.
The tracts which are called steppes are dry, elevated, and
extensive plains, which are not inhabited, and some of them,
which are uninhabitable, are destitute both of food and
water. Others have shrubs growing on them or a stunted
herbage, and are watered by streams or wells, though with¬
out inhabitants, and thus afford pasture to the herds and
flocks of the shepherds who range over these desolate plains.
In regard to the soil on these steppes, great variety pre¬
vails, none being fruitful and proper for meadow or arable
land, or indiscriminately for both; in others the soil is un¬
fruitful, wdiether it be sand or salt, or in some cases of a
rocky formation.
Siberia is well watered by numerous and large rivers, an
account of which may be found in thearticle Russia. It may
merely be mentioned here, that those great rivers are the Ir-
tysch, the Obi, the Jenesei, and the Lena, which have all
their sources in the frontier range of mountains, and roll on¬
wards to the Frozen Ocean. All the other numerous rivers
which rise in Siberia, are tributaries of those main rivers.
The cold and mountainous regions of Siberia are great
depositories of those vast stores of mineral wealth by which
the Russian empire is encircled. The elevated districts of
this vast country abound in the most precious ores of all the
different metals.
An official account of the produce of the mines of gold,
silver, and platina, in Russia, has been published at St. Pe¬
tersburg; it embraces a period of sixteen years, from 1823
to 1838 inclusive, and shewrs the following results : 
327
beria, under the different appellations of Tobolskian Tar- Siberia,
tars, from the river Tobol, on which they dwell; the Tom- w**
skian lartars, who inhabit both sides of the river Tom,
above and below the city of Tomsk; the Krasnayarskian
and the Kusneretskian Tartars, who greatly resemble the
Mongolian tribes; the Tartars of the Obi, who are partly
agricultural and partly pastoral in their habits; the Tar¬
tar tribe, which dwelt formerly between the Obi and the
Jenesei, but which now inhabit the whole country along the
river Tschulym ; other tribes, of which it would serve little
purpose to give the barbarous appellatious, inhabit the
country between the Obi and the Irtysch, which is called
the steppe of Baraba. There are others on the left shore
of the Jenesei, upon which they follow their pastoral occu¬
pations amongst the Sayome mountains. Certain districts
in the governments of Tobolsk and Kolhyvan, and partly
in the eastern half of that of Perm, beyond the Ural
mountains, are to be regarded as the peculiar home and seat
of the Siberian Tartars. The northern districts of Siberia
are possessed by twenty tribes, peculiar to itself. The
principal are the Tungouses on the Jenesei, the Ostiaks,
the Yakantes, the Samoiedes, and the Tchantchis. The
extensive deserts on which roam the pastoral tribe of the
Tungouses, extend eastward across the Lena, as far as the
Amoor and the Eastern Ocean. They extend northward
fiom the 53d to the 65th degree. The history of the Sa-
moiedes is little known. Iheir present abodes are on the
coasts of the Frozen Ocean, from about the 65th degree
of north latitude, quite to the sea shore. They swarm up
to the 75th degree of north latitude, dwelling on the coldest
and most desolate regions of the earth, from the White Sea
to the other side of the Jenesei, and almost up to the Lena,
and, therefore, being both in Europe and in Siberia. There
are the Ostiaks of the Obi, of the Narym, and of the Jenesei.
The Ostiaks are not numerous; but they include many
subordinate tribes, which it is unnecessary to specify by
name, as they all resemble each other in manners. Giorgi
gives the following statement of the population in 1801. In
the government of Tobolsk, 622,422; in the government
of Irkutsk, 451,937.
Gold.
Poods.
Produce of the Imperial mines—
ln Ural,  1,592^
In Altai,  5381
In Nertshinskoi,  9|
Produce of mines belonging to
individuals, 3,009f
Silver.
Poods.
14,7041
3,301f
Platina.
Poods.
29
1,230
, 5,1501 18,006 1,259
Value m Sterling about L.12,000,000 and L.6,000,000.
During the same period, the value of money coined at
the Imperial Mint at St. Petersburg, from Russian and fo¬
reign bullion, was about L. 14,000,000 in gold, L.8,000,000
in silver, and L.400,000 in platina.
PoP| tion 1 he population of Siberia consists of numerous tribes,
who differ in their origin and their manners, and have been
gradually subjected to the Russian authority, paying a stated
tribute, which is not oppressive, and following their own pur¬
suits unmolested. The Mongols, who withdrewfrom the Chi¬
nese dominion during the last century, and voluntarily placed
themselves under the dominion of Russia, inhabit the regions
about the Selenga, in the government of Irkutsk, from the
J22d to the 125th degree of longitude, and between the
5Uth and 53d degree of north latitude They consist of
seven stems, or twenty families, which were estimated to
compose 6918 males in 1766. The Burats inhabit Daouria,
the banks of the Selenga, of the lake Baikal, and of the
upper Jenesei. They are remarkably industrious, and are
cinefly employed in pastoral pursuits. The Tartars form
a very numerous race, and are found scattered over Si-
The religion generally diffused amongst these wild tribes, Religion,
if it deserve the name, is a rude superstition, or idolatry,
congenial to the state of barbarism which generally prevails.
The system of Boodh, or of the Lamas, is the creed of the
Mongols and Tartars; and the residence of the Lama, the
chief of that religion, is on the Upper Selenga, to the south
of Baikal. The great temple was entered by a late travel¬
ler, who found there about a hundred priests, clothed in
red, and seated in successive rows. The high-priest was
seated upon a lofty and splendid throne, behind which was an
altar, upon which were placed the images of their gods, the
inferior ones being arranged in rows along the wall. Of¬
ferings were presented to them of rice, brandy, and some¬
times a hen or sheep roasted whole. Their worship con¬
sists in a great measure of noise, the most formidable sounds
being.produced by a combination of the most noisy instru¬
ments, such as bells, kettle-drums, trumpets, shells, and
other instruments. Those superstitious rites are, however,
denounced by the pure followers of the genuine Lamas.
4 hey practise other vile and bloody rites, by way of expi¬
ating the anger of their gods ; such as leaping, and howling
in a frightful mannner, and pretending to wound their backs
with knives. Amongst the rude wanderers in the northern
regions of Siberia complete paganism prevails, consisting
of the ignorant arts of sorcery, and the worship of deformed
stone images. I he light of Christianity has hardly yet
penetrated into these benighted regions. By the recent en¬
terprising and active efforts, however, of the missionary
societies of Britain, aided by the countenance of the Rus¬
sian government, a beginning has been made in the great
work of civilizing and of converting these barbarous tribes.
328
Sibyls.
Commerce.
SIB
Missionaries have been spread over the country; and the
sacred volume has been translated into some of the na¬
tive languages, and distributed amongst tne natives. ie
greatest obstacle to their conversion arises from their brut¬
ish ignorance and their debased habits. .
The commerce of Siberia consists in those products which
are consumed at home, and of those which are exported to
European Russia, in return for foreign products. Ihe
exports are chiefly metals and furs, besides those com¬
modities from China and the East, of which Siberia is
merely the depot in their transit to Europe Ihe two
staple commodities of export, namely, metals and turs, are
chiefly monopolised by the government, to whose ofhcers
the tribute of the wandering tribes is paid in furs; and tor
these no return is made, unless in the salaries of the civil an
military officers, or the pay of the troops.
Siberia is divided into two governments, namely, lo-
bolsk and Irkutsk, which are again subdivided, the former
into the four circles of Tobolsk proper, Tomsk, Yemceysk,
andKolyvan; the latter, into Irkutsk proper, Nertschink,
Yakutsk, and Okhotsk, in which last is included Kamts-
chatka, with the islands.
SIBYLS, in pagan antiquity, certain women said to have
been endowed with a prophetical spirit, and who delivered
oracles, showing the fates and revolutions of kingdoms, fheir
number is unknown. Plato speaks of one, others of tvyo,
Plinv of three, Lilian of four, and Yarro of ten ; an opin¬
ion which is universally adopted by the learned. Ihese
ten Sibyls generally resided in the following places: Persia,
Lybia, Delphi, Cumae in Italy, Erythraea, Samos, Cumae m
yEolia, Marpessa on the Hellespont, Ancyra in Phrygia, and
Tyburtis. The most celebrated of the Sibyls is that of
Cumae in Italy, whom some have called by the different
names of Amal'thaea, Demiphile, Herophile, Daphne, Man-
to, Phemonoe, and Deiphobe. It is said, that Apollo be¬
came enamoured of her, and that to make her sensible o
his passion he offered to give her whatever she asked. Ihe
Sibyl demanded to live as many years as she had grains of
sand in her hand, but unfortunately forgot to ask for the
enjoyment of the health, vigour, and bloom, of which she
was then in possession. She had already lived about seven
hundred years when jEneas came to Italy, and, as some have
imagined, she had three centuries more to live before her
years were as numerous as the grains of sand which she
had had in her hand. She gave Tineas instructions how to
find his father in the infernal regions, and even conducted
him to the entrance of hell. According to the most authentic
historians of the Roman republic, one of the Sibyls came to
the palace of Tarquin the Second, with nine volumes,
which she offered to sell for a very high price. The mo¬
narch disregarded her, and she immediately disappeared,
but soon afterwards returned, when she had burned thiee
of the volumes. She asked the same price for the remain¬
ing six books; and when Tarquin refused to buy them,
she burnt three more, and still persisted in demanding
the same sum of money for the three that were left. 1 his
extraordinary behaviour astonished Tarquin; he bought
the books; and the Sibyl instantly vanished, and never
afterwards appeared to the world. These books were pre¬
served with great care by the monarch, and called the Si¬
bylline verses. A college of priests was appointed to take
care of them; and such reverence did the Romans enter¬
tain for these prophetical books, that they were consulted
with the greatest solemnity, when the state seemed to be
in danger. When the capitol was burned in the troubles
of Sylla, the Sibylline verses, which were deposited there,
perished in the conflagration; and to repair the loss which
the republic seemed to have sustained, commissioners were
immediately sent to different parts of Greece to collect
whatever verses could be found of the inspired writings of
the Sibyls. The fate of these Sibylline verses, which were
S I D
collected after the conflagration of the capitol, is unknown. SicfrJ
There are now many Sibylline verses extant, but they are 1 J
universally reckoned spurious; and it is evident that they
were composed in the second century by some of the fol¬
lowers of Christianity, who wished to convince the hea¬
thens of their error, by assisting the cause of truth with
the arms of pious artifice.
SICERA, a name given to any inebriating liquor by the
Hellenistic Jews. St. Chrysostom, 1 heodoret, and Theo*
philus of Antioch, who were Syrians, and who therefore
ought to know the signification and nature of sicera, assure
us, that it properly signifies palm-wine. .
SICILIANA, the name of an ancient dance in f time,
slow in movement, and simple and touching in its melody.
SICILY, a large island in the Mediterranean Sea, ad¬
joining to the southern extremity of Italy, and extending
from latitude 36° 25' to latitude 38° 25', and from longitude
12° 50' to longitudel5° 40' east from London. Its gieatest
length is 210 miles, its breadth 133, its circumference 600.
For a description of the island, see Naples.
SIDDONS, Mrs. (whose maiden name was Sarah Kem¬
ble,) the greatest actress that ever trode the stage, was
born at Brecon, in South Wales, on the 5th of July 1755.
Roger Kemble, her father, was manager of a provincial com¬
pany of players, and amongst this class of persons he seems
to have held a highly respectable rank. Sarah, who was his
eldest daughter, appeared very early on the stage, and went
the usual round of juvenile characters without exciting mudi
expectation. At the age of eighteen she married Mr.Sid-
dons, an actor in her father’s company, soon after which
event she removed to Cheltenham, where she attracted some
attention, and was recommended to Garrick. Her first ap¬
pearance on the London boards was not successful, simply
because she never had a proper part assigned her. Mr». Sk -
dons accordingly returned to the provinces much mortified;
but the praises showered upon her by such audiences as
those of York, Manchester, and Bath, induced the managers
of Drury Lane to re-invite her to the metropolis^ Her re¬
appearance took place on the 10th of October 1782. e
character which she chose was that of Isabella in Ihe
Fatal Marriage.” The effect of that performance was ex¬
traordinary and unparalleled. It gave ashock of wonder and
delight to the public mind, like the news of some great and
unexpected victory. On that night, Mrs. Siddons at once
took possession of the tragic throne, on which, for thirty
years, she reigned without a rival. Some idea of ^ne ex¬
citement which she created may be learned from the tact,
that “ the grave and reverend seignors” of the English bar
presented her with a purse of one hundred guineas. Dur¬
ing the season, Mrs. Siddons played Euphrasia, Jane More,
Calista, and, for her two benefits, Belvidera and Zara, in
all of these characters she greatly added to her fame; the
public were astonished at the vastness of her powers, and
tragedy became the fashion. In subsequent seasons she
encreased her circle of characters, adding from bhakespeare
those of Lady Macbeth, Constance, Isabella, Queen Kathe¬
rine, (the most chaste, beautiful, and perfect performance
that ever drew a tear,) Rosalind, (not in her line, ^ s e
was altogether too stately and heroic for comedy,) Vesae-
mona, Volumnia, Portia, Hermione, hnogene, and a lew
others. This list shows, that her range was surprising, but
she was not equally excellent in all her parts. Her come¬
dy never gave great satisfaction, although there was occa
sionally much to admire in it. When the metropolitan sea¬
son closed, it was the custom of this, as it is of eyery Sre ,
actor, to visit the principal cities of Ireland, Scotian ;
the provinces of England. Every where she enchamted
lovers of the drama. She became a favourite with their
majesties, and was in the habit of reading plays to them,
an occupation of more honour than emolument. ow >
Mrs. Siddons, by her professional exertions, realized a
SID
imouth, tune equal to her wishes, and retired from the stage in 1812.
dney- Her death took place on the 8th of June 1831, when she
was in her 76th year.
The symmetry ot this great actress’s person was most cap¬
tivating. Her features were strongly marked, but finely
harmonised; the flexibility of her countenance was extra¬
ordinary, yielding instantaneously to every change of pas¬
sion; her voice was plaintive, yet capable of firmness and
exertion; her articulation was clear, penetrating, and dis¬
tinct;—above all, she was completely mistress of her powers,
and possessed that high judgment which enabled her to dis¬
play all her other qualifications to the greatest advantage.
One of Mrs. Siddons’s highest, if not her very highest en*
dowment, was the power of identifying herself with the
character which she personated. The scenes in which she
acted, were to her far from being a mere mimic show; so
powerfully did her imagination conjure up the reality, that
the tears which she shed were those of bitterness felt at the
moment. From her frown of proud disdain and scorn, the
very actors themselves shrank with something like terror.
Her greatest characters were Katherine in Henry VIII.,
and Lady Macbeth, in which she manifested a dignity and a
sensibility, a power and a pathos never equalled by any fe¬
male performer. Lastly, Mrs. Siddons was truly an original;
she copied no one, living or dead, but acted from nature and
herself. In all the relations of life her conduct was most
exemplary. “ She was more than a woman of genius,” says
the poet Campbell, who knew her well, “ for the additional
benevolence of her heart made her an honour to her sex,
and to human nature.” (r.r.r.)
SIDMOUTH, a town of the hundred of East Budleigh,
in the county of Devon, 159 miles from London, The po¬
pulation was, in 1821, 2747; and in 1831, 3126.
SIDNEY, Sir Philip, was born, as is supposed, at Pens-
hurst in Kent, in the year 1544. His father was Sir Henry
Sidney, an Irish gentleman, and his mother, Mary, the
eldest daughter of John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland.
He was sent, when very young, to Christ-Church College
at Oxford, but left the university at seventeen to set out on
his travels. After visiting France, Germany, Hungary,
and Italy, he returned to England in 1575, and was next
year sent by Queen Elizabeth, as her ambassador to Ro-
dolph, the Emperor of Germany. On his return he visited Don
John of Austria, governor of the Netherlands, by whom he
was received with great respect. In 1579, when Queen
Elizabeth seemed on the point of concluding her long pro¬
jected marriage with the Duke of Anjou, Sir Philip wrote her
a letter, in w hich he dissuaded her from the match with unusual
elegance of expression, and great force of reasoning. About
this time a quarrel with the Earl of Oxford occasioned his
withdrawing from court; during which retirement he is sup¬
posed to have written his celebrated romance called Arcadia.
In 1585, after the Queen’s treaty with the United States,
he was made governor of Flushing and master of the horse.
H^he distinguished himself so much both by his courage
his conduct, that his reputation rose to the highest pitch,
e was named, it is said, by the republic of Poland as one of
the competitors for that crown, and might even have been
elected, had it not been for the interference of the queen.
Eut his illustrious career was soon terminated; for being
wounded at the battle of Zutphen, he was carried to Arn-
heim, where he died on the 15th of October 1586. His body
was brought to London, and buried in St. Paul’s cathedral.
«e is described, by the writers of that age, as the most per-
ect model of an accomplished gentleman that could be form¬
ed even by the wanton imagination of poetry or of fiction.
irtuous conduct, polite conversation, heroic valour, and
e egant erudition, all concurred to render him the ornament
nd delight of the English court; and as the credit which
enjoyed with the queen and the Earl of Leicester was
■ y empk>yed m the encouragement of genius and liter-
VOL. XX.
SID
329
ature, his praises have been transmitted w ith advantage to
posterity. No person was so low as not to become an object
of his humanity. After the battle of Zutphen, whilst he was
lying on the field mangled with wounds, water was brought
him to relieve his thirst; but observing a soldier in a like
miserable condition, looking wistfully towards him, he resign¬
ed it to him, saying, “ This man’s necessity is still greater
than mine.” Besides his Arcadia, he wrote a discourse on
Poetry, and some other pieces both in prose and verse, which
have been published. There is a complete edition of his
works in three volumes octavo, Lond. 1725.
Sidney, Algernon, was the second son of Robert Earl
of Leicester, and Dorothy, eldest daughter of the Earl of
Northumberland. He was born in 1617. During the ci¬
vil wars he took part against the king, and distinguished
himself as a colonel in the army of the parliament. He
was afterwards appointed one of King Charles’s judges,
but declined appearing in that court. During the usur¬
pation of Cromw'ell, Sidney, who was a violent repub¬
lican, retired to the country, and spent his time in writing
those discourses on government which have been so de&-
servedly celebrated. After the death of the Protector, he
again took part in the public transactions of his country, and
w'as abroad on an embassy to Denmark when Charles was
restored. Upon this he retired to Hamburg, and afterwards
to Frankfort, where he resided till 1677, when he return¬
ed to England and obtained from the king a pardon. It
has been affirmed, but the story deserves no credit, that,
during his residence abroad, Charles hired ruffians to assas¬
sinate him. After his return he made repeated attempts to
procure a seat in parliament, but all of them proved unsuc¬
cessful. After the intention of the Commons to exclude
the Duke of York from the throne had been defeated by
the sudden dissolution of parliament, Sidney joined with
eagerness the councils of Russel, Essex, and Monmouth,
who had resolved to oppose the duke’s succession by force
of arms. Frequent meetings were held at London ; whilst
at the same time, a set of subordinate conspirators, who
were not, however, admitted into their confidence, met and
embraced the most desperate resolutions. Keiling, one of
these men, discovered the whole conspiracy; and Alger¬
non Sidney, together with his noble associates, was imme¬
diately thrown into prison, and no art was left unattempt¬
ed to involve them in the guilt of the meanest conspirators.
Howard, an abandoned nobleman, without a single spark
of virtue or honour, was the only witness against Sidney;
but as the law required two, his discourses on government,
found unpublished in his closet, were construed into trea¬
son, and declared equivalent to another witness. It was in
vain for Sidney to plead that papers were no legal evidence ;
that it could not be proved they were written by him ; and
that if they were, they contained nothing treasonable. The
defence was overruled; he was declared guilty, condemned,
and executed on Towerhill, December 7, 1678. His attain¬
der was reversed in the first year of William III.
He was a man of extraordinary courage, steady even to
obstinacy, and of a sincere but rough and boisterous tem¬
per. Though he professed his belief in the Christian reli¬
gion, he was an enemy to an established church, and even,
according to Burnet, to every kind of public worship. In
his principles he was a zealous republican. Government
was always his favourite study; and his essays on that sub¬
ject are a proof of the progress which he made. His Trea¬
tise on Government, and some other pieces, with memoirs
of his life, were published by Thomas Holies, in 1763, in
a quarto volume.
SI DON, in Ancient Geography a city of Phoenicia in
Asia, famous in Scripture for its riches, arising from the ex¬
tensive commerce carried on by its inhabitants. Heavy
judgments were denounced against the Sidonianson account
of their wickedness, w hich were accomplished in the time
2 t
Sidney,
Sidon.
330
S I D
Sidus, of Ochus king of Persia. That monarch having come
Georgium against them with an army on account of their rebellion,
.11 the city was betrayed by its king ; upon which the wretch-
Leone.
ed inhabitants, seized with despair, set fire to their houses,
and forty thousand, with their wives and children, perished
in the flames. It is forty-five miles west from Damascus.
E. long. 36.5. N. lat. 37. . .
SIDUS, Georgium, in Astronomy, a new primary planet,
discovered by Dr. Herscbel in the year 1781. By most
foreign, and even by some British philosophers, it is known
by the name of Herschel, in honour of the discoverer. As
the other planets are distinguished by marks or characters,
the planet Herschel is distinguished by an H, the initial
letter of the discoverer’s name, and a cross to shew that it
is a Christian planet.
SIEBENBURGEN. See Transylvania.
SIENNA, or Siena, a district of Italy, still called a duchy,
though now a part of the grand duchy of Tuscany. It is
mostly situated on the Apennines, and was an independent
state, till it was subdued and united with Tuscany in 1557.
The capital is the city of that name, on the great road from
Florence to Rome. It is surrounded with walls, and, when
approached from Rome, has a magnificent appearance, but,
on the side towards Florence, the view of it is hl«den by
woods and gardens. The city is old and rather ill bmt,
but it contains many fine palaces belonging to noble fami¬
lies. It is the see of an archbishop, the cathedral, 330 feet
in length, is celebrated for its fine cupola. There is a spaci¬
ous market-place, with a council house and theatre, that
are ornamental. It contains twenty-three churches, several
of which are adorned with the finest paintings in fresco.
The university, founded in 1321, once enjoyed the great¬
est fame of any in Italy, but at present has not more than,
two hundred and sixty students, though it still retains its
museum, an anatomical theatre, a library, and other similar
institutions. Its manufactures are a few woollen cloths,
hats, strings for musical instruments, paper, and objects
formed of marble or of ivory. Its population is 24,500 per¬
sons. Lat. 43. 22. Long. 11. 5. E.
SIERRA LEONE, a colony of Great Britain, situated
on the western coast of Africa. Lat. 8.10. Long. 12. 30. It
is a peninsula, bounded on the north by the river called Sierra
Leone, on the south and west by the sea at Calmont creek,
and on the east by a line up the Calmont to the Watslod creek,
and down this last to the Dunce, which is indeed a part of the
Sierra Leone river. These boundaries enclose atract of coun-
trv extending eighteen miles from north to south, and twelve
miles from east to west; but there is an additional tract of coun¬
try adjoining Sierra Leone, which was ceded to Great Britain
by an African chief in 1819. Sierra Leone, as its name in¬
dicates, is a mountainous tract of country, but with numer¬
ous intervening valleys. The heights are covered to then
summit with lofty forests, giving to the distant scenery a
rich and romantic appearance. The territory on the north
side of the river is, however, low and level. Numerous
streams descend from the hills, which collect into a basin
called the Bay of Franca, celebrated as a watering-place.
The Sierra Leone is more of an estuary than a river; it is
twenty miles in length, by ten in breadth, at its mouth. The
Rokelle affords a water communication for some distance
into the interior. The range of the thermometer at Sierra
Leone is very slight, and the average heat throughout the
year is 82°. The rains continue for six months, and the tor¬
rents which descend from the mountains deluge the plains
beneath. The mountains in the vicinity of Free Town, the
capital, have now been cleared and cultivated, which has
greatly added to the salubrity of the climate. Indeed, the
settlement is now stated in the medical reports to be as
healthy for Europeans as any other tropical country, so that
it is no longer the pestiferous charnel-house which it was
formerly considered. The edible fruits of Sierra Leone are
S I E
numerous and luscious, including pine apples, superior in Sien?
flavour to those cultivated in England; the baobab, or monkey Lhw
bread, a valuable tree; oranges, plantains, bananas, limes,
and many others. The country is prolific in various precious
products of the soil, besides fruits. The animal kingdom is
very abundant, comprising many species of antelopes, mon¬
keys, and other denizens of a tropical country.
Free Town, the capital of the colony, is built upon the
south side of the Sierra Leone river, and at the northern
extremity of the peninsula. Immediately in front of the
town, the river forms a bay, where there is good and com¬
modious anchorage for vessels of all classes, and timber ships
of considerable size proceed with facility nearly twenty miles
higher up the stream, for the purpose of taking in their car- f
o-oes. The town is beautifully situated on an inclined plane,
at the foot of some hills, on which stand the fort and other
public buildings, that overlook it and the roads; whence
there is a fine prospect of the town rising in the form of an
amphitheatre from the water’s edge, above which it is ele¬
vated seventy feet. It is regularly laid out into streets,
stretching three quarters of a mile in length, intersected by
others at right angles, and parallel with the river. Ihe
buildino'S are commodious, and substantially bunt of stone,
which at once contribute to the beauty of the place, and to
the health and comfort of the inhabitants. Numbers ot
cocoa-nut, orange, lime, and banana trees, are dispersed a
over the town, imparting to it a peculiarly picturesque ap¬
pearance. The Madeira and Teneriffe vines flourish well
in the gardens. Nearly all our garden vegetables are raised
there ; and what with yams, cassada, and pompions, there is
rarely any want of vegetable products for the table. 1 here
are good meat, poultry, and fish markets; and almost every
article of housekeeping can be procured at the shops ot the
British merchants. The population of the capital may be
estimated at 10,000. ,
Throughout the peninsula, several villages have been
formed, viz., Leicester, founded in 1809 ; Regent, in 1812;
Gloucester, in 1816; Kissey and Leopold, in 1817 ; Uiar-
lotte, Wilberforce, and Bothwell, in 1818; Kent, Yor ,
Wellington, and Waterloo, in 1819. These villages are
generally situated in different parts of the mountain, but all
are connected by good roads with each other, and with the
capital. The two Banana islands, situated to the south-west
of Free Town, were ceded to the British government in
1819, by a family who receive an annual payment for them.
The total population of Sierra Leone is about 35,000, ot
whom not more than 200 are Europeans; the remainder are
captured or liberated slaves, or their descendants, together
with some native Africans. Many of the colonists, besides
the Europeans, possess considerable wealth. I e oa
number of slaves emancipated in Sierra Leone, between
June 1819 and January 1833, was 27,697. Some of these,
no doubt, retain their habits of indolence, but in general the
freed African relishes liberty, and is grateful for the boon
conferred on him, and several, by their industry and econo¬
my, are said to have acquired property amounting •
sterling. There are public schools in each parish, and trom
3000 to 4000 children attend them. A large portion ot the
colony are enjoying, and all have access to, the means o
moral and religious instruction. Upwards ot one-fourth are
regular attendants on the public ordinances of religion.
They have built for themselves various and expensive places
of worship ; some of them are employed as spiritual instruc¬
tors of their sable brethren; and all together, considering
its circumstances, this negro colony is composed of an ome y
and well-conducted people. Agriculture has not, in e ’
been sufficiently prosecuted hitherto, but matters wi i
prove in this respect when population increases, an Pre
upon the means of supply. The soil is in part very er i ,
and more might be rendered so by clearing. ^
The trade of this settlement is as follows : r or the y
S I E
rra- ending December 1834, there cleared inwards seventy-three
3,16 vessels, whose united tonnage was 17,307. Fifty-four of
erra. these belonged to Great Britain. The number which cleared
rena. outwards during the same period was eighty-four, the ton-
^/nage of the whole being 19,068. This shows an increase
on the previous year. The total value of the imports for
1831, were L. 104,639 ; and of the exports L.81,280. Sub¬
sequent returns for 1833-4, show a decrease, which does not
correspond with the number of vessels which arrived at, and
departed from the settlement. The chief articles of export
are timber, cam wood, palm oil, ivory, rice, bees’ wax, gold,
hides, &c. In 1835, these were exported to the extent of
L.58,174. The chief articles imported into Sierra Leone,
are cottons, gunpowder, linens, salt, guns, iron, hard-wares,
and cutlery, and others of our own manufactures. This
settlement is kept up at a considerable yearly expenditure.
For the five years ending 1824, it was L.75,000 per annum;
for the succeeding five years, it fell to about one-half that
sum; but still the revenue bears no proportion to the out¬
lay. Sierra Leone is governed by a civil-lieutenant gover¬
nor, assisted by a council. There is a chief-justice, and a
vice-court of admiralty. There is also established, the mix¬
ed commission tor the adjudication of vessels taken in the
slave-trade. A detachment of the Royal African corps
(blacks) is stationed in the settlement, under a lieutenant-
colonel.
This colony was founded by Great Britain with the most
philanthropic views. At the suggestion of Dr. Smeathmane,
the negroes discharged from the army and navy, after the
American war, were conveyed to Sierra Leone, furnished
. wlth necessaries for forming a colony in their native land.
But a series of calamities overtook this singularly interest¬
ing band of settlers, which obliged those who escaped pes¬
tilence and the sword to take shelter on Bance island, a.
small place. However, the Sierra Leone Company was
formed in Britain in 1787, and it sent out five vessels with
stores, and other succours, to these black freemen, together
with a large reinforcement of free negroes from America.
Still the difficulties with which the colony had to struggle,
again placed it in critical circumstances, whilst in 1794, it
was plundered by the French ; and so much had calamities
accumulated, that the company entered into an arrangement
with the government, to place the colony under their juris¬
diction. It was subsequently placed under the African In¬
stitution, established for the improvement of the western
part of Africa. Great accessions were made to its popula¬
tion, by sending thither the negroes taken in slave ships,
and to initiate them in the habits of civilized life; the
Church Missionary Society undertook to furnish schools and
religious instructors. But the success of this body has not
been equal to its benevolent intentions, at least with regard
to other parts of Africa, little or no impression having as
yet been made on the general mass of the population from
this quarter. Since the dissolution of the African Com¬
pany, Sierra Leone has again reverted to the British crown.
SIERRA-MORENA, a range of remarkable mountains
m the south of Spain. These mountains begin in the
vicinity of Alcaraz, on the eastern borders of La Mancha,
and extend between that province, Estremadura, and Alen-
tejo, which it leaves to the north, and enters the kingdoms
o Jaen, Cordova, Seville, and Algarve, and terminates at
t e sea shore at Cape St. Vincent. In its course through
Cordova, it is called the Sierra de Cordova. On the south
°t Estremadura, and the north of Seville, it bears the name
ot the Guadalcanal mountains; it then trends to the south-
vvest, where the northern side is called the Sierra of Cal-
erion; on the south, in the Portuguese province of Algarve,
it is called the Sierre de Monchique.
o'-n'o - Point these mountains does not exceed
teet above the level of the sea ; but from their summits
eing barren, and the lower parts mere morasses, they were
S I G
SSI
long deemed impassable, and were so deemed at the period Sieur
when the author of Don Quixote chose them for the scene II
of the exploits of his hero. Naval
In the late war with France, a pass through them was Signals-
deemed by the Spaniards to be impregnable, but the French
troops were adroit enough to turn them, and thus were
enabled to pour their armies into Andalusia, and besiege
Cadiz.
After the peace of 1763, king Charles the III. entertained
the project of cultivating this district; and Olavide, a bene¬
volent and enterprising capitalist, transported thither a
number of Germans, who were formed into colonies, and
built several villages, and the town of Carolina. The face
of the country was changed, and the soil found productive;
the progress was advancing, when Olavide was involved in
difficulties with the Inquisition, which gave a check to the
operations, which the hostile operations carried on at subse¬
quent periods have continued.
SIEUR, a title of respect amongst the French, like that
of master amongst us. It is much used by lawyers, as also
by superiors in their letters to inferiors.
SIl AN1 O, or Siphatjto, an island of the Archipelago,
west of Paros, north-east ot Milo, and south-west of Ser-
phanto. The air is so good here, that many of the inhabit¬
ants live to the age of a hundred and twenty ; and their
water, fruits, wild fowl, and poultry, are excellent, but
more especially the grapes. It abounds with marble and
gianite, and is one of the most fertile and best cultivated of
these islands. The inhabitants employ themselves in culti¬
vating olive-trees and capers ; and they have very good silk.
They trade in figs, onions, wax, honey, and straw-hats, and
may be about eight thousand in all. E. Long. 25. 15. N
Lat. 37. 9. & - .
. SIGHING, an effort of nature, by which the lungs are
put into greater motion, and more dilated, so that the blood
passes more freely, and in greater quantity, to the left au¬
ricle, and thence to the ventricle. Hence we learn how
sighing increases the force of the blood, and proportionally
cheers and relieves nature, wffien oppressed by its too slow
motion, which is the case of those who are dejected and
sad. J
SIGNALS, Naval,. When we read at our fire-side
the account of an engagement, or other interesting opera¬
tion oi an army, our attention is generally so much engaged
by the results, that we give but little to the movements
which led to them, and produced them; and we seldom
form to ourselves any distinct notion of the conduct of the
day. But a professional man, or one accustomed to reflec¬
tion, and w'ho is not satisfied with the mere indulgence of
eagei curiosity, follow's every regiment in its movements,
endeavours to see their connection, and the influence which
they have had on the tate of the day, and even to form to
himself a general notion of the whole scene of action, at its
different interesting periods. He looks with the eye of the
general, and sees his orders succeed or fail.
But few trouble themselves farther about the narration,
i he movement is ordered ; it is performed; and the fortune
of the day is determined. Few think how all this is brought
about; and when they are told that during the whole of
the battle of Custrin, krederick the Great was in the upper
room of a country inn, whence he could view the whole
field, whilst his aides-de-camp, on horseback, waited his
oiders in the yard below, they are struck with wonder, and
can hardly conceive how it can be done, but, on reflection,
they see the possibility of the thing. Their imagination
accompanies the messenger from the inn yard to the scene
of action ; they hear the general’s orders delivered, and they
expect its execution.
But when we think for a moment on the situation of the
commander of a fleet, confined on board one ship, and this
ship as much, or more closely, engaged, than any other of
332
SIGNALS.
Naval the fleet; and when we reflect that here are no messengers
Signals. ready to carry his orders to ships of the squadron at the
distance of miles from him, and to deliver them with pre¬
cision and distinctness, and that even if this were possible
by sending small ships or boats, the vicissitudes of wind and
weather may render the communication so tedious, that the
favourable moment may be irretrievably lost before the
order can be conveyed. When we think of all these cir¬
cumstances, our thoughts are bewildered, and we are ready
to imagine that a sea battle is nothing but the unconnected
struggle of individual ships ; and that when the admiral has
once “ cried havoc, and let slip the dogs of war, he has
done all that his situation empowers him to do, and he must
leave the fate of the day to the bravery and skill ot his
captains and sailors.
Signals a Yet it is in this situation, apparently the most unfavour-
language toa^ie) that the orders of the commander can be conveye ,
the eye. with a dispatch that is not attainable in the operations ot a
land army. The scene of action is unincumbered, so that
the eye of the general can behold the whole without inter¬
ruption. The movements which it is possible to execute,
are few, and they are precise. A few words are sufficient
to order them, and then the mere fighting the ships must
always be left to their respective commanders. 1 his sim¬
plicity in the duty to be performed has enabled us to frame
a language fully adequate to the business in hand, by which
a correspondence can be kept up as far as the eye can see.
This is the language of signals, a language by writing, ad¬
dressed to the eye, and which he that runneth may read.
As in common writing certain arbitrary marks are agree
on to express certain sounds used in speech, or rather, as in
hieroglyphics, certain arbitrary marks are agreed on to ex¬
press certain thoughts, or the subjects of these thoughts;
so here certain exhibitions are made, which are agreed on
to express certain movements to be executed by the com¬
mander to whom they are addressed, and all are enjoined
to keep their eyes fixed on the ship of the conductor ot the
fleet, that they may learn his will.
If was so in It is scarcely possible for any number of ships to act in
Venetians and Genoese, the greatest maritime powers then Naval
in Europe. . . .
In the naval occurrences of modern Europe, mention is
frequently made of signals. Indeed, as we have already ^
—o—~ r . '.modern
observed, it seems impossible for a number ot ships to act
ancient
times.
concert, without some such mode of communication between
the general and the commanders of private ships. W e have
no direct information of this circumstance in the naval tac¬
tics of the ancient nations, the Greeks and Romans; yet
the necessity of the thing is so apparent, that we cannot
suppose it to have been omitted by the most ingenious and
the most cultivated people who have appeared on the great
theatre of the world ; and we are persuaded that Ihemisto-
cles, Conon, and other renowned naval commanders ot
Athens, had signals by which they directed the movements
of their fleets. We read, that when iEgeus sent his son
Theseus to Crete, it was agreed on, that it the ship should
bring the young prince back in safety, a white flag should
be displayed. But those on board, in their joy for revisit¬
ing their country after their perilous voyage, forgot to hoist
the concerted signal. The anxious father was every day
expectin®- the ship which should bring back his darling son,
and had "gone to the shore to look out for her. He saw
her, but without the signal agreed on ; on which the old
man threw himself into the sea. We find, too, in the his¬
tory of the Punic wars by Polybius, frequent allusions to
such a mode of communication ; and Ammianus Marcelhnus
speaks of the speculatores and vexillarii, who were on board
the ships in the Adriatic. The coins both of Greece and
Rome exhibit both flags and streamers. In short, we can¬
not doubt of the ancients having practised this hieroglyphi-
cal language. It is somewhat surprising that Lord Dudley,
in his Arcano del Mare, in which he makes an ostentatious
display of his knowledge of every thing connected with the
naval service, makes no express mention of this very essen¬
tial piece of knowledge, although he must, by his long resid¬
ence in Italy, have known the marine discipline of the
in anyVnd of concert, without some method of communi-tIme8'
cation. Numberless situations must occur, when it would
be impossible to convey orders or information by messen¬
gers from one ship to another, and coast and alarm signals
had long been practised by every nation. I he idea, there¬
fore, was familiar. We find, in particular, that Queen Eli¬
zabeth, on occasion of the expedition to Cadiz, ordered her
secretaries to draw up instructions, which were to be com¬
municated to the admiral, the general, and the five coun¬
sellors of war, and by them to be copied and transmitted to
the several ships ot the navy, not to be opened till they
should arrive in a certain latitude. It was on this occasion,
says our historian Guthrie, “ that we meet with the
regular sets of signals and orders to the commanders of the
English fleet.” But till the movements of a fleet have at¬
tained some sort of uniformity, regulated and connected by
some principles of propriety, and agreed on by persons in
the habit of directing a number of ships, we may with con¬
fidence affirm that signals would be nothing but a parcel of
arbitrary marks, appropriated to particular pieces of naval
service, such as attacking the enemy, landing the soldiers,
and the like ; and that they would be considered merely as
referring to the final result, but by no means pointing ou.
the mode of execution, or directing the movements which
were necessary for performing it. .. „ .
It was James II. when Duke of York, who first consider- First for.
ed this practice as capable of being reduced into a system, ^ ^
and who saw the importance of such a composition. He, ^ jj,
as well as the king his brother, had always showed a great wj,en ^
predilection for the naval service ; and when appointed ad- 0f York,
miral of England, he turned his whole attention to its im¬
provement/ He had studied the art of war under Turenne,
not as a pastime, but as a science, and was a favourite pupil
of that most accomplished general. Turenne one day point¬
ed him out, saying, “ Behold one who will be one ot the first
princes and greatest generals of Europe. . W hen admira
of England, he endeavoured to introduce into the maritime
service all those principles of concert and arrangement which
made a number of individual regiments and squadrons com¬
pose a great army. When he commanded in the Dutch
war, he found a fleet to be little better than a collection ot
ships, on board of each of which the commander and his
ship’s company did their best to annoy the enemy, but with
very little dependence on each other, or on the 0^ers 0
the general; and in the different actions which the English
fleet had with the Dutch, everything was confusion as soon
as the battle began. It is remarkable that the famous pen¬
sionary De Witt, who from a statesman became a navigator
and a great sea commander in a few weeks, made the same
representation to the States General on his return from his
first campaign. ,
In the memoirs of James II. written by himself, we have
the following passage: “ 1665. On the 15th of March,
the Duke of York went to Gunfleet, the general rendezvous
of the fleet, and hastened their equipment. He ordered all
the flag officers on board with him every morning, to agree
on the order of battle and rank. In former battles, no order
was kept, and this under the Duke of York, was the first m
which fighting in a line and regular form of a bathe wa»
observed.” This must be considered as full authority ror
giving the Duke of York the honour of the invention. For
whatever faults may be laid to the charge of this unfortu¬
nate prince, his word and honour stand unimpeache .
we are anxious to vindicate his claim to it, because om
neighbours the French, as usual, would take the men
this invention, and of the whole of naval tactics, to tie
SIGNALS.
333
al selves. True it is, that Colbert, the great and justly cele-
uls. brated minister of Louis XIV. created a navy for his ambi-
v^ '^'tious and vain-glorious master, and gave it a constitution
which may be a model for other nations to copy. By his
encouragement, men of the greatest scientific eminence
were engaged to contribute to its improvement; and they
gave us the first treatises of naval evolutions. But it must
ever be remembered, that our accomplished, though mis¬
guided sovereign, was then residing at the court of Louis ;
that he had formerly acted in concert with the French as
a commander and flag officer, and Was at this very time
aiding them with his knowledge of nautical affairs. In the
memorable day at La Hogue, the gallant Russel, observing
one of Tourville’s movements, exclaimed, “ There, they
have got Pepys1 amongst them.” This anecdote we give
on the authority of a friend, who heard an old and respec¬
table officer, Admiral Clinton, say, that he had it from a
gentleman who was in the action, and heard the words spo¬
ken ; and we trust that our readers will not be displeased
at having this matter of general opinion established on some
good grounds.
Wcferful It was on this occasion, then, that the Duke of York
sini ity made the movements and evolutions of a fleet the object of
of 1 5J'S‘ his particular study, reduced them to a system, and com-
teni posed that System of Sailing and Fighting Instructions,
which has ever since been considered as the code of disci¬
pline for the British navy, and which has been adopted by
our rivals and neighbours as the foundation of their naval
tactics. It does great honour to its author, although its
merit will not appear very eminent to a careless surveyor,
.on account of the very simplicity which constitutes its chief
excellence. It is unquestionably the result of much saga¬
cious reflection and painful combination of innumerable cir¬
cumstances, all of which have their influence; and it is
remarkable, that although succeeding commanders have
improved the subject by several subordinate additions, no
change has to this day been made in its general principles
or maxims of evolution.
Till some such code be established, it is evident that sig¬
nals can be nothing but arbitrary and unconnected hiero¬
glyphics, to be learned by rote, and retained by memory,
without any exercise of the judgment; and the acquisition
of this branch of nautical skill must be a more irksome task
than that of learning the Chinese writing. But such a code
being once settled, the character in which it may be ex¬
pressed becomes a matter of rational discussion.
Accordingly, the sailing and fighting instructions of the
Duke of York were accompanied by a set of signals for di¬
recting the chief or most frequent movements of the fleet.
These also were contrived with so much judgment, and such
attention to distinctness, simplicity, and propriety, that there
has hardly been any change found necessary; and they7 are
still retained in the British navy as the usual signals in all
cases when we are not anxious to conceal our movements
from an enemy.
rt Notwithstanding this acknowledged merit of the Duke
lceof \orks signals, it must be admitted that great improve¬
rs a
it ha
Ills tl fg. 1 W ^    “ v * V
reive on-^en,:s ^ave keen made on this subject, considered as an art.
fidei ^ I he art military has, in the course of a century past, become
impn . almost an appropriate calling, and has therefore been made
mei1 the peculiar study of its professors. Our rivals the French
were sooner and more formally placed in this situation ; and
the ministers of Louis XIV. took infinite and most judicious
pains to make their military men superior to all others by
t eir academical education. A more scientific turn was
given to their education, and the assistance of scientific men
was liberally given them; and all the nations of Europe
must acknowledge some obligations to them for information
on everything connected with the art of war. They have
attended very much to this subject, have greatly improved Naval
it, and have even introduced a new principle into the art; Signals,
and by this means have reduced it to the most simple forms,—
of reference to the code of sailing and fighting instructions,
by making the signals immediately expressive, not of orders,
but of simple numbers. These numbers being prefixed to
the various articles of the code of instructions, the officer
who sees a signal thrown out by the admiral, reads the num¬
ber and reports it to his captain, perhaps without knowing
to what it relates. Thus simplicity and secrecy, with an
unlimited powrer of variation, are combined. We believe
that M. de la Bourdonnais, a brave and intelligent officer,
during thew^ar 1758, was the author of this ingenious thought.
We do not propose to give a system of British signals.
This would evidently be improper. But we shall show our
readers the practicability of this curious language, the ex¬
tent to which it may be carried, and the methods which
may be practised in accomplishing this purpose. This may
make it an object of attention to scientific men, who can
improve it; and the young officer will not only be able to
read the orders of the commander-in-chief, but will not be
at a loss, should circumstances place him in a situation
where he must issue orders to others.
Signals may be divided into,
I. Day Signals.
II. Night Signals; and,
III. Signals in a Fog.
They must also be distinguished into, First, Signals of
Evolution, addressed to the whole Fleet, or to Squadrons
of the fleet, or to Divisions of these squadrons ; secondly,
Signals of Movements to be made by particular ships; and,
thirdly, Signals of Service, which may be either general or
particular.
1 he great extent of a large fleet, the smoke in time of During an
battle, and the situation of the commander-in-chief, who is engagement
commonly in the midst of the greatest confusion and hottest the signals
fire, frequently makes it very difficult for the officers of dis-0^. t^e a(L
tant ships to perceive his signals with distinctness. Frigates, m’ra^ ai-e
therefore, are stationed out of the line, to windward or to frigates sta-
leeward, whose sole office it is to observe the admiral’s sig- tinned out
nals, and instantly to repeat them. The eyes of all the of the line,
signal officers in the private ships of war are directed to the
repeating frigates, as well as to the admiral; and the officers
of the repeating frigate, having no other duty, observe the
admiral incessantly, and, being unembarrassed" by the action,
can display the signal with deliberation, so that it may be
very distinctly seen. Being minutely acquainted with the
substitutions which must be made on board the admiral
when his masts and rigging are in disorder, his perhaps im¬
perfect signal is exhibited by the repeating frigate in its
proper form, so as to be easily understood. And to facili¬
tate this communication, the commanders of the different
squadrons repeat the signals of the commander-in-chief, and
the commanders of division repeat the signals of the com¬
manders of their squadron.
Every evolution signal is preceded by a signal of adver- Evolution
tisement and preparation, which is general, and frequently signals are
by a gun, to call attention; and when all the signals have preceded
been made which direct the different parts of that evolution, a siSnal
another signal is made, which marks the close of the com-
plex signal, and divides it from others which may immedi-an(j accom-
ately follow it: And as the orders of the commander-in-panied with
chief may relate either to the movements of the whole fleet, a directive
those of a single division, or those of certain private ships, signal-
the Executive Signal, which dictates the particular move¬
ment, is accompanied by a Directive Signal, by which these
ships are pointed out, to which the order is addressed.
I he commander of a ship to which any signal is address- Answered
ed, is generally required to signify by a signal, which is ge- by the com-
     mander.
Pepys was secretary to the Duke of York.
334
SIGNALS.
Naval
Signals.
Annulling
signals.
neral, that he has observed it. And if he does not thorough¬
ly understand its meaning, he intimates this by another ge¬
neral signal. And here it is to be observed, that as soon as
the signal is answered by the ships to which it is addressed,
it is usual to haul it down, to avoid the confusion which
might arise from others being hoisted in the same place.
The order remains till executed, notwithstanding that the
signal is hauled down.
It may happen that the commander who throws out the
signal for any piece of service, sees reasons for altering his
plan. He intimates this by a general annulling signal, ac¬
companying the signal already given. This will frequent¬
ly be more simple than to make the signals for the move¬
ments which would be required for re-establishing the ships
in their former situation.
All these things are of very easy comprehension, and re¬
quire little thought for their contrivance. But when we
come to the particular evolutions and movements, and to
combine these with the circumstances of situation in which
the fleet may be at the time, it is evident that much reflec¬
tion is necessary for framing a body of signals which may be
easily exhibited, distinctly perceived and well understood,
with little risk of being mistaken one for another. We shall
take notice of the circumstances which chiefly contribute
to give them these qualities as we proceed in describing
their different classes.
of the van squadron of this fleet, and are under the imme- Nay
diate direction of the officer of the second rank, while the Sigi;
other extremity is under the direction of the third officer.
This subordination therefore is rather an arrangement of
rank and precedence than of evolution. It is, however, con¬
sidered as the natural order to which the general signals must
be accommodated. For this reason, the division which is
denominated van in the list of this fleet, is generally made
to lead the fleet when in the line of battle on the starboard
tack, and to form the weathermost column in the order of
sailing in columns; and, in general, it occupies that station
from which it can most easily pass into the place of the
leading division on the starboard line of battle ahead. Al¬
though this is a technical nicety of language, and may fre¬
quently puzzle a landsman in reading an account of naval
operations, the reflecting and intelligent reader will see the
propriety of retaining this mode of conceiving the subordi¬
nate arrangement of a fleet, and will comprehend the em¬
ployment of the signals which are necessary for re-establish¬
ing this arrangement, or directing the movements while
another arrangement is retained.
This being understood, it is easy to contrive various me- How
thods of distinguishing every ship by the place which shells-
LI1UU.O Ui “ J  I  ,
occupies in the fleet, both with respect to the whole line,™
I. Of Day Signals.
These are made by means of signals of different colours ;
but before we proceed to the description of the signals by
means of colours, such as flags, banners, or triangular flags,
pendants, or vanes, we must take notice of the ostensible
distinctions of the various divisions and subdivisions of a
fleet, so that we may understand how the same signal may
be addressed to a squadron, division, or single ship or ships.
We suppose it known that a fleet of ships of war is distri¬
buted into three grand divisions, which we shall term squad¬
rons, called the van, centre, and rear. I hese denomina¬
tions have not always a relation to the one being more ad¬
vanced than the other, either towards the enemy or in the
direction of their course.
. f In a land army, the position of every part is conceived
theTerms0 from its reference to the enemy; and the reader, conceiv-
van, centre, ing himself as facing the enemy, easily understands the
and rear, terms van, centre, and rear, the right and left wing, and so
in the line forth. But the movements of a sea army having a neces-
of battle at gary dependence on the wind, they cannot be comprehend-
sea" ed unless expressed in a language which keeps this circum¬
stance continually in view. The simplest and most easily
conceived disposition of a fleet, is that in which it is almost
indispensably obliged to form in order to engage an enemy.
This is a straight line, each ship directly ahead of its neigh¬
bour, and close-hauled. This is therefore called the line of
battle. In this position, the two extremities of the fleet
correspond to the right and left wings of an army. Sup¬
pose this line to be in the direction east and west, the wind
blowing from the north-north-west, and therefore the fleet
on the starboard tack; the ships’ heads are to the west, and
the westermost division is undoubtedly the van of the fleet,
and the eastermost division is the rear. And it is in con¬
formity to this arrangement and situation that the list of the
fleet is drawn up. But the ships may be on the same east
and west line, close-hauled, with their heads to the west,
but the wind blowing from the south-south-west. They
must therefore be on the larboard tack. The same ships,
gjjd ^0 game division, are still, in fact, the van of the fleet.
But suppose the ships’ heads to be to the eastward, and that
they are close-hauled, having the wind from the south-south-
east or the north-north-east, the ships which were the real
van on both tacks in the former situation, are now, in fact,
the rear on both tacks; yet they retain the denomination
*** ——7  i . each (t
with respect to the particular squadron, the particular uivi- ^;
sion of that squadron, and the particular place in that divi-eion8/
sion. This may be done by a combination of the position
and colour of the pendants and vanes of each ship. Thus
the colour of the pendants may indicate the squadron, their
position or mast on which they are hoisted may mark the
division of that squadron, and a distinguishing vane may
mark the place of the private ship in her own division. The
advantages attending this method are many. In a large
fleet it would hardly be possible for the commander-in-chief
to find a sufficient variety of single signals to mark the ship
to which an order is addressed, by hoisting it along with
the signal appropriated to the intended movement. But
by this contrivance one-third part of these signals of address
is sufficient. It also enables the commander-in-chief to or¬
der a general change of position by a single signal, which
otherwise would require several. Thus, suppose that the
fore, main, and mizen masts, are appropriated, with the pro¬
per modifications, for exhibiting the signals addressed to
the van, the centre, and the rear squadrons of the fleet, and
that a red, a white, and a blue flag, are chosen for the dis¬
tinguishing flags of the officers commanding these squad¬
rons ; then, if the commander-in-chief shall hoist a red flag
at his mizen topgallant mast-head, it must direct the van
squadron to take the position then occupied by the rear
squadron, the evolution necessary for accomplishing this
end being supposed known by the commander of the squad¬
ron, who will immediately make the necessary signals to
the squadron under his particular direction. In the same
manner, the distinguishing signal for the leading ship ot a
squadron being hoisted along with the signal of address to
the whole fleet, and the signal for any particular service,
will cause the three or the nine leading ships to execute
that order. j
All that has been said hitherto may be considered as so
many preparations for the real issuing of orders by the com¬
mander-in-chief. The most difficult part of the language
remains, viz. to invent a number of signals which shall co -
respond to that almost infinite variety of movements ana
services which must be performed. , - ,
Distinctness, simplicity, and propriety, are the thrc _ ‘
sential qualities of all signals. A signal must be some ' e
iect easily seen, strongly marked, so that it may be re l J distin
understood, with little risk of its being mistaken lor anotnf>ss.
When made by flags, banners, or pendants, they must oe
of the fullest colours, and strongest contrasts. 1 he smp
are frequently at a very great distance, so that the m
SIGNALS.
335
al vening air occasions a great degradation of colour. They
Us. are seen between the eye and a very variable sky ; and in
‘'^'this situation, especially in the morning or evening, or a
dark day, it is not easy to distinguish one full colour from
another, all of them approaching to the appearance of a
black. At the distance of a very few miles hardly any full
colours can be distinguished but a scarlet and a blue. Red,
blue, yellow, and white, are the colours which can be dis¬
tinguished at greater distances than any others, and are
therefore the only colours admitted as signals. Even these
are sometimes distinguished with difficulty. A yellow is
often confounded with a dirty white, and a blue with a red.
All other dark colours are found totally unfit. But as these
afford but a small variety, we must combine them in one
flag, by making it striped, spotted, or chequered, taking
care that the opposition of colour may be as great as pos¬
sible, and that the pieces of which the flags are made up
may not be too minute. Red must never be striped nor
spotted with blue; and the stripes, spots, or chequers,
should never be less than one-third of the breadth of the
flag-,
Difference of shape, as flags, banners, or pendants, is an¬
other distinction by which the expression may be varied.
And in doing this, we must recollect, that in light winds it
may be difficult to distinguish a flag from a banner, as nei¬
ther are fully displayed for want of wind to detach the fly
from the staff.
Lastly, signals may be varied by their position, which may
be on any lofty and well detached part of the masts, yards,
or rigging.
S in city.- Simplicity is an eminent property in all signals. They
are addressed to persons not much accustomed to combina¬
tions, and who are probably much occupied by other press¬
ing duties. It were to be wished that every piece of service
could be indicated by a single flag. This is peculiarly de¬
sirable with respect to the signals used in time of battle.
The rapid succession of events on this occasion call for a
multitude of orders from the commander-in-chief, and his
ship is frequently clad over with flags and pendants, so that
it is exceedingly difficult for the signal officer of a private
ship to distinguish the different groups, each of which make
a particular signal.
These considerations are the foundation of a certain pro¬
priety in signals, w-hich directs us to a choice amongst marks
which appear altogether arbitrary. Signals which run any
risk of being confounded, on account of some resemblance,
or because their position hinders us from immediately per¬
ceiving their difference, should be appropriated to pieces of
service which are hardly possible to be executed, or can
hardly be wanted, in the same situation. No bad conse¬
quence could easily result though the signal for coming to
closer action should resemble that for unmooring, because
the present situation of the ships makes the last operation
impossible or absurd, Such considerations direct us to se¬
lect for battle signals, those which are of easiest exhibition,
are the most simple, and have the least dependence on the
circumstance of position; so that their signification may not
be affected by the damages sustained in the masts or rigging
of the flag-ship. Such signals as are less easily seen at a
distance, should be appropriated to orders which can occur
only in the middle of the fleet. Signals which are made to
the admiral by private ships may be the same with signals
of command from the flag-ship, which will considerably di¬
minish the number of signals perfectly different from each
other.
With all these attentions and precautions a system of sig¬
nals is at last made up, fitted to the code of sailing and fight¬
ing instructions. It is accompanied by another small set
for the duty of convoys. It must be engrossed in two books;
one for the officer of the flag-ship, who is to make the sig¬
nals, and the other is delivered to every private ship. In
Pro|
By w
mean
y-
(iistin
eonve' [t
andui r-
itood
the first, the evolutions, movements, and other operations of Naval
service, are set down in one column, and their correspond- Signals,
ing signals in another. The first column is arranged, either
alphabetically, by the distinguishing phrase, or systemati¬
cally, according to the arrangement of the sailing and fight¬
ing instructions. The officer whose duty it is to make the
signals turns to this column for the order which he is to
communicate, and in the other column he finds the appro¬
priated signal.
In the other book, which is consulted for the interpreta¬
tion of the signals, they are arranged in the leading column,
either by the flags, or by the places of their exhibition. The
first is the best method, because the derangement of the flag¬
ship’s masts and rigging in time of action may occasion a
change in the place of the signal.
The Tactique Navale of the Chevalier de Morogues con- The art of
tains a very full and elaborate treatise on signals. We re- signals
commend this work to every sea-officer, as full of instruction, much im-
The art of signals has been greatly simplified since the pub-Prove<h
lication of this work, but we cannot but ascribe much of the
improvements to it. We believe that the author is the in¬
ventor of that systematic manner of addressing the order or
effective signal to the different squadrons and divisions of
the fleet, by which the art of signals is made more concise,
the execution of orders is rendered more systematic, and the
commanders of private ships are accustomed to consider
themselves as parts of an army, with a mutual dependence
and connection. We are ready enough to acknowledge the
superiority of the French in manoeuvring, but we affect to
consider this as an imputation on their courage. Nothing
can be more unjust; and dear bought experience should long
ere now have taught us the value of this superiority. What
avails that courage which we would willingly arrogate to our¬
selves, if we cannot come to action with our enemy, or must
do it in a situation in which it is almost impossible to suc¬
ceed, and which needlessly throws away the lives of our gal¬
lant crews ? Yet this must happen, if our admirals do not
make evolutions their careful study, and our captains do not
habituate themselves, from the first hoisting a pendant, to
consider their own ship as connected with the most remote
ship in the line. We cannot think that this view of their
situation would in the least lessen the character which they
have so justly acquired, of fighting their ship with a courage
and firmness unequalled by those of any other nation. And
we may add, that it is only by such a rational study of their
profession, that the gentleman can be distinguished from the
mercenary commander of a privateer.
II. Night Signals.
It is evident, that the communication of orders by night
must be more difficult and more imperfect than by day. We
must, in general, content ourselves with such orders as are
necessary for keeping the fleet together, by directing the
more general movements and evolutions which any change
of circumstances may render necessary. And here the di¬
vision and subordinate arrangement of the fleet is of indis¬
pensable necessity, it being hardly possible to particularise
every ship by a signal of address, or to see her situation.
The orders are therefore addressed to the commanders of
the different divisions, each of whom is distinguished by his
poop and top-lights, and is in the midst of, and not very re¬
mote from, the ships under his more particular charge. Yet
even in this unfavourable situation, it is frequently neces¬
sary to order the movements of particular ships. Actions
during the night are not uncommon. Pursuits and rallyings
are still oftener carried on at this time. The common dan¬
gers of the sea are as frequent and more disastrous. The
system of signals therefore is very incomplete till this part
be accomplished.
Night signals must be made by guns, or by lights, or by
both combined.
336
SIGNALS.
Naval Gun-signals are susceptible of variety both in number
Signals. and jn disposition. The only distinct variation which can
>*,-\^wbe made in this disposition, is by means of the time elapsed
How gun- between the discharges. This will easily admit of three va-
sence of a fleet to be more extensively known than may be Nav
convenient. .
The commander-in-chief will inform the fleet by signal,^/
  D uetw ecu IliC UlOV-'AICHgV.O*    J •-
signals may ri i gl moderate, and quick. Half-minute guns are
be varied - i . _  
that guns, or perhaps rockets, are not to be used that Gener;
• i . rrn • • ^1 4-V.rv or.firno Hirpr'Is tViP flpph tn°^serV:
as slow as can easily be listened to as appertaining to one
signal. Quarter-minute guns are much better, and admit
of two very distinct subdivisions. When the gunners, there¬
fore, are well trained to this service, especially since the em¬
ployment of firelocks for cannon, intervals of fifteen or twelve
seconds may be taken for slow firing, eight or ten seconds
for moderate, and four or five seconds for quick bring, it
these could be reduced to one-half, and made with certainty
and precision, the expression would be incomparably more
distinct. A very small number of firings varied in this way
will give a considerable number of signals. Thus five guns,
with the variety of only quick and moderate, will give twenty
very distinguishable signals. The same principle must be
attended to here as in the flag-signals. The most simple
must be appropriated to the most important orders, such as
occur in the worst weather, or such as are most liable to be
mistaken. Quick firing should not make part of a signal
to a very distant ship, because the noise of a gun at a great
distance is a lengthened sound, and two of them, with a
very short interval, are apt to coalesce into one long-con¬
tinued sound. This mode of varying gun-signals by the time
must therefore be employed with great caution, and we must
be very certain of the steady performance of the gunners.
Note, that a preparatory signal or advertisement that an
effective signal is to be made, is a very necessary circum¬
stance. It is usual, at least in hard weather, to make this
by a double discharge, with an interval of half a second, or
at most a second. ,
Gun-signals are seldom made alone, except in ordinary
situations and moderate weather; because accident may de¬
range them, and inattention may cause them to escape no¬
tice, and, once made, they are over, and their repetition
would change their meaning. They are also improper on
an enemy’s coast, or where an enemy’s cruisers or fleets may
be expected. . , , . ,
Signals by lights are either made with lights simply so
Signals by called, that is, lanthorns shown in different parts of the ship,
lights. or by rockets. Lights may differ by number, and by posi¬
tion, and also by figure. For the flag ship always carrying
poop or top-lights, or both, presents an object in the dark-
est night, so that we can tell whether the additional lights
are exhibited about the mainmast, the foremast, the mizen-
mast, and the like. And if the lights shown from any of
these situations are arranged in certain distinguishable si¬
tuations in respect to each other, the number of signals may
be greatly increased. Thus three lights may be in a verti-
tical line, or in a horizontal line, or in a triangle ; and the
point of this triangle may be up or down, or forward, or aft,
and thus may have many significations.
Lights are also exhibited by false fires or rockets. These
can be varied 'by number, and by such differences of ap¬
pearance as to make them very distinguishable. Rockets
may be with stars, with rain fire, or simple squibs.
By varying and combining these, a very great number
These tw°ofsignals may be produced, fully sufficient to direct every
XnTmav general movement or evolution, or any ordinary and import-
begcom.. ant service. The Chevalier de Morogues has given a spe-
bined. cimen of such a system of night signals, into which he has
even introduced signals of address or direction to every
ship of a large fleet; and has also given signals of number,
by which depths of soundings, points of the compass, and
other things of this kind, may be expressed both easily and
distinctly. He has made the signals by rockets perfectly
similar in point of number to those by lanthorns, so that
the commander can take either ; a choice which may have
its use, because the signals by rockets may cause the pre-
LllCtb I' — * —|    ^
night. This signal, at the same time, directs the fleet to^
close the line or columns, that the light signals may bebet-cernin
ter observed. night g
It is indeed a general rule to show as few lights as pos- nals.
sible; and the commander frequently puts out his own poop
and top-lights, only showing them from time to time, that
his ships may keep around him.
The signal lanthorns on board the flag ship, and a lan-
thorn kept in readiness on board of every private ship, to
answer or acknowledge signals from the commander-in-chief,
are all kept in bags, to conceal their lights till the mo¬
ment they are fixed in their places, and the preparatory
or advertising signal has been made. The commander-
in-chief sometimes orders by signal every ship to show a
light for a minute or two, that he may judge of the position
of the fleet; and the admiral’s signal must always be ac¬
knowledged by those to whom it is addressed.
It is of particular importance that the fleet be kept toge-
gether. Therefore the leading ships of the fleet, on either
tack, are enjoined to acknowledge the signals of the com¬
mander-in-chief by a signal peculiar to their station. Thus
the commander-in-chief learns the position of the extremi¬
ties of his fleet.
In framing a set of night signals, great attention must be
given to their position, that they be not obscured by the
sails. The nature of the order to be given will frequently
determine this. Thus, an order for the rear ships to make
more sail, will naturally direct us to exhibit the signal at
the mizen peek ; and so of other pieces of service. Lan¬
thorns exposed in groups, such as triangles, lozenges, and
the like, are commonly suspended at the corners of large
frames of laths, at the distance of a fathom at least from
each other. Attempts have been made to show lights of
different colours ; but the risk of mistake or failure in the
composition at the laboratory, makes this rather hazardous.
Coloured lanthorns are more certain ; but when the glasses
are made of a colour sufficiently intense, the vivacity of the
light, which at no time is very great, is too much diminish¬
ed. Besides, the very distance changes the colour exceed¬
ingly and unaccountably.
HI. Of Signals in a Fog.
These can be made only by noises, such as the firing °f jjy 0 i
cannon and muskets, the beating of drums and ringing ofingc
bells. Fog signals are the most difficult to contrive of any, tain; I
and are susceptible of the least variety. The commandei-nd n|P
in-chief is principally concerned to keep his fleet together,
_ . 1 , . ,  ! 1*. TYrlll mo IrP
signa
iii-uuici i© — 1 . a; i duriri
and unless something very urgent requires it, he will mane
- . . P *1! n orvirfr fit
■fog!
no change in his course or rate of sailing. But a shift ofman; s
wind or other causes may make this necessary. IheulW
changes which he will order, it will be prudent to regulate sary.
by some fixed rule, which is in general convenient. I bus,
when a fleet is in the order of sailing upon a wind, and a
fog comes on, the fleet will hold on the same com se.
the wind should come a little more on the beam, the flee
will still keep close to the wind. Certain general rules o
this kind being agreed on, no signals are necessary for keep¬
ing the fleet together; and the ships can separate or run
foul of each other only by difference in their rate of sailing,
or by inaccurate steerage. To prevent this, the comman -
er-in-chief fires a gun from time to time, and the ships o
the fleet judge of his situation and distance by the sound.
The oommanders of divisions fire guns, with some^lsGl.lc^
tion from those of the commander-in-chief. This hot in
forms the commander-in-chief of the position of his squa
rons, and enables the private ships of each division to keep
in the neighbourhood of their own flag ship. On oai
SIGNALS
B. they
sri liven
ee: ry
Im! P-
aval every private ship the drum is beaten, or the bell is chimed
nals. every quarter of an hour, according as the ship is on the
starboard or larboard tack. By such contrivances, it is
never difficult to keep a fleet in very good order when sail¬
ing on a wind. The wind is almost always moderate, and
the ships keep under a very easy sail. It is much more
difficult when going large, and separation can be prevented
only by the most unwearied attention. The greatest risk
is the falling in with strange ships steering another course.
But evolutions and other movements are frequently indis¬
pensable. The course must be changed by tacking or
wearing, and other services must be performed. None,
however, are admitted but the most probable, the most sim¬
ple, and the most necessary.
The commander-in-chief first informs the fleet by the
preparatory fog signal, that he is about to order an evolu¬
tion, and that he is to direct it by fog signals. This pre¬
caution is indispensable to prevent mistakes. Along with
this advertising signal he makes the signal of the movement
intended. This not only calls the attention of the fleet,
but makes the ships prepare for the precise execution of
that movement. The commanders of divisions repeat the
advertising signal, which informs their ships of their situa¬
tion, and the private ships beat their drums or chime their
bells. Thus the whole ships of the fleet close a little, and
become a little better acquainted w ith their mutual position.
It is now understood that a movement is to be made pre¬
cisely a quarter of an hour after the advertisement. At the
expiration of this time, the effective signal for this move¬
ment is made by the commander-in-chief, and must be in¬
stantly repeated by the commanders of divisions, and then
the movement must be made by each ship, according to the
sailing and fighting instructions. This must be done with
the utmost attention and precision, because it produces a
prodigious change in the relative position of the ships ; and
even although the good sense of the commander-in-chief
will select such movements for accomplishing his purpose as
produce the smallest alterations, and the least risk of sepa¬
ration or running foul of each other; it is still extremely
difficult to avoid these misfortunes. To prevent this as
much as possible, each ship which has executed the move¬
ment, or which has come on a course thwarting that of the
fleet, intimates this by a signal properly adapted, often add¬
ing the signal of the tack on which it is now' standing, and
even its particular signal of recognizance. This is particu¬
larly incumbent on the flag ships and the leading ships of
each division. After a reasonable interval, the command¬
er-in-chief w'ill make proper signals for bringing the fleet
to a knowledge of their reunion in this new position.
This must serve for a general account of the circumstan¬
ces which must be attended to in framing a code of signals.
337
to r lish
lar f Hint The arbitrary characters in which the language is written
Sipn
may
made
imm
exprt
sions
mimt's,
icu-
ftmst be left to the sagacity of the gentlemen of the profes¬
sion. It must be observed, that the stratagems of w ar make
secrecy very necessary. It may be of immense hazard if
the enemy should understand our signals. In time of battle
it might frequently frustrate our attempts to destroy them,
and at all times would enable them to escape, or to throw us
into disorder. Every commander of a squadron, therefore,
issues private signals, suited to his particular destination; and
therefore it is necessary that our code of signals be suscep¬
tible of endless variations. This is exceedingly easy, with
out any increase of their number. The commander needs
only intimate that such and such a signal is so and so
changed in its meaning during his command.
We cannot leave this article without returning to an ob-
servation which we made almost in the beginning, viz. that
31 •ate t le system of signals, or, to speak more properly, the man¬
ner of framing this system, has received much improvement
from gentlemen of the French navy', and particularly
irom the most ingenious thought of M. de la Bourdonnais,
Naval
Signals.
of making the signals the immediate expressions of num¬
bers only, which numbers may be afterwards used to indi¬
cate any order whatever. We shall present our readers
with a scheme or tw'o of the manner in which this may be
done for all signals, both day, night, and fog. This alone
may be considered as a system of signals, and is equally ap¬
plicable to every kind of information at a distance. With¬
out detracting in the smallest degree from the praise due
to M. de la Bourdonnais, we must observe, that this prin¬
ciple of notation is of much older date. Bishop Wilkins, in
his Secret and Swift Messenger, expressly recommends it,
and gives specimens of the manner of execution ; so does
Dr. Hook in some of his proposals to the Royal Society.
Gaspar Schottus also mentions it in his Technica Curiosa;
and Kircher, amongst others of his Curious Projects.
M. de la Bourdonnais’s method is as follows :—He chooses M.de la
pendants for his effective signals, because they are the most B<>urdon
easily displayed in the proper order. Several pendants,
making part of one signal, may be hoisted by one halyard, S/this
being stopped on it at the distance of four or six feet from ^
each other. If it be found proper to throw out another
signal at the same time and place, they are separated by a
red pendant without a point. His colours are chosen with
judgment, being very distinctly recognised, and not liable
to be confounded with the addressing signals appropriated
to the different ships of the fleet. They are, for
No.
1. Red.
2. White.
3. Blue.
4. Yellow.
5. Red, with white tail.
No.
6. Red, with blue tail.
7. White, w'ith blue tail.
8. White, with red tail.
9. Blue, with yellow tail.
10. Yellow, with blue tail.
VOL xx.
Three sets of such pendants will express every number
under a thousand, by hoisting one above the other, and
reckoning the uppermost hundreds, the next below it tens,
and the lowest units. Thus the number 643 will be ex¬
pressed by a pendant red with blue tail, a yellow pendant
below it, and a blue one below the last.
Fhis method has great advantages. The signals may be
hoisted in any place where best seen, and therefore the sig¬
nification is not affected by the derangement of the flag¬
ship's masts and rigging. And by appropriating the smaller
numbers to the battle signals, they are more simple, requir¬
ing fewer pendants.
As this method requires a particular set of colours, it has
its inconveniences. An admiral is often obliged to shift his I(: migbt
flag, even in time of action. He cannot easily take the co- bere,,(ler'
lours along with him. It is therefore better to make use of
such colours as every private ship is provided with. One P
set of 11 will do, with the addition of three, or at most of
four pendants, of singular make, to mark 100, 200, 300, 400.
Two of these flags, one above the other, will express any
number under 100, by using the 11 th as a substitute for any
flag that should be repeated. T. hus the 11th flag, along with
the flag for eight or for six, will express the number 88
or 66. Thus we are able to express every number below
500, and this is sufficient for a very large code of signals.
And in order to diminish as much as possible the number
of these compound signals, it will be proper that a number
of single flag signals be preserved, and even varied by cir¬
cumstances of position, for orders which are of very frequent
occurrence, and which can hardly occur in situations where
any obstructions are occasioned by loss of masts or other¬
wise. And farther, to avoid all chance of mistake, a parti¬
cular signal can be added, intimating that the signals now
exhibited are numerary signals; or, which is still better,
all signals may be considered as numerary signals; and
those which we have just now called single flat signals may
be set down opposite to, or as expressing the largest num¬
bers of the code.
2 u
338
SIGNALS.
Nava! This method requires the signal of advertisement, the an-
Signals. nulling signal, the signal of address to the particular ship
-‘-vy^’^or division, the signal of acknowledgment, the signal oi in¬
distinctness, of distress, of danger, and one or two more,
which in every method must be employed.
Another method of expressing numbers with few^er co¬
lours is as follows: Let the flags be A, B, C, D, L, F, anu
arrange them as follows:
A B C D E F
1 2 3 4 5 6
A 7 8 9 10 11 12
B 13 14 15 16 17 18
C 19 20 21 22 23 24
D 25 26 27 28 29 30
E 31 32 33 34 35 36
F 37 38 39 40 41 42
The number expressed by any pair of flags is found in the
intersection of the horizontal and PerPf d‘culal. c0"l™n^
Thus the fla<>- D, hoisted along with and above the flag r,
expresses the number 40, &c. In order to express a greater
number, (but not exceeding 84), suppose 75, hoist the flag
g, which expresses 33, or 75 wanting 42, and above them
a flag or signal G, which alone expresses 42.
This method may be still farther improved by arranging
the flags thus:
Another
method of
expressing
numbers by
fewer co¬
lours.
A
B
C
D
E
F
A
1
7
B
2
8
13
C
3
9
14
18
D
4
10
15
19
22
E
5
11
16
20
23
25
F
6
12
17
21
24
26
27
A third
method.
Advan¬
tages of
numeral
signals.
Numbers
may be als
expressed
by night
signals.
In this last method the signification of the signal is to¬
tally independent of the position of the flags. In whatever
parts of the ship the flags D and E are seen, they express
the number 23. This would suit battle signals. .
Another method still may be taken. Flags hoisted any¬
where on the foremast may be accounted units, those on t e
mainmast tens, and those on the mizenmast hundreds. 1 hus
numeral signals may be made by a ship dismasted, or having
only poles in their place. Many other ways may be con¬
trived for expressing numbers by colours, and there is grea
room for exercising the judgment of the contriver, bor it
must always be remembered, that these signals must be ac¬
companied with a signal by which it is addressed to some
particular ship or division of the fleet, and it may be di
cult to connect the one with the other, which is perhaps
shewn in another place, and along with other executive
bl&One great advantage of these numeral signals is, that
they may be changed in their signification at pleasure.
Thus, in the first method, it can be settled, that on bun-
days the colours A, B, C, D, &c., express the cyphers
1 *2 3, 4, &c., but that on Mondays they express the cy¬
phers'0, 1, 2, 3, &c., and on Tuesdays the cyphers 9, 0, L
2, &c., and so on through all the days of the week. 1 his
mean of secrecy is mentioned by Dr. Hooke for the coast
and alarm signals, where, by the bye, he shews a method
for conveying intelligence over land very similar to what
is now practised by the French with their telegraph.
It is equally easy to express numbers by night signals.
0 Thus M. de la Bourdonnais proposes that one discharge ot
a great gun shall express 7, and that 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, shall be
expressed by lights. Therefore to express 24, we must
fire three guns, and shew three lights. Tins is the most
perfect of all forms of night and log signals. For both the
manner of firing guns and of exhibiting lights may be va
ried to a sufficient extent with very few guns or lights, and
with great distinctness. . . J?
Thus, for guns. Let F mark the firing of a single gun'-^V^
at moderate intervals, and//a double gun, that is, two dis¬
charged at the interval of a second. We may express num¬
bers thus:
1 F.
2 F, F.
3 F, F, F.
4 F, F, F, F.
5 F,//:
6 F, F,ff.
7 F,// F.
8 F,ff, FF
9 F,// F,//
10 //-
100, 8zc, f/fZ or///
It might be done with fewer guns if the//were admitted
as the first firing. But it seems better to begin always with
the single gun, and thus the double gun beginning a signal
distinguishes the tens, &c. .. f
In like manner, a small number of lights will admit of a
great variety of very distinct positions, which may serve for
all signals to ships not very remote from the commander-m-
chief. For orders to be understood at a very great dis¬
tance, it will be proper to appropriate the numbers which
are indicated by signals made with rockets. These can be
varied in number and kind to a sufficient extent, so as to
be very easily distinguished and understood. It is sufficient
to have shewn how the whole, or nearly the whole notation
of signals, may be limited to the expression of numbers.
We have taken little notice of the signals made by p ’ J
vate ships to the commander-in-chief. This is a verY alt.
business, because there is little risk of confounding them
with other signals. Nor have we spoken of signals from t
flag ships whose ultimate interpretation is number, as when
ships are directed to change their course so many points.
Those also are easily contrived in any of the meth°
ready described ; also when a private ship wishes t0 ir™rra
the commander-in-chief that soundings are lound at so
many fathoms. In like manner, by numbering the points
of the compass, the admiral can direct to chace to any one
of them, or mav be informed of strange ships being seen m
any quarter, and what is their number. (b. b. b.;
Of late years, that is, within this century, a great im¬
provement has taken place in the signal department of the
Royal Navy. The following brief memorandum on the sub¬
ject will give as general an idea on the subject as could be
given without the introduction of coloured P1?168’ and “° f
copious explanations than are consistent with the plan ot
this work. , . . _QVV.
There are three volumes of signals in use m the m y»
one is called “ General Signals,” the other « Night and Fog
Signals,” the other “Vocabulary Signals, lor the useo
Majesty’s fleet.” The General Signals consist o a set o
numerical references, from 1 to 999, and contain all the most
general orders relating to action, sailing, manoeuin g,
every other evolution in use, either at sea or at anchor. A
these signals are made by means of a set of numera! flags,
from 1 To 9, with the addition of zero; a set o
flags, to distinguish the different parts of a ee , »
affirm signals, to annul them, and to prepare “ea8’a1reh ’
terrogative, answering, compass, geographical, and Y
pendants. These, with the union jack, compose ti e -
in use when the general signal-book is employed. All thes
fla-s and pendants depend upon their form and colour to
their distinction, and are hoisted at the most conspicuous
places for being seen, but seldom more than three at a
Besides these, distant signals are made with square a
S I G
val angular flags and pendants, without any regard to their
|f:uls- colour. They are numeral, and each has its signification
- '^■’'attached to its number in the general signal-book. The
distinctive mark of a distant signal is a ball, which is used
as a preparative, a stop, or an answer.
In the general signal-book are detailed sets of instruc¬
tions relative to the line of battle and order of sailing, each
signal for a specific evolution being accompanied by a plate,
explanatory of the measure contemplated.
The JSight Signals are made with lanterns, rockets, blue
lights, and guns. The numbers are not many, and care is
taken to confine the signals to those objects of the most ge¬
neral application in practice, so as not to complicate or con¬
fuse ; for it may be observed, that night signals are almost
always very difficult both to make and to interpret.
The Vocabulary Signals are made by means of twenty-
one symbols, named A, B, &c., to Y inclusive, (all the
alphabet, omitting J, U, W, X, and Z, but retaining I and
Y). There are no numeral flags used in this code, and
no more than three symbols are used at one time. These
symbols are made with square and triangular flags, with
the occasional use of pendants, to distinguish the alpha¬
betical, the military, and the geographical, parts of the
vocabulary from one another. The vocabulary signals,
with their significations, are arranged in the following
order, words and sentences, alphabet, military phrases and
terms, geographical table, and list of the navy'. The words
and sentences are placed together, the words being arr^nf^-
ed in alphabetical order, the sentences immediately follow¬
ing tneir most prominent words. This book is divided into
_ three parts, but as the number of words required to be used
would exceed the power of combination of three symbols,
a distinctive pendant is used, to signify which portion of
the book is to be referred to, and in this way the same
combinations may be used several times over. The military
table consists of such technical terms and phrases as are
likely to occur on general service. The geographical table
contains the names of places, while the body of the volume
consists of words and sentences for universal use.
A code of signals for the use of the mercantile marine
was pubhshcd by Captain Marryat, of the Royal Navy, in
1817; it has, w'e believe, been in general use ever since,
and has run through many editions.
The flags and pendants used in Captain Marryat’s mer-
cantile code of signals are fifteen, exclusive of the Union
Jack, which, by order in Council, when used in the mer¬
chant service, is to have a white border all round, such
border being one-fifth of the breadth of the Jack itself
without the border.
There are ten numerical flags, which represent the
figures in arithmetic, and are used throughout the whole of
Captain Marryat’s code of signals.
The Union Jack, as above distinguished from that used
by men of war, which Jack, we may mention, viz. that with
the white border, is now used in the navy only as a signal
for a pilot. ^ j b
The first distinguishing -pendant is hoisted over the
number, or at some other mast-head, when the number of
a merchant ship is shown in part second of the code.
fhe rendezvous flag is hoisted over the number of the
port in part third.
The sentences in fourth are expressed by the nu¬
mericalflags alone.
The second distinguishing pendant is hoisted over the
11Utk rS in first division of the vocabulary.
ff net telegraph flag is hoisted at some other mast-head,
a7eThr„nUmberS ^ the SeC°nd division of the vocabulary
Ihe numerical pendant is hoisted over a number, when
merely the figures are intended to be shown.
I he code of signals consists of six parts.
S I L 339
1st, A list of the names of men-of-war. Signature
2d, A list of the names of merchant ships, copied from II
Lloyd’s Register. Silesia.
3d, A list of ports, headlands, rocks, reefs, shoals, &c.
4th, A selection of sentences.
5th, The first division of the vocabulary consists of com¬
pass signals, ships’ stores, auxiliary verbs,'and final termi¬
nations, to assist in spelling words.
6th, J he second division of the vocabulary consists of
the alphabet, and words most likely to be used in commer¬
cial and maritime affairs. The alphabet is introduced for
the purpose of spelling words which are not found in the
vocabulary.
It is certainly much to be wished, that every means
should be used to induce merchant ships to adopt some
code of signals; and we trust the gallant and accomplished
author, who is so well known in other walks of literature,
wiH not relax his exertions in this humble but very useful
department of writing, but that he will study, by fresh edi¬
tions, to keep his code always up to the wants of the day.
For the rest, we are of opinion that the subject of sig¬
nals, both in the navy and in the merchant service, is one
which requires more attention than it has yet met with. It
wmiild seem highly desirable, for instance, that a universal
code, sanctioned by their respective governments, should be
adopted amongst all the trading nations of the world. If
the great mat itime countries were to promulgate one grand
code, it would speedily be adopted by all, and every ship
would then be able to communicate with any other at sea,
without the necessity of coming within hail, which is always
troublesome, and often impossible. We all now use the
same or similar charts; we all use the same methods of na¬
vigating our ships, by chronometers, lunars, and so forth ;
the manipulations of our seamanship are all alike; and why
should not our means of communicating by signal be the
Same? . (li. T.)
SIGNATURE, in Printing, is a letter put at the bottom
of the first page at least, in each sheet, as a direction to the
binder in folding, gathering, and collating them. The sig¬
natures consist of the capital letters of the alphabet, which
change in every sheet; and if there be more sheets than
letters in the alphabet, a figure is placed before the signature,
as 2 A, 2 B, &c., which are repeated as often as necessarv
SIGNET, one of the king’s' seals, made use of in sealing
his private letters, and all grants that pass by bill signed
under his Majesty’s hand. It is always in the custody of
the Secretaries of State.
SILBERBERG, a town of the Prussian province of Sile¬
sia, in the circle of P rankenstein. It is an open town in a
mining district in a narrow valley, surrounded with hills,
on whose sides the streets are built, but the valley is 1350
feet above the level of the sea. The inhabitants are occu¬
pied in making cloth, and in exploring the mines. It is
chiefly remarkable from fortified points on five hills, which
overlook the town, and which are so connected with each
other by works, as to form a most complete citadel, which
is surrounded by a ditch seventy feet in depth, and which
has within its barracks a natural cavern, sufficiently commo¬
dious to lodge securely a garrison of 5000 men. When, in
the campaigns of 1806 and 1807, the whole of Prussia was
subdued by the French, this place alone defended itself up
to the conclusion of the peace of Tilsit.
SILESIA, a large tract of country, now divided between
Austria and Prussia. In ancient times, it was inhabited by
wo rude tribes, called the Lygiern and the Quadi, who
were subdued in the sixth century bv the Sclavonians, bv
which it became subject to Poland. Their manners and
anguage, as well as the Christian religion, were introduced
by the conquerors. The first bishopric was founded in 966,
at bchmogen, from whence it was subsequently removed to
the city of Breslau.
340
S I L
Silesia.
In the year 1138, Boleslaus the III., regent of Poland,
' divided his states amongst his sons, and gave over to his
eldest, Wladislaus, Silesia, with some other estates, and the
greatest authority in the government. His brothers, how¬
ever, conspired against him, and succeeded in expelling
him from the country. The three brothers divided the land
into portions to each, who thus became the founders of the
three dukedoms of Silesia, belonging to the race of the
Piastis. As the progeny of these dukes multiplied, then
respective portions were subdivided, a;nd thus gave rise to
the great number of principalities of which the country con¬
sists. Besides these, there were other princes, especially
in Upper Silesia, who were the descendants ot Otto bar,
king of Bohemia, who died in 1278, after establishing the
dukes of Troppau, Jagendorf, and Rahber. Vi hen king
John had succeeded to the throne of Bohemia, he was
anxious to unite all the power m Ins own hands, under the
pretext of restoring tranquillity to the country, which at
been weakened by internal quarrels and hostility He was
so far enabled to succeed, in 1327, in persuading the several
princes to receive their lands as a leud from him, that two
only of the whole number, the prince of Jauer, and tae
prince of Schweidnitz, declined compliance. In the next
reUn, when John was succeeded by his son, the emperor
Charles IV. of Germany, these two principalities came into
his possession bv marriage ; and Silesia was thus formed into
one dukedom, in connexion with the kingdom of Bohemia,
in the year 1355. At this time, the king of kolancl relin¬
quished all claim over Silesia, and renewed his renunciation
by a subsequent treaty in 1372. -
Under the Bohemian monarchy* the religious tenets ot
Huss, Luther, Calvin, and Swenkfeld, spread themselves
over the whole country, and the adherents to them were,
under some restrictions, permitted to exercise their own
forms of worship. _
In lUIS, a kind of constitution was imparted to the coun¬
try, which, whilst it gave consistency to it as a whole, less¬
ened the power of the nobility, and increased that ot the
king, Wladislaus, who then filled the throne. Under him,
as well as under his predecessors, since the Polish renuncia¬
tion, the language and manners of the Poles were gradually
exchanged fbr those of the Germans, and industry, and
commerce, and with them, the arts and sciences, were gra¬
dually extended. They, however, received a severe check
bv the persecution of the protestants which was barbarously
carried on by the successive princes of the house of Austria.
The tremendous scourge of religious and civil war extend¬
ed from Bohemia to Silesia,
The peace of Westphalia gave tranquillity to the country
^ . 1 1will nrirwno
S I L
menced in 1756, when France, Saxony, Russia, and Sweden, Silesia,,
formed an alliance against Prussia, which brought the king
and his country to the brink of ruin, from which it was
saved by the talents of the monarch, and some aid from
England. After seven years of hostilities, the peace of
Hubertsburg was concluded in 1763, by which Silesia was
finally settled under the government of Frederick, and lias
remained subject to his successors to the present time.
Prussian Silesia, according to its present limits, (for a por¬
tion of Silesia is still retained by Austria,) extends m north
latitude, from 49° 49' to 52° 1'; and in east longitude,
from 14° 20' to 19° 17', and comprehends 15,945 square
miles. It is bounded on the north-west by Brandenburg,
on the north-east by Posen, on the east by Poland, on the
south-east by Cracow and Galicia, on the south by Moravia,
and on the south-west by Bohemia.
It is divided into the governments, taking their names
from the cities where the administrative boards are fixed,
viz. Breslau, Oppeln, and Liegnitz. In these, are 186 cities
and towns, and 5355 villages and hamlets. It is the most
densely peopled of any portion of the Prussian dominions;
and it appeared by the census of 1831, that the number of
inhabitants was 2,464,413; the births exceeding the deaths
at the rate of 100,000 annually. Nearly one halt the in¬
habitants are Catholics, the others are chiefly Lutherans, with
about four or five thousand Calvinists, some Menomtes,
Hussites, and Hernhutters, and about 17,000 Jews. Each
of these sects have their establishments for education, and
a University in Breslau, open to all, without distinction ot
religious opinions.
The river Oder runs from south to north, and divides the
province into two parts of different character, as to the face
of the country. On the east, it presents a flat sandy plain
of rather a sterile appearance. On the eastern or German
side, the land is rather mountainous, presenting much
variety of scenery, with a good soil, though intermixed with
extensive tracts of sandy land. .
In the part of the province where it touches on Bohemia
is a mountainous range, some of whose peaks are very lotty.
The Reisenkoppe is 4950 feet, the Grasse-Rad 40/0, and
several others above 4000. , . . ,
The state of agriculture is much improved, and the land
produces a sufficiency, in some years a surplus, of corn,
consisting chiefly of rye, with about one-fifth as much whea .
The cultivation of flax is, however, the employment to
which the greatest skill is directed, and in some years
17,000,000 pounds have been raised, the greater part ot
which was used in the manufactures of the province. o-
bacco, fruit, and culinary vegetables are abundant, and in
« i i  i  wvriv-ts-t ic? I lift minej>
ation in the dominions of Austria, than in the other divisions
of Germany, yet a degree of it was allowed to the protes¬
tants, though with imperfect securities for its continuance.
Under that house, however, to which it passed, in the early
part of the sixteenth century, it was tolerably prosperous ;
manufactures were introduced, the land was well cultivated,
and a degree of ease enjoyed by the inhabitants, to which
their ancestors had been utter strangers. _
After a century of increasing advancement, Silesia be¬
came the theatre of a tremendous war. The death of the
emperor Charles VI., when the throne devolved on a female,
revived a long dormant and certainly fictitious claim to
the western part of Silesia, by Frederick of Prussia, com¬
monly surnamed the great. No justification of his conduct
could be made ; indeed, in his memoirs his ambition is
avowed. He and Bavaria made attacks on Austria on each
side, which received some aid both from England and
France. The contest was carried on with alternate suc¬
cess, and terminated by the cession of Silesia to 1 russia.
But the proud house of Austria had no intention of defini¬
tively relinquishing such a valuable province. A warcom-
tne soutnern part, sumu ,
are considerable, and yield still a little gold and silver, and
abundance of copper, lead, iron, calamine, arsenic, vitriol,
sulphur, zinc, and cobalt. This country has been long
celebrated for its manufactures of fine linen ; their shirt¬
ings are exquisite, both for strength and fineness, and no
other table linen has yet been made that can rival their .
Of late years the cotton trade has been introduced, and is
increasing. The chief commerce is in manufactures, an
the exportation of pitch, tar, and turpentine. imports
of foreign goods reach them by the way of the Oder irm
Stettin, or by the Elbe from Hamburg.
Breslau, the capital, contains 90,000 inhabitants.
The portion of Silesia left to Austria by the peace o
Hubertsburg, has been incorporated with Moravia, an
makes a part of the government of Bran. It is fonned
the following circles, viz. Teschen, Bielitz, Freudenthafi
Freistadt, Friedeck, Deutchleuthen, Reschenwaldau, ana
Roy, each named from the chief city of the district.
It is bounded by Prussian Silesia, by Galicia, by
and Hungary. It comprises 27 cities, 4 towns, anc
villages, with about 380,000 inhabitants. The country
S I L
rnium
I
Ik.
mountainous ; the Carpathian range is partly on the eastern
side of it, and the Moravian on the west. Much of the land
^ is very productive in corn, pasture, and wood. The people
* are mostly of Sclavonian origin, and speak the Polish lan¬
guage more than the German. In the city of Bielitz are
manufacturers of woollen goods, and in all parts linen is
made from flax grown near them, which is both good and
abundant. There are good grammar schools in Teschen,
Troppau, and Weisswassen.
SILICERNIUM, amongst the Romans, was a feast of
a private nature, provided for the dead some time after the
funeral. It consisted of beans, lettuces, bread, eggs, and
other things. Ihese were laid upon the tomb, as a repast
for the dead.
SILIUS Italicus, CAius,a celebratedRoman poet, and
author of an epic poem in seventeen books, which contains
a history of the second Punic war, was born in the reign of
Tiberius, and is supposed to have derived the name of
Italicus from the place of his birth; but whether he was
born at Italica in Spain, or at Corfinium in Italy, which,
according to Strabo, had the name of Italica given it du-
jing the Social war, is a point which is unascertained.
When he came to Rome, he applied himself to the bar;
and, by a close imitation of Cicero, succeeded so well, that
he became a celebrated advocate, and a most accomplished
orator. His merit and character recommended him to the
highest offices in the republic, even to the consulship, of
which he was possessed when Nero died. He is said to have
lent his assistance in accusing persons of high rank and for¬
tune, whom that wicked emperor had devoted to destruc¬
tion ; but he retrieved his character afterwards by along and
uniform course of virtuous behaviour. Vespasian sent him
as proconsul into Asia, where he behaved with clean hands
and unblemished reputation. After having thus spent the
best part of his life in the service of his country, he resolved
to consecrate the remainder to retirement and the muses.
He had several fine villas in the country ; one at Tusculum
celebrated for having been Cicero’s, and a farm near Naples,
said to have been Virgil’s, at which was his tomb, which
bums often visited.
He has imitated Virgil, and though he falls infinitely
short of him, yet he has discovered a great and universal
genius; which would have enabled him to succeed in some
degree in whatever he undertook. Having been for some
tune afflicted with an imposthume, which was deemed in-
curabie, he grew weary of life, to which, in the language
ot rliny, he put an end with determined courage. There
have been many editions of Silius Italicus. A neat and cor¬
rect one was published at Leipsic in 1696, in 8vo, with
short and useful notes by Cellarius ; but the best are those
cum notis integris Variorum et Arnoldi Drakenborch. Tra-
ject. ad Rhenum, 1717, in 4to.; and cum notis MupertL
2 vols. 8vo. Gott. 1795.
SILK. Under the head Silk-Worm, will be found an ac¬
count ot the first introduction of the insect, and the com¬
mencement of the manufacture in the western empire. From
11 sPread into Sicily and Italy; and during the time
penc^ occupied Milan (1521^), artizans were con-
eyed by Irancis I. to Lyons, and under his protection, the
manufacture af gilk made great progress.
hen khe Duke of Parma took and plundered the city
ntwerp m 1585, a great proportion of the merchants and
artizans took refuge in England; these introduced the silk
manufacture into this country, which was fostered and en-
thTnS u by tJ’e1 En§lish government. Before this period
landPr0dUCe °f the sllk'worm had been little seen in Eng-
fnr^h6 clim-ate of Ensland has not been found favourable
iuaflpefreanng 0f8ilk'W0rms; repeated attempts have been
have a w!? ^ to cuJtivate the breed, but they
ys ailed. It was supposed that the British settle-
S I L
ments in America would prove more favourable for this pur¬
pose, and in several of them the experiment was made, but'
from some cause or other, these were not more successful
than those of the mother country.
The manufacture of silk goods has been the object of
solicitous care to the British government, and various en¬
actments were made by successive monarchs, with the view
of encouraging it in this country. It received a great sti¬
mulus m 1685, when the revocation of the edict of Nantes
banished from France multitudes of her most industrious and
skilful artificers, which greatly benefited the countries that
sheltered the injured emigrants. About 70,000 took refuge
in England and Ireland, aud transplanted various branches
of the useful arts to different districts of this country. A large
body of silk weavers settled in Spittalfields, where descend¬
ants of many of them may still be found.
England was, however, entirely dependent on foreigners
for organzine silk thread, till Mr. Lombeof Derby, in the year
1718, having gone to Italy in the disguise of a common work¬
man, took drawings of the silk-throwing machinery in Pied¬
mont, and, on his return, erected a large mill on the river
Derwent at Derby. The extensive and powerful machin¬
ery of this mill contained 26,586 wheels, and 97,746 move¬
ments, which worked 73,726 yards of organzine silk thread,
by every revolution of the water-wheel, which revolved three
times in the minute, and thus produced 318,504,960 yards
of organzine per day.
The silk manufacture continued to increase in England,
though the workmen were constantly clamouring against
the importation of foreign goods. With a view to encour¬
age the manufacture, an act was passed (3 Geo. I. cap. 15)
for granting bounties on the exportation of silk fabrics; this
was, however, no more than a drawback of part of the duties
paid on the importation of the raw silk. In 1741„ permis-
given to ^ie Euss*a Company to import the raw
silk of Persia at the same rate of duty as from the Levant;
and, m 1749, the same reduction was made on the duties
on raw silk imported by the East India Company from China.
In 1764, the fashion of the times running in favour of French
silks, and the wages of the English weavers being low, and
work scarce, the operatives assembled in great multitudes,
andina tumultuous manner presented petitions to Parliament
praying for the total prohibition of foreign wrought silks.
By the lepresentation which the operatives made of their
sufferings, Parliament was induced to reduce the duties on
raw and thrown silk, and entirely to prohibit the importa¬
tion of certain articles of manufactured silk goods. The
operative weavers did not, however, derive those benefits
from the prohibitions against importation, which they expect¬
ed, and they had frequently recourse to combinations to
force their masters to raise their wages. These disputes
between the masters and workmen having led to violence
and riot, an act was passed in 1773, and confirmed by two
subsequent acts, empowering the aldermen of London, and
the magistrates of Middlesex to fix the wages of the Spit¬
talfields weavers. But it is unnecessary to recapitulate the
applications of the operatives and manufacturers for protec¬
tion against foreign competition, and the attempts of the le¬
gislature to encourage the manufacture by restrictive and
prohibitory enactments from 1773 to 1824; the silk trade in
England, from the futile attempts to bolster it up, was kept
in an artificial and languishing state. The manufacturer,
depending upon the protection of Parliamentary restrictions
on foreign competion, rather than on his own skill and ex¬
ertions, was not anxious to discover and introduce improve¬
ments into the manufacture. Since the change of system,
the imports of the raw material, and the exports of the ma¬
nufactured article have rapidly increased; at present the va¬
lue of the manufacture is supposed to exceed L.l 0,000,000
annually, and considerable quantities of manufactured silk
are exported to France itself.
341
Silk.
The following Table shows the Quantities of Raw and Manufactured Silk, Imported, Exported, and retained for
Consumption, during the years 1836 and 1837, with the Rates of u
DESCRIPTION.
Quantities Imported.
1836.
. Silk, Raw, viz.
|From India, lbs
Cape of Good Hope, „
China,  »
Turkey, Syria, \
and Egypt, J ”
Italy,  »
France,  »
Other countries,  „
Total of Raw Silk,  „
Silk, Waste, Knubs, and
Husks, viz.
|From India, lbs
China,  v
Italy,  »
France, 
Other countries...... „
iTotal of Waste, Knubs, )
and Husks, j
Silk, Thrown, viz.
|From Italy, lbs
France, 
1,420,961
1,277,027
677,839
180,749
816,581
79,924
4,453,081
Other countries,.
1837.
Quantities Ex¬
ported.
1836.
1,261,997
27,011
1,754,252
371,561
111,003
556,882
63,835
4,146,481
32,490
224
286,544
1,202,030
87,001
1,608,289
1837.
41,349
5,960
180,288
692,851
22,833
943,281
Qurntities retained
for consumption.
1836.
1837.
Rates of Duty.
1836-7.
Silk,
Id. ^ lb.
Total of Thrown Silk, „
Silk Manufactured Goods,
viz.
12,040
345,316
39,304
396,660
382
171,531
59,290
231,203
Manufactures of Europe,
Silk or Satin, and Silk | ^
or Satin Ribbons, j
Gauze, and Gauze ^
Ribbons, J
,, Tissue Foulards, ,,
Crape,  ”
Velvet, and Velvet)
Ribbons, f
Ribbons embossed or \ „
figured with vel vet, J
Fancy Silk, Net or \
Tricot,   J ”
Silk mixed with metal, „
Total, entered by weight, „
Plain Silk, Lace,)
or Net, called > sq. yds.
Tulle, )
Millinery,—
Turbans or Caps, number.
Hats or Bonnets, „
Dresses,  » !
Entered at value, L.
Manufactures of Silk, or 1
of Silk and other ma- l ,
terials, not particularly I ”
enumerated, • • • • • /
Manufactures ot India,
Bandanoes, Ro- i
mals, and Silk >■ pieces.
Handkerchiefs, )
Silks and Crapes in pieces,
Crape shawls, scarfs, (
and handkerchiefs, J
137,052
15,150
15,399
3,251
16,506
552
3,450
322
Foreign
24,061
British
Nil.
24,061
191,682
121,046
23,292
8,165
4,862
18,555
1,878
4,269
382
Thrown.
29,974
Thrown.
Nil.
29,974
182,359
12,028i 11,790
433
762
203
6
93,512
351,066
3,943
8,119
7,595
735
27
121
992
12
61
30
9,573
564
64ll
323
21
91,302
561,398
18,383
12,214
6,789
606
71
91
1,581
66
23
175
Is. ^ cwt.
5s. 2d. on organzine and
crape, and 3s. on tram
and singles dyed ; 3s. 6d
on organzine and crape
2s. 6d. on tram; and 1 s. 6d
on singles, not dyed.
9,402
2,000
108
254
57
7,082
220,785
4,615
4,587
127,749
14,470
15,397
3,130
15,117
540
3,390|
285
114,234
Per lb.
Plain, 11s.; figured, 15s.
22,864
8,165
4,608
16,967
Plain, 17s.; figured, 27s. 6d
L.30 ^ cent, ad valorem.
Crape, 16s.; lisse or China, 18s
Plain, 22s.; figured, 27s. 6d
1,563117s.
4,245
214
24s.
27s.
180,078'; 172,860
710
61
251
189
r 6,459
322,515
8,300
10,325
10,028j 10,555
Is. 4d. per square yard.
86,430
130,114
1,314
3/648
357 15s.each,or L.40 3^ ceoi.adval
458 25s.each,or L-40 ^cent.arf w/.
'' "SOs.eaclborL^O^'cent.arf^-
L^O ^ cent, ad valorem*
113
21
84,483
L.30 p' cent, ad valorem.
134,249
1,354
754
► L.20 ^ cent, ad valorem*
SILK.
[arm- Nothing more fully demonstrates the folly of attempting
ire< to encourage manufactures by prohibiting importation than
1 the history of the silk trade. The greatest importation of
raw and thrown silk which took place in any one year, pre¬
viously to the repeal of the prohibitory system, was in 1833,
when the quantity imported was 2,432,286 lbs.; while, by
the foregoing table, it appears that 5,320,965 lbs. were im¬
ported in 1837, at the same time that the official value of
our silk manufactures exported during the same period, was
L.140,520 during 1823, and L.503,673 during 1837; of
which, the proportion exported to France was L.43,144.
Those who are best qualified to form an opinion, consider
the duty of 30 per cent, on the importation of silk goods
still too high, and that the duty should be reduced to 15 or
10 per cent.
In no country has the silk manufacture made more rapid
advances of late years than in Prussia. In 1831, the num¬
ber of looms was 8,956 ; in 1834, they had increased to
12,044 ; and in 1837, to 14,111.
The following table shows the excess of exports from
Prussia over the amount of the imports: 
343
1834
1835
1836
Silk Goods.
Imports. Exports. Excess of
Exports.
lbs.
254,985
201,981
225,581
lbs.
559,079
762,004
847,826
lbs.
304,094
560,023
622,245
Mixed Silk Goods.
Imports. Exports. Excess of
Exports.
lbs.
106,950
106,596
121,236
320,266
371,971
404,435
lbs.
213,316
265,375
283,199
. The duty on the importation of silk goods into Prussia,
is 110 dollars per centner, or 2s. 9d. per lb., which is almost
five per cent, on the value of the goods. The import duty
on mixed silk goods is 55 dollars per centner, which is equal
to Is. 4£d. per lb., or almost nine per cent, ad valorem,
c ii ILKj Mdnufactwe. 4 he processes of silk manufacture
all under two great divisions. The one, comprehending
all those operations undergone by the silk in its preparation
for textile or other purposes ; and the other, those by which
the prepared silk is formed into the various beautiful crea¬
tions of the loom. The operations comprehended in the
first division being for the most part peculiar to this manu-
tacture, are those which will here occupy our attention ;
while those of the second division, being common to the va¬
rious textile substances, will be found described under the
general head Weaving.
In other textile substances, the manufacturer operates up¬
on bundles of short fibres, which, by drawing out and twist¬
ing together, he forms into continuous threads; but in the
case of silk, a very different treatment is for the most part
required. Here the silk-worm is the spinner, and art is
called in, not to join short filaments, but so to strengthen
he delicate threads of the worm by combination, as^to fit
tnem to endure the manipulations to which they are after¬
wards subjected. We have said for the most part, for this
reason, that, from the manner in which the worm labours,
fiere arises a necessity for two modes of operating, one of
tne nature already described, the other analogous to that of
ne cotton-spinner ; and that the reader may be prepared
o understand the reason for this, and many other peculiari-
es arising from the same cause, we shall here present him
ith a sketch of the manner in which the worm produces
hP Kmftlfr.laJ,t0 operated upon : and this sketch needs to
nnprw t^e art^e Silk-Worm, immediately se-
quent, the fullest information will be found. When the
it, "w.orm has arrived at that stage of its existence at which
ahnnfnS t(? Spin’ 11 ceases to feed’ Srows restless, and moves
Whf,„ •! i ln/ a f,)lace wherein to commence its labours.
attaches 1^ a ner .T ho,low tit for its purpose, it
its worl • og ireafs rom side to side, to form supports for
< j these it does not dispose in any regular manner,
but crosses and recrosses them in such a way, as to make Silk Manu
its work as strong as the situation will admit of. In ply- faeture.
ing its labours, the little creature by degrees narrows their'
sphere, and when it has enclosed a space of about the size
of a pigeon’s egg, its work assumes a more regular charac¬
ter, and shortly presents the appearance of a loose silken
ball of an oval shape, with the worm labouring inside of it.
In a little while, the increasing compactness of the ball
renders the labours of the worm no longer evident to the
eye, and that it continues to work can only be known by
the noise within. When all sound has ceased, the forma¬
tion of silk has also ceased. Although from the compact¬
ness of the ball, the worm labours unseen, we can yet tell
by after dissection, and by the unwinding of the thread,
that it does not lay its thread regularly round the inside of
the ball, but to and fro from one spot to another, for many
times, gradually shifting its position, until it has gone over
the whole surface, and so gradually, that a great many yards
of thread may be unwound without once turning the ball.
Fhe substance of which the thread of the silk-worm is com¬
posed, is secreted by the animal in the form of a fine yel¬
low transparent gum, and exuded by two minute orifices be¬
neath its jaw; hence the thread is a twin one, formed of
two threads proceeding from these orifices, cemented to¬
gether by a gummy substance, similar to that of which they
are formed ; and when the worm has finished its labour of
spinning, it smears over the whole interior surface of its
work with the same gum, doubtless for the purpose of pro¬
tecting it in its chrysalis state from rain. If we examine
the finished work of the worm, we shall find it to consist
first of those filaments used as supports, and next of a ball
of a oose texture and irregular construction, serving as an
envelope for another ball, compact in its nature, and regu-
^ .*n *ts ^ormat;ion3 within which the worm lies enshrouded.
Fhis compact ball is called a cocoon, and its soft envelope
Jloss silk. The thread of the cocoon, from the regularity
of its deposition, can be unwound to the end, and the ope¬
rations to which it is subjected are those of doubling, twist-
mg, twining, and their accessories, classed under the name
of silk throwing. The floss silk, with the additions after¬
wards to be noticed, is not unwound, but, under the name
of waste has its filaments hackled, combed, and reduced to
short lengths, and then carded and spun in a manner ana¬
logous to those of cotton.
When the spinning of the cocoons is accomplished, a se¬
lection of those that are to be kept for breeding is made,
and the remainder are assorted according to their qualities.
These are generally reckoned nine, and are as follows :
1st, Good cocoons; thesearestrong, firm, and nearly equally
round at both ends, not very large, but free from spots.
2d, Calcined cocoons, in which the worm has died, and
been reduced to powder by a disease which sometimes at-
tacks them after having completed their work.
3d, Cocalons, larger and less compact than the good co¬
coons.
4th, Choquettes, cocoons in which the worm had died be¬
fore it had finished spinning; the silk is fine, but apt to
furze in winding.
5th, Dupion, or double cocoons, containing two or more
lai\ae, these are difficult to unwind, and areoften keptforseed.
6th, Souffion, cocoons of so loose and soft a texture, as
to be almost transparent; these cannot be unwound.
7tli, Pointed cocoons. In these one end rises in a point,
which breaks oft after a little silk has been unwound, and so
spoils the thread.
8th, Perforated cocoons, from which the moth has made
its way out.
9th, Pad choquettes, in which the silk is spotted, rotten,
and blackish in colour.
The first operation to be performed, preparatory to the
unwinding of the silk from the cocoon, is to destroy the vi-
344
SILK.
Silk Manu- tality of the contained worm. The means vised for this is
facture. heat, either natural or artificial; sometimes simple exposure
'to the solar rays will effect this object; but m climates
where these have not power, some artificial heat must be
employed, such as the heat of steam or of an oven, but more
generally that of the latter. In this case, the heat should
whisk with the threads attached to it, disengages them from Silk M*
it, and draws their ends through her fingers, to remove any feuam
adhering floss or impurity ; this cleaning process is called
battue. Having thus freed the ends of such a number of
the filaments as she means to use, she passes them through
the various eyelets in the manner previously mentioned, and
. i , i ^ 1 _  1—mo n i cL PH _ flip
generally that of the latter. In this case, “li ell e bread attaches them to the reel; when this is accomplished, the
not be greater than what is usual m the oven after the bread atttmhes tnem m e , of the turat)1
has been withdrawn. Long shallow baskets are tak® and reel * * the coc„„„s. It is the
filled nearly to their tops with cocoons «td ^covered -"aments are ^ ^ ^ t, ^
over, first with paper, and then with a for the heat of the water, that the silk may come off the
kets, the cocoons are exposed to the heat »• t ,.„„nf,na remlarlv, not in lumps, which shows that the water
r'L:® Site parSetskXs^ed bMhe ^
atee^ upmul^ng 'pricked^they give"no^sign of ani- with difficulty, from the water being too cold sufficiently to
mutton, U may be fairly presumed that the destruction of soften the gum.
the creatures has been accomplished. Before the silk ot
the cocoons can be reeled off, it is necessary to separate
them from the floss in which they are enveloped , this is
effected by opening the floss covering at one end, and pro-   ^    
truding the cocoon. It is ot the greatest impor ance in ^ thread' may be kept up throughout. It is generally con-
reeling process, that all the cocoons ree e toget er ie o thJt the filaments of three tresh cocoons added to
two half-wound ones, make a thread equal to that from four
fresh cocoons.
rten me gum. , . _ .
From the threads of the cocoons being finer near their
termination than at their commencement, it becomes ne¬
cessary for the reeler to add other cocoons before the first
set is quite exhausted ; and it is her care to do so in such a
manner, as that the requisite thickness of the compound
1  T¥ io rronorn 11 v ron-
°n The Apparatus for reeling is sketched in fig. 1, and to
avoid confusion, the
working parts only
are shewn: a a is
a bath or vessel of
water, which, when
of the best con¬
struction, is heated
by steam. Into
this the cocoons
are put, that the
gum which retains
the thread in its
The cocoons are not entirely wound oil, but the husk, or
bairre, in which the worm lies, is left, and used along with
the floss silk, under the name of waste.
Every eleven or twelve pounds of cocoons generally
yield one pound of reeled silk; and as it takes from 240 to
250 cocoons to weigh one pound, the number of cocoons
necessary to produce one pound of silk, may be reckoned
to be 2817-i; some cocoons may yield about 025 yards ot
silk, but the average is stated to be 300 yards, consequent¬
ly the pound of silk filament, as produced by the worm,
would, if stretched out, reach the amazing length ot 480
miles* * •
When a sufficient quantity of silk is reeled off, it is
doubled into a hank for use or sale ; and it is in this state
that it generally comes to be operated upon by our manu¬
facturers,—the' hanks by the silk throwster, the waste by
the silk spinner.
It is of the utmost importance in the succeeding manu¬
facture, that this reeling process should be well performed.
place may be so much softened as to permit the threaa to
be unwound ; the bath is usually divided by three partitions
into four divisions, each of which may contain about ive
cocoons ; b b b are wires with eyelets at their ends, throug
which the filaments from the cocoons are put. In their
upward progress towards the reel, the groups of filaments
are made to cross and recross each other, before their final
combination at the last eyelet, and by the friction thus P™' ^omctimerVrom' the temperature of the water used to
duced, they are freed from adhering impurities , c is ^ the b. too high during the reeling, the parts
reel driven by a belt from the pulley d, which is itse of the harfk of siik that lie on the spokes of the reel be-
by the prime mover, whatever that may be ;/is a tu b , hard, and occasion the breaking of the thread
whose end carries a pulley, which presses on the belt tha Y processes. Sometimes, too, when in the reel-
drives the reel; by lifting up the long end of the tumbler, m the alter processe . .
the belt is slackened, and the reel stops. The filaments,
when combined at the upper eyelet, pass along the guide
e <?, and through eyelets at its ends; this guide has a pin pro¬
jecting from its under side, working in a spiral groove cut
round the barrel h ; by this it receives a reciprocating mo¬
tion, and so spreads the filaments equally over the reel.
The filaments, in their passage from the bath to the reel,
must necessarily traverse a considerable space, to allow their
;casum LUC — 
in me auei Sometimes, too, when in the reel-
in* process the threads happen to break, the ends a. e
again only laid upon one another, and not connected by
tying; the threads consequently come off the hanks m
short lengths, and much trouble and loss of time is ex¬
perienced in searching for the other end; and sometimes
the reelers, either from inattention or design, reel ott tne
whole of the thread of the cocoons, by which an excee -
ingly foul silk is produced. Not unfrequently, also, coarse
allow their ingiy ioui siik is pmuu^cu. ......j, ,
softened'gum to be again hardened by the air, that they hanks when reeled are
may not afterwards adhere together. ‘ ”
In the place where the reeling of silk is performed, many
. i •   — „J Vviulrlinrr finfi
of these machines are arranged along the building, and
driven by the moving power through a shaft extending the
whole length, carrying on it pullies at the proper intervals.
In working the apparatus, the reeler, who is generally a wo¬
man, sits at the bath, and having taken a number of co¬
coons, immerses them in the water. When their gum is
sufficiently softened to permit the thread to come off, the
reeler takes a whisk formed of fine twigs bound together,
and cut off evenly at the ends at about six inches long, and
with it she gently presses and stirs the cocoons, and en¬
tangles their loose threads on its points ; she then raises her
wnat is or common ^
twisted up so tight, that the untwisting of them great}
damages the silk. But the greatest ^jury to the manu¬
facturer arises from dishonesty on the part of those
produce the reeled silk; and this remark applies especially
to the coarser descriptions of the Brutia silk, d o
of their waste the producers of this silk roll UP the
of the cocoon into what are here technically calle ’
and insert these into the hanks in such a manner, that t
cannot be discerned by the purchaser; they a so
method of mixing their waste with the good Sllk " 11 jt
being reeled, and as it cannot again be separated fr
without great injury, this mode ot vitiating the si
SILK.
Harm- objectionable than the other. But dishonest practices are
ure. unfortunately not confined to the description ot silk above
mentioned ; it is too common in all hanks to find some
coarse inferior quality of silk artfully prepared with a cover¬
ing of a much finer kind, to enhance its value.
The loss of capital, which careless reeling, and the base
practices we have alluded to, entail on the manufacturer,
is immense ; for if an establishment be formed, with ma¬
chinery and workers sufficient to throw a given quantity of
good silk ; take, for example, the Italian silk, called Fos-
srrmbrone, which, of all the raw silks, is the easiest manu-
factured, and if, in place of some of the Fossombrone, the
machines and workers come to be employed on some silks
vitiated as we have described, or reeled in a careless man¬
ner, then, from the foulness and unevenness of the thread,
the number of workers will, in all probability, not be suf¬
ficient to attend to above one-third of the machines, one
winder being able in a given time to wind five times as
much of the Fossombrone as of some of the Bengalese silks.
From what we have said it may be inferred, that it is a
matter of great difficulty for the manufacturer to determine
the number of machines and workers in the various pro¬
cesses; and that, from the ever varying nature of the silk,
he will seldom have the whole of his machinery employed.
If the preparation of the raw silk, as reeled silk is termed,
were conducted by persons conversant with the processes
of the silk filature, who would adapt their mode of working
to suit the various purposes to which the article prepared
by them was to be applied; or, if the whole of the opera¬
tions were under the conduct of an instructed agent of
• the manufacturers, the evils on which we have animadvert¬
ed would be removed, and a better and a cheaper article
would be furnished to the consumer.
The operations which succeed the reeling are those of
silk throwing, and are as follows :
1st, Winding the silk from the hanks upon bobbins, to
fit it for the further processes.
2d, Cleaning, consisting in the silk being unwound from
the bobbins of the winding machine, and wound upon ano¬
ther set ot bobbins; and, in its passage between, made to
pass through an opening between two metal plates, by
which any inequality, caused by knots or adhering substan¬
ces, is removed.
3d, Spinning, consisting in twisting the cleaned thread.
4th, Doubling, consisting in laying together on one bob¬
bin the threads of several bobbins, so that they may be
afterwards combined by being twisted together.
oth, Throwing, the name by which the operation of
twisting the doubled silk is known, and also the name by
which the whole class of operations is distinguished.
It has been conjectured, that the name throwing is de¬
rived from the swinging and tossing of the threads and co¬
coons while reeling, but we need not travel out of the way
tor its derivation, as the operation of twisting is in many
other arts called throwing. The ropemaker throws twist
into his ropes; and the little instrument used in the farm¬
yard for twisting straw ropes, is called a throiv-crook.
6th, Reeling, consisting in forming into hanks suited for
undergoing the processes of scouring, dyeing, and bleach¬
ing the silk which has undergone some or all of the pre¬
vious operations.
7th, After the scouring, bleaching, or dyeing processes
have been performed on the hanks, these have again to be
wound on bobbins, for the use of the warper or weaver.
It is not to be understood, that silk in every case under¬
goes all the operations we have mentioned, but that, when it
does so, these succeed each other in the order described.
It is sometimes merely wound and cleaned, and is in
this state under the name of dumb singles, used for Ban-
< ana handkerchiefs, and, when bleached, for gauze, and si¬
milar fabrics.
VOL. XX.
345
It may be wound, cleaned, and thrown, and is then Silk M«nu-
called thrown singles, and used for ribbons and common silks, fact me.
If wound, cleaned, doubled, and thrown, which twists it
into one direction, it is called tram, and is used for the
woof or shute of Gros de Naples, velvets, and flowered silks.
If wound, cleaned, spun, doubled, and then thrown, so as
to be of the nature of twine, or the strand of a rope, it is call¬
ed organzine, which, from its strength, is used for warp.
Silk, in any of these states, before being subjected to
the operation of scouring, is termed hard, but after it is by
semiring deprived of its stiffening-gum, it is called soft.
I he operations of the throwster are generally carried on
in a building which admits of an apartment being allotted
to each description of machines, and these apartments are
generally in stories. All the machines used in the- pro¬
cesses are each made up of a repetition of the same parts,
each part being a distinct and separate apparatus, capable
of performing its work independent of its fellows; and
these are arranged in juxtaposition in the machine, in
order that the moving power may be conveniently applied
to a long series of them. The length of the machines is
regulated by the extent of the building, and the manner of
their arrangement. A manner of arranging them is here
sketched (fig. 2.) The apartment is supposed to be about
thirty-eight feet wide, and
the machines are placed Fig. 2.
athwart the room, so as to
afford a passage four feet
in w idth along the centre,
and at such a distance
lengthways, as to give
room for the workers to
attend to their charge. Tw o
shafts traverse each apart¬
ment in the direction of
the dotted lines, and carry
on them pullies, or toothed
wheels, opposite to each machine; a belt from each pulley
is carried over a corresponding pulley on the end of the
main shaft of each machine, or the toothed wheels are con¬
nected by proper gearing with the shafts of the machines,
and so motion is given to the whole.
I he rooms are generally heated by steam, and the tem¬
perature of the apartments, when above the minimum of 50°,
is regulated more by a regard to the health of the workers,
than from any necessity for a particular temperature in the
operations; but these cannot be performed with advantage
when the temperature is allowed to fall below 50°.
The first machine or apparatus used is the winding-ma- winding
chine, or that by which the reeled hanks are wound on
bobbins, to prepare them for the subsequent processes. A
perspective sketch of this machine is shewn in fig. 3. Along
Fig. 3.
346
SILK.
Silk Mann-each side of the machine, at a. ci, directly undei the line of
facture. bobbins b b, run two shalts, called frame shafts, or frame
friction-shafts ; on these shafts at each bobbin are fixed
two friction pullies, of about inches diameter; and on
the axis of each bobbin are fixed two corresponding pullies,
about 11 inch diameter. The friction-pullies of the bob¬
bins rest upon those of the shaft, and receive motion from
them. Opposite to each bobbin is a wire, with an eyelet at
its end, fixed to a bar of wood c c, called the traverse
bar. This bar, with the eyelets attached, has an alternat¬
ing motion, right and left, through a space equal to the
length of that part of a bobbin on which the silk is to be
wound. In front of these eyelets are fixed the guide-rods,
or friction rods, dddd, over which the threads glide in
their passage from the reel to the bobbins, and which are
formed of polished iron, and in front of these the reels
e e e e, are placed on their bearers ff At every se¬
venth bobbin or
so is placed a
main frame, like
, g g, and between
these stretch bars
of wood, for the
support of the
bobbin and reel
bearers. Motion
is given to the
bobbins, we have
said, by the ly¬
ing shafts bearing
friction - pullies,
and the threads
being passed Iron
tubes, and the hank slipped on; the spiral springs now SilkiW
exert their force, and throw out the pressed-in spokes with ‘^ure.
such a force, as to keep the reel in a proper state of ten-
sion. But the method generally adopted, if not so elegant,
is more simple. The spokes in this case aie foimed ot
lance-wood, and the outer extremity of each pair are ra¬
ther farther asunder than the ends which are inserted into
the nave, and are connected together by a band ol small
cord passed several times round them; on these bands the
hank or skein of silk rests, and, by slipping the bands along
the spokes nearer to or further from the centre, the diame¬
ter of the reel can be adapted to the size of the hank; and
when the hank is stretched the bands can be moved in any
wav, so as to balance the hank, which, as will be afterwards
seen is a matter of considerable importance. Each pair
of spokes, it has been mentioned, slightly diverge as they
proceed from the nave; and, as they are again slightly
drawn towards each other by the bands, the tendency to ie-
turn to their natural position effectually retains the band in
any place to which it may be slipped. It has been said, that
the reels turn freely on their supports, but it is necessary
to create such a friction as will prevent them giving oft the
silk faster than it can be taken up by the bobbins; this is
sometimes done by a spring being made to press upon the
nave of the reel, but more commonly by hanging on its
centre a wooden ring, to which weights may be hung, so
as to create such a degree of friction on the reel, and, con¬
sequently, of tension upon the thread, between the reel and
the bobbin, as may be desired. The subjoined sketch
the reels, over the friction-bars d d, through the eyelets, and
attached to the bobbins, are, by the motion ot the latter,
wound up, and drag round the reel on which the hank is
fixed. The bobbins are, with their friction-pullies, repre¬
sented in figs. 4, 5, and 6. Fig. 4, a section ; fig. 5, a
front view, and fig. 6, a plan: a is the lying-shaft, with
one of its friction-pullies b b, and on this rests the tnc-
tion-pulley c, of one of the bobbins d; the axis ot the
bobbin is confined laterally by working in the groove e of
the bearer, but has perfect freedom of motion up and
dowm, so that its friction-pulley may remain in contact w ith
that of the shaft. If, during the process, a thread happens
to break, the bobbin is lifted out of its working-groove and
placed in the higher groove f, by which its friction-pulley
is kept from touching the friction-pulley of the shaft, and
it consequently remains at rest; but when, after the dam¬
age has been repaired, it is lifted into its former position,
its motion is immediately resumed. In front ot the bob¬
bin is seen the traverse bar g, carrying the wire h, with its
eyelet for the thread; this traverse bar is moved by an ec¬
centric in such a manner, as not to spread the tluead
equally over the bobbins, but to heap it up more in the
middle than at the ends.
The reels are called swifts, and are formed of twelve
light spokes, about 16£ inches long, inserted into a wood¬
en nave in pairs, so as to form a six-sided reel; the nave
has an iron axle, which turns freely on its bearings. The
hanks not being all of one size, makes it necessary to
have a reel, the diameter of which may be varied. Va¬
rious means of adapting the reel to the size of the hank
have been and still are used. Amongst others, one de¬
serves notice ; it is, where each spoke of the reel is made
in twm parts, the one fixed to the nave, formed of tube
containing a spiral spring, the other formed of a light
rod, nicely fitting the tube, the opposite pairs of rods be¬
ing joined together by a cross bar, forming the periphery
of the reel. When it is washed to put a hank on a reel
of this kind, one of the pairs of spokes is pushed into the
(figs. 7 and 8.) shews the
reel as it has been de¬
scribed: a is the nave,
b b the lance-wood
spokes, c c the bands
of cords forming the
periphery of the reel,
d the friction-ring,
with the weight hang¬
ing on it.
Referring again to
fig. 3, it will be seen,
that in front of the
swifts are bars of
Fig. 7.
Fig. 8.
w ood, extending along both sides ot the machine; then
use is to support the bars which carry the swifts, and to
prevent the persons of those who w^ork the machines from
coming in contact with the reels; from this last use the)
are termed knee-rails.
Previous to the hanks being put upon the swifts, they
are washed in a solution of soap and water, which cleans
the silk without depriving it of its gum. In putting the
hanks on the reel care is taken to balance them, as,were one
side heavier than another, it would be apt to fall sudden y,
after having passed the highest point, in turning, ant
thereby injure the thread. . ,
The winding-machines, under the general supermten -
ence of a man called a steward, are tended by girls? whoaie
termed den ters and icinders; the denters put the hanks on
the reel, and the winders, or piecers as they are also cal -
ed, tie the ends of the threads and exchange the bobbins.
When the bobbins are filled with thread they are con
veyed from the winding-machine room to the warehouse,
to be assorted or separated into finer or coarser qua i
ties, which are kept apart throughout the remaining pro
cesses. To carry the bobbins, a board, called a dojpnff
board, is made use of; this consists of a piece oi ea^,
about a foot wide, and rather more than two leet long,
having a number of wires corresponding to the num er o
bobbins in one side of a frame, and about four inches ong,
inserted into its surface ; on these wires the bobbins art-
put. When the separation of the qualities has been ma ,
SILK.
Vlanu- the bobbins are carried to another machine-room, where
ure. the thread undergoes the operation of cleaning.1
The cleaning, drawing, or picking ^machine, as it is vari-
inS- ously called, is represented in fig. 9. In this, as in the last
machine, motion is communicated to the bobbins by a fric¬
tion shaft. The bobbins, a a, from the winding-frame are
fixed on plain spindles, and placed in a horizontal position be¬
tween their supports. The threads are carried from the bob¬
bins over the iron or glass rod, b b, and each thread is passed
through an adjustable opening, between the two iron blades
of an instrument called the cleaner, c c, which is fixed to a
bar of wood running along the machine, immediately behind
the friction-rods. The cleaner is here represented on a
Fig. 9.
Spin
larger scale, (figs. 10, 11); a is the bar of wood to which the
instrument is fastened; b, b, are the blades, which are held
together at the bottom by the screw c;
d is the opening through which the thread Fig. 10. Fig. 11.
is made to pass, the width of this opening
being adjusted by means of a screw e, the
key of which is kept by the steward of
the room. The tops of the blades are
curved outwards, so as readily to guide
the thread into the slit. The threads,
after having been passed through the
opening of the cleaner, are put through
the eyelet d, of the traverse bar, which is,'
in every respect, like that of the former machine, and then
attached to the bobbins ee. When the machine is put in
motion, the bobbins e e drag the thread from the bobbins
through the cleaner; and, as the cleaner is adjusted to a cer¬
tain size, all impurities and irregularities are removed, and
the tnread thus rendered equal.
The process which succeeds that of cleaning is called spin¬
ning, although, as we have already observed, it is only twist-
mg. The spinning-machine is represented in fig. 12. This,
tike the two former machines, consists of a series of frames
placed at wide intervals, and connected by bars of wood,
which serve as supports for the different parts of the machin¬
ery. *lie spinning machine contains sometimes two but
generally three tiers of working apparatus in height. The
bobbins on which the twisted silk is to be wound, are seen
m the figure at a a a, placed horizontally along the ma-
ehine; in this case they are not driven by friction-rollers,
but by toothed wheels, fixed on the extremity of the axis
m each bobbin, and corresponding ones on the shafts b, b, b.
ne bobbins are, as before, suspended by their axis in lit-
c grooves; each bobbin-bearer contains two such grooves,
one higher than the other, so that, on the bobbin being
lifted from the lower to the higher groove, its toothed
wheel is thrown
out of gear with the
wheel of the shaft
b, b, and it remains
at rest. Under each
bobbin is seen the
twisting - apparatus.
This consists of a
bobbin c, fixed on
an upright spindle
d, to which motion
is communicated by
a beltfrom the drum
f, fixed on a hori¬
zontal shaft g, pass¬
ing over a pulley on
the bobbin spindle.
The silk threads
from these vertical ^
bobbins are wound 7[
three or four times —
round a bent wire h,
fixed to a bar, ex¬
tending along the
machine, passed
through an eye in
the end of each of
these wires, carried
through the eyes of
the traverse-guides,
and attached to the ~
horizontal bobbins.
On motion being
given to the machi¬
nery, the vertical
bobbins are made
to revolve with a
greater or less velocity, and the horizontal ones with a ve¬
locity so proportioned to the others, that they may only
draw away the thread as it is twisted in the due degree.
In figs. 13 and 14, we have represented, on a larger scale,
a section and front view7 of
these working parts: a, a is Fig. 13. Fig. 14.
347
Silk Manu¬
facture.
the bobbin from the cleaning
machine, b the fixed wire-
guide round which the thread
is carried, c the traverse-guide
for spreading the thread over
the bobbin, d the bobbin for
receiving the twisted thread.
Motion is communicated to
the different parts thus: On
one end of the drum-shaft g,
(%• 12,)is fixedafastand loose
pulley, notseen in the drawing,
driven by a belt from the main
shaft which traverses the
apartment; belts from the
drum on the drum-shaft pass
over the pullies of the vertical
spindles d, and so give mo¬
tion to the bobbins c; on the hither end of the drum-shaft
is fixed the pinion g, which, through the intermediate
wbee e, drives the spur-wheel k ; on the axis of this last
w ieel is fixed the bevel-wheel m, giving motion to the
pr> to Soociiim).
348
SILK.
whose other extremi¬
ties are hinged to a
piece of brass at c.
The threads are pass¬
ed through these eye¬
lets, and support the
wires in the horizontal
Doubling.
taining* three bobbins; from these the threads are car¬
ried over the guide-rods d, of which there are two on each
side of the machine, and, after being passed through the
eyes of an apparatus called the falling-wires, and the tra¬
verse-guides e e, are then attached to the bobbins// to
which ^motion is given by friction-pullies, as in the first
machines, and on them the threads are thus wound up in
combination.
Fig. 15.
bobbins; therefore, for such kinds a modification of the
apparatus is required. In place of the bobbins being
placed horizontally in bearers, they are placed vertically on
spindles, as shewn in figs. 12,13,14 ; the spindles project be¬
yond the upper end of the bobbins, and carry a littie wheel
of hard wrood, which is made to turn freely this wheel has
two flyers with eyelets at their extremities; the thread
being put through these, and drawn by the upper bobbins,
causes the light flyers to revolve round the vertical bobbin,
and unwind the thread without straining it.
The next is the throwing machine. As this machine
closely resembles the spinning-machine shewn in fig. 12, we
here only sketch such a portion of it as will shew wherein
In all former¬
ly described ma¬
chines the break¬
ing of the thread
causes no in -
jury, but, in the
doublingprocess,
were one of the
three threads to
break, and the
upper bobbin to
continue to re¬
volve, the other
two threads
would be wound
up separately,
and so spoil the
work ; to pre-
they do not agree,
a side view of one
of the working parts:
a a is a vertical bob¬
bin with its loose
flyer bb; the bobbin
being driven by a
band acting on the
spindle pulley as
in the spinning-ma¬
chine; c is a traverse
guide wire, through
the eye of which the
thread is passed ; d
a reel on which, in
this case, the thread
is wound into hanks
as it is twisted by
the revolution of
the vertical bobbins.
Fig. 18 is an end viewr, and fig. 19 is
Fig. 19.
vent this is the use of the falling-wires described above,
which, on the breaking of the thread, stop the bobbin
until the damage is repaired. The subjoined sketch (figs.
16, 17), shews a side view and plan of this apparatus! a a
are the two guide-rods, with the threads passing over them;
The traverse guide bars have, in this machine, a very short
range of lateral motion, so as to confine each hank within
a very narrow limit on the reel’s surface. The motion o
the reel can be so regulated in relation to that of the twist¬
ing bobbin, as in any way to modify the amount of twist ng
received by the thread.
In the case of the heavier silk threads used for sewing,
fringing, and the like, the doubling and throwing pro
cesses are both performed by one machine, called a throst e
frame, which is similar to the machine of the same n^e
used in the cotton and linen thread manufacture. I he
'bevel-wheel p, which drives a bevel-wheel //, fixed on the
end of the shaft, on which the little spur-wheels that drive
the spur-wheels of the bobbins are fixed. On this last
shaft is also fixed a pinion, to work the traverse guide-
bar; this it effects by giving motion to a small wheel,
round which another pinion revolves, in the manner of the . ,
sun and planet-wheels, and, being connected by a short position sliewn in the
rod with the traverse-bar, the latter is consequently moved sketch. Hinged to the
through a space equal to the added diameters of the wheels, same supports as the
In the usual mode of constructing this machine, there is a wires is a brass lever,
want of a mean of lessening the velocity of the drawing- M, bent at r.ghtangles
bobbin as its diameter increases by the accumulation of horizontally under the , . . r , ,
Sk In consequence of this want, the thread is very un- wires; the straight end or tad of the lever is a little hea-
.. .. nlthonp-h at the commencement of the vier than the bent end, and it consequently lies m the
equally twisted 5 for iate oblique position of our drawing. On the end of thebob-
process the drawing ip bb y yPP is fixed a ]ittle ratchet-wheel, moving as indicated
e tead receSvin^y twelvet" i8t8 ?n the by the arrow. Now, when one of the thread, sustannng
to alio , s:]k wqi bave accu- the bent wires happens to break, the wire falls down on
mch, yet, a er & ^creasecl its’ diameter so much, that the bent part of the lever, which, by this additional weight,
for eve^v revolution which it now makes, it will take up is depressed, and its opposite end consequently rises into
for e\ery ,rrpotpr ipno-th of thread from the the position shewn by the dotted line, and acts as a paul
and draw away a much greater 0 thPe ratchet-wheel, effectually stopping the bobbin until
irlulertf JwJ. are ^stantl^Tn .."e’ase, and, the attendant has leisure to lift it on, of its working-groove,
It the end of the operation, may be no more than eight in repair the damaged thread, and again set it in i111' "1"-
at the end of the operat n.^ ^ ^ ^ ,he draw When the lighter kinds of silk have to be doubled, they
ofthe bobbin has beeS put in practice In place otdrivingthe would be injured by being made to drag round the heavy
drawing-bobbins by toothed-wheels, they are here driven
by friction-rollers; the part of the bobbin on which the
silk is wound rests on the roller, and receives motion from
it; and, as the diameter of this part increases by the accu¬
mulation of silk, its velocity, of course, diminishes in pre¬
cisely the same ratio; thus, the surface on which the silk
is wound has a uniform rate of motion from the beginning
to the end of the process, insuring, what has ever been a
desideratum, perfect equality in the twist of the thread.
The next operation is doubling. Fig. 15 is an end view
of the doubling-machine. In this machine the bobbins
a a a, containing the spun silk, are arranged along the
lower platform b, in little brackets capable of each con-
. . 1 i i fiasco tLo tLronrlc
SILK.
s Manu-throstle, however, does not contain apparatus for reeling
, iture. the silk, so, for this purpose, a subsidiary reel has to be
used. This machine is automatic, in respect of stopping
when a predetermined quantity of silk has been wound.
One end of the axis of the reel is supported by a lever,
whose fulcrum is at the centre of the machine; the other
end of the axis has a fixed bearing. Motion is given to
the reels by a pinion fixed on the end of its axis, being
driven by a spur wheel on the main shaft; by raising the
lever, which carries one end of the axis, the pinion would
be withdrawn from the spur wheel, and the reel would ne¬
cessarily cease to revolve. The machine is rendered auto¬
matic from the raising of the lever being effected by pro¬
per machinery at the very instant that the reel shall have
wound up the length of silk predetermined, and by a de
tent locking it out of gear until the attendant shall have
timq to shift the apparatus which guides the silk to a new
space on the reel.
We are sorry that we cannot present our readers with a
more minute description of this machine, from the number
of drawings which would be required to illustrate it.
W hether the hanks of silk have been reeled in the throw¬
ing-machine or on the automatic reel, they are afterwards
treated in precisely the same manner. When the reels are
filled with hanks, they are placed in a steam box, and sub¬
jected for a time to the action of the steam, to give the
twisting of the thread a set, as it is termed; each skein or
hank is then tied up separately in two places while yet on
the reel, which is then carried to the proper apartment, and
the hanks removed from it and bundled up.
The silk may be used without being deprived of its gum,
and is termed hard, or it may be acted on by soap and
water to deprive it of its gum, and reduce it to the soft state.
In either of these states it may be put into the hands of the
dyer, whose operations succeed those we have described.
When the hanks come from the dyer they are again trans¬
ferred to bobbins; the hard silk by a winding machine,
similar to the one already described, the soft silk by the
machine represented in fig. 20.1 In this machine, in place
of the swifts are sub-
Fig. 20.
349
his attention to the machinery used in this particular branch Silk Mann
or manufacture. facture
Having thus traced the silk of the cocoons from its de-
velopement to the perfection of the filature, and its adapta¬
tion for the loom, we will briefly describe the means used
for preparing the waste silk for the weaver, in so far as they
are peculiar to the silk manufacture.
Silk Spinning.
Under this term are included those operations by which
floss silk, and the refuse of the throwing process, are, under
the name of waste, worked into yarns for coarser uses, such
as the manufacture of shawls, Bandana handkerchiefs, and
similar textures.
When received by the silk spinner, the waste is in the
form of small balls of entangled filaments. These, as a pre¬
paratory step, he assorts in parcels according to their qua¬
lity, and these different qualities are of course kept separate
throughout the processes ; after being assorted, the waste is
hackled on a hand hackle, to disentangle the filaments, the
instrument and manner of operating being the same as in
flax-dressing. When, by the hackling process, the fila¬
ments of a quantity of the wraste have, to a certain extent,
been disentangled, they are ready for the filling engine,
which is a kind of hackling machine, wrhose effect is, in a
greater degree, to disentangle the filaments, and in some
measure to lay them parallel.
The essential parts of this machine are sketched in fig.
21 : a a is a feeding board, over the surface of which a tra-
Fig. 21.
stituted the small
reels A A, the upper
one fixed in position
but turning freely on
its axis, the lower
one also turning free¬
ly on its axis, which
is attached to a le¬
ver b, whose short
end carries an ad¬
justable weight, by
means of which the
hank of silk can be
kept between the
reels with the de¬
gree of tension suit-   
ed to the strength of the thread. The operation of this
machine will be understood from the winding machine al¬
ready described, the only difference being, that the traverse
guide has unequal and not an eccentric motion, so as to lay
the silk regularly from end to end of the bobbin, and not
eaped up in the centre as before. The transferring the
silk to the bobbins finishes the operation of the silk throw¬
ster, rom whose hands the silk passes into those of the
"ai per, to prepare it for weaving.
The drawings of the machinery, by which we have illus-
rate our description of the throwing process, were, for the
most part, made from machines constructed by Mr. Joseph
t-omas of Glasgow, an engineer who has devoted much of
1 v% •% \\ %
TW-^(
veiling belt moves in the direction of the arrows, and carries
forward to the feeding rollers b b, the hackled waste, which
is laid on it. These rollers are fluted and move very slowly ;
between them the filaments from the feeding board enter,'
and are held fast, and at the same time drawn forward into
the machine As the ends of the filaments come to the
other side of the rollers, they are acted upon by a series of
iron teeth c c, fixed to an endless belt which revolves with
a very quick motion in the direction of the arrows, and the
teeth are consequently made to pass many times through
the same portion of the filaments, clearing and disentang¬
ling them as they are slowly yielded by the feeding rollers ;
and as the ends of the successive portions of filaments cease
to be held by the rollers, they are caught up by the teeth
and carried round with them. Beneath the combs, as the
travelling teeth are termed, a board d is fixed, having at in¬
tervals, along its surface, sets of teeth similar to the combs.
W hen the filaments carried round by the travelling combs
happen to fall off, they are caught on the fixed combs of the
boards, and the regularity of their arrangement is not disturb¬
ed. When the combs, by repeated gleanings from the rollers,
have become filled, the workman, with a pair of boards called
clutches, removes from them, and from the teeth of the hori¬
zontal boards, their accumulation of filaments; these he car¬
ries to the next machine, called the dressing frame, which, like
th e filling engine, operates on the principle of combing. In
this, however, the filaments are not gradually brought for-
keing'Sm mov\hdT7whh%rely if err the S°f ^ this devoIving upon the manufacturer; but in Scotland, manufacturers
b provided with the requisite machinery, soft-silk winding is usually a part of the business of the throwster.
S50
SILK.
Silk Manu- ward by rollers and yielded to the comb, but they are held
f'acture. firmlv in their place by one end, while the combs travel
' over their surface, dragging away all impurities and all fibres
which are shorter than the average length of the mass, b ig.
22 is a side view of the machine : a a is a fixed framing, at
the scutcher, which is a modification of a similar machine Sitk-werrr
used in the cotton manufacture. When it leaves the scut-^^
cher it resembles fine down, and is put into bags of a con¬
venient size, and boiled for an hour and a halt or so in soap
and water, to deprive it of its gum ; it is afterwai ds washed
in pure soft water and again boiled, but not now for so long
a period, this boiling being merely for the purpose of get¬
ting rid of impurities. It is then subjected to the action of
a Bramah press, and when taken from the press, dried by
means of a stove, after which it is cooled, and a second
time passed through the scutching machine to fit it for card¬
ing The carding is followed, as in the cotton manufacture,
bv the drawing and fly frames, to produce a rove, and these,
by the spinning mill and the throstle, after which reeling
and bundling complete the operations and fit the thread for
Messrs^ William Casey and Company, of Castle Mills,
Edinburgh, have it in contemplation to introduce such al-
. . .1 • • • „ X* - 1 E * •* r OC XU,’ ill Ql 1 Cl f Cl
each end of the frame is a roller bb ; over these rollers t e ^ iiavc it    
endless web cc moves. Motion is communicated to the in ^ spinning 0f silk waste as will supersede the
roller br by the spur wheel d on its axle bcmg duven by a carding, alK] scutching processes. 1 his improve-
pinion on the axle of the pulley e, to which motion i. given ^ ^ to effect by adoi)ting the principles of flax
by a belt from a pulley of the mam power shaft, ^distance s innin ;in lace 0f treating the waste in the manner of
between the rollers b b' can be increased or diminished by a P J t Koino- in this^ase drawn into a
between tnerouers uu    -
screw connected with b, so as to tighten or relax the en -
less web which travels round them. The endless web car¬
ries the combs ff, which, in this machine, are composed of
a great number of short inclined teeth. Immediately be-
,„w the top bar of the machine is seen the stde ot an .rtm
spinning, m   . " . ,
cotton, the uncut filaments being in this-case drawn into a
sliver by a modification of the flax gill.
The art of silk waste spinning, we may observe, is still
in its infancy, but is advancing rapidly to greater maturity.
In 1814, the quantity of waste imported by Great Britain
, . do It Vi»d reached to the
low the top bar of the machine is seen the side of an iron to ^8)996 ibs., and in 1836 it bad reached to the
frame in which the silk to be operated on is as e amountof 1,509,334 lbs. . _
Along the frame is seen the ends of a series o^oards, w hose ^ closin this brief sketch of what is now an important
lower edges are hinged together ; between these boards, of ^ manufactnre, we beg to express our grate-
when opened like a book, the ends oi the silk « from b^ acknGwled nts t0 Messrs. Harvey, Brand, and Com-
the filling engine are inserted, and the boards closed and put ^ Gla M.hoge beautiful silk-throwing factory of
into their place in the iron frame, and between every pair paisl^, was with the utmost liberality opened to
of these boards is put a piece of solid wood. ih® J1 ^ inspection ; and it is our duty also to record our ac-
ing screws h h, at the ends of the iron now t«in* knowl^ ts to Messrs. William Casey and Company, of
ed, and the silk is thus held tightly between the boa EdinburJh 0f whose contemplated improvements in silk
The iron frame, it will be seen, rests upon two supports^, BdJ ^ wc have before spoken ; it is only through
which, by means of a rack and pinion worked by the wheel ^ XkergLyJr as these gentlemen have displayed, that
k, can be moved up or down, and thus the frame can be ot-\he arts can be disseminated, and the ener-
raised or lowered; when lowered to its utmost extent ^ brought to bear upon them to their
rests on the wheeled carriage l, which runs on the floor on gies of many minus g ^ ^
i . • i.  1 4-^ mar»mnP. I HP
rests on uit: wiiw^v*   
a railroad placed at right angles to the machine. The
operation of the machine is as follows : The frame which
contains the silk is lowered until it rests on the carriage,
which is then drawn out at the side of the machine, ihe
boards containing the silk are then put into their places
and firmly compressed by the pinching screws ; the car-
^SiliZ-Wokm. Although the article now known to our¬
selves under the name of silk, is “ familiar as household
words,” vet its nature and origin were but obscurely, it a
all ascertained in ancient times. Phny, whose judgmen
and discrimination as a compiler are not greatly to be
. . .i . ,1. ? 7.,.™ C;VP «,nrm i is a nai
and firmly compressed by the pinching screws ; the car- ^ (.r ^ worn,) is a native
riage is now returned to its place under the combs, a d ^ ^ P ^ .P ^ ^ ^ Mediterranean archipelago. It is
by means of the wheel, the frame is adjusted so that the , n’tj!at si]k was manufactured there at a very early pe-
combs may act on the silk. Ihe machine is tien pu i Aristotle had previously explained that bombyha,
motion, and the combs, by repeatedly passing over the
silk, disentangle and lay parallel the f^ ^en bv the women of that island. The inventress of this
move impurities. When the combing of one si s ^as pamphilia. “ She unwove the precious mate-
filaments has been effected, the frame is again lowered and P ^ rec0mpose it in her loom into fabrics of a more ex-
the carriage withdrawn. The workman with a skewei ju tecnded textu1re; thus converting the substantial silks of the
over the silk so as to expose the uncombed side, wheels g int0 thin trangparent gauze, obtaining in measure what
round the frame on its centre pivot m, and again runs the ^ ^ substance. Attempts have been made to rob
carriage into its place; again he raises the frame until within ^ f p the merit belonging to this process, by
the scope of the combs, which constantly move m the same bombykia with the raw material, which it is
direction ; and thus both sides of the material come to be g ^ ^ ^ nymphg procured fr0m Seres, and
thoroughly operated upon. The gleanings ot the silk p J • . sericum or silk. But the fact of the re-
thered by the combs, when accumulated, are screwed be-- wPeavino. restg n too good authority to be doubted.”1
tween the boards, and again subjected to the action of t e H &>linv b P rigilt in supposing that silk was a natinal
machine ; what is carried away by the combs ^ this opera- question, it is by no means proba¬
tion is unfit for spinning, and is used, like the refuse of fla. , P^ ^ ^ laborious a process as that of converting foreign
for stuffing cushions and similar purposes. , wrmio-ht articles into threads for reweaving, would have
When the filaments are by the dressing machine cleaned ^ Indeed, the Bvzantine historians inform
and laid parallel to each other, they are cut into lengths of been reso ted being imported into Constantm-
about an inch and a quarter by the cutting engine vhxch ^’} U ^tur n0 0ne in that capital knew that
^^wa8theproduccot’a<»terpillw^AIUioii^Ar»toriegi^
   "" ” P Cabinet Cyclopiedia, xxii. 5
S I L K - W O It M.
S51
oi, vorm
an account of the silk-worm, which he describes as a horn- a dunghill, and the larvae were fed with the leaves of wild Silk-worm
■ ed caterpillar, he does not indicate its native country. As- mulberry. They worked, underwent their accustomed me-
syna is named by Pliny as the original region of the bom- tamorphoses, and multiplied their kind according to use
byx, and he adds tl^e extraordinary statement, that the stuff and wont, and in the course of time have become almost
which the women of Rome unravelled and wove anew, was universally cultivated throughout the southern countries of
made from a woollen substance combed by the Seres from
the leaves of trees, and that draperies formed from it w'ere
imported from the country of the Seres. These ancient
people, we need scarcely remark, are generally believed to
be the same with those we now name Chinese. Silk, in
their language, is called se or ser, the latter term corre-
spondingwith that used by the Greeks, who, we cannot doubt,
derived both the material itself, and the name by which it
was designated, from the Chinese nation. According to La-
treille, the city of Turfan, in lattle Bucharia, was for a long
time the rendezvous of the western caravans, and the chief
entrepot of the Chinese silks. It was the metropolis of the
Seres of Upper Asia, or of the Serica of Ptolemy, situate,
according to that author, between the Ganges and the East¬
ern Ocean. Hence the Serica vestis of the Romans, and
the word Sericum, their name for silk.
This substance was but slightly known in Europe before
the time of Augustus, and in the days of Aurelian wras va¬
lued at its weight in gold. Phis was probably owing to the
mode in which it was procured by the merchants of Alex¬
andria, who had no direct intercourse with China, the chief,
if not the only country in which the silk-worm was then
reared. Though so highly lauded both by Greek and Ro-
‘man writers, it was in frequent use for many centuries be¬
fore any certain knowledge was obtained either of the coun-
- try from which the material was derived, or of the means by
which it was produced. By some it was supposed to be a
fine down adhering to the leaves of trees and flowers; by
others it was regarded as a delicate kind of wool or cotton,1
and even those who had some idea of its insect origin, were
incorrectly informed of the mode of its formation.2 The t
court of the Greek emperors, which surpassed even that of from Spain.
the Asiatic sovereigns in splendour and magnificence, be
came profuse in its display of this lustrous ornament; but
as the Persians, from the advantages which their local situ¬
ation gave them over the merchants from the Arabian Gulph,
were enabled to supplant them in all those marts of India to
which silk was brought by sea from the East, and had it in
their power to cut off the caravans which travelled over land
to China through their northern provinces, Constantinople
thus became dependent on a rival power for an article now
deemed essential to the enjoyment of civilized life. The
Europe, thus effecting an important change in the commer¬
cial relations which had so long existed between our conti-
tinent and the east.3
The cultivation of the silk-worm spread, at the period of
the first crusades, from the Morea into Sicily, the kingdom
of Naples, and several centuries afterwards, more especially
under the administration of Sully, into France, to which
kingdom it is well known to be now a source of great wealth.
It is indeed curious to consider how the breeding of a few
millions of small caterpillars should occasion such a dispa¬
rity in the circumstances, or at least in the outward shew, of
diffeient tribes of the human race. When the wife and em¬
press of Aurelian was refused a garment of silk on account
rn3^S ex^reme costhness, the most ordinary classes of the
Chinese were, we doubt not, clad in that material from top
to toe; and although, among ourselves, weekday and holi¬
day are now alike profaned by uncouth forms, whose vast
circumference is clothed in silk attire, yet our James the
Sixth was forced to borrow a pair of silken hose from the
Earl of Mar, that his state and bearing might be more effec¬
tive in the presence of the ambassador of England, “ for ye
would not,” said the uncouth pedant, “ that your king should
appear as a scrub before strangers.” Queen Elizabeth, in
the thiid year of her reign (1560), was highly gratified by
receiving from her silk-woman, Mrs. Montague, a pair of
nit black-silk stockings, with which she is said to have been
so delighted, as never afterwards to have worn those of cloth.
Even Henry the Eighth, notwithstanding his expensive
magnificence, could not indulge himself as did his daugh¬
ter, but wore cloth hose, except on gala days, when he
sometimes contrived to obtain a pair or two of silken ones
r”'>m Spain.
The silk-worm cultivated in Europe is the same as that
which produces the greater proportion of the Chinese ma-
nufactuie. It is the larva of the Bombyx mori, a pale co¬
loured moth, with two or three obscure and transverse
streaks, and a lunate spot on the superior wings. The ca¬
terpillar feeds on the leaves of the mulberry, and before as¬
suming the chrysalis form, it spins a protecting covering in
the shape of an oval cocoon, of a close tissue of the finest silk,
usually of a yellow colour, but sometimes white. The fila¬
ment does not form regular concentric circles round the in¬
Persians with tbf. • me , uient aoes not torm regular concentric circles round the in-
'5** *>ut i8,sPun - it were
monopolists, exorbitantly raised its price, and many attempts
were made by Justinian to free his subjects from their ex¬
actions. An accidental circumstance is said to have accom¬
plished what the wisdom of the great legislator was unable
to achieve. Two Persian monks, who had been employed
as missionaries in one of the Christian churches established
in India, had penetrated to the country of the Seres, that is,
to China, where they observed the operations of the silk¬
worm, and acquired a knowledge of the art of man in work¬
ing up its produce into so many rich and costly fabrics. The
ove of lucre, mingled, it is said, (though perhaps a single
mo ive may suffice,) with a feeling of indignation that so
valuable a branch of commerce should be enjoyed by unbe-
ueving nations, induced them to repair to Constantinople,
ere they explained to the emperor the true origin of silk,
ft1 le va™us modes by which it was prepared and manu-
,ure * Encouraged by the most liberal promises, they
ertook to transport a sufficient supply of these extraor-
mary worms to Constantinople, which they effected bycon-
ymg the eggs of the parent moth in the interior of a hoi
mw cane. ^’1  
going backwards and forwards with a wavy motion. This
apparently irregular manner of proceeding is plainly per¬
ceptible when the silk is wound off the ball, which does not
make more than one or two entire revolutions, while ten or
twelve yards of silk are being transferred to the reel.4 The
caterpillar casts and renews its skin several times before it
commences to spin, and when full grown, it measures from
two and a half to three inches. The principal points to be
attended to in its cultivation, are regular feeding three or
four times a-day, good ventilation, and a rather high tem¬
perature, especially at the period of spinning, say 70°
Fahrenheit. It lives and spins though fed only on lettuce
leaves, but their true and natural food is the mulberry, es¬
pecially the white kind, called by botanists Morns alba.
The important tree just named, is a native of China, from
whence it is believed to have been transferred to India, Per¬
sia, and Asia Minor. It was introduced at Constantinople
during the sixth century, in the reign of Justinian, in con¬
nection, no doubt, with the importation of the w orms them-
u f i A TV h ^ selves. It was afterwards introduced into Greece, and the
j Q ^   Z a c le ,i is a ege , by the heat of name J/orea, by which the Peloponnesus is now distinguished,
1 !« . ~ VEOtatatf. Cabinet Lib™,, riii. Hi-
Encyc. Art. Entomoloan ix ' 1 011B tc,lne and fall (Reign of Justinian); Edin. Cab. Library, already cited ; and this
j/y, . j (jabmet Cyclopaedia, xxii. 112.
352
SILK-WORM.
“,ilk-worm. is ascribed by many authors to the vast quantity of mulber¬
ry trees there cultivated In 1130, Roger, king of Sicily,
having conquered many portions of the Morea, transported
the white mulberry into his own kingdom, along with a sup¬
ply of silk worms, and of artizans who understood their cul¬
tivation, and the manufacture of their natural product.
About the year 1493, in the reign of Charles the Eighth,
some nobles who had accompanied that Prince into Italy,
brought the mulberry from Naples, and planted it in the
environs of Montelimart. Not many years have gone by
since those parent trees, the source of so rich a branch of
commercial industry to France, were exhibited with an al-
most religious veneration. The mulberry was cultivated not
only in the south of France, but Henry the Fourth brought
a great many to Paris, which he planted in the gardens of
the Tuilleries, where an establishment was founded for the
rearing of the worms, and the preparation of their silk. No
vestige of this plantation now remains.
It was long supposed that the cultivation of the white
mulberry required a high temperature, but the contrary is
proved by the fact of its thriving well in so many northern
provinces of Germany. Even in Russia it is reared with
considerable success. In France, however, it is not raised
in large quantities with a view to the feeding of silk-worms,
except in the central and southern provinces, as far north as
the environs of Lyons. Government does not seem to have
held out any encouragement to its extension, otherwise we
doubt not that both the tree and caterpillar might be more
extensively and abundantly spread over the more northern
departments. The white mulberry is by no means nice in re¬
gard to the constituent character of its soil, and it is known to
flourish in a great variety of situations. At the same time,
the nature both of soil and situation seems to exercise con¬
siderable influence over the produce of the caterpillars which
feed upon its leaves; the silk being finer, ampler, and more
resistant, in proportion as the plant is successfully cultivat¬
ed in a dry and rather elevated position. In the south of
France it is customary to cut off all the medium-sized branches
every year, with a view to facilitate the production of a
greater number of young shoots, these bearing the largest
and most numerous leaves. The leaves of the black mul¬
berry (Morus nigra), and in general those of all the other
species of the genus, are adapted to the nourishment of the
silk-worm. But not only are they apparently less grateful
to their taste, but they actually produce a silk much inferi¬
or both in quantity and quality.
We have said that the silk-worm cultivated in Europe is
the same as that which produces the greater proportion of
the Chinese manufacture. But in Bengal and other parts
of India, valuable silk is procured from the cocoons of other
species of moth. The first of these is described by Dr. Rox¬
burgh under the title of Phalcenapaphia, and occurs in such
abundance over many parts of Bengal, and the adjoining
provinces, as to have afforded to the natives, from time im¬
memorial, an abundant supply of a very durable, though
coarse, and dark-coloured silk, called Tusseh, much used by
the Brahmins, and other sects of Hindoos. This species,
however, cannot be domesticated; so the hill people go in¬
to the jungles, and when they perceive the dung of the ca¬
terpillars under a tree, they immediately search for them
among the branches, and carry off what they require. These
they distribute on the Asseen trees (Tcrminalia alata gla¬
bra of Roxb.), and as long as they continue in the caterpil¬
lar state, the Pariahs guard them from birds by day, and
from bats by night. The natural food of this species is the
Byer tree of the Hindoos, called Rhamnus jujuba by bo¬
tanists. The Jaroo cocoons are produced from a rare variety
of the kind just mentioned. This tusseh silk-worm moth
appears to be synonymous with mylittaof Fabricius,
and is figured by Drury.1 The Arrindy silk-worms, how- Silk-w
ever, belong to an entirely different species, Phalcenacyn-'^»
thia of the last named author.2 It seems to be peculiar to
two districts in the interior of Bengal, viz. Runpore and
Dinagepore, where it is reared in a domestic state. The
food of this kind of silk- worm consists entirely of the leaves
of the common Ricinus, or Palma Christi, which the natives
call Arrindy, and hence the name by which the insect is it¬
self distinguished. The cocoons in general are about a cou¬
ple of inches in length, three inches in circumference, and
pointed at both ends. They are of a white or yellowish co¬
lour, and their texture is extremely soft and delicate. The
filament, indeed, is so extremely fine, that the silk cannot
be wound off, but must be spun like cotton. The yarn is
wove into a kind of coarse white cloth, of a seemingly loose
texture, but of such extreme durability, that the lii'e of one
person seldom suffices to wear out a garment of it; so that
the same piece frequently descends from parent to child. It
must always be washed in cold water.3
The only other species with which we are acquainted is
that alluded to by Mr. Arthur Young, in an extract of a let¬
ter published in the Annals of Agriculture. It has been
introduced into our Eastern possessions for a considerable
number of years. We have obtained, says the writer of
the letter, “ a monthly silk-worm from China, which I have
reared with my own hands, and in twenty-five days have had
the cocoons in my basins, and by the twenty-ninth or thirty-
first day, a new progeny feeding in my trays. This makes
it a mine to whoever would undertake the cultivation of it.
The practice of rearing silk worms in this country is usually
followed rather as an amusing occupation than for purposes
of gain. The female moth is induced to lay her eggs
upon sheets of paper, to wdiich they adhere by a natural
viscosity. The period of hatching may be hastened or re¬
tarded by a higher or lower temperature, and the chief point
for the breeder to bear in mind is, that the worms should
not make their appearance till an abundance of natural food
is near at hand. The eggs are at first of a very pale hue,
but such as are to produce worms speedily become of a
bluish grey colour ; the unproductive ones continuing of a
pale yellow. As there are tricks in all trades, the foreign
dealers often favour their old useless eggs with a wash in
dark-coloured muddy wine, which gives them for a time a
deceptive healthy aspect. A stove-room, or other apart¬
ment, with a temperature of 64° will suffice for the hatch¬
ing of eggs, and the heat may afterwards be raised with ad¬
vantage a few degrees every other day, for about ten
days, but not so as to exceed about 80°. They will, how¬
ever, thrive well enough in summer in any comfortably
kept apartment, though a continuous warmth by night as wel
as by day is of great advantage. Whatever broodsare hatcheu
at the same period, should be kept together, and those o
different ages ought never to be fed in the same trays.
The best and simplest apparatus for keeping silk worms
is that proposed by Mr. Swayne, It consists of an open
quadrangular wooden frame, about four feet two incheshigh,
provided with eight uncovered slides or drawers a few inches
apart from each other, and which, moving in a groove or
ledge, can easily be shifted out or in. The upper s i e is
made of paper, and is devoted to the reception °i f e ne.^,
ly hatched worms, which it is desirable to feed at first witti
young and delicate leaves, chopped into small pieces. ^ >0
flooring of the second and third slides is made of catgut, tn
reticulations being about the tenth part of an inch asunder.
In these the worms are placed during what may be ca e
the second and third stages. The five remaining slides are
made of wicker-work or netting, and in them the insects
are distributed “ fewer and far between,” as they mcrea
in size. Beneath every drawer except the upperm ,
i Illustrations of Natural History, ii. tab. 3. . L .tab- oq . and British In-
3 See Account of the Tusseh and Arrindy silk worms of Bengal, by William Roxburgh, M.D. Linn. Irans. v . ,
dia (in Edin. Cab. Library), iii. 134.
353
S I L K - W O R M.
•orm. which is itself made of paper, additional paper slides should
•-^'be placed to receive the dung, and the worms must not be
kept any longer in the second and third drawers, so soon as
the litter alluded to becomes so large as to stick in the cat¬
gut meshes, without falling through upon the paper slides
beneath. By means of these additional slides, this litter
may be removed any time the worms are fed, without the
necessity of handling the latter. When the fresh food is
placed in the drawers they will speedily creep upon it, and
any remnants of old leaves can be picked up by a pair of
small pincers.
Silk worms ought to be fed with regularity at least four
times a-day ; additional or intermediate meals being given
when any extraordinary appetite is manifested. The du¬
ration of the lives of these animals depends, to a certain ex¬
tent, upon temperature and locality; warmth, well kept
quarters, and abundance of food, being found to hasten the
spinning process. All these things should be very sedu¬
lously attended to by those who rear silk worms in large
quantities with a view to profit, time being so important an
element in all commercial undertakings.
When the silk worm makes its first appearance, it is of a
dark colour, and measures only one or two lines in length ;
after the lapse of eight days, it is attacked by a lethargic
sickness, which will cause the heart of the young or inex¬
perienced breeder to despond, but he need fear no evil, for
this is only an unavoidable symptom of the ordinary on¬
goings of nature. The creature is about to cast its skin,
and for about three days it remains motionless, refusing
food. On the termination of this period the old skin opens
at the anterior end, the fore-legs are disengaged, and the
.new and delicately attired worm escapes forth, to enjoy it¬
self once more on pastures green. It had previously ex¬
uded a peculiar fluid, and had also, by means of a few
silken strings (how provident is benign nature!) fastened
down its old and useless coat, that it might not be dragged
after it when the hour of delivery has arrived. This coat¬
ing is so complete, that even the skin which covers the eyes
and teeth is thrown away. Immediately after this renewal,
the body of the worm appears pale and somewhat wrinkled,
the new coat being made full size to admit of future growth;
but the latter attribute speedily disappears. It feeds freely
for five additional days, during which it grows to about half
an inch in length, and is then seized by its second sickness,
and again casts its skin. Then succeed other five days of
feasting, in the course of which it increases to three quar¬
ters of an inch, when it sickens a third time, and acquires
in a similar manner a third suit of clothes. Again five days
of feeding; again a removal of the outer garment, or a fourth
casting of the skin. The caterpillar now measures from an
inch and a half to two inches long, and for a continuous pe-
ripd of about ten days it eats voraciously, and increases
greatly both in length and thickness. On the expiry of
this last-mentioned period, it has attained the full stature
of a silk-worm, being from two and a half to three inches
long. Its desire for food abates, it nibbles and wastes its
leaves, then ceases to eat, and becomes restless and uneasy,
moving circularly from side to side, owing to some instinc¬
tive feeling of desire to secure a quiet haven in which to
spin its silken shroud. Its colour is now of a palish green,
with a mingling of a deeper hue. In the course of about
twenty-four hours from the time of its having ceased to
feed, the silky texture becomes abundantly supplied to its
interior reservoirs; the green colour disappears, the body
becomes glossy, and somewhat transparent towards the neck,
i revious to spinning, the general dimensions rather de-
crease than otherwise, but greater firmness of substance is
acquired.
When the desire to spin is thus unequivocally manifest¬
ed, art must come in aid of nature. Our own method for¬
merly was (we worked, however, in this department on a
VOL. xx.
narrow scale,) to supply our caterpillars with small twisted Silk-worm,
paper bags, open at one end, such as any old woman may
use on a Saturday night to carry from the grocer’s her so¬
litary ounce of tea. Into each of these would creep a sin¬
gle caterpillar, and weave his golden woof incessantly, till
the loved work was done. But those who rear extensively,
supply their completed caterpillars with small twigs or
branches of broom, heath, or any other brushwood, which
happens to unite tenderness and tenacity.
Great attention must now be paid in regard to keeping
up a warm temperature. The observations of a writer in
the fifth volume of the Society for the Encouragement of
Arts, amply illustrate this important point. He had suc¬
cessfully reared thirty thousand silk-worms, when in the be¬
ginning of July, just as they were about to spin, there
came a chilly north-east wind, and many assumed the chry¬
salis state, without making any attempt to form a protecting
covering. On examining these individuals, it was apparent
that their silken reservoirs had been congealed by cold, so
that the insects were unable to draw out the filaments in
their usual slender state, their own capacity of movement
and exertion being no doubt at the same time chilled.
Even when they have commenced to spin, or have made
some progress in their labours, they will cease if exposed
to cold, and if the surrounding web is still of sufficient
transparency, they maybe seen lying idle and inactive in the
interior of their cocoons. But if the temperature is raised,
they will immediately resume their work. A heat as high as
70° is thought advisable at this time.
These beautiful silken coverings, or cocoons as they are
called, are generally completed in three or four days. They
are commenced by the formation (among the twigs or in
paper bags, as the case may be) of a loose decomposed
structure of an oval form, made of what is denominated
Jioss silk. Within this, in the course of the ensuing days,
the firmer cocoons are completed. These are rounded
somewhat oval balls, varying in tint, but usually more or
less of a golden hue, though sometimes white. Those of
a bright yellow hue yield the greater weight of reeled silk,
but as the finer colouring substance is contained chiefly in
the gum which is boiled out before weaving, less advantage
is reaped by the grower. Raw silk, of a pale colour, is
moreover preferred, on account of its better reception of
certain dyes. The included worm, having finished its la¬
bour, casts its skin once more, but never appears again as a
caterpillar, as it now assumes that rounded shapeless form
termed chrysalis. The cocoons may be selected for reeling
in about a week, and then comes the ungratefid and un¬
gracious task of destroying the peaceful tenants of the
tomb. This is variously accomplished, either by exposure
(in sunny climates,) for some hours to unclouded solar light
and heat; by steam; or by placing the cocoons in a tempe¬
rature corresponding to that of an oven from which loaves
have just been withdrawn after being baked.
If not killed, the chrysalis remains in its naturally dor¬
mant state for a longer or shorter time, in accordance with
the clime in which it has had its birth. In eastern coun¬
tries this is not more than eleven days; in the most south¬
ern parts of Europe from eighteen to twenty; in France
about three weeks; in England, if unaided by artificial
means, about a month. After these respective periods, ac¬
cording to climate, whether natural or acquired, the perfect
moth emerges, and the reason for destroying the chrysalis
is this, that in emerging s/ze (the moth) destroys the silk, un¬
der the impression probably, that she may do what she likes
with her own. A few, however, are of course spared for
the sake of a future progeny, sound cocoons being select¬
ed, and in equal numbers as to sex, those containing the
males being sharper or more pointed at the ends.
Such as have been killed for reeling are, before the com¬
mencement of that process, placed in warm water, so that
2 Y
354
Siila.
. II
Simeon.
S 1 L
their gummy nature may be partly softened, but not dis¬
solved. The length of silken thread which may be un¬
wound from a single cocoon, although it has been ridicu¬
lously exaggerated by Isnard and other writers, is in truth
astonishing. Count Dandolo found it occasionally to ex¬
ceed 600 yards ; Miss Rhodes of Yorkshire mentions that
one of her largest cocoons yielded 404 measured yards;
and Pullein considers the average length to be about 300
yards. From data given by the first named author it was
found, that to obtain one pound of reeled silk, twelve pounds
of cocoons are required ; that 2800 worms would be neces¬
sary to produce that amount of cocoons; and that to feed
these caterpillars, 152 pounds of mulberry leaves must be
collected.
As we write this brief notice rather for the amateur than
the artizan, the mention of the above named tree reminds
us of the propriety of stating, that as mulberry leaves cannot
be easily obtained in Britain in required abundance, the best
substitute is lettuce.
SILL A, a large town on the Niger, by which the travels
of Mr. Park were bounded towards the east. He gives no
particular description of the place, which his health and
spirits permitted him not to survey, but assigns the reasons
by which he wTas induced to proceed no farther. On his
arrival, he was allowed to remain under a tree, till it was
quite dark, surrounded by hundreds of people. But their
language was extremely different from the other parts of
Bambarra; and he was given to understand, that in his pro¬
gress eastward, the Bambarra tongue was very little under¬
stood, and that, on his reaching Jenne, he would find the
greater part of the inhabitants accustomed to speak a differ¬
ent language. He had now become the prey of sickness,
exhausted with hunger and fatigue, half naked, and with¬
out any article of value to procure for himself provisions,
clothes, or lodging, on which account he resolved to return,
finding that to prosecute his journey further in that direc¬
tion was wholly impracticable. Siila, acording to the latest
map of Africa, is in 14. 48. N. lat. and 1. 24. W. long.
SILVERING, the covering of any thing with silver It
is usual to silver metals, wood, paper, and the like, which is
performed either with fire, oil, or size. Metal-gilders silver
by the fire ; painter gilders all the other ways.
To silver copper or brass. First cleanse the metal with
aquafortis, by washing it lightly, and immediately throwing
it into pure water ; or by heating it red hot, and scouring
it with salt and tartar, and some pure water, with a small
wire brush. Secondly, Dissolve some silver in aquafortis,
in a broad-bottomed glass vessel, or of glazed earth; then
evaporate away the aquafortis over a chaffing dish of coals.
Thirdly, Put five or six times its quantity of wrater, or as
much as will be necessary to dissolve it perfectly, on the
remaining dry calx ; evaporate this water with the like heat;
then put more fresh water, and evaporate again ; and, if
need be, the third time, making the fire towards the latter
end so strong as to leave the calx perfectly dry, which, if
your silver is good, will be of a pure white. Fourthly, Take
of this calx, common salt, crystals of tartar, of each a like
quantity or bulk, and mixing well the w'hole composition,
put the metal into pure water, and take of the said powder
with your wet fingers, and rub it well on, till you find every
little cavity of the metal sufficiently silvered over. Fifthly,
If you would have it richly done, you must rub on more of
the powder ; and, in the last place, wash the silvered metal
in pure water, aud rub it hard with a dry cloth.
SIMEON of Durham, the contemporary of William of
Malmsbury. He took great pains in collecting the muni¬
ments of our history, especially in the north of England,
after they had been scattered by the Danes. From these
he composed a history of the kings of England, from a. d.
616 to 1130, with some smaller historical pieces. Simeon
both studied and taught the sciences, and particularly the
SIM
mathematics, at Oxford; and he became precentor of the Si«> p
church at Durham, where he died, probably soon after the
conclusion of his history, which was continued hy John, ^u
prior of Hexham, to the year 1156.
SIMFEROPOL, called formerly Akhmetschet; a city
of the province of Tauria in Russia, the capital of that
province as well as of a circle of the same name. It
stands on an elevated plain, surrounded on all sides by
mountains, on the banks of the river Salair. It is divided
into the new and the old city ; the former is regularly laid
out, and contains a public school, and a few offices of the
government. The latter is surrounded with high walls,
and has narrow and crooked streets without pavement, and
is chiefly inhabited by the Tartars. The united towns con¬
tain about 1000 houses, and nearly 20,000 inhabitants,
from a great variety of nations. It has a Russian, a Greek,
and an Armenian church, and three Tartar mosques, with
several baths. Lat. 44. 59. Long. 34.1. 5. E. It is 1458
miles from St. Petersburg. It is considered to be unhealthy
in summer, owing to a deficiency of good water, and the
filthy habits of the Tartar population.
SIMILE, or Similitude, in Rhetoric, a comparison of
two things, which, though different in other respects, yet
agree in some one. The difference between a simile and
comparison consists in this, that the simile properly belongs
to whatever we call the quality of a thing, and the compari¬
son to the quantity.
SIMILOR, a name given to an alloy of red copper and
zinc, made in the best proportions, to imitate silver and
gold.
SIMOGA, a fortified town of the south of India, in the
province of Mysore, and district of Bednorr, situated on
the Zunga or Zoom river. The fortifications are not
strong, and are incapable of resisting a regular attack. It
has a manufacture of cotton cloth in the neighbourhood. It
contains the temple and convent of Kudali Sivami, the high
priest of a sect of Mahratta Brahmins. In 1790, an action
was fought near this place, between Purseram Bhow and
Mahommed Reza, in which the Mahrattas were assisted by
a detachment of British troops under Captain Little, who
gained the battle. At this time Simoga contained 6000
houses, which were utterly destroyed by the Mahrattas. It
was again destroyed in 1798, but has since considerably re¬
covered its wealth and population. Long. 75. 35. E. Lat.
!3. 51. N. J ,
SIMON Maccabeus, a celebrated leader, and high-
priest of the Jew's, wffio, after rendering the most important
services to his country, was at last treacherously murdered
by his son-in-law.
Simon Magus, or the Sorcerer, was a native of Gitton, a
village of Samaria. According to the usual practice of the
Asiatics of that age, he visited Egypt, and there probably
became aquainted with the sublime mysteries taught in the
Alexandrian School, learning those theurgic or magical
operations, by means of which it was believed that men
might be delivered from the power of evil demons. ^ Upon his
return into his owm country, the author of the Clementine
Recognitions relates, that he imposed upon his countrymen
by high pretensions to supernatural powers. St. Luke at¬
tests, that this artful fanatic had bewitched the Pe0P e 0
Samaria, giving out that he was some great' one ; and that
he obtained such general attention and reverence in ba-
maria, that the people all gave heed to him, from the leas
to the greatest, saying “This man is the great power o
God.” .. r
By the preaching of Philip the Deacon, he was, with other
Samaritans, converted to the Christian faith, and admitted
into the infant church by the ordinance of baptism. 18
conversion, however, seems not to have been real; for, upon
seeing the miraculous effects of the laying on of the apos
ties’ hands, he offered them money, saying, “ Give me also
S I M
SIM
355
this power, that on whomsoever I lay hands he may receive
the Holy Ghost ” He probably thought Peter and John
magicians like himself, but better skilled in the art of de¬
ceiving the multitude.
Being sharply reproved for this impiety, he seems by his
answer to have been made sensible of his sin ; but his re¬
pentance, if sincere, was of short duration. Returning to
his former practices of imposture, he travelled through vari¬
ous provinces of the empire, opposing the progress of the
gospel; and arriving at Rome, he led astray vast numbers
of people by his pretended miracles. How long he lived
in that metropolis of the world, or in what manner he died,
we have no accounts that can be depended on. The Chris¬
tian writers tell us, that being raised in the air by two
demons, he was deprived of their support by the prayers of
St. Peter and St. Paul, and falling, broke his legs. By some
he is thought to have been the person mentioned by Sueto¬
nius, who having undertaken to fly in the presence of Nero,
fell to the ground with such violence, that his blood spurted
up to the gallery where the emperor was sitting.
The sum of this impostor’s doctrine, divested of allegory,
was, that from the Divine Being, as a fountain of light, flow
various orders of aeons, or eternal natures, subsisting within
the plenitude of the divine essence ; that beyond these, in
the order of emanation, are different classes of intelligences,
amongst the lowest of which are human souls; that matter
is the most remote production of the emanative power,
which, on account of its infinite distance from the Fountain
of Light, possesses sluggish and malignant qualities, which
oppose the divine operations, and are the cause of evil; that
it is the great design of philosophy to deliver the soul from
its imprisonment in matter, and restore it to that divine
light from which it was derived, and that for this purpose
God had sent him as one of the first aeons amongst men.
To his wife Helena he also ascribed a similar kind of divine
nature, pretending that a female aeon inhabited the body
of this woman, to whom he gave the name of Ewota, or
Wisdom; whence some Christian fathers have said, that he
called her the Holy Spirit. He also taught the transmi¬
gration of souls, and denied the resurrection of the body.
Simon, Richard, was born at Dieppe on the loth May
1638. He began his studies amongst the priest of the Ora¬
tory in that city, but in a short time quitted their society.
From Dieppe he went to Paris, where he made great pro¬
gress in the study of the oriental languages. Some time
i afterwards he joined the society of the Oratory again, and
became a priest of it in 1660. In 1670 he published some
pieces of a smaller kind; and in 1678 his Critical History
of the Old Testament appeared, but was immediately sup¬
pressed by the intrigues of the gentlemen of Port-Royal.
It was reprinted the year after, and its excellence soon
drew the attention of foreigners; an edition of it was ac¬
cordingly published at Amsterdam in Latin, and in London
m English. He died at Dieppe in 1712, at the age of
seventy-four.
He certainly possessed a vast deal of learning. His cri¬
ticism is exact, but not always moderate; and there reigns
in his writings a spirit of novelty and singularity which raised
him a great many adversaries. The most celebrated of
these were Le Clerc, Vossius, Jurieu, Dupin, and Bossuet.
bimon wrote an answer to most of the books that were pub-
.. ed against him, and displays a pride and obstinacy in
his controversial writings which do him little honour. He
Was the author of a great many books. The following
are ^6 principal, viz:—1. The Ceremonies of the Jews,
ranslated from the Italian of Leo of Modena, with a sup¬
plement concerning the sects of the Caraites and Samari-
ans; 2. The Critical History of the Old Testament; 3. Criti-
a History of the Text of the New Testament; 4. Criti-
ca History of the Versions of the New Testament; 5. Cri-
lca History of the principal Commentators on the New'
Testament; 6. Inspiration of the Sacred Books ; 7. A trans- Simonides,
lation of the New Testament, which was censured by Car-
dinal Noailles and by Bossuet; 8. The History of the Rise
and Progress of Ecclesiastical Revenues, which is commend¬
ed by Voltaire, as is his Critical History of the Old Testa
ment; 9. A new select Library, pointing out the good
books in various departments of literature, and the use to
be made of them; 10. Critical History of the Belief and
Customs of the nations on the Levant; and, 11. Critical
Letters.
SIMONIDES, the name of several poets celebrated in
antiquity. But by the Marbles it appears that the eldest
and most illustrious of them was born in the fifty-fifth Olym¬
piad, 538 years before Christ, and that he died in his nine¬
tieth year, which nearly agrees with the chronology of Eu¬
sebius. He was a native of Ceos, one of the Cyclades, in
the neighbourhood of Attica, and the preceptor of Pindar.
Both Plato and Cicero give him the character of a good
poet and musician, and speak of him as a person of great vir¬
tue and wisdom. Such longevity gave him an opportunity
of knowing a great number of the first characters in anti¬
quity with whom he was in some measure connected. It
appears in Fabricius, that Simonides was contemporary with
Pittacus of Mitylene, Hipparchus, tyrant of Athens, Pau-
sanias, king of Sparta, Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse, as well as
with Themistocles, and with Alevades, king of Thessaly.
He is mentioned by Herodotus; and Xenophon, in his Dia¬
logue upon Tyranny, makes him one of the interlocutors
with Hiero king of Syracuse. Cicero alleges, what has of¬
ten been quoted in proof of the modesty and wisdom of
Simonides, that when Hiero asked him for a definition of
God, the poet required a whole day to meditate on so im¬
portant a question. At the end of that time, upon the prince
putting the question to him, he asked two days’ respite, and
in this manner always doubled the delay each time he was
required to answer it; till at length, to avoid offending
his patron by more disappointments, he frankly confessed
that he found the question so difficult, that the more he
meditated upon it, the less was his hope of being able to
solve it.
In his old age, perhaps from seeing the respect which
money procured to such as had lost the charms of youth,
and the power of attaching mankind by other means, he be¬
came somewhat mercenary and avaricious. He was fre¬
quently employed by the victors at the games to write pane¬
gyrics and odes in their praise, before his pupil Pindar had
exercised his talents in their behalf. But Simonides refus¬
ed to gratify their vanity in this particular, till he had first
tied them down to a stipulated sum for his trouble; and
upon being upbraided for his meanness, he said, that he had
two coffers, in one of which he had for many years put his
pecuniary rewards, whilst the other was for honours, ver¬
bal thanks, and promises, that the first was pretty well fill¬
ed, but the last remained always empty; and he made no
scruple to confess in his old age, that of all the enjoyments
of life, the love of money was the only one of which time
had not deprived him.
He was frequently reproached for this vice; but he al¬
ways defended himself with good humour. Upon being
asked by Hiero's queen, whether it was more desirable to
be learned or rich, he answered, that it was far better to be
rich ; for the learned were always dependent on the rich,
and waiting at their doors ; whereas, he never saw rich men
at the doors of the learned. When he was accused of being
so sordid as to sell part of the provisions with which his table
was furnished by Hiero, he said he had done it in order “to
display to the world the magnificence of that prince and his
own frugality.” To others he said, that his reason for accu¬
mulating wealth was, that “ he would rather leave money
to his enemies after death, than be troublesome to his friends
whilst living.”
356
S l M
Simony He obtained the prize in poetry at the public games when
0 ' he was fourscore years of age. According to bmdas, he
Simplon. acj(ie(i four letters to the Greek alphabet, and 1 liny assigns
'^v'“wto him the eighth string of the Lyre ; but these claims are
disputed by the learned. , . ,
His poetry was so tender and plaintive, that he acquired
the cognomen of Melicertcs, sweet as honey, and the tear-
ful eye of his muse was proverbial. Dionysius places him
amongst those polished writers who excel in a smooth vo¬
lubility, and flow on like plenteous and perennial rivers, u
a course of even and uninterrupted harmony.
There is a second great poet of the name of Simonides
recorded on the Marbles, and supposed to have been his
grandson, who gained, in 478 before Christ, the prize in
the games at Athens. .
SIMONY, is the corrupt presentation of any one to a
ecclesiastical benefice for money, gift, or reward. It is so
called from the resemblance it is said to bear to t e
Simon Magus, though the purchasing ol holy orders seems
to approach nearer to his offence. It was by the canon law
a very grievous crime; and is so much the more odious,
because: as Sir Edward Coke observes, it ^ ever accompa¬
nied with perjury, the presentee being not to commit
SIMOOM, a hot wind which blows occasionally in the
deserts of Africa, and probably in other widely extended
countries parched in the same manner by a vertica sun.
Its effects on the human body are dreadful. If mhiJle in
any quantity, it produces instant suffocation, or at east
leaves the unhappv sufferer oppressed with asthma and low¬
ness of spirits. The approach of this awful scourge is indi¬
cated bvPa redness in the air, well understood by those who
are accustomed to journey through the desert; and 1 ie onl7
refuse which they have from it, is to fall down with their
faces close to the ground, and to continue as long as possible
without drawing in their breath. Mr. Bruce, who, in his
journey though the desert, suffered from the simoom, gives
the following graphical description of this visitation. At
eleven o’clock, while we contemplated with great pleasure
the rugged top of Chiggre, to which we were fast approach¬
ing and where we were to solace ourselves with plenty of
good water, Idris our guide cried out, with a loud voice,
tall upon your faces, for here is the simoom. I saw from
the south-east a haze come, in colour like the purple part
of the rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. It did not
occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was about twelve feet
high from the ground. It was a kind of blush upon the air,
and it moved very rapidly ; for I scarce could turn to fall
upon the ground with my head to the northward, when I
felt the heat of its current plainly upon my face. We all
lay flat on the ground as if dead, till Idris told us it was
blown over. The meteor or purple haze which I saw was
indeed passed, but the light air that still blew was of heat
to threaten suffocation. For my part, I found distinctly in
mv breast that I had imbibed a part of it, nor was I free of
an asthmatic sensation till I had been some months in Italy,
at the baths of Poretta, near two years afterwards. 1 hough
the severity of this blast seems to have passed over them
almost instantaneously, it continued to blow so as to ex¬
haust them till twenty minutes before five in the afternoon,
lasting through all its stages very near six hours, and leav¬
ing them in a state of the utmost despondency.
SIMPLON, a village in Switzerland, in the canton of
the Vallais, only to be noticed from giving its name to the
most magnificent of the roads over the Alps. This road,
which leads from Switzerland into Piedmont, was constructed
by Bonaparte betwixt the years 1801 and 1806, and has been
Ion o-considered as one of the noblest monuments of his genius
anefpower. It is near seventy English miles in length, is in
every part twenty-five feet in breadth, and with an ascent so
gentle, only one inch and a half in six feet, that the heaviest
S I M
carriage can pass down on both sides of the mountain without Sii*^
the necessity of applying the drag chain. It passes over^
several frightful precipices. It is carried through six solid
rocks by means of arches called galleries, where by gun¬
powder "a passage has been bored. Out of these the pas¬
senger steps into lovely valleys with the huts of the shep¬
herds sprinkled on the sides, and looks through forests of
pines, to behold the glaciers and the snow-toped mountains
in lofty regions of the air. Some bold bridges lead over
the deep fissures from one rock to another. 1 he Ita¬
lian side presents more picturesque scenery than the Swiss
side, from the rocks being much more rugged. On that
side, too, is the grand gallery, 690 feet in length, excavated
through a granite rock, called, from a remarkable cascade
near it, the gallery of Frissinone. The greatest height
which the road attains, is at the gallery of the glaciers,
where trees cease to grow, being somewhat more than 6000
feet above the level of the sea, while the mountain above
it rises to the height of 11,000 feet. Owing to the ex-
pences of this magnificent road being to be provided for by
the governments of Sardinia and of Switzerland, several re¬
pairs have been deferred or neglected, and it has in parts
fallen into decay.
SIMPSON, Thomas, professor of mathematics at the
Royal Academy at Woolwich, fellow of the Royal Society,
and member of the Royal Academy at Stockholm, was born
at Market Bosworth in Leicestershire in 1710. His father,
a stuff-weaver, taught him only to read English, and brought
him up to his own business; but meeting with a scientific
pedlar, who likewise practised fortune-telling, young Simp¬
son by his assistance and advice left off weaving, and pro¬
fessed astrology. As he improved in knowledge, however,
he grew disgusted with this pretended art; and renouncing
it was driven to such difficulties for the subsistence of his
family, that he came up to London, where he worked as a
weaver, and taught mathematics at his spare hours. As
his scholars increased, his abilities became better known,
and he published his Treatise on Fluxions, by subscription,
in 1737 ; in 1740, he published his Treatise on the Nature
and Laws of Chance, and Essays in Speculative and Mixed
Mathematics. After these, appeared his Doctrine of An¬
nuities and Reversions; Mathematical Dissertations; Irea-
tise on Algebra; Elements of Geometry; Trigonometry,
Plane and Spherical ; Select Exercises; and his Doctme
and Application of Fluxions, which he professes to be rather
a new work, than a second edition of his former publication
on Fluxions. In 1743, he obtained the mathematical pro¬
fessorship at Woolwich academy ; and soon afterwards was
chosen a member of the Royal Society, when the president
and council, in consideration of his moderate circumstances,
were pleased to excuse his admission-fees, and his gi g
bonds for the settled future payments. At the aeademy
exerted all his abilities in instructing the PuPlls
the immediate objects of his duty, as well as o '
the superior officers of the ordnance permitted to be board
ed and lodged in his house. In his manner of teaching he
had a peculiar and happy address a certain dignity^
perspicuity, tempered with such a degree of
engaged the attention, esteem, and friendship of
lars. He therefore acquired great applause from his supe
riors in the discharge of his duty. His application an
confinement, however, injured his health E*«c« »d
a proper regimen were prescribed to him, but to lit p
pose r for Ms spirits sunk gradually, till he hecame
ble of performing his duty, or even of reading the let
of his ffiiends. The effects of this decay of nature wer
greatly increased by vexation of mind, owing o J J-
Ll insulting behaviour of his superior, the ^ P^eSS°; .
mathematics. This person, greatly his inferior mmathett*
tical accomplishments, did what he could to
ation uneasy, and even to depreciate him in P
SIM
n. opinion; but it was a vain endeavour, and only served to
v’^depress himself. At length his physicians advised his na¬
tive air for his recovery, and he set out in February 1761;
but was so fatigued by his journey, that upon his arrival at
Bosworth, he betook himself to his chamber, and grew con¬
tinually worse till the day of his death, which happened on
the 14th of May, in the fifty-first year of his age.
Simpson’s Island, in the south Pacific Ocean, discovered
by Captain Carteret in 1767, four miles west from Carteret’s
Island. Long. 159. 20. E. Lat. 8. 26. S.
SIMSON, Dr. Robert, professor of mathematics in
the university of Glasgow, was born in the year 1687, of a
respectable family, which had held a small estate in the
county of Lanark for some generations. He was, we think,
the second son of the family. A younger brother was pro¬
fessor of medicine in the university of St. Andrews, and
is known by some works of reputation, particularly a Dis¬
sertation on the Nervous System, occasioned by the dissec¬
tion of a brain completely ossified.
Dr. Simson was educated in the university of Glasgow
under the eye of some of his relations who were professors.
Eager after knowledge, he made great progress in all his
studies; and, as his mind did not, at the very first openings
of science, strike into that path which afterwards so strongly
attracted him, and in which he proceeded so far almost
without a companion, he acquired in every walk of science
a stock of information, which, though it had never been
much augmented afterwards, would have done credit to a
professional man in any of his studies. He became at a
very early period, an adept in the philosophy and theology
of the schools, was able to supply the place of a sick rela-
'tion in the class of oriental languages, was noted for histo¬
rical knowledge, and one of the most accomplished botanists
of his time.
It was during his theological studies, as preparatory for
his entering into orders, that mathematics took hold of his
fancy. He used to tell in his convivial moments how he
amused himself when preparing his exercises for the divi¬
nity hall. When tired with vague speculation, in which
he did not meet with certainty to reward his labours, he
turned up a book of oriental philology, in which he found
something which he could discover to be true or to be false,
without going out of the line of study which was to be of
ultimate use to him. Sometimes even this could not relieve
his fatigue. He then had recourse to mathematics, w hich
never failed to satisfy and refresh him. For a long while
he restricted himself to a very moderate use of the cordial,
fearing that be would soon exhaust the small stock which
so limited and abstract a science could yield; till at last he
found, that the more he learned, a wider field opened to
his view, and scenes that were inexhaustible. Becoming
acquainted with subjects far beyond the elements of the
science, and with numbers of names celebrated during that
period of ardent research all over Europe, he found it to be
a manly and important study, by which he was as likely to
acquire reputation as by any other. About this time, too,
a prospect began to open of making mathematics his pro-
lession for life. He then gave himself un to it without re¬
serve.
His original incitement to this stuoy as a treat, as some-
t nng to please and refresh his mind in the midst of more
severe tasks, gave a particular turn to his mathematical
studies, from which he never could afterwards deviate.
eispicuity and elegance are more attainable, and more
discernible, Pure geometry, than in any other parts of
S I M 357
the science of measure. To this therefore he chiefly de- Simson.
voted himself. For the same reason he preferred the an-
cient mode of studying pure geometry, and even felt a dis¬
like to the Cartesian method of substituting symbols for
operations of the mind, and still more was he disgusted
with the substitution of symbols for the very objects of dis¬
cussion, for lines, surfaces, solids, and their affections. He
was rather disposed, in the solution of an algebraical pro¬
blem, where quantity alone was considered, to substitute
figure and its affections for the algebraical symbols, and to
convert the algebraic formula into an analogous geometri¬
cal theorem. And he came at last to consider algebraic
analysis as little better than a kind of mechanical knack, in
which we proceed without ideas of any kind, and obtain a
result without meaning, and without being conscious of any
process of reasoning, and therefore without any conviction
of its truth. And there is no denying, that if genuine un¬
sophisticated taste alone is to be consulted, Dr. Simson was
in the right; for though it must also be acknowledged, that
the reasoning in algebra is as strict as in the purest geo¬
metry of Euclid or Apollonius, the expert analyst has little
perception of it as he goes on, and his final equation is not
felt by himself as the result of ratiocination, any more than
if he had obtained it by Pascal’s arithmetical mill. This
does not in the least diminish our admiration of the alge¬
braic analysis; for its almost boundless grasp, its rapid and
certain procedure, and the delicate metaphysics and great
address which may be displayed in conducting it. Such,
however, was the ground of the strong bias of Dr. Simson’s
mind to the analysis of the ancient geometers. It increased
as he went forward; and his veneration for the ancient
geometry was carried to a degree of idolatry. His chief
labours were exerted in efforts to restore the works of the
ancient geometers; and he has nowhere bestowed much
pains in advancing the modern discoveries in mathematics.
The noble inventions, for example, of fluxions and of loga¬
rithms, by which our progress in mathematical knowledge,
and in the useful application of this knowledge, is so much
promoted, attracted the notice of Dr. Simson ; but he has
contented himself with demonstrating their truth on the
genuine principles of the ancient geometry. • Yet was he
thoroughly acquainted with all the modern discoveries; and
there are to be seen amongst his papers, discussions and
investigations in the Cartesian method, which show him
thoroughly acquainted with all the principles, and even
expert in the tours de main, of the most refined symbolical
analysis.1
About the age of twenty-five, Dr. Simson was chosen
professor of mathematics in the university of Glasgow. He
went to London immediately after his appointment, and
there formed an acquaintance with the most eminent men
of that bright era of British science. Amongst these he
always mentioned Captain Halley (the celebrated Dr. Ed¬
mund Halley) with particular respect; saying, that he had
the most acute penetration, and the most just taste in that
science, of any man he had ever known. And, indeed,
Dr. Halley has strongly exemplified both of these in his
divination of the work of Apollonius de Sectione Spatii,
and the eighth book of his Conics, and in some of the most
beautiful theorems in Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia. Dr.
Simson also admired the wide and masterly steps which
Newton was accustomed to take in his investigations, and
his manner of substituting geometrical figures for the quan¬
tities which are observed in the phenomena of nature. It
was from Dr. Simson that the writer of this article had the
« new" 7j2/ 'e wnter of th.18 articje> heing then his scholar, requested him to examine an account which he gave him of what he thought
investifU.rVe (a conehoid having a circle for its base.) Dr. Simson returned it next day with a regular list of its leading properties, and the
conside «l°n 0t Su a-S *’e tbou>'ht his scholar would not so easily trace. In this hasty scrawl the lines related to the circle were familiarly
aiid T.le as arithrnetical fractions of the radius considered only as unity. This was before Euler published his Arithmetic of the Sines
.tangents, now in universal use.
358
S I M S O N.
Simson. remark which has been oftener than onec repeated m the ^"SedTt rSr. sTml by the very nZ ^ t
course of this work, “ That the thirty-ninth propos.tion of been, was pomtea out t has /e d 'I
the first book of the Principle was the most important pro- ^ „rby the lemmas which Pappus has
position that had ever been exhibited to the physico ma . helns to the young mathematician towards their
matical philosopher;” and he used always to illustrate to g'ven^ helps “/nd^Lunis in possession of a conside-
tj=,Mif:srSs,fW5ta
him say, that to bis own knowledge Newton req Y casional share. The^oc* plani of Apollonius was another
vestigated his nropositions ‘^the symbidjad w y, dj ^ which he very early engaged in, and completed about
,t was owing chiefly t0T?tr-.fIk'le|i„ "n well informed, the year 1738. But, after it was printed, he imagined that
appear in that dress. But it Dr. b bolical he had not given the ipsissimee propositiones of Apollonius,
we think it a great argument in favo^ of the symbohtna ^ h?a , « dse ^ and order of that alIthor. The in,-
analysis, when this most successful practical “‘.st (tor so ana^ p^ hjmYor some years; and it was with great
we must call Newton when engaged in a tas Y P . ^ h yielded to the entreaties of his mathema-
found it conducive either to dispatch or perhaps to his very published the work, in 1746, with some
progress. , , . _ o- fxmpnrlfltinns where he thought he had deviated farthest
Returning to his academical chair, Dr. Simson S author. He quickly repented of this scanty cou-
the duties of a professor for more than fifty y eai s, wi g cession> and recalled what he could of the small number of
honour to the university and to Jnmsei. . , f , ron:es which he had given to the booksellers, and the im-
It is almost needless to say, that in his prelections he fo- for years. He afterwards recor-
lowed strictly the Euclidian method melemen^ary^geornetj. tbe^work/and still with some reluctance allowed it
to come abroad as the Restitution of Apollonius. 1 he pub¬
lic, however, had not been so fastidious as Dr. Simson, and
the work had acquired great celebrity, and he was now con¬
sidered as one of the first and the most elegant geometers
of the age ; for, in the meantime, he had published. Ins Comic
lowed stncuy uie     -- r ^ i . * i
He made use of Theodosius as an introduction to spherical
trigonometry. In the higher geometry, he prelected from
his own Conics, and he gave a small specimen of the linear
problems of the ancients, byexplaining the properties, some¬
times of the conchoid, sometimes of the cissoid, with their
application to the solution of such problems. In the more
advanced class, he was accustomed to give Napiers mode
of conceiving logarithms, that is, quantities as generated by
motion, and Mr. Coats’s view of them, as the sums of ration-
culm; and to demonstrate Newton’s lemmas concerning t e
limits of ratios, and then to give the elements of the flux¬
ionary calculus ; and to finish his course with a select set ot
propositions in optics, gnomonics, and central forces. His
method of teaching was simple and perspicuous, his elocu¬
tion clear, and his manner easy and impressive. He had the
respect, and still more the affection, of his scholars.
With respect to his studies, vre have already informed the
reader that they got an early bias to pure geometry, an« t0
the elegant but scrupulous methods of the ancients. W e
have heard Dr. Simson say, that it was in a great measure
Sections, a work of uncommon merit, whether we consider
it as equivalent to a complete restitution of the celebrated
work of Apollonius Pergseus, or as an excellent system of
this important part of mathematics. It is marked with the
same features as the loci plani, the most anxious solicitude
to exhibit the very text of Apollonius, even in the proposi¬
tions belonging to the books which had been completely
lost. These could be recovered in no other way but by a
thorough knowledge of the precise plan proposed by the
author, and by taking it for granted that the author had ac¬
curately accomplished this plan. In this manner did Vi-
viani proceed in the first attempt which was made to restore
the conics of Apollonius; and he has given us a detail ot
the process of his conjectures, by which we may form an
certain way for him then formance —ethingafent. deviating a Mathis
local theorems, soon took firm hold of his fancy, and made not inst indJnpndent of the cone first intro-
him, with the sanguine expectation of a young man, direct rations of ^ excel-
his very first efforts to the recovery of this in toto; and the duced by Di. W allis. He C0™P" d butto
restoration of Euclid’s Pvrisms was the first task to which lent treatise ^ *”eZ^10od’u"°“nd accordingly he
he set himself. The accomplished geometer knows what a prepare for the stu^of A^lomus a
desperate task this was, from the scanty and mutilated ac- accommodates . to this prgj»se, and g-ves restSutioB
count which we have of this work in a single passage of propositions f j?6" in view through
Pappus. It was an ambition which nothing but success of Apollonius, whom he keeps constantly in
could justify in so young an adventurer. He succeeded; the whole work. Q;mcnn seriously began to pre-
and asJ early as 1718, seemed to have been in complete pos- Much about this time, Dn Sim g Y ^ intimate
session of this method ofinvestigation, which was considered pare a perfect e^tion of Euc El ired with all
by the eminent geometers of antiquity as their surest guide acquaintance which he ^ W thi^time ^
through the labyrinths of the higher geometry. Dr. Simson the original works of the ancie g ’ , e tbat he
gave a specimen of his discovery in 1723, in the Philoso- commentators and critics, f' in mathemati-
phical Transactions ; and after this time he ceased not from could restore to its original lus re ^ ^ int0 this cele-
, •  t-r. tVioi eVifiiee mllppHnn of Pnrisms cal science; and the enors wme P   , .
his'endeavours to recover that choice collection of Porisms cal science ; and me evrurs ^^ V'appeared ot
which Euclid had collected, as of the most general use in brated work, and which still remained in it, jp
S I M S O N.
359
i. magnitude sufficient to merit the most careful efforts for their
sw'removal. The data also, which were in like manner the
introduction to the whole art of geometrical investigation,
seemed to call more loudly for his amending hand. For it
appears that the Saracens, who have preserved to us the
writings of the ancients, have contented themselves with
admiring these celebrated works, and have availed themselves
of the knowledge which they contain ; but they have shewn
no inclination to add to the stock, or to promote the sciences
which they had received. They could not do any thing
without the synthetical books of the geometers; but, not
meaning to go beyond the discoveries which they had made,
they neglected all the books which related to the analytic
art alone, and the greatest part of them (about twenty-five
out of thirty) have irrecoverably perished. The data of
Euclid have fortunately been preserved, but the book was
neglected, and the only ancient copies, which are but three
or four, are miserably erroneous and mutilated. Fortunately,
it is no very arduous matter to reinstate this work in its ori¬
ginal perfection. The plan is precise, both in its extent and
its method. It has been restored, therefore, with success
by more than one author. But Dr. Simson’s comprehensive
view of the whole analytical system pointed out to him many
occasions for amendment. He therefore made its restitution
a joint task with that of the elements. All the lovers of
true geometry will acknowledge their obligations to him for
the edition of the Elements and Data which he published
about 1758. The text is corrected with the most judicious
and scrupulous care, and the notes are inestimable, both for
their information, and for the tendency which they must have
to form the mind of the student to a true judgment and taste
fn mathematical subjects. The more accomplished reader
will perhaps be sometimes disposed to smile at the axiom
which seems to pervade the notes, “ that a work of Euclid
must be supposed without error or defect.” If this was not
the case, Euclid has been obliged to his editor in more in¬
stances than one. Nor should his greatest admirers think
it impossible, that in the progress of human improvement, a
geometrical truth should occur to one of these latter days,
which escaped the notice of even the lynx-eyed Euclid.
Such merit, however, Dr. Simson nowhere claims, but lays
every blame of error, omission, or obscurity, to the charge
ofProclus, Theon, and other editors and commentators of
the renowned Grecian.
There is another work of Apollonius on which Dr. Simson
has bestowed great pains, and has restored, as we imagine,
omnibus numeris perfectum, namely, the Sectio Determinata ;
one of those performances which are of indispensable use in
the application of the ancient analysis. This also seems to
have been an early task, though we do not know the date of
his labours on it. It did not appear till after his death, be-
ing then published along with the great work, the Porisms
of Euclid, at the expense of the Earl Stanhope, a nobleman
intimately conversant with the ancient geometry, and zeal¬
ous for its reception amongst the mathematicians of the pre¬
sent age. He had kept up a constant correspondence writh
Br. Simson on mathematical subjects ; and at his death in
p??’ enSaSed Mr. Clow, professor of logic in the university
0 I as§ow5whose care the Doctor had left all his valu¬
able papers, to make a selection of such as would serve to
support and increase his well-earned reputation as the re¬
storer of ancient geometry.
We have been thus particular in our account of Dr. Sim¬
son s labours in these works, because his manner of execu-
lon, whilst it does honour to his inventive powers, and shews
18 just taste in mathematical composition, also confirms dur
ormer assertion, that he carried his respect for the ancient
geometers to a degree of superstitious idolatry, and that his
Derf^' Vntdlec^ed> viewed them as incapable of error or im-
whi^i.011!- ^ *s distinctIyto be seen in the emendations
e has given of the texts, particularly in his editions
of Euclid. Not only every imperfection of the reading is
ascribed to the ignorance of copyists, and every indistinct¬
ness in the conception, inconclusiveness in the reasoning,
and defect in the method, is ascribed to the ignorance or
mistake of the commentators; but it is all along assumed
that the work was perfect in its kind, and that by exhibiting
a perfect work, we restore the genuine original. This is
surely gratuitous; and it is very possible that it has, in some
instances, made Dr. Simson fail of his anxious purpose, and
give us even a better than the original. It has undoubtedly
made him fail in what should have been his great purpose,
namely, to give the world a connected system of the ancient
geometrical analysis, such as would, in the first place, exhi¬
bit it in its most engaging form, elegant, perspicuous, and
comprehensive; and, in the next place, such as should en¬
gage the mathematicians of the present age to adopt it as
the most certain and successful conductor in those laborious
and difficult researches in which the demands of modern
science continually engage them. And this might have been
expected, in the province of speculative geometry at least,
from a person of such extensive knowledge of the proper¬
ties of figure, and who had so eminently succeeded in the
many trials which he had made of its powers. We might
have expected that he would at least have exhibited in one
systematic point of view, what the ancients had done in se¬
veral detached branches of the science, and how far they
had proceeded in the solution of the several successive
classes of problems; and we might have hoped, that he
would have instructed us in what manner we should apply
that method to the solution of problems of a more elevated
kind, daily presented to us in the questions of physico-ma-
thematical science. By this he would have acquired dis¬
tinguished honour, and science would have received the
most valuable improvement. But Dr. Simson has done lit¬
tle of all this ; and we cannot say that great helps have been
derived from his labours by the eminent mathematicians of
this age, who are successfully occupied in advancing our
knowledge of nature, or in improving the arts of life. He
has indeed contributed greatly to the entertainment of the
speculative mathematician, who is more delighted with the
conscious exercise of his own reasoning powers, than with
the final result of his researches. Yet we are not even cer¬
tain that Dr. Simson has done this to the extent he wished
and hoped. He has not engaged the liking of mathemati¬
cians to this analysis, by presenting it in the most agreeable
form. His own extreme anxiety to tread in the very foot¬
steps of the original authors, has, in a thousand instances,
precluded him from using his own extensive knowledge, that
he might not employ principles which were not of a class in¬
ferior to that of the question in hand. Thus, of necessity, did
the method appear trammelled. We are deterred from em¬
ploying a process which appears to restrain us in the appli¬
cation of the knowledge which we have already acquired ;
and, disgusted with the tedious, and perhaps indirect path,
by which we must arrive at an object which we see clearly
over the hedge, and which we could reach by a few steps,
of the security of which we are otherwise perfectly assured.
These prepossessions are indeed founded on mistake ; but
the mistake is such, that all fall into it, till experience has
enlarged their view s. This circumstance alone has hitherto
prevented mathematicians from acquiring that knowledge
of the ancient analysis which would enable them to proceed
in their researches with certainty, dispatch, and delight.
It is therefore deeply to be regretted, that this eminent ge¬
nius has occupied, in this superstitious palaeology, a long
and busy life, which might have been employed in original
works of infinite advantage to the world, and honour to
himself.
Our readers will, it is hoped, consider these observations
as of general scientific importance, and as intimately con¬
nected with the history of mathematics; and therefore as
Simson.
360
S I M
Simson. not improperly introduced in the biographical account o
'one of the most eminent writers on this science. Ur. iMm-
son claimed our notice as a mathematician ; and his attec-
tionate admiration of the ancient analysis is the prominent
feature of his literary character. By this he is known a
over Europe; and his name is never mentioned by any fo¬
reign author without some very honourable allusion to his
distinguished geometrical elegance and skill. Dr. James
Moor, professor of Greek in the University of Glasgow, no
less eminent for his knowledge in ancient geometry than tor
his professional talents, put the following apposite inscrip¬
tion below a portrait of Dr. Simson: “ Geometnam, sub
Tyranno barbaro saeva servitute diu squalentem, m Iiber-
tatem et decus antiquum vindicavit unus.”
Yet it must not be understood that Dr. Simson s predi¬
lection for the geometrical analysis of the ancients i
so far mislead him as to make him neglect the symbo¬
lical analysis of the present times; on the contrary, he was
completely master of it, as has been already observed, and
frequently employed it. In his academical lectures to the
students of his upper classes, he used to point out its proper
province, which he by no means limited by a scanty boun¬
dary, and in what cases it might be applied with safety
and advantage even to questions of pure geometry, lie
once honoured the writer of this article with the sight
of a very short dissertation on this subject, perhaps the one
referred to in the preface to his Conic Sections. In this
piece he was perhaps more liberal than the most zealous
partizans of the symbolical analysis could desire, admitting
as a sufficient equation of the Conic Sections E J where
L is the latus rectum, x is the distance of any point of the
curve from the focus, p is the perpendicular drawn from the
focus to the tangent in the given point, and c is the chord
of the equicurve circle drawn through the focus. Unfor¬
tunately this dissertation was not found amongst his papers.
He spoke in high terms of the analytical works of Cotes,
and of the two Bernoullis. He was consulted by Mr. Mac-
laurin during the progress of his inestimable Ireatise oj
Fluxions, and contributed not a little to the reputation o
that work. The spirit of that most ingenious algebraic de¬
monstration of the fluxions of a rectangle, and the very
process of the argument, is the same with Dr. bimson s in
his dissertation on the limits of quantities. It was there¬
fore from a thorough acquaintance with the subject, and by
a just taste, that he was induced to prefer his favourite ana¬
lysis, or, to speak more properly, to exhort mathematicians
to employ it in his own sphere, and not to become ignorant
of geometry, while he successively employed the symbohcal
analysis in cases which did not require it, and which suffer¬
ed by its admission. It must be acknowledged, however,
that in his later years, the disgust which he felt at the arti¬
ficial and slovenly employment on subjects of pure geome¬
try, sometimes hindered him from even looking at the most
refined and ingenious improvements of the algebraic analy¬
sis which occur in the writings ef Euler, D’Alembert, and
other eminent masters. But, when properly informed of
them, he never failed to give them their due praise ; and we
remember him speaking, in terms of great satisfaction, o
an improvement of the infinitesmal calculus, by D Alem¬
bert and D’Lagrange, in their researches concerning the
propagation of sound, and the vibration of musical cords.
And that Dr. Simson was not only master of this calcu¬
lus and the symbolical calculus in general, but held them in
proper esteem, appears from two valuable dissertations to be
found in his posthumous works; the one on logarithms, and
the other on the limits of ratios. The last, in particular,
shews how completely he was satisfied with respect to the
solid foundation of the method of fluxions ; and it contains
an elegant and strict demonstration of all the applications
S I N
which have been made of the method by its illustrious au- Sk,
thor to the objects of pure geometry.
We hoped to have given a much more complete and in- ^ w
structive account of this eminent geometer and his works,
by the aid of a person fully acquainted with both, and able
to appreciate their value; but an accident has deprived us
of this assistance, when it was too late to procure an equi¬
valent. And we must request our readers to accept of this
very imperfect account, since we cannot do justice to Dr.
Simson’s merit unless almost equally conversant in all the
geometry of the ancient Greeks. t
The life of a literary man rarely teems with anecdote;
and a mathematician, devoted to his studies, is perhaps moie
abstracted than any other person from the ordinary occur¬
rences of life, and even the ordinary topics of conversation.
Dr. Simson was of this class ; and, having never married,
lived entirely a college life. Having no occasion for the
commodious house to which his place in the university en¬
titled him, he contented himself with chambers, good, in¬
deed, and spacious enough for his sober accommodation,
and for receiving his choice collection of mathematical writers,
but without any decoration or commodious furniture. His
official servant sufficed for valet, footman, and chamber¬
maid. As this retirement was entirely devoted to study, he
entertained no company in his chambers, but in a neigh¬
bouring house, where his apartment was sacred to him ami
^g in early life devoted himself to the restoration of
the works of the ancient geometers, he studied them with
unremitting attention; and, retiring from the promiscuous
intercourse of the world, he contented himself with a small
society of intimate friends, with whom he could lay aside
everv“restraint of ceremony or reserve, and indulge in all
the innocent frivolities of life. Every Friday evening was
spent in a party at whist, in which he excelled, and took
delight in instructing others, till increasing years made him
less patient with the dulness of a scholar. The card-par y
was followed by an hour or two dedicated solely to playtul
conversation. In like manner, every Saturday he had a
less select party to dinner at a house about a mile from
town. The Doctor’s long life gave him occasion to see the
dramatis persona of this little theatre completely changed,
whilst he continued to give it a personal identity; so that,
without anv design or wish of his own, it became, as it were,
his own house and his own family, and went by his name.
Dr. Simson was of a good stature, with a fine coun -
nance; and even in his old agehe had a graceful carnage and
manner, and always, except when in mourning, es
light coloured clothes. He was of a cheerful disposition ,
and though he did not make the first advances to acquain
tonce, had the most affable manner, and strangers were a
perfect ease in hi, company. He enjoyed a
uninterrupted health ; but toward the close of hfesuhered
from an acute disease, and was obliged to enlPloy hig
ant in his professional labours for a few years Pre.ced' S
death, which happened in 1768, at the age of eight)-one.
He left to the university his valuable library, which i
arranged apart from the rest of the books, and 1
use of ft isPlimited by particular rules, considered .
the most choice collection of mathematical boo » a ,
scripts in the kingdom, and many of them are
doubly valuable by Dr. Simson’s notes. K • j
SINAI, a celebrated mountain of Arabia, near t
of the Red sea, the place whence the divine law w
by Moses. It is surrounded by a vast and g )
the few inhabited spots of which are occupied by ^
the few inhabited spots or w hich tuc '^—1—- , tbpv
who live by plunder, and attack all passengers
form part of a large and well defended caia
Sinai belongs to the range of mountains called y
Zibbel Musa, and consists of several lofty summ > ^
rated by frightful gulfs between precipitous rock .
SIN
S I N
r’s foot of the mountain is the Greek convent of St. Catherine,
.3 founded in 1331. It is 120 feet in length and almost as
many in breadth, built entirely of hewn stone. In this con-
[' vent, the monks remain imprisoned by the wild Arabs of
'the surrounding country; and they are supplied with pro¬
visions by a basket drawn up by a cord and pulley to the
heightof thirty feet. The predatory bands of Arabs often fire
upon the convent from the rocks adjacent, and make pri¬
soners of the monks who venture beyond the walls, for whose
restoration they exact a considerable ransom. The con¬
vent has an excellent garden at a little distance, which is
reached by a subterraneous passage secured with iron gates.
It has a temperate climate, owing to the elevation, and snow
sometimes falls. Fruits, plants, and vegetables, are produced
in the utmost profusion. The convent is eighty feet long
and fifty-three broad, paved with marble and adorned with
a variety of figures. It has many lamps of gold and silver,
and the grand altar is gilded and adorned with jewels. The
ascent of the mountain is steep, and is by steps cut in the
rock, or loose stones piled in succession. A Christian church
and a Turkish mosque crowns the summit of Mount Sinai;
the former now greatly dilapidated. It commands a most
extensive view over the Red Sea and the opposite coast of
Thebais ; beneath is the port of Tor, by which the commo¬
dities of India were formerly conveyed to Egypt. The de¬
scent is even more rugged and steep than the ascent; and
terminates at the monastery of the Forty Saints, which has
been plundered often by the Arabs. On the other side is
the still loftier mountain of St. Catherine, 150 miles east of
Suez.
SINCLAIR’S Rocks, four small rocks off the south coast
of New Holland, included by Capt. Hindens in Nuyt’s
archipelago.
SINDANGAN Bay, on the north-w est coast of Min¬
danao, extending from north to south about 100 miles.
Long. 123. 52. Lat. 8. 15. N.
SINDE, an extensive kingdom of Hindustan, which ex¬
tends from the district of Shikarpoor on thefrontier ofCabul,
and the island of Bukkor in the Indus, along the level plain,
watered by that river to the sea; in length about two hundred
and fifty miles by eighty miles in average breadth. The gene¬
ral boundaries are the British principality of Cutch and the
Indian ocean to the south; the kingdom of Jessulmereand the
Rejistah, or Sandy Desert, to the east, which extends from
the territories of Cutch five hundred and fifty miles in length
by a hundred and fifty in breadth; the mountains ofBelochis-
tan on the west; and the provinces of Seewistan and Bahawul-
poor on the north. It is a flat alluvial country, situated be¬
tween the 23d and 27th degrees of north latitude, and the 67 th
and / ] st degrees of east longitude ; and is crossed in a dia¬
gonal direction by the Indus and its branches, which form
adelta, in length about a hundred miles along the coast. The
lower part of this delta is intersected by numerous rivers
and creeks, like the delta of the Ganges, but it has no trees
on it, the dry parts being covered with brush-wood, and the
remainder, by much the greater part, being noisome
swamps, or muddy lakes. The streams which break off
irom the Indus, diverge in alPdirections into other streams,
which interlock into each other, and chequer the whole
country, fo trace in detail those complicated branches
into which the main stream is thus divided would be use-
oss. All those various streams wThich overspread the coun¬
try, greatly increase its fertility; but often prove perni¬
cious to those who dwell on the banks, by the exhalations
j! llc‘1 ar‘se under a tropical sun, from the annual inunda-
ions. “ Few countries,” says Major Rennel, “ are more un¬
wholesome to European constitutions, particularly the
lower part of the delta.”
Sinde may be termed a level country, intersected with
rocky hills. Those tracts which are within the limits of
the inundation, rival in fertility the borders of the Nile.
Even those parts which are at a distance from the river,
are capable of being cultivated, provided there is no failure
in the periodical rains. This, however, frequently hap¬
pens, as no country in the world is more subject to drought.
During great part of the south-west monsoon, or at least
in the months of July, August, and part of September,
which is the season of the periodical rains in most parts of
India, the atmosphere is generally clouded, but no rain
falls, except very near the sea. At Tatta, when it was visit¬
ed by Captain Hamilton, no rain had fallen for three years.
Owing to this, and to the vicinity of the sandy deserts,
which bound this country on the east, and on the north¬
west, the heats are so violent, and the winds from these
quarters so unwholesome, that the houses are contrived so as
to be ventilated by means of apertures on the top of them,
resembling the funnels of small chimneys. During the pre¬
valence of the hot winds, the windows are shut in order to
exclude the lower and hottest current of the air, along with
the clouds of dust which it sets in motion ; and the
cooler portion descends into the house through the funnels.1
When Lieutenant now Colonel Pottinger was at Tatta with
the mission that was sent to the court of’Hydrabad in 1808,
the rains were extremely violent; they descended so heav¬
ily that the streets frequently ran like rivulets ; and in the
coolest apartment, the thermometer usually ranged from
94 to 102; this was in June. Towards the middle of July
it became much cooler, and strong northerly gales set in,
which cooled the air ; and at Hydrabad, during the summer
season, the mission experienced the heaviest falls of rain,
which caused the Futelee river to overflow its banks ; and
owing to the exhalations from a burning sun, the thermo¬
meter seldom falling below 102, and the atmosphere at
night being particularly oppressive, beyond, Colonel Pot¬
tinger observes, what he had ever experienced in In¬
dia, the followers of the mission were attacked by fevers
and other complaints ; and it was only by taking regu¬
lar exercise, and using requisite precautions, that the gen¬
tlemen of the mission continued to maintain themselves in
health.2
The country increases in barrenness as it recedes east¬
ward from the Indus, and its tributaries ; and in the vicinity
of the Northern Runn, it is described by Dr. Burnes, who
travelled through this country in 1825, as a dead unpro¬
ductive flat, a perfect desert, in which not a tree, house,
nor human being, wras to be seen, and where it was even
difficult to procure a little brackish water from the stagnant
marshes that were occasionally seen. For about fifty miles
eastward from Cutch, as far as the town of Ruree, and nearly
the same distance from the Indus, the country presents the
same aspect; namely, a sterile flat. The town of Ruree,
though superior to most of the tow ns in this country, yet
being removed beyond the freshes of the Indus, had suffer¬
ed severely from drought, so that the inhabitants were re¬
duced below' 500.3 The villages w hich are met with in this
country, have also the same miserable appearance, being
far inferior to those of Cutch, on the eastern side of the
Runn. In place of the stone buildings, and tiled roofs,
w hich give an air of neatness and comfort to those of the
latter country, they are for the most part collections of low
huts, composed of clay and thatch ; and even the mosques
are built of the same frail materials, of rather greater ele¬
vation indeed, and with a feeble attempt at ornament.
Many of the inhabitants inhabit grass hovels in the fields,
from which, by hard labour, they extort a miserable sub¬
sistence. When either food or forage fail, it is not unusual
1 Kennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan. p. 290.
* See Narrative of a Visit to th
VOL. XX.
2 Pottinger’s Narrative, chap. 10, p. 368.
Court of Sinde, by James Burnes, p 36.
2 z
361
Sinde.
362
S I N D E.
Sinde.
Climat e.
for the whole population of a village to migrate to another
' station, as choice or necessity prompts them. W estward,
the country gradually improves, and on approaching the
region of the inundation, it presents an appearance ot ex¬
tensive cultivation, and the richness of the soil is every¬
where remarkable. It is intersected by numerous canals
from the branches of the Indus, dug for the purposes ot
navigation, and over which small brick bridges have been
thrown, on which water wheels are placed, by which a
supply of moisture is distributed over the fields. 1 be
country in the vicinity of Hydrabad assumes a hilly ap¬
pearance; and westward of the Indus it is bounded by a
pile of barren mountains, that are quite as inhospitable,
both as to soil and climate, as the sandy desert which is
seen at a distance from the Indus and its waters. Near
the sea at Kurachee, in latitude 24. 52. north, longitude
67. 17. east, west of the river, the country is, .or eight or
ten miles, a dead flat ; and as, when it was visited by Fot-
tinger, there had been a want of rain tor several seasons,
the earth was quite burned, without the slightest trace ot
vegetation, except some small stunted bushes scattered over
the plain. But the inhabitants assured him that in torty-
eight hours after a plentiful fall of ram, the ground won d
be a perfect grass plat, moisture being here, as in other hot
regions, the great agent of fertility. .
The climate is hot; the thermometer varying, in the
months of June and July, from 90 to 100 ; and the country
is within the range of the monsoons, and the periodical
rains. It is mentioned, however, by Dr. Burnes, that in
January 1828, the rain fell in torrents at Hydrabad, which
was attended with more piercing cold than he had ever ex¬
perienced in Europe. In the northern parts of Sinde the
air is pure, and refreshed by the cooling breezes from the
westward, so that the heat is far from being intolerable.
On the western bank of the river, from the latitude of
Sehwan in 26. 6, there is a variety of feature in the face of
the country, some districts being mountainous, some flat,
some intersected by ranges of low mountains down to the
sea.
The banks of the Indus near Hydrabad, and generally
throughout its lower course, are well cultivated, except
where the Ameers, the rulers of the country, have convert¬
ed the most fruitful fields and districts into gloomy and im¬
pervious forests for the preservation of game; those princes
beino- unfortunately passionately fond of hunting, and like
all despotic princes, gratifying their inclinations at whatever
expense of misery to their subjects. It is mentioned that
one of the princes, Meer Futteh Ali, depopulated one of
the most fertile spots in the neighbourhood of Hydrabad,
which yielded two to three lacs of rupees annually, because
frequented by a peculiar species of antelope, which he found
great pleasure in hunting. And the youngest brother,
Mourad Ali, banished the inhabitants of an ancient village
and razed it to the ground, because the crowing of cocks,
and the grazing of cattle, disturbed the game in the neigh¬
bouring lands, which were contiguous. The game laws of
Europe are sufficiently tyrannical; but they are fortunately
corrected by the milder influence of manners. During the
swelling of the river, grain and other seeds are reared; there-
mainder of the year is employed in the production of indigo,
sugar-cane, and all kinds of grain. They have also extensive
pastures ; and the country would rapidly advance in wealth,
but for the oppressive rapacity of the government. It is
the heavy taxes which ruin industry in this, as in most other
eastern countries. Every beegah of land watered by a canal
or wheel, pays a revenue of from to 3^ rupees to the
government. A duty of one rupee is also charged on each
kunwar, or 120 pounds of giain reaped by the farmers.
Garden land producing fruit trees, pays 2| rupees per bee¬
gah; and the spring crop of tobacco is rated at 4| rupees S
per beegab. The tax on sugar is collected in kind, and is^
41 rupees per beegah. But these are not the only exactions
with which agriculture is burdened. Its produce has to pay
other dues in the market before it is allowed to be sold.
Boats that arrive at Tatta are all taxed in proportion to their
value ; and these exactions generally exceed the original
cost of the articles on which they are imposed. The rev¬
enues that are derived from Kurachee, situated west of the
Indus, at the south-western extremity of Sinde, of which
it has become of late years the principal sea-port, are
farmed, agreeable to the wretched policy that obtains
throughout this country ; and in 1809, according to the in-
formation of the able and enterprising traveller, Lieutenant
Pottinger, there was paid on this account, into the public
treasury, 99^000 rupees, or L.12,3/5; and the vender was
supposed to clear 12,000 rupees. The revenues have since
increased to one lack 23,000 rupees, equal to L.15,375.
This increase of revenue is ascribed solely to the local ad¬
vantages of the port, being a central point between India
and the dominions of Cabul, as also Khorassan, Balk, Bok¬
hara, &c. The disorderly state of the country, from the
decreasing authority of the Khan of Kelat, diverted the
trade into this route through Sinde, the merchants finding
the heavy exactions imposed on them more tolerable than
the risk of violence to which they were exposed in other
parts. .
It has been remarked that despotic power, wielded by wis¬
dom and goodness, would constitute the best government.
But unfortunately, in Sinde it is wielded neither by wisdom
nor goodness, but is a fearful instrument of rapacity and
oppression, in the hands of the tyrants who rule the country,
who, having no conception that it is for their own interest
that the people should thrive, despoil them of their wealth,
thus crushing the seeds of future accumulation, and for
ever preventing any improvement ot the national revenues.
Under this short-sighted policy, the imposts and taxation in
Sinde, according to Dr. Burnes, whose work affords valuable
information on this subject, are enormous, and paralyze the
whole trade and industry of the country. With the char¬
acteristic recklessness of an arbitrary government, the re¬
venues are farmed to the highest bidders, who, as they are
responsible to their task-masters for the produce, and can
never expect indulgence on any pretence, are obliged to
satisfy their rapacity, and to extort a revenue by whatever
means from the impoverished people. Were it not for the
great natural advantages with which the country is blessed,
in the never-failing supply of moisture from the inundation
of the Indus, which renders the cultivator independent ot
the tropical rains, her industry must have sunk under the
manifold evils of ignorance and misrule. This is a source ot
fertility, of which no tyranny can despoil this highly favom-
ed land ; and thus the bounty of Providence is here more
effectual to renovate, than the wickedness of man to destroy.
The cultivator looks with certainty to an abundant harvest,
and is enabled to export of his abundance to other countries.
“ Hence,” says the judicious traveller already referred to,
“ there is an appearance of plenty and contentment througn-
out this misgoverned land, which would surprise any ra
veller who did not take every circumstance into conside -
tion.” Certain checks, however imperfect, no doubt ex
to the excesses of despotic power. The farmers 0
revenues are generally Hindus, who have no in u
with the Ameers, by whom they are despised for the
ligion, and envied on account of their wealth; and 0
account, they are the more ready to listen to any coinP
against their oppressions from the Ryots, and to Sran . t
redress. This, however, is but a feeble sa eguarc g ^
oppression; and it too often happens that the me
v
1 Fottinger’s Narrative of a Journey through Belochistan, chap. 9. p. 361.
S I N D E.
the two parties lead them to unite in the spoliation of the
^helpless villager.
ce. The principal articles of domestic produce, which are
exported chiefly from Kurachee, are rice, ghee, hides,
shark fins, potash, saltpetre, assafoetida, bdellium, madder,
frankincense, Tatta-cloths, indigo, oleaginous and other
seeds. From Mooltan, and the countries to the north¬
ward, are imported for re-exportation, alum, musk, horses,
Kashmeer shawls, dried fruit, diamonds, lapis lazuli, tur¬
quoise, and other precious stones and gums. Other imports
are tin, iron, lead, steel, ivory, European manufactures,
sandal and other scented woods, from the south of India;
swords and carpets from Khorasan and Candahar, silk and
other articles from the Persian Gulf. The merchants who
are settled here from Mooltan are the principal traders,
and the wealthiest part of the community. The exports
from Sinde to Bombay consist of sharks’ fins and flesh,
bdellium, ghee, potash, saltpetre, hides, oil of sesame, wheat,
assafoetida, oil, raisins, almonds, colouring plants, pistachio
flowers and nuts, shawls, cloths, mustard, wild saffron,
black cummin seed from Kerman, white cummin seed,
chintzes both from Sinde and Khorasan. In return are
received from Bombay, sugar, sugar-candy, steel, iron, tin,
tutenaque, lead, cochineal, betel-nut, black pepper, dried
cocoa nuts, vermillion, red lead, quicksilver, Bengal and
China silks and cloths, cinnamon, cardamoms, cloves, nut¬
megs, sandal-wood, grapes, china ware, pearls, aloes, and
amuttas. A considerable trade is carried on with Muscat,
Cutch, and with Mooltan and Cabul. To Muscat the
exports are dressed leather, rice, wheat, sirshif oil, ghee,
bdellium, chintzes, and other cloths; for which the returns
are dates, limes, roses, silk from the Persian province of
Ghilan, elephants’ teeth, pearls, almonds, preserved fruit,
cowries, slaves, arsenic, senna from Mecca, quince seeds, and
gum. From Cutch it derives a supply of cotton, snuff, un¬
wrought iron found in Cutch, and the small Arabian aloe.
The Indus affords an easy means of intercourse with this
province and the countries to the northward, being navi¬
gable for small vessels to a great distance from the sea.
With Mooltan and Cabul the trade is carried on chiefly by
caravans, and also by merchants and travellers. It is pro¬
per to add, that the trade in the Indus had greatly decayed,
and had become merely nominal, the ignorant and tyranni¬
cal policy of the Ameers having nearly crushed it in that
province, and the unsettled state of the countries to the
northward rendering it precarious in that quarter. In 1808
it was carried on by a few boats passing up and down with
grain, saltpetre, salt, and firewood; though, with the in¬
creasing ascendancy of the British in this quarter, and the
restoration of order and peace in these former regions of
anarchy, the former intercourse has revived, and will now
be carried on with greater security than ever. A factory,
established at Tatta in 1756 by the East India Company,
which carried on a considerable trade with the province
of Sinde, and was withdrawn, probably from the demoral¬
ised state and poverty of the country; though so late as the
beginning of the present century, Mr. Crow was a commer-
eial resident at Tatta. An unsuccessful attempt was since
made in 1808 to renew the intercourse; but the haugh¬
ty and jealous chieftains who ruled in this province rejected
all advances on the part of the British. Ever since the
occupation of Cutch by the British troops in 1819, they
viewed the extension of their dominions with distrust, and
maintained a cold and unfriendly attitude. No European
0 icer was allowed to cross the frontier from Cutch ; and
189r>aSPeC'al env°y’ w^10 bad proceeded from Bombay in
on the invitation of their own minister, was coldly
received, and it was only in 1825 that a most friendly let¬
363
ter was received, wfith an invitation to Dr. Burnes to proceed Sinde.
w ithout delay to Hydrabad, on account of the alleged sick-
ness of one of the principal chiefs. The invitation was ac¬
cepted, and he was received with every mark of confidence.
A treaty has been since ratified in 1838 by the Ameers of
Sinde, providing for the reception of a British resident; to
which office Colonel Pottinger has been appointed.
The government of Sinde is a military despotism. After Qovern-
a long era of civil commotion, Futteh Ali Khan was called ment.
to exercise the supreme power, who generously admitted
his three brothers, Ghoolam Ali, Kurm Ali, and Mourad
Ali, to a participation in his high destiny. He died in
1801, and Ghoolam Ali in 1811. The supreme power in
Sinde is now vested in the two youngest and surviving
brothers, Meers Kurm and Mourad Ali, who are known as
the chief Ameers, and whose seals are affixed to all public
documents issued in the name of the government. But
there are others of the family who are scarcely inferior in
rank to these princes, on whom has devolved the executive
government. The two deceased brothers, Futteh and
Ghoolam Ali, left sons, to whom they bequeathed their
shares in the administration, and who, though they have
been kept back by their youth, and the grasping spirit of
their uncles, had, when Dr. Burnes was at Hydrabad in
182/, acquired ascendancy in the state; and since his de¬
parture, one of them had risen in successful rebellion, and
had raised himself to a political equality with his relatives.
The two sons of Mourad Ali, Noor Mahommed and Nusseer
Khan, are also among the heads of the government. All
these chiefs are in possession of respective portions of the
revenues of Sinde. After the death of Futteh Ali, the pro¬
vince was partitioned into four shares, of which the largest
belongs to Mourad Ali, who, on the plea of his having de¬
scendants, continued to despoil his brother and Meer Ma¬
hommed of much of their possessions. There are other
nobles who are related to the royal family, and who are al¬
lowed to assume the title of meer, or lord, but are not per¬
mitted to interfere in the affairs of state, deriving their
importance solely from their alliance with the re'gning
princes. The real power centres in Meer Mourad Ali, who
is represented as a gloomy tyrant, a slave to avarice, and
a plunderer of his people. At the court of the Ameers,
every thing is conducted on a scale of magnificence scarcely
equalled at any other court in Hindustan. The parade
that was exhibited when Colonel Pottinger and Dr. Burnes
were severally received at court, is described by these tra¬
vellers ; and they both agree in celebrating the surpassing
richness and splendour of the scene. The princes, says
the former writer, wore a vast number of jewels, beside
those that were set in the hilts and scabbards of their
swords and daggers; and their waist-belts displayed some
extraordinary emeralds and rubies. They were seated on
a thin felt, that extended all round the circle, and over
which was laid a silk mattrass, about an inch thick, spread
with a muslin cloth, embroidered in a most exquisite man¬
ner with gold and silver flowers. They reclined on three
large pillows, covered with similar embroidery, which, with
the display of jewels, gave the whole an inconceivably rich
effect. “ Many of the officers of government,” he continues,
“ appeared in very good style; and the general splendour and
richness of the scene far surpassed any thing we had expect¬
ed to see at the court of Hydrabad.”1 The dress of the
princes, which was not ornamental, consisted in fine muslin
tunics, with costly sashes tied round their waists, and their
turbans of thin transparent gauze were of the largest dimen¬
sions, about 2^ feet in diameter, and yet so neatly folded
up, as to give them a very becoming appearance. Dr.
Burnes observes, that when he was first introduced at court,
1 Travels in Belochistan and in Sinde, chap. x. p. 367.
364
S I N D E.
Sinde.
the coup dcril was splendid, and that the spectacle ap-
^ preached nearer than any thing he had seen to the fancies
formed in childhood of eastern grandeur. The two princi¬
pal Ameers were seated amid a group of elegantly attired
figures, at the end of a lofty hall, spread with Persian car¬
petting, on their musnud, a slightly elevated cushion of
French white satin, beautifully worked with flowers of silk
and gold, the corners of which were raised by four massive
and highly chased golden ornaments, resembling pine¬
apples, and, together with a long velvet pillow behind,
covered with rich embroidery, presented a very grand ap¬
pearance. There was no tinsel or gaudy display of scarlet;
none of the incongruities seen at the Hindoo courts, of gor¬
geousness and dirt; but a simple and becoming elegance,
far surpassing any thing he had seen in India, f he Ameers
and their attendants were habited nearly alike, in tunics of
fine white muslin, neatly prepared and plaited, so as to re¬
semble dimity, with sashes of silk and gold, wide Turkish
trousers of silk tied at the ankle, chiefly dark blue, and
Sindian caps made of gold brocade or embroidered velvet.
« A pair of Cashmere shawls,” adds Dr. Burnes, “ of great
beauty, generally white, thrown negligently over the arm,
and a Persian dagger at the girdle, richly ornamented with
diamonds or precious stones, completed the dress and de¬
corations of each of the princes. All the officers in attend¬
ance, judging from their dress and manners, seemed to be
of inferior rank. There was no crowding for places; the
rabble had been shut entirely out of doors ; and there was
a degree of stillness and solemnity throughout the whole,
and an order and decorum in the demeanour of each indi¬
vidual, which impressed one with a feeling of awe and re¬
spect. I could not have anticipated the brilliant collec¬
tion of jewels and armour that is in possession of these
princes, and is of all things calculated most to surprise a
European stranger.” Colonel Pottinger mentions with ad¬
miration the profusion of pearls which they displayed ; the
size of one which the prince carried in his hand, he declares
was such as before he should have regarded as perfectly in¬
credible ; and a perfect emerald, suspended from the hilt
of a dagger which one of the younger princes wore in his
sash, was considerably larger than a pigeon’s egg. They
had still this emerald in their possession when Dr. Burnes
visited the court; and the immense treasure which they
have accumulated from the spoil of the country which they
govern, consists in rubies, diamonds, pearls, and emeralds,
with which their daggers, swords, and matchlocks are adorn¬
ed, or they are worn as rings and clasps, on different parts
of their dresses. Many of these precious stones were pur¬
chased at reduced prices from the unfortunate princes of
the Cabul monarchy and the nobility, when they were re¬
duced to ruin by the revolutions which took place in that
kingdom; and merchants are encouraged to visit Sinde
from all parts, in consequence of the avidity of the princes
to buy up the precious articles in which they deal. One
or two Persian goldsmiths are employed at court, who con¬
tinue to display to the best advantage the jewellery of their
masters ; and the art of inlaying letters of gold on steel has
been brought to the greatest perfection by these artizans.
The Ameers of Sinde are also remarkably curious in the
qualities of swords and gun-barrels; and they possess a
more valuable collection of these articles than is to be met
with in any other part of the world. The value of a sword
is estimated by the age and fineness of the steel, or by the
temper and watering. One which was shewn by Kurm Ali
to Dr. Burnes, dated 1122, (a. d. 1708,) was valued at 2000
rupees, or about L.125. They have in their armoury
swords that have been worn by almost every prince renown¬
ed in Asiatic story; by Shah Abbas the Great, Nadir Shah,
Ahmed Shah Doranee, besides other equally illustrious per¬
sonages. Their blades are generally embellished with in-
scriptions in gold, of verses from the Koran, or short prayers
for aid and protection. They manage their swords with Si:
great skill; and though they are not heavier than common
English sabres, Dr. Burnes mentions that he has seen one
of them cut a large sheep, with one stroke, in two pieces, a
feat that depends on a certain mode of striking that re¬
quires great practice and dexterity.
The Ameers are passionately fond of hunting; and for this
purpose large tracts of fertile land are enclosed to prevent
the egress of the quadrupeds, and are converted into jungle; (
and once or twice a-month they visit their different game
preserves to enjoy the pleasures of the chace, though the
manner of killing the game in this country does not bear
the appellation. Their mode of hunting does not at all par-
take of the animation which belongs to that amusement in
Europe. Their plan is to close up all the wells, except the one
in front of their tents, to which, when the animals resort, be¬
ing compelled by dire necessity, they are then shot by the
Ameers, amid the acclamations of their followers. They
never hunt on horseback ; but sometimes, though rarely, go
a deer shooting on camels, and none, except themselves, are
permitted to fire at any game. There is rarely a sporting ex¬
cursion which does not cost the lives of two or three of their
subjects, a matter of extremely little consequence in this ty¬
rannical country, either from their false aiming, or from the
fury of the boars driven desperate. The mode in which those
hunting excursions are conducted, marks the jealous policy of
the tyrannical government. They are attended by large re¬
tinues; and they never previously announce in which direc¬
tion they mean to travel; nor will any of the princes leave
the other behind. They are afraid of leaving them this short
interval for intrigue, and, perhaps, rebellion ; and it was by
being left for two or three hours behind, that one of the
princes succeeded in his late rebellion. Though related,
they place no confidence in each other. They sleep in
apartments peculiarly contrived for safety, with loaded
arms laid beside their uneasy pillows; though these pre¬
cautions are now somewhat relaxed, in consequence of the
long era of nearly forty years’ tranquillity which the coun¬
try has enjoyed under the existing regime. 1 here is no¬
thing like the spirit of independence among the courtiers
or nobility of Sinde. They only retain their places by the
most implicit obedience and the most fawning adulation to
their superiors ; and their habitual propensity to flatter a
European who is in favour at court, or even each other,
is ludicrous ; scarcely two persons meet without indulging
in the most fulsome strain of oriental flattery ; social life is
burdened with this ceremonious formality, which is the mai k
of inferior civilization, and is common in Persia, Cabul, and
generally among the semi-barbarous tribes of Asia.
The whole family of the Ameers are extremely strict,
and mere bigots in their intolerant religion. With one or
two exceptions, they have become Sheahs, or followers of
Ali; who hate the sect of the Sconces even more bitterly
than Brahmins or Christians. They are remarkable for the
intolerance with which they persecute the Hindus, form¬
ing a considerable proportion of their subjects, who are
subjected to the most exasperating indignities, and often o
the greatest cruelties ; they are forced to adopt the Maho¬
metan dress, and to allow their beards to grow. It is only
lately that they have been allowed to ride on horseback, an
it is only the few who are in the immediate service of govern
ment that are allowed the privilege and honour, as it is
esteemed, of a saddle. Merchants of wealth and respec a
bility may be seen mounted on asses and mules, consi e
ed unclean animals, such as none but the vilest ou^s ?1
other Asiatic countries can touch with impunity ; au '
are obliged to descend and stand aside when any uS .
man passes by. They are denied the free exercise o
religion ; the tom-tom can only be beat when specia f
mission is granted; and though images are placet .in
of the temples at Hydrabad, the sound of music
Mili
forct
S I N D E.
365
echoes from their walls; they are subjected to other shock-
i*' ing and degrading cruelties revolting to humanity; any
two of the true believers, by declaring that they have heard
a Hindoo repeat a verse in the Koran, or the words “ Ma¬
homed the prophet,” may procure his immediate circumci¬
sion, which this degraded and persecuted class consider the
most cruel calamity that can befal them, in which, as it is
resorted to on the slightest provocation, and performed with
the deriding pretence that it is for their eternal happiness,
the torture of the mind is added to that of the body. On
the other hand, the most bigotted veneration is expressed
for the Seynds, or descendants of the prophet. The mean¬
est wretch who can boast a connection, however remote,
with this holy stock, enjoys a station in society such as no
temporal man can bestow. If any one, under whatever pro¬
vocation, would dare to retaliate, by abusing or striking any
one of this favoured class, he would be torn to pieces by
the enraged populace; and, in consequence of this high
favour which they enjoy, an idle herd of these wretches
flock into Sinde from the neighbouring countries, where,
besides being useless members of the community, and withal
insolent and lazy, they debase the minds and drain the
purses of the deluded inhabitants.
The Ameers commence business about two hours before
day-break, each holding a levee to hear compliments, and
to adjust the affairs belonging to his department. About
sun-rise they repair to their apartments to dress, and ap¬
pear shortly afterwards in durbar, where the whole family
regularly assemble for transacting public business ; all let¬
ters are then laid before them, which, being read and con¬
sidered, and some time passed in conversation, they with¬
draw to their morning repast about ten or eleven o’clock.
They again appear abroad about two o’clock and remain
together until dark, when they repair for the night to their
respective apartments. At the residences of the younger
princes every thing forms a contrast to the stately ceremo¬
nial ol the elder Ameers; all restraint is thrown aside,
and every species of amusement, such as boar-baiting, fen¬
cing, ball practice, and wrestling, are pursued with avidity.
At the public audiences in the durbar the Ameers, though
courteous, are for the most part haughty and reserved in
their manners; nothing approaching to familiarity being
allowed between them and their most favoured servants.
Under such a government as has been described, justice is
very imperfectly administered. The Koran is the founda¬
tion of law as it is of religion ; and between man and man
disputes are generally settled fairly enough by the cadi,
except where bribery is employed, when the best security
for justice is a weighty purse. The Hindus generally settle
all disputes among themselves by punchayets or juries, as is
practised in many parts of Hindustan, as they have no en¬
couragement to come before the ruling authorities. The
native inhabitants, the Beloches, according to their military
notions, generally take the law into their own hands, and
act on the simple principle of retaliation; nor do the au¬
thorities interfere, except where the dispute extends to
whole tribes, and seriously endangers the peace of the coun¬
try. In this case they interfere to settle matters by force
or by conciliation. A serious quarrel of this nature occur¬
red when Dr. Bumes was at Hydrabad, when the contend¬
ing parties were sent for by the princes, who, with much
flattery and address, obtained a promise from them to desist.
Ihe military force of Sinde is very inefficient; their
armed retainers are few in number and contemptible in
appearance. Several of the chiefs of the tribes reside at
nomt, and they can collect in a few days their followers,
who are generally employed in agriculture and other occu¬
pations. In this manner it is estimated that 40,000 men
J^iay be collected. But though the iron rod of oppression
as repressed the daring spirit of the military classes, yet
e anarchy which has prevailed in this, as in other parts
of Hindustan, has nurtured, among the great body of the Sinde.
people, a spirit of disorder and a love of plunder which is
ready to break out on all occasions. The country is, in
short, filled with licentious banditti, and would have been,
in the evil days that are passed, a fit nursery of recruits for
the Pindaric bands. “ Like hungry vultures,” says Dr.
Burnes, “ they would almost seem to scent the battle from
afar, for the train of dissension is no sooner lighted than war
becomes their universal cry, and it is incredible in how short
time they flock to the rendezvous.” The late insurrection
of the princes w'as settled in a few days ; yet, in that short
time, about 20,000 or 30,000 volunteers had joined the
different standards, and they were hourly crowding in
when the adjustment took place. In military qualities, the
Sindian soldier ranks very low; he has no discipline nor
steadiness in the field, though he is brave and hardy ; and
his vanity and gasconading are proverbial. The army pre¬
sents, when assembled, a motley and ill-accoutred assemblage
of mercenaries from all quarters, chiefly composed of feroci¬
ous adventurers from the mountains of Belochistan, to one of
whose rude tribes the reigning house traces its origin. The
Ameers are well aware of the inefficient state of their mili¬
tary force, and of the utter hopelessness of any conflict with
the British arms. And this furnishes the explanation of
their distance and reserve, justly fearing that any close in¬
tercourse would only expose the nakedness of the land. It
is not easy to obtain any exact estimate of the revenue of
Sinde. Colonel Pottinger states its total amount, includ¬
ing those of all the collateral branches of the reigning fami¬
ly, at sixty-one lacs of rupees yearly, equal to L.767,500
sterling, which shews an increase, since 1809, several vears
previous to his estimate, of L.232,750, the amount being,
at that time, forty-two lacs and 78,000, or L.534,000
sterling.
The men of Sinde are dark in colour but are an exceed¬
ingly handsome race; above the medium height of Asiatics,
with good features and well-formed limbs. The beauty of
the women is proverbial, and it is remarked by Pottinger
in his instructive and excellent work, that though he had
only casual opportunities of seeing any of the higher class
of females, yet among the dancing girls who came to exhi¬
bit before them, there was not one who was not distin¬
guished by loveliness of face or the symmetry of her figure,
and in most instances both these requisites of beauty were
strikingly combined. The dress of the men consists of a
loose shirt, a pair of trousers, puckered at the ancles, and
a quilted cotton or cloth cap, ornamented with flowers of
silk or gold sewed round the bottom : that of the women,
with the exception of the cap, is much the same; they
wear beside, underneath their shifts, a silk jacket made to
fit the form, that laces behind; and when abroad, a cloth
shirt wraps round the body, having one end brought round
the crown of the head, and serving as a veil to cover the
face from strangers. I his traveller does not, however,
commend, in the same degree, the character of the peo¬
ple, in which the bad qualities, according to his estimate,
greatly predominate. They are, he observes, avaricious,
full of deceit, cruel, ungrateful, and strangers to veracity;
and all the extenuation which he offers for these vices is,
that the present generation has grown up under a govern¬
ment whose extortion, ignorance, and tyranny, is unequal¬
led in the world. The Sindians, however, he does not rate
lower in the scale of morality than the population and so¬
ciety of the other nations of Asia. Their good qualities
consist in personal bravery, abstinence, and obedience to
their superiors ; for which they are reckoned the best mer¬
cenary soldiers in Hindustan. In manners they are generally
forward and unpolished; in intellect dark and inapt, and in
hospitality and fidelity signally regardless and deficient.
The ancient history of Sinde is involved in obscurity. History.
When Alexander of Macedon invaded the country, it was
366
S I N
S I N
Sinde.
governed by Hindu Rajahs; and from that time little is
'known of its history till the rise and progress of the Maho-
medan power. It was conquered by a general dispatched
for this purpose by a lieutenant of the Ommade Cahp i
Walid in Sejestim and Candahar; and flourished under t ic
vicegerents of the prophet till its conquest by the Sultan
of Ghizni. It afterwards came under the jurisdiction ot the
Soomrai, a native tribe, and was again reduced by Mahom-
med Ghori, and annexed as a fief to the crown of Delhi,
to which it remained attached for two centuries. In the
various conquests and revolutions which subsequent y too
place in India, this country was the prize of the victor.
It was finally subdued by the armies of Acbar about the
year 1580, since which period its rulers have never ven¬
tured openly to avow their independence, though they have
sometimes evaded the payment of the tribute fixed, and
have even frequently appeared in arms against the lord
paramount. Under the succeeding emperors the province
of Sinde was kept under strict subjection, though the un¬
settled aspect of Hindustan sometimes encouraged the rulers
of Sinde to withhold the tribute. In the mean time the
introduction of vast tribes of Belocbes as mercenaries, had
changed the character of the population, and the rule ol the
family of Toor Khan had given place to the tribe ot Caloras,
sprung, it is supposed, from adventurers that followed the
Persian army. The invasion of India by Nadir Shah in
1739, extended the rule of Persia over Sinde and all the
provinces west of the Indus; but his assassination paved
the way for the rise of the Dooranee empire under Ahmed
Khan Seedozy, who declared himself king of Cabul, to
whom Sinde after a time submitted, and has ever since
been considered subordinate, though frequently rebelling
and refusing to pay tribute. The country was long a scene
of civil dissension, different competitors contending tor the
throne, the Talpoories, a tribe of Beloche origin, rebelling
against the house of Calora. Their contentions were car¬
ried on with various success, and with ruin and misery to
the country, which was wasted in these wars. Ahmed
Shah, the conquerer of the Mahrattas in the battle ot Fan-
ripart in 1761, exacted the tribute with all its arrears. In
1786, Meer Futteh Alice, the eldest of four brothers, was
confirmed as ruler of the country. He admitted to a par¬
ticipation in his high destiny his three younger brothers,
Ghoulam Ali, Kurm Ali,and Mourad Ali; and they agreed to
reign together as the ameers or the lords of Sinde. r utteh
Alice died in 1801, and Ghoulam Ali in 1811 ; and the coun¬
try, as has been already mentioned, is now partitioned be¬
tween the surviving brothers, and their respective sons.
It is scarcely possible that this outlying country ot Sinde
can remain long independent ot British control. The late
great and successful expedition, for the purpose of restor¬
ing Dost Mahommed to the throne of Cabul, however ques¬
tionable its policy, has extended the power of the British
in India into countries where their name was scarcely
known before. All the intervening states through whose
territories the army passed in its progress to the scene of
action, viewed the mighty movement wuth a mixed feeling
of jealousy and awe. Having seen the various states of
India, its princes and chiefs, with their dependent tributa¬
ries, successively swallowed up in the wide extending sway
of this European empire, they would willingly have joined
in repelling its further advances into the interior of Asia ;
but they were overawed ; and the late brilliant operations
of the British will tend to confirm and extend their politi¬
cal influence, and will in the end bring all such petty
states as Sinde, alternately the prey of despotism and anar¬
chy, under the control or the direct supremacy of that
great power, whose mighty empire in the east, reared up
by a continued train of brilliant success for more than half
a century, seems only a step in her farther progress to the
dominion of Asia.
Sinde River, in Hindustan, has its rise in the high table Sin'"
land of the Malwah province to the west of Seronge; and ! I
after a winding course, falls into the Jumna six miles to^h j
the north of Calpee. , i J
Sinde Sagor, a district of Hindustan in the province of
Lahore, situated principally between the 31st and 32d de¬
grees of north latitude. It is bounded on three sides by
the Indus, the Ravey, and the Jhylum, and on the north
by the mountains ot Joud. Zinda Singh is the teim by
which the inhabitants of the districts under the Seiks bor¬
dering on the Indus are known ; and the Nakai Singh is
the name given to the Seiks who reside in the province of
Mooltan. ...
SINDOORG, a town of Hindustan, in the territories of
the Nagpoor Rajah, in the province of Gundwana, eleven
miles S. by E. from Ruttanpoor. Long. 82. 40. E. Lat.
22.7. N. . . . ,
SINDKERA, a town of the Mahratta territories, m the
province of Khandesh, 107 miles west from Boorhampoor.
Long. 74. 40. E. Lat. 21. 11. N.
SINE, or Right Sine of an Arch, in Trigonometry, is a
right line drawn from one end of that arch, perpendicular
to the radius drawn to the other end of the arch; being
always equal to half the cord of twice the arch..
SINGAN, a city of China of the first rank, in the fron¬
tier province of Shan-si. It formed at one time the im¬
perial residence, and is still a very large and fine city. It
is the rendezvous of the troops appointed to defend the
empire on the north-western side. Long. 108. 29- E. Lat.
35. 14. N.
SINGAPORE. The island of Singapore is situated at
the extremity of the peninsula, in the straits of Singapore,
through which lies the route of vessels to and from the
China seas. The town stands in lat. 1. 17. 22. N., long.
103. 51. 45. E., on a point of land near the western part of
a bay, and is easily distinguished by a pleasant hill behind
it, mostly cleared of trees, which abound on the island.
This was the situation chosen by Sir Stamford Raffles for
establishing a settlement under the protection ot Britain,
which might, in some degree, command the free naviga¬
tion of the Straits of Malacca. He accordingly sailed from
Calcutta for this purpose in the latter end of the year 1818,
and in 1819 he hoisted the British flag, with a population
of not more than 200 souls. In three months, according
to the official letter of Sir Stamford Raffles, the number
had increased to 3000 ; and at the date of the lettei, pri
1820, to 10,000, principally Chinese. Not less than 173
sail of vessels, of different descriptions, principally native,
arrived and sailed in the course of the first two months,
and in a short time it had grown up into an important
commercial port. The rapid rise of this important station,
is, perhaps, unequalled in the history of any other country,
and marks the sagacity with which so central a situation
was chosen, with respect to India and China, from t ^ ^
ter of which it is distant only five days’ sail; in regard also
to Java, the great islands of Borneo and Sumatra, and the
Eastern Archipelago. Its natural advantages are grea.
It is placed on a rich soil, with fertile tracts of land in tne
neighbourhood, which give ample scope to agricultural im¬
provement ; and this, combined with the freedom from im¬
posts, and the security for life and property, under a m
and enlightened government, are the circumstances w i
have attracted these industrious settlers, who, descryi g
from afar the ensign of freedom and justice, fly to i
protection from the tyranny and extortion of their own n -
tive rulers. The island of Singapore, which has been ®
veyed since the British settlement was established, isaoou
twenty-seven miles in its greatest length, and fifteen in
greatest breadth. It is estimated to contain an area u
270 square miles; is diversified with hill and dale, an
adapted to the growth of numerous and valuable comm
SIN SIN 367
ore. ties. Plantations of gambier, pepper, and spices, have
been already begun; cultivation has also extended to the
neighbouring islands, which formerly afforded a harbour
for pirates. The water that is found in the island is excel¬
lent ; the soil is rich and fruitful; the temperature is com¬
paratively cool, the thermometer ranging between 71 and
89; and the climate, on the whole, is salubrious. On the
south side of the island, an inlet penetrates into the in¬
terior, which is about 300 feet wide towards its mouth, has
regular tides, and is capable of admitting lighters for about
a quarter of a mile from the sea. On this inlet the town
is built. Between this and a parallel inlet, at the distance
of a quarter of a mile, is a square plain, faced with a high
sandy beach free from surf, and terminated on the inner
side by a steep hill, of a sufficient elevation to possess a
beautiful and commanding view of the surrounding coun¬
try and the straits. On the frontier side of the inlet, is,
on one hand, a regularly built Chinese town ; and, on the
other, beyond the rivulet, an extensive plain, in front of
which the sandy beach stretches into an inner bay, and
whence another inlet encompasses it behind. Singapore
harbour, or rather roadstead, situated four miles to the
N.N.E. of St. John’s island in Singapore straits, affords a
safe anchorage to ships in all seasons ; and, being clear of
sudden danger, the approach to it is rendered easy by day
or by night. Its position is also favourable for connec¬
ting the navigation of the straits, the track which the ships
pursue being distant about five miles. The ships are well
sheltered at the anchorage from E.N.E. round to north and
west, as far as S. by W.
The population of Singapore consists of Chinese, Malays,
-Buggis. The principal merchants are Englishmen, of
whom there are also a few shopkeepers, auctioneers, &c.
Seme of the respectable merchants are Chinese, as are
also the cultivators and other labourers. The Malays are
chiefly employed as fishermen, in cutting timber, and in
bringing supplies into the town from the surrounding
neighbourhood ; and the boatmen are chiefly natives of
the Coromandel coast.
Singapore trades to a great extent with all the countries
and islands in the Eastern seas. One of the most valua¬
ble branches of trade is with Siam, which is carried on in
the Siamese junks, which frequent the port of Singapore to
the number of eighteen or twenty, and which are from 100
to 350 tons burden, the greater number being from 150 to
200. They import chiefly sugar, rice, cocoa nut oil, saffron
wood, garro root, dried fish, and a small quantity of gam¬
boge, sticklac, elephants’ teeth, raw silk, and onions; and
are said to be of the value of from 3000 to 15,000 Spanish
dollars each. Many of these vessels belong entirely to
i their commanders, and the others to parties residing in
Siam. Sugar is the most valuable part of their cargoes,
which is nearly all taken by the European merchants, and
is shipped for Europe, whither, also, are sent the ele¬
phants’ teeth and gamboge. Of the numerous tribes who
visit this settlement, the Siamese carry off the greatest
quantity of manufactured goods. Their return cargoes
consist of Bengal muslins, sannahs, and gurrahs, (pieces of
dress,) chintzes, European long cloths, cambrics, long ells,
camblets, woollens, bees’ wax, camphor, gold dust, and a
few rattans; cotton twist is now also sought after. This
trade is entirely confined to the Chinese, who are chiefly
natives of the country, descendants of Chinese settlers,
the trade with Cochin-China is not nearly so extensive or
va uable as that with Siam. It is also carried on by means
°t junks, verging from 100 to 200 tons burden, which
come to the number annually of between thirty and forty,
rom various ports along the whole coast of that immense
country, and the gulf of Tonquin. The imports consist
c uetiy of rice and salt; but they bring also in small quan-
mes shcklac, gamboge, saffron wood, tortoise shell, coarse
ugar, cocoa nut oil, cocoa nuts, pigs and goats, salted
vegetables, and other provisions. The return cargoes con • Singapore,
sist chiefly of opium, also of European long cloths, long
ells, cambrics, Madras cloths, Indian piece goods, woollens,
camlets, and a small quantity of gambier and rattans. A
considerable trade is carried on with Campar, an ancient
Malayan state on the east coast of Sumatra. This trade
is entirely in the hands of the Malays, there being no
Chinese settlers in that country, and is carried on in small
proas, which visit Singapore monthly, in small fleets often
or twelve, well armed, to guard them against the attacks
of pirates, who infest the numerous straits that are formed
amongst the Asiatic islands. They carry from fifteen to
thirty men, and are armed with two long brass guns,
spears, swords, &c. Their cargoes consist principally of
coffee; but they also bring gambier, bees’ wax, twine, and
cassia of an inferior quality, elephants’ teeth, rhinoceros’
horns, and a few rattans. These articles they readily dis¬
pose of on their arrival, to Chinese merchants, and receive
in return white and unbleached Madras cloths, raw silk and
cotton, European shirtings, cambrics, and chintzes, hand¬
kerchiefs, camblets, lead, iron, steel, gold thread, Java to¬
bacco, sticklac, &c. Singapore also trades with the west
coast of the island of Borneo, situated between Tanjong
Dattoo and the northern extremity of the island, and with
the Dutch settlements of Sambos, Mampawa and Ponti-
anak. The whole of this trade is conducted by the Malays
and Buggis, in proas belonging to the different ports whence
they come. The proas from Borneo Proper are chiefly of
the burden of from 800 to 1200 piculs, carrying from forty
to sixty men each, and, like most native vessels, are well
armed with long brass guns, as well as with spears, swords,
and small arms. About fifteen or twenty of these vessels
trade with Singapore; and they make generally tw o voya¬
ges in the course of a year. Their imports principally
consist of pepper, camphor, bees' wax, birds’ nests, tortoise
shell, mother-of-pearl shells, and pearls; the cargoes beintr
valued at from 2000 to 8000 Spanish dollars each. They
are very readily disposed of to the richest Chinese mer¬
chants, in barter for blue and white Madras cloths, Bengal
chintzes and w hite goods, European chintzes and long cloths,
iron, steel, cotton tw'ist in blue, red, and white, blue and
yellow nankeens, Chinese gold thread, and various other
minor articles. The annual value of this trade is estimated
at from 60,000 to 70,000 Spanish dollars. With the Dutch
settlements the trade is still more considerable. From
Sambas about fifteen to twenty proas arrive at Singapore
every six months, each bringing cargoes of gold dust, ac¬
cording to the means of the trader, and scarcely any other
commodity, on account of the heavy duties imposed on ex¬
ports to a British port. From Mampawa and Pontianak
about thirty or forty proas come twice a-year with gold
dust, diamonds, tin, and rattans. The different cargoes
are said to vary from 2000 to 20,000 dollars; the value of
the whole trade is estimated at 250,000 Spanish dollars.
In return they take chiefly Bengal and Madras piece goods
and iron. They take no British manufactured goods, in con¬
sequence of the heavy protecting duties imposed on them
by the Dutch, for the encouragement of the trade of the
mother country; and no opium, because it is monopolized by
the government, of which, however, only a few chests are
disposed of; the chief supply being brought by the con¬
traband traders. About ten or tw'elve Chinese junks com¬
monly arrive from Amoy and Canton. Their imports are
earthenware, tiles, granite, slates, paper umbrellas, vermi¬
celli, dried fruits, sticks, paper, tobacco, and a few nankeens,
raw silk, &c. The cargoes from Canton are said generally
to consist of the same articles, with the addition of silk,
camlets, satms, camphor, sugar candy, and tea, and a much
greater proportion of nankeens and raw silk. Those car¬
goes, of which the value of each is from 30,000 to 60,000
dollars, generally belong to the owners of the junks, who
remain in China. These junks are generally of about from
$68
S I N
Singboom 350 to 400 tons burdens; they carry from eighty to a hun-
11 dred seamen; and such is their ignorance of navigation, that
Singing. great numbers, notwithstanding their being so fully manned,
perish in the stormy seas that wash the Chinese shores.
They bring annually about 2000 Chinese ; and for several
days after their arrival, the Sampan proas which trade to
Rhio, Malacca, Penang, &c., are literally crowded with
emigrants proceeding to the various neighbouring ports,
with a view of getting employment in the pepper, coffee,
and gambler plantations, and in the tin mines. Great
numbers go to Java to the sugar and coffee plantations,
and many to Borneo to collect gold dust. Those various
imports, however, are not consumed in Singapore, which
is rather a mercantile depot of goods, from which they are
dispersed all over the Eastern seas. The goods which are
adapted for a European remittance, such as raw silk, nan¬
keens, and camphor, are chiefly purchased by the Euro¬
peans from the Chinese merchants, through whose hands
the trade chiefly passes. The other articles are taken by
the proas which frequent the harbour, and are by these
spread over the whole Archipelago. The exports of the
Chinese from Singapore, are birds’ nests, camphor, beche
de • mer, sandal wood, ebony, tortoise shell, rattans, flint
stones, buffaloes’ hides, sharks’ fins, tripang, European
camlets, woollens, and long ells, and a few pieces of
chintzes, long cloths, Bengal piece goods, tin, pepper,
gambier, and from eight to ten chests of opium, a contra¬
band article, the importation of which into Canton^ is now
effectually proscribed. The exports of Singapore to Calcutta,
Madras, and Bombay, amount in value to about 2,600,000,
and the imports to 2,748,026 sicca rupees.
Exports. Imports.
1831-2.. 7,825,786 dollars. 8,904,774 dollars.
* 1836-7... 7,806,965 „ 8,243,629 „
1837-8...8.024,123 „ 8,881,195 „
No export or import duties are levied at this port, nor
any anchorage, harbour, or lighthouse dues, or any fees;
but a register is kept of all exports and imports. A news¬
paper is published once a-week, the Singapore Chronicle.
The population of Singapore, as already stated, rapidly in¬
creased after the settlement was established. Population
in 1823, 10,683. In 1828, the inhabitants, consisting of
Europeans, Malays, Chinese, natives of Bengal, of Coro¬
mandel, Arabs, Buggis, and others, amounted to 17,664;
in 1833, to 20,978. In 1838 a handsome new church was
opened for worship. (Asiatic Journal, new series; Singa¬
pore Chronicle; Macculloch’s Commercial Dictionary.)
SINGBOOM, a district and town in the province of
Orissa. The province is situated between the 22d and 23d
decrees of north latitude, and bounded on three sides by the
districts of Chuta, Nagpoor, Michnapoor, and Mohurbunge ;
and on the south by that of Kunjeur. The town is pos¬
sessed by Zemindars. Long. 85. 55. E. Lat. 22. 37. N.
SINGHEA, or Singee, a town of Hindustan, province
of Baltar, situated on the river Gunduck. Long. 85. 15.
E. Lat. 25. 52. N.
SINGHERICONDA, a town of the Northern Carnatic,
twenty miles south from Ongole. Lat. 80. 2. E. Lat. 15.
14. N.
SINGING, in a general sense, means the production of
appreciable and varied sounds by the voice. In a more li¬
mited sense, it means different inflexions of the voice through
intervals admitted in music, and consistent with the rules of
melodic modulation. It is well known that these inflexions
differ from those of the voice in speaking. In singing, harsh¬
ness of vocal timbre, (see Music,) and falseness of intonation
are much more frequently met with than the opposite qua¬
lities, especially among persons not trained to sing. Mu¬
sical training, when applied to a person possessed of a na¬
turally good quality of voice, and a good ear, produces effects
that can hardly be imagined by those who have not watch-
S I N
ed them attentively. Upon the subject of vocal-training, Sin(i|t
the reader may consult any of the best treatises on singing.
For some remarks on the mechanism of the human voice in
singing, and the compasses of voices, see Music. h
Singing of Birds. Birds may more correctly be said to
whistle than to sing. This is shown by the structure of their
vocal organs, as well as by the mechanism of the automaton
singing-bird of Maillardet. The power of singing is confined
to the human race. In the notes of but few birds can distinct
melodic intervals be perceived. The notes of the quail, the
cuckoo, &c. as well as many of the notes of the blackbird,
&c. constitute distinct melodic intervals, and are therefore
susceptible of musical notation. Captive singing-birds may
be taught tunes, as in the case of piping-bullfinches, &c.
These last have even been taught to perform in concert.
We have observed, among a number of piping-bullfinches,
marked differences of musical ear. Some piped well in tune;
others more or less out of tune.
SINGROWLA, a district of Hindustan, in the province
of Gundwana, situated about the 24th degree of north lati¬
tude, and bounded on the east by the district of Palamow
in Bahar. The country is in general very desolate.
SINGUMNERE, a district of Hindustan, belonging to
the Mahratta Peshwa, in the province of Aurungabad, situ¬
ated about the 20th degree of north latitude. It is a hilly,
but a fertile district. The chief towns are Singumnere, Bat-
towal,andBejapoor. The capital is of the same name. Long.
74. 40. E. 'Lat. 19- 46. N.
SINKEL, a town situated near the mouth of the Sinkel
river, on the west coast of Sumatra. Long. 98.26. E. Lat.
2. 15. N. Camphor, benzoin, wax, and gold, are exported
from this place. Vessels that frequent this port are expos¬
ed to great danger from piratical attacks. The river Sinkel
is the longest on the western coast, which rises in the moun¬
tains of Dalholi, and after a long course, empties itself into
the sea by a mouth three quarters of a mile wide.
SINISTER, something on or towards the left hand.
Hence some derive the word sinister a sinendo, because
the gods, by such auguries, permit us to proceed in our de-
signs.
Sinister, is ordinarily used amongst us for unlucxy;
though, in the sacred rights of divination, the Romans used
it in an opposite sense. Thus avis sinistra, or a bird on
the left hand, was esteemed a happy omen; and hence in the
law of the twelve tables, Ava sinistra populi magister esto.
Sinister, in Heraldry. The sinister side of an escut¬
cheon is the left-hand side; the sinister chief, the left angle
of the chief; the sinister base, the left-hand part of the base.
Sinister Aspect, amongst astrologers, is an appearance ol
two planets happening according to the succession of the
signs, as Saturn 4n Aries, and Mars in the same degree of
Gemini.
SINISTRI, a set of ancient heretics, so called because
they held the left hand in abhorrence, and made it a point
of religion not to receive any thing therewith.
SINKING Fund, a provision made by parliament, con¬
sisting of the surplusage of other funds, intended to be ap¬
propriated to the payment of the national debt; on the cre¬
dit of which very large sums have been borrowed for public
uses. See Funding System.
SINOPLE, in Heraldry, denotes vert, or green colour
in armories. Sinople is used to signify love, youth, beauty,
rejoicing, and liberty; and hence it is that letters or giace>
ambition, and legitimation, are always sealed with green wax.
SINTCHEI, one of the remote Kurile islands^ m tne
Eastern ocean. Long. 155. 14. E. Lat. 50. 15. jN«
SINUOSITY, a series of bends and turns in arches or
other irregular figures, sometimes jutting out and sometimes
falling in. .
SINUS, in Anatomy, denotes a cavity in certain hones
and other parts, the entrance of which is very narrow, an
the bottom wider and more spacious.
s
I R
S I R
369
Sii >
*
Sinus, in Surgery, a little cavity or sacculus, frequently
formed by a wound or ulcer, in which pus is collected.
SION, a small town and port in the island of Bombay,
situated about nine miles from the presidency, at the oppo¬
site extremity of the island, on the top of a small conical
hill, where it commands the passage from Bombay to the
neighbouring island of Salsette. A causeway was built by
Mr. Duncan across a small arm of the sea, which separated
the two islands. It has a draw-bridge in the centre.
SIPHANTO, an island in the iEgeian sea subject to
Turkey, south-west from Paros, and north-east from Komili.
It is forty-five square miles in extent, and generally moun¬
tainous. Its inhabitants are about 5000, chiefly Greek by
religion, and wholly so by origin, who grow corn, capers,
figs, oil, cotton, and vines. They have some small ma¬
nufactures of silk, linen, sail-cloth, and straw hats. This
island had in ancient times mines of gold and silver, but no
traces of them now exist. There is one town and five vil¬
lages. The town has the same name as the island. Lat.
37. 1. Long. 24. 33. E.
SI-PORAH, or Good Fortune Island,awoody island
in the Eastern seas, inhabited by the same race of people as
the Poggy or Napan islands, from which it lies north-west.
SIR, the title of a knight or baronet, which, for distinc¬
tion’s sake, as it is now given indiscriminately to all men, is
always prefixed to the knight’s Christian name, either in
speaking or in writing to him.
Sir Charles Hardy’s island, in the Southern Pacific
Ocean, discovered by Captain Carteret in the year 1767.
Long. 154. 6. E. Lat. 4. 38. S.
- Sir Charles Hardy’s Islands, a cluster of small islands
in the South Pacific Ocean, discovered by Captain Cook in
1770. Long. 217. W. Lat. 11. 55. S.
Sir Charles Saunders’ Island, or Tapooamanhoo, in
the Southern Pacific Ocean, discovered by Captain Wallis
in 1765. It is about six miles in length. Long. 150. 40.
W. Lat. 17. 28. S.
Sir Henry Martin’s Island, in the Pacific Ocean, dis¬
covered by Lieutenant Hergest in 1792, and the most fer¬
tile and considerable of the group to which it belongs. Long.
220. 19. E. Lat. 80. 51. S.
Sir Isaac Point, a cape on the south coast of New Hol¬
land. Long. 135. 10. E. Lat. 34. 27. S.
Sir Joseph Banks’ Group, a cluster of small islands in
Spencer’s Gulf, on the south coast of New Holland.
Sir Roger Curtis’ Isles, an island, with two smaller
ones near it, on the south coast of New Holland, twenty-two
miles south-east of Wilson’s promontory.
SIRAF, a small sea-port of Persia, in Laristan, chiefly
inhabited by Arabians. Thirty-eight miles south-west of
Lar.
SIRCAR, or Circar, any office under the government
in Hindustan. It is sometimes used for the state of govern¬
ment itself; likewise a province, or any number of pergun-
nahs placed under one head in the government books, for
convenience in keeping accounts. In common usage, the
under banyans of European gentlemgn are, in Bengal, call¬
ed sircars.
SIRE, a title of honour formerly given to the king of
France as a mark of sovereignty.
Sire, was also anciently used in the same sense with sieur
and seigneur, and applied to barons, gentlemen, and citizens.
SIRENS, in fabulous history, certain celebrated song¬
stresses who were ranked amongst the demigods of antiquity.
Hyginus places their birth amongst the consequences of the
rape ot Prosperine. Others make them daughters of the
river Acheleiis and one of the muses. The number of
the Sirens was three, and their names were Parthenope, Ly-
gea, and Leucosia. Some make them half women and half
fish; others half women and half birds; there are antique
representations of them still subsisting under both these
VOL. xx.
forms. Pausanias tells us, that the Sirens, by the persua- Sirgoojah
sion of Juno, challenged the Muses to a trial of skill in sing- ||
ing; and these having vanquished them, plucked the golden Sistrum.
feathers from the wings of the Sirens, and formed them in-
to crowns, with which they adorned their own heads. The
Argonauts are said to have been diverted from the enchant¬
ment of their songs by the superior strains of Orpheus, Ulys¬
ses, however, had great difficulty in securing himself from
seduction.
Pope, in his notes to the twelfth book of the Odyssey,
observes, that the critics have greatly laboured to explain
what was the foundation of this fiction of the Sirens. We
are told by some, that the Sirens were queens of certain
small islands named Sirenusre, that lie near Capraea in Italy,
and chiefly inhabited the promontory of Minerva, upon the
top of which that goddess had a temple built by Ulysses.
Mr. Bryant says, however, that the Sirens were Cuthite
and Canaanitish priests, who had founded temples in Sicily,
which were rendered infamous on account of the women who
officiated. They were much addicted to cruel rites, so that
the shores upon which they resided are described as cover¬
ed with the bones of men destroyed by their artifice.
All ancient authors agree in telling us, that Sirens inha¬
bited the coast of Sicily. The name, according to Bochart,
who derives it from the Phoenician language, implies a song¬
stress. Hence it is probable, says Dr. Burney, that in an¬
cient times there may have been excellent singers, but of
corrupt morals, on the coast of Sicily, who, by seducing
voyagers, gave rise to this fable. And if this conjecture be
well founded, he observes, the Muses are not the only pagan
divinities who preserved their influence over mankind in
modern times; for every age has its Sirens, and every Siren
her votaries. When beauty and talents, both powerful in
themselves, are united, they become still more attractive.
SIRGOOJAH, a town and district of Hindustan, in the
province of Gundwana, the latter situated about the 23d de¬
gree of north latitude. The town is situated about twelve
miles from the northern frontier of Palamow. Long. 83.50.
E. Lat. 23. 5. N.
SIRHIND, a town and district in the province of Delhi,
of which the latter occupies the north-western quarter, be¬
ing situated between the 30th and 31st degrees of north la¬
titude. It is not fertile, being barren and sandy, and in
many places destitute of water. Its vicinity to the capital
was, however, in its favour, as the Afghan emperor, Feroze
III. caused several canals to be cut from the rivers Jumna
and Suttubje, in order to fertilize it. The country is at pre¬
sent possessed by the Seiks. Its principal towns are Pati-
cola, which is large and flourishing, and Tahnesir. The
town was built or repaired by Sultan Feroze about the year
1351. It is now a scene of desolation, and has never reco¬
vered the dreadful ravages to which it was exposed by the
Seiksinl707. It is 155 miles north north-west from Delhi.
Long. 75. 55. E. Lat. 30. 40. N.
SIRINAGAR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Allahabad, district of Bundelama, twelve miles north north¬
east from Chatterpoor. Long, 79. 55. E. Lat. 25. 6. N.
SIROCCO, a periodical wind which generally blows in
Italy and Dalmatia every year about Easter. It blows from
the south-east by south. It is attended with heat, but not
rain. Its ordinary period is twenty days, and it usually ceases
at sunset.
SIRSEY, a small town of Hindustan, in the province of
Bahar, twenty-five miles east south- east from Patna. Long.
85- 35. E. Long. 25. 22. N.
SIRVATON, a rock in the Eastern seas, near the north
coast of Java. Long. 110. 49. E. Lat. 6. 36. S.
SISTRUM, or Cistrum, a kind of ancient musical in¬
strument used by the priests of Isis and Osiris. It is de¬
scribed by Spon as of an oval form ; in manner of a racket,
with three sticks traversing it breadthwise, which playing
3 A
370
Sistrurn
I!
Siut.
S I s
freely by the agitation of the whole instrument, yielded a
kind of sound which to them seemed melodious. Mr. Mal-
com takes the sistrum to be no better than a kind of rattle.
Oiselius observes, that the sistrum is found represented on
several medals, and on talismans. _ .
Sistrum, or Cistrurn, an ancient Egyptian musical in¬
strument of percussion. A similar instrument, consist¬
ing of moveable metal rods passing through holes in a me¬
tal plate, is used in modern military bands.
SISTERS, two small islands in the great southern ocean,
lying in the strait between Van Dieman’s Land and the
south-west coast of New Holland.
SISTERON, an arrondisement of the department ot the
Lower Alps in France, 3411 square miles in extent. It is
divided into five cantons, which are subdivided into fitty
communes, containing in 1836, 26,643 inhabitants. I he
capital is the city of the same name. It stands on the nyer
Durance, where the Baech falls into that stream, at the oo
of a rock on which is an ancient castle commanding a fine
prospect. It is well built, and has a cathedral with a fine
altar-piece. In 1836, it contained about 4546 inhabitants,
who deal largely in wool, and cultivate almonds very exten¬
sively. Lat. 44. 11. 51. Long. 5. 51. 13. E.
SISYPHUS, in fabulous history, one ot the descendants
of Eolus, married Merope, one of the Pleiades, who bore
him Glaucus. He resided at Epyra in Peloponnesus, and
was a very crafty man. Others say, that he was a Trojan
secretary, who was punished for discovering secrets of state;
and others, that he was a notorious robber, who was killed by
Theseus. All the poets, however, agree that he was pun¬
ished in Tartarus for his crimes, by rolling a great stone
to the top of a hill, which constantly recoiled, and rolling
down incessantly, renewed his labour.
SITANG, a large river of the Birman empire, province
of Pegu, which rises in a range of mountains about the 20th
degree of north latitude, and passing the ancient city of
Pegu, falls into the gulf of Murtaban.
S IT A R, an Indian musical instrument resembling the
European guitar. Some writers maintain that the guitar,
the lute, the violin, &c., are all of oriental origin. The
Indian saringee is similar to the European violin.
SITOPHYLAX, 2no(pv\a£, formed from o-ltos, corn, and
keeper in antiquity, an Athenian magistrate, who had
the superintendence of the corn, and was to take care that
nobody bought more than was necessary for the provision
of his family. By the Attic laws, particular persons were
prohibited from buying more than fifty measures of wheat a
man; and that such persons might not purchase more, the
sitophylax was appointed to see the laws properly execut¬
ed. It was a capital crime to prevaricate in it. There were
fifteen of these sitopylaces, ten for the city, and five for the
Piraeus.
SITTINGBOURNE, a town in the hundred of Milton,
in the lathe of Scray, in the county of Kent, forty miles
from London. It depends chiefly on the trade arising from
its being on the great road from London to Dover. The
inhabitants were in 1801, 1347; in 1811, 1362; in 1821,
1537 ; and in 1831, 2182.
SITTIVACCA, a small town in the island of Ceylon,
It is separated from the king of Candy’s country by a large
branch of the Maiivaddy river. Long. 80.13. E. Lat.7.2- N.
SITUS, in Algebra and Geometry, denotes the situation
of lines, surfaces, and the like. Worfius delivers some
things in geometry, which are not deduced from common
analysis, particularly matters depending on the situs of lines
and figures. Leibnitz has even founded a particular kind
of analysis upon it, called calculus situs.
SIU T, or Si out, a large town of Upper Egypt, situated
on the western bank of the Nile, about half a mile from the
river, with which it communicates by a canal, crossed by a
bridge of three arches. The inhabitants are chiefly Copts,
S I w
who are extensively employed in the manufacture of blue SI j
cloth, with which they carry on a considerable trade, and |
likewise in earthenware, natoon, and opium. The surround-
in0, country is very fertile, producing abundance of fruits;'^*"1
great quantities of wheat, barley, dhourra, and hemp, are
likewise raised. Siut is the rendezvous of the caravans
which proceed from Egypt southwards into the interior of
Africa, to Sennaar and Darfur, from which countries they
bring slaves and gold. This town is supposed to be the
ancient Lycopolis; but the only remarkable antiquity
which it presents, consists in the excavations made in the
neighbouring mountains. These are numerous, consisting
of chambers, many of which are thirty feet in height, co¬
vered with hieroglyphics, and exhibiting symbolical figures.
They were most probably formed for sepulchral purposes.
The town is large and populous, and the extensive district
attached is likewise thickly inhabited. The united popula¬
tion amounts to 200,000. The taxes are reckoned atL.40,000.
Lat. 27. 13. 14. N. Long. 31. 13. 32. E.
SIVA, a name given by the Hindus to the Supreme Be¬
ing, when considered as the avenger or destroyer. Sir
William Jones has shown that in several respects the cha¬
racter of Jupiter and Siva are the same. As Jupiter over¬
threw the Titans and giants, so did Siva overthrow the
Daityas, or children of Ditti,who frequently rebelled against
heaven; and as during the contest the god of Olympus
was furnished with lightning and thunderbolts by an eagle,
so Brahma, who is sometimes represented riding on the Ga-
ruda, or eagle, presented the god of destruction with fiery
shafts. Siva also corresponds with the Stygian Jove, or
Pluto; for, if we can rely on the Persian translation of the
Bhagavat, the sovereign of Patala, or the infernal regions,
is the king of serpents, named Seshanaga, 'who is exhibited
in painting and sculpture, with a diadem and sceptre, in the
same manner as Pluto. There is yet another attribute ot
Siva, or Mahadeva, by which he is visibly distinguished in
the drawings and temples of Bengal. To destroy, accord¬
ing to the Vedantis of India, the Sufis of Persia, and many
philosophers of our European schools, is only to generate
and reproduce in another form. Hence the god of destruc¬
tion is holden in this country to preside over generation, as
a symbol of which he rides on a white bull. Can we doubt
that the loves and feats of Jupiter Genitor, not forgetting
the white bull of Europa, and his extraordinary title of
Lapis, for which no satisfactory reason is commonly given,
have a connection with the Indian philosophy and mytho¬
logy ? . p
SIVANA Samudra, an island formed by the river U-
veny, in the province of north Coimbetoor, about nine mi es
in length, by one in breadth. It is remarkable for an un¬
common grand cataract near it; and it communicates with
the continent by a bridge formerly magnificent, and three
hundred yards in length, but is now in ruins.
SIWAH, a considerable oasis of the Lybian desert, on the
route from Egypt to Fezzan, and the most interesting is an
of the waste, as being the supposed site of the temp e o u
piter Ammon. It is situated in latitude 29° 12 north, an
longitude 26° 5' east. Horneman represents it as fifty mites
in circumference ; but subsequent travellers have reduce
its dimensions to about one half of that. The neares i
tance from the river does not exceed 120 miles. Date tree
cover a large portion of the soil, which is extremely er i ,
but the palm, pomegranate, olive, vine, fig, apricot, p u®,
and even apple, flourish in the gardens. IeP‘ f*,
springs are numerous throughout the district; an s
of earthquakes are here frequently felt. J he town o
wah is built upon a steep conical rock, and both in ex
nal aspect and internal arrangement, presents a striking
singular appearance. The streets are narrow, croo e ,
so dark, that artificial light is required at noon-day.
house has several floors, the upper communicating wi
S I X
SIX
371
six
Six’
nds lower by galleries and chambers which cover the streets.
The houses and walls are for the most part built of natron
i or mineral soda, and rock salt mixed with sand, coated with
'<wa gypseous earth, which preserves the salt from melting.
The total population of the town is from 2000 to 2500;
that of the whole oasis is supposed to amount to 8000
souls.
The great object of interest connected with this place,
is, as we have said, the ruins of what is conjectured to have
been the famous temple of Ammon. They are situated a
league and a half east of the town, and are called by the
natives Om Beydeh. The edifice has been built in the
Egyptian style of architecture. The vestiges of a triple en¬
closure, enormous stones lying on the ground, and masses
still standing, prove it to have been a monument of the first
order. The part which is in tolerable preservation is thirty
feet in length, and consists of part of a gateway and two
great walls, which are covered with three immense stones,
measuring thirty-four feet by twenty-seven. The only
apartment which has been distinctly made out is 112 feet in
length ; the whole area of ruins being a rectangular space
about 360 feet by 300. The decorations are observed to
bear the closest resemblance to those of the Egyptian mo¬
numents; the figures, scenes, and arrangements being en¬
tirely the same. Here are seen the identical style, cast of
countenance, costumes and sacrifices, as in the monuments
of Thebaid. Here is the god with the ram’s head, priests
in long procession, multitudes of hieroglyphic tables, and at
the entrance is sculptured in full relief the figure of Typhon,
or the evil genius, about five feet in height. Nearly a mile
from these ruins is situated the fountain of the sun, dedi¬
cated of old to the Ammonian deity. It is a small marsh
rather than a well, extending about ninety feet in length by
sixty in breadth, but is at the same time perfectly trans¬
parent. The diurnal change of temperature recorded by
the father of history is quite perceptible. A temple stands
near this spring, and there are other temples and lakes ex¬
tending in succession towards the west. Major Rennel has
employed much learning to prove that Siwah is the site of
the famous temple of Ammon, and with considerable suc¬
cess. See his work, The Geographical System of Herodo¬
tus Examined and Explained, &c. vol. ii. p. 230.
SIX Islands, small islands in the eastern seas, near the
north coast of Java. Long. 110. 49. E. Lat. 6. 36. S.
SIXTH, in Music. (See Interval and Music.)
SIXTUS V., Pope, was born on the 13th of December
1521, in La Marca, a village in the seigniory of Montalto.
His father, Francis Peretti, was a gardener, and his mother
a servant maid. He was their eldest child, and was called
Felix. At the age of nine he was hired out to an inhabi¬
tant of the village to keep sheep ; but disobliging his mas¬
ter, he was soon afterwards degraded to be keeper of the
hogs. He was engaged in this employment when father
Michael Angelo Selleri, a Franciscan friar, asked the road
to Ascoli, where he was going to preach. Young Felix
conducted him thither, and struck the father so much with
his conversation and eagerness for knowledge, that he re¬
commended him to the fraternity to‘which he had come.
Accordingly he was received amongst them, invested with
t ie habit of a lay brother, and placed under the sacristan,
to assist in sweeping the church, lighting the candles, and
other offices of that nature, for which he was to be taught
the responses, and the rudiments of grammar. His pro¬
gress in learning was so surprising, that at the age of four¬
teen he was thought qualified to begin his noviciate, and
was admitted the year following to make his profession.
, pursued his studies with such unwearied assiduity,
hat he was soon reckoned equal to the best disputants.
e was ordained priest in 1545, when he assumed the name
0 ather Montalto; soon afterwards he took his doctor’s de¬
gree, and was appointed professor of theology at Sienna. It
was then that he so effectually recommended himself to Sixtus V.
Cardinal Carpi, and his secretary Bossius, that they ever re-
mained his steady friends. Meanwhile the severity and ob¬
stinacy of his temper incessantly engaged him in disputes
with his monastic brethren. His reputation for eloquence,
which was now* spread about this time over Italy, gained
him some new friends. Amongst these were the Colonna
family, and father Ghisilieri, by whose recommendation he
was appointed inquisitor-general at Venice ; but he exer¬
cised that office with so much severity, that he wras obliged
to flee precipitately from that city. Upon this he went to
Rome, where he was made procurator-general of his order,
and soon afterwards accompanied Cardinal Buon Compag-
non into Spain, as a chaplain and consultor to the inquisi¬
tion. There he was treated with great respect, and liberal
offers were made to induce him to continue in Spain, which,
however, he could not be prevailed on to accept.
In the meantime news were brought to Madrid that Pius
IV. was dead, and that father Ghisilieri, who had been made
Cardinal Alexandrino by Paul IV. had succeeded him un¬
der the name of Pius V. These tidings filled Montalto
with joy, and not without reason, for he was immediately
invested by the pontiff with new dignities. He was made
general of his order, bishop of St. Agatha, soon afterwards
raised to the dignity of cardinal, and received a pension.
About this time he was employed by the pope to draw up
the bill of excommunication against queen Elizabeth.
He began now to cast his eyes upon the papacy; and, in
order to obtain it, formed and executed a plan of hypocrisy
with unparalleled constancy and success. He became humble,
patient, and affable. He changed his dress, his air, his
words, and his actions, so completely, that his most intimate
friends declared him a new man. Never was there such an
absolute victory gained over the passions ; never was a fic¬
titious character so long maintained, nor the foibles of hu¬
man nature so artfully concealed. He courted the ambas¬
sadors of every foreign powder, but attached himself to the
interests of none; nor did he accept a single favour that
would have laid him under any peculiar obligation. He
had formerly treated his relations with the greatest tender¬
ness, but he now changed his behaviour altogether. When
his brother Anthony came to visit him, he lodged him in an
inn, and sent him home next day, charging him to inform
his family that he was now dead to his relations and the
world.
When Pius V. died in 1572, he entered the conclave
with the other cardinals, but seemed altogether indifferent
about the election, and never left his apartments except to
his devotion. When solicited to join any party, he declin¬
ed it, declaring that he was of no consequence, and that he
would leave the choice of a pope entirely to persons of
greater knowledge and experience. When Cardinal Buon
Compagnon, who assumed the name of Gregory XIII. was
elected, Montalto assured him that he never wished for any
thing so much in his life, and that he would always remem¬
ber his goodness, and the favours he had conferred on him
in Spain. But the hew pope treated him with the greatest
contempt, and deprived him of his pension. The cardinals
also, deceived by his artifices, paid him no greater respect,
and used to call him, by way of ridicule, the Roman beast,
the ass of La Marca.
He now assumed all the infirmities of old age ; his head
hung down upon his shoulders; he tottered as he w alked,
and supported himself on a staff. His voice became feeble,
and was often interrupted by a cough so exceedingly se¬
vere, that it seemed every moment to threaten his dissolu¬
tion. He interfered in no public transactions, but spent
his whole time in acts of devotion and benevolence. Mean
time he constantly employed the ablest spies, who brought
him intelligence of every particular.
When Gregory XIII. died in 1585, he entered the con-
372
S I X
Sixtus V. clave with the greatest reluctance, and immediately shut
'himself up in his chamber, and was no more thought ot
than if he had not existed. When he went to mass, tor
which purpose alone he left his apartment, he appeared per¬
fectly indifferent about the event of the election. He
ioined no party, yet flattered all. . . . ,
J He knew early that there would be great divisions in the
conclave, and he was aware that when the leaders ot the
ditferent parties were disappointed m their own views, t iey
all frequently agreed in the election of some old and inhrm
cardinal, the length of whose life would merely enable them
to prepare themselves sufficiently for the next vacancy.
These views directed his conduct, nor was he mistaken in
his hopes of success. . . , . „
Three cardinals, the leaders of opposite factions, bei g
unable to procure the election which each of them wished
unanimously agreed to make choice of Montalto. \\ hen
they came to acquaint him with their intention, he fell into
such a violent tit of coughing, that every person thought he
would expire on the spot. He told them that his reign
would last but a few days ; that, besides a continual diffi¬
culty in breathing, he wanted strength to support such a
weight, and that his small experience rendered him very
unfit for so important a charge. He conjured themallthree
not to abandon him, but to take the whole weight of aftairs
upon their own shoulders; and declared that he would never
accept the mitre upon any other terms. “ It you areresoU-
ed,” added he, “ to make me pope, it will on Y be placing
yourselves on the throne. For my part, I shall be satisfied
with the bare title. Let the world call me pope, and I make
you heartily welcome to the power and authority. me
cardinals swallowed the bait, and exerted themselves so ef¬
fectually that Montalto was elected. He now puked oit
the mask which he had worn for fourteen years. No sooner
was his election secured, than he started from his seat, flung
down his staff in the middle of the hall, and appeared al¬
most a foot taller than he had done for several years.
After his accession to the pontificate he sent for his ta-
milv to Rome, with express orders that they should appear
in a decent and modest manner. Accordingly his sister
Camilla came thither, accompanied by her daughter and
two grandchildren. Some cardinals, in order to pay court to
the pope, went out to meet her, and introduced her in a very
magnificent dress. Sixtus pretended not to know her, and
asked two or three times who she was. Upon this one ot
the cardinals said, “ It is your sister, holy father. I have
but one sister,” replied Sixtus with a frown, “ and she is a
poor woman at Le Grotte; if you have introduced her in
this disguise, I declare I do not know her ; yet I think I
would know her again, if I saw her in the clothes she used
to wear.” , _ .
Her conductors at last found it necessary to carry her to
an inn, and strip her of her finery. When Camilla was in¬
troduced a second time, Sixtus embraced her tenderly, and
said “Now we know indeed that it is our sister; nobody sha
make a princess of you but ourselves.” He stipulated with
his sister, that she should neither ask any favour in matters
of government, nor intercede for criminals, nor interfere in
the administration of justice ; declaring that every request
of that kind would meet with a certain refusal. Ihese
terms being agreed to, and punctually observed, he made
the most ample provision, not only for Camilla, but for his
whole relations. .
This great man was also an encourager of learning. He
caused an Italian translation of the Bible to be published,
which raised a good deal of discontent amongst the Catho¬
lics. When some cardinals reproached him for his con¬
duct in this respect, he replied, “ It was published for the
benefit of you cardinals who cannot read Latin.”
Sixtus died in 1590, after having reigned little more than
five years. His death was ascribed to poison, said to have
S I z
been administered by the Spaniards; but the story seems
rather improbable. It was to the indulgence of a deposi¬
tion naturally formed for severity, that all the defects of
tins wonderful man are to be ascribed. Clemency was a
stranger to his bosom; his punishments were often too
cruel, and seemed sometimes to border on revenge. But
though the conduct of Sixtus seldom excites love, it gene-
rallv commands our esteem, and sometimes our admiration.
He strenuously defended the cause of the poor, the widow,
and the orphan ; he never refused audience to the injured,
however wretched or forlorn their appearance was. He
never forgave those magistrates who were capable ot par¬
tiality or corruption; nor suffered crimes to pass unpunish¬
ed, whether committed by the rich or the poor. He was
frugal, temperate, sober, and never neglected to reward the
smallest favour which had been conferred on him before
his exaltation. When he mounted the throne, the treasury
was not only exhausted, but in debt; at his death it con¬
tained five millions of gold. Rome was indebted to him for
several of her greatest embellishments, particularly the Va¬
tican library ; it was by him, too, that trade was first intro¬
duced into the ecclesiastical state.
SIZAR, or Sizer, in Latin Sizator, an appellation by
which the lowest order of students in some universities are
distinguished, is derived from the word size, which has a
peculiar meaning. To size, in the language of the univer¬
sity, is to get any sort of victuals from the kitchens, which
the students may want in their own rooms, or in addition
to their commons in the hall, and for which they pay the
cooks or butchers at the end of each quarter. A size of
any thing is the smallest quantity of that thing which can
be thus bought; two sizes, or a part of beef, being nearly
equal to what a young person will eat of that di»h to his
dinner, and a size of ale or beer being equal to half an Eng¬
lish pint. In Oxford, the order similar to that of sizar is
denominated servitor, a name evidently derived from the
menial duties which they perform. The sizars are not up¬
on the foundation, and therefore whilst they continue sizars,
are not capable of being elected fellows; but they may at
any time, if they choose, become pensioners, and they ge¬
nerally sit for scholarships immediately before they take
their first degrees. If successful, they are then on the
foundation, and are entitled to become candidates for fel¬
lowships when they have got their degree. In the mean
time, whilst they continue sizars, besides free commons they
enjoy many benefactions, which have been made at differ¬
ent times, under the name of sizar's prretor, exhibitions,
and the like, and the rate of tuition, the rent of rooms, and
other things of that sort within their respective colleges, is
less than to the other orders. But though their education
is thus obtained at a less expence, they are not now con¬
sidered as a menial order; for sizars, pensioner-schotos,
and even sometimes fellow-commoners, mix together witn
the utmost cordiality. , c c. the
SIZE, the name of an instrument used for finding
bigness of fine round pearls. It consists of thin pieces o
leaves, about two inches in length, and half an in
breadth, fastened together at one end by a rivet, w ea
of these are round holes drilled of different d>ameters.
Those in the first leaf serve for measuring pearh tro
a grain to seven grains ; those of the second for p
eight grains or two carats to five carats; and those
thfrd, for pearls from six carats and a half to eight carats
and a half. . , , ,iep,i hv
Size, is also a sort of paint, varnish, or glue’ ^J
painters and others. The shreds and parings of eato
parchment, or vellum, being boiled in water and strayed,
make size. This substance is much used in many ^
The manner of using size is to melt some of it ...g. t
tie fire, and scraping as much whiting mt0 £ *s
colour it, let them be well incorporated together.
Sit
8:
SKA
S K E
373
ng dries, melt the size again, and put more whiting and whiten
the frames seven or eight times, letting it dry between each
e- time; but before it be quite dry, between each washing
wwith size, you must smooth and wet it over with a clean
brush-pencil in fair water.
SKATING, an exercise on ice, both graceful and heal¬
thy. Although the ancients were remarkable for their dex¬
terity in most of the athletic sports, yet skating seems to
have been unknown to them. It may therefore be consid¬
ered as a modern invention; and probably it derived its
origin in Holland, where it was practised not only as a grace¬
ful and elegant amusement, but as an expeditious mode of
travelling when the lakes and canals were frozen up during
winter. In Holland long journeys are made upon skates,
with ease and expedition ; but in general less attention is
there paid to graceful and elegant movements, than to
the expedition and celerity of what is called journey skat¬
ing. It is only in those countries where it is considered as
an amusement, that its graceful attitudes and movements
can be studied ; and there is no exercise whatever better
calculated to set off the human figure to advantage. The
acquirement of most exercises may be attained at an ad¬
vanced period of life ; but to become an expert skater, it is
necessary to begin the practice of the art at a very early
age. It is difficult to reduce the art of skating to a system.
It is principally by the imitation of a good skater that a
young practitioner can form his own practice. The Eng¬
lish, though often remarkable for feats of agility upon skates,
are very deficient in gracefulness, which is partly owing to
the construction of the skates. They are too much curved
in the surface which embraces the ice ; consequently they
'involuntarily bring the users of them round on the outside
upon a quick and small circle ; whereas the skater, by using
skates of a different construction, viz. less curved, has the
command of his stroke, and can enlarge or diminish the cir¬
cle according to his own wish and desire. The metropolis
of Scotland has produced more instances of elegant skaters
than perhaps any other country whatever; and the institu¬
tion of a skating club has contributed not a little to the im¬
provement of this elegant amusement.
SKELETON, in Anatomy, the dried bones of any ani¬
mal joined together by wires, or by the natural ligament
dried, in such a manner as to show their position when the
creature was alive.
In the Philosophical Transactions we have an account
of a human skeleton, all the bones of which were so united
as to make but one articulation from the back to the os sac¬
rum, and downwards a little way. On sawing some of them
where they were unnaturally joined, they were found not
to cohere throughout their whole substance, but only about
a sixth of an inch deep all round. The figure of the trunk
was crooked, the spinae making the convex, and the inside
of the vertebrae the concave part of the segment. The
whole had been found in a charnel-house, and was of the
size of a full-grown person.
SKENE, Sir John, a Scotish lawyer, was the second
son of James Skene of Ramore, and of Janet the second
daughter of Alexander Burnet of Leys. He thus derived
his lineage from the ancient family of Skene of Skene. We
may place his birth about the year 1540. He is said to
have been partly educated at King’s College, Aberdeen ;
but he is known to have been incorporated at St. Andrews
in the year 1556 ; and in this university he took the degree
of A.M. In 1564 and 1565 he taught as one of the regents
of St. Mary’s College. According to Dempster, he spent a
great part of his youth in Norway, Denmark, and Poland,
and had thus an opportunity of acquiring a familiar acquaint-'
ance with modern languages, as well as of extending his
knowledge of men and manners.1 Skene has incidentally
mentioned that he was in Switzerland in 1568, and that he
was at Cracow in Poland during the following year.2 He
has likewise stated that he returned home after a peregrin¬
ation of seven years, and that he returned from the famous
university of Wittemberg, honoured with an annual pen¬
sion from the elector of Saxony, and imbued with some
knowledge of the civil law. He appears to have begun his
travels in 1567, and to have returned in 1574.3 On re¬
visiting his native country, he finally made choice of the
legal profession, and was admitted as an advocate on the
19th of March 1575. He speedily acquired some degree
of distinction as a lawyer.
The earl of Morton, then regent of the kingdom, had
formed a plan for reducing the laws into a more easy form
and method. The execution of the plan was committed to
Skene and to Sir James Balfour, president of the court of
session. Among other ostensible coadjutors, we find Lord
Glammis, chancellor, Lord Ruthven, and William Baillie of
Provand, who likewise attained to the dignity of president.
The only result of this commission is supposed to have been
the compilation of a book which passes under the title of
Sir James Balfour’s Practicks. “ If I might be allowed to
indulge in conjecture,” says Mr. Thomson, “ I should be in¬
clined to suppose, that the conception or project of this di¬
gest of the laws may have originated with Balfour; that his
own exile afterwards precluded him from continuing to take
any part in its execution ; that the active drudgery of the
proposed investigation was devolved upon younger men;
and that the unfinished result of their labours is perhaps no
other than the volume of Practicks to which the name of
Sir James Balfour has been traditionally annexed.”4 It is
at least evident that the work must have been interpolat¬
ed ; for, as Lord Hailes has remarked, it mentions certain
acts of parliament, and the names of certain peers, that did
not exist till after the death of Balfour. Of this compila¬
tion, which was not printed till 1754, the value has never
been highly estimated. The labours of Skene, whatever
may have been their nature or extent, were, on the 10th of
June 1577, rewarded by the grant of an annual pension of
“ ten chalders of meal,” payable out of the revenues of the
abbey of Aberbrothock.
In the year 1589 he was employed in another capacity.
Sir James Melville was selected by the king as his ambas¬
sador to the court of Denmark, for the purpose of negoci-
ating a marriage with a Danish princess ; and he required
the advice and assistance of a lawyer, with a special refer¬
ence to the Danish claims on Orkney. “ When I schew
his maieste,” says Melville, “ that I wald tak with me, for
man of law, Mester Jhon Skein, his maieste thocht then
that ther wer many better lawers. I said that he was best
acquanted with the conditions of the Germanes, and culd
mak them lang harangues in Latin, and was a gud trew
stout man, lyk a Dutche man. Then his maieste was con¬
tent that he suld ga ther with me.”5 Melville was however
supplanted, and the Earl Marischal having been placed at
the head of the embassy, Skene accompanied him to Den¬
mark. Dr. Craig, physician to the king, addressed a letter
to Tycho Brahe, recommending to his friendly attentions
Skene, Swinton, Nicolson, and Fowler, who were all at¬
tached to this mission,
In the course of the same year, Skene was conjoined
3 T et”Ps!jeri. Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Scotorum, p. 600. 2 Skene de Verborum Signifioatione, vv. Menetum and Pede-pulverosus.
n the dedication prefixed to Regiatn Majestatem, Skene expresses himself thus : “ Annus jam agitur tricesimus quintus, cum Dei
^ene cio, post septem annorum peregrinationem, ex inclyta Academia Witebergensi (quae est in Germania, sedes et domicilium bonaruin
rr, .arjm!' Augusti Ducis et Electoris Saxoniae annua pensione honoratus, et qualicunque juris civilis cognitione imbutus, domum redii.”
i ms dedication was printed in the year 1609.
ourth Annual Report of the Deputy Clerk Register, p. 21.
Skene.
9 Melville’s Memoirs, p. 366. Edinb. 1827, 4to.
374
Skene.
SKENE.
with David Maksill for executing the office of his majes- manniciauctoritate confirmatis illustrate^&c. Edinh.1609,
•^advocate ; a^d in i590 he ^--ated with^.one, ^ ^^'^j^^J^t'^^peeddyof^cca-'
rhl^e^Kr^^ SS“ltrans,rd out of Ladne in Scottish iang^
SeJta^Gcnef >" >^ P"n\t°of
-d th4 C r“ol Tinstitut! a o-eneral examination of John Skene of Curriehill, Clerk of our Soveraigne Lordis
^muSaUaws to consider what laws and acts should Register, Counsell, and Rollis. avherevnto are adjoined
the municipal laws, to cons necessary twa Treatises, the ane anent the Order of Proces observed
be known to the s^Th^most laborious part before the Lords of Counsell and Session; the other of
^W^atTupoJsLreTSTr^n interval Crinte, and Judges in Crintinal Causes.” Edinb. 1609,
of five years, he PJll*sl'«'‘‘ ^p.'^^nd'hifsTCcessom, ° The labours of Sir John Skene were highly valued by
hament maid be king la extracted furth his contemporaries, who must have found them useful at
”nd EZb.di5C"aan 15" Ac- a pSed wPhen so’ little had been effected for illustrating
cordine t^our present mode of reckoning, the book was either the principles or the history of our law. It is no
nublished in thePyear 1598. With a separate title, it in- however to be concealed that his publications are deficient
chides a treatise ‘CDe Verborum Significatione. The Ex- in critical accuracy, and even m editorial fidelity. It is
nosition of the Termes and difficill Wordes, conteined in well known that the treatise “ De Legibus et Consuetu-
the fovre bvikes of Regiam Majestatem, and vthers, in the dinibus Regni Anglic ” commonly ascribed to Glanville,
Actes of Parliament, Infeftments, aud vsed in practicque of was at an early period adopted in Scotland, wit a few
wTth diuerse rules and common places, or changes and modifications ; and that, under this new form
nr ncfpalT’of hel awes: collected and expound be M. it bears the title of Majestatem, from the imt.al
Tohn PSkene Clerke of our Soveraine Lordis Register, words of the prologue. Ranu ph Glanville was chief juj
lohn Skene, ^nce oi ou & tice of Engiand during the reign of Henry the Second,
C0TUnnCsfntember 1594 he had been appointed to the office and he still retained his office when Richard succeeded to
of ClerkPRegister, in the room of Alexander Hay of Easter the throne.6 Sir Mathew Hide has remarked that although
K’pnnct whom he also succeeded as one of the Judges of it perhaps was not written by him, yet it seems to have
the Court of Session. He was admitted on the 30th of been wholly written at that time. According to t e ti e
November. For^s preferment he is said to have been in- of the book, it was composed in the time of Henry the
debted to the influence of Walter Stewart, prior of Blan- Second, “justiciae gubernacula tenente illustn
fvrp who had married a sister of Skene’s wife, Helen the ulpho de Glanvilla an inscription which by no means de-
dlughter o^ Sk James Somerville of CambusUan. In Jibes the chief justice as the author. From these word,
1 5qfi he was nominated one of the commissioners of the says Lord Lyttelton, I infer that the book was not writte y
exchequer, commonly described as the Octavians ; but be- Glanville himself, “but by some clergyman, under his direc-
fnfvlewed by the people as a dangerous junto, they re- tion and care ; I say clergyman, because it is written m La-
1 inn wished their office in the course of the following year, tin, which could hardly be done but by a clergyman o
Tn^lfi04 he was associated with other commissioners for age.”8 Sir Thomas Craig easily discerned that t e origin
dlS- the ermsofa union between the two king- work was not Scotish but Eng fish.’ Skene was however
discussing tne reirns u ° anxious to exhibit Regiam Majestatem as the original, and
Th’nt the beirinnin"- of the year 1607 he had prepared to represent it as having been composed and divulged by
another^work^fmr^tlie^press; ami “the meanness of his the authority of David the First, who closed his reign in
estaite and fortune not answerand to his witt, ingyne, and the year 1153. From what manuscripts he derive us ,
literature,” the privy council, after having examined it, ad- he has not thought proper to specify ; bu seve a
dressed a letterto the king, requesting him to provide the be found which contain a reference to ^"vifie tyname.
mean* for its publication.4 His manuscript was afterwards Henry, under whom he acted as chief justice, i
presented to parliament, and having been highly approved, gin his reign till the year 154. L°rd ^marty s MS.
was ordered to be printed. With the view of defraying the contains references to the gloss on the Decret_
expense^ and procuring some remuneration to the editor, a gory IX. and to the Decretals of Boniface VIII. > The
sum of money was ordered to be paid by the sheriffs, bailies, pontificate of Gregory extended from 1227 t ’
stewardTand other judges, and likewise by the prelates, of Boniface from 1294 to 1303. It is sufficiently evident
earls, lords, and boroughs of the kingdom. A commission
was appointed for the purpose of fixing the rate of the dif¬
ferent contributions. James Carmichael, minister of Had- aware
dington, was selected as the fittest person for correcting
the press; and on the 13th of October 1608, the privy
council requested the presbytery to grant him leave of ab¬
sence for the period of about two months.5 This period
ot J5onitace rrom ^   j -
that a writer in the reign of David could not quote such
authorities. Of this circumstance Skene was sufficient y
aware ; and the passages which refer to Glanville and the
canon law are silently excluded from his edition, this
is not merely a defect in literary accuracy; it is a wan
of that ordinary fidelity which every editor is bound to
exercise. If he had excluded such passages from tne
apnrp for the nenou ot aoout two monins. inis peuuu exeiciae. ii      r
must however have been too short for correcting one half text, and stated in the notes his reasons for rejec in^ ^
of the work. It was at length published, under the title of as spurious, his conduct would not have bee
‘‘Regiam Majestatem. Scotiae veteres Leges et Constituti- censure. , x u wame anxious
ones, ex Archivis publicis et antiquis libris manuscriptis Having reached an advanced age, he be Re.
collectse, recognitae, et notis juris civilis, canonici, Nort- to secure for his eldest son James the office
* Moysie’s Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland, p. 84. Edinb. 1830, 4to. „ „ , , ....
* Maidmenfs Analecta Scotica, vol. i. p. SI. 3 Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland, vol. m. p-
4 Brunton and Haig’s Historical Account of the Senators of the College.of Justice, p. 232. R • xxxix.
3 M’Crie’s Life of Melville, vol. ii. p. 318- 6 See Sir Francis Palgrave’s Introduction to the Ilotuli Curiae negis, i
t Hale’s History of the Common Law of England, p. 138. .
* Lyttelton’s Hist, of Henry II. vol. ii. p. 267. ...... f ? Cr.ag» JnsFeudale,p.5I. __ ^ ^
10 See Lord Hailes’s Examination of some of the Arguments for the high Antiquity of Regiam Majestatem, p. 7.
S K E
S K E
Skew
Bridge.
giSlen but his attempt was defeated by the dexterity of Skein, teatche Cicero de Legibus, and diuerss partes of
- Sir fhomas Hamilton, afterwards successively earl of Mel- the Institutiones of Justinian® I was burdet in the house
„ffi "g « T n8,,'0 ef}is S0" pr0' of am‘‘"»fi^‘‘''erieg,.id honest man, AndroGreine be—r-
vided to his office, says Spotswood, he “ nad sent him to nam, wha louit me exceiding weill, whase wyff also was an
court with ad,mission of the place, but with a charge not of my mothers [freinds]: I am sure sche haid noclftsone
to use ft, unless he found the king willing to admit him: nor bern sche ioued better. This lawier tuk me to the
yet he, abused by some politick wits, made a resignation of eonsistorie with him, whar the comissar wald tok pleasour
the office, acceptmg an ordinary place among the Lords of to schaw ws the practise in judgment of *“0^ he
Session. JlM office upon h,s resignation was presently teatched in the scholles. He ias a man of skill and guid
conscience in his calling, lernit and diligent in his profes¬
sion, and tuk delyt in na thing mair nor to repeat ower
and ower again to anie schollar that wald ask him the
things he haid bein teatching.”5 (x.)
SKEW Bridge. Square arches, or those which stand at General
right angles to their abutments, and exert their thrust inobserva-
that direction, have been already treated at considerable tions.
length under the article Bridge. Till lately, any other
form of arch was rarely to be met with. But there are cases
of frequent occurrence, in which various sorts of passages
ke deceased.”1 Grirf however" is "selifeni" so "rapidly thtob
SeTeTfMr®r6in7.theyear 1612’andhcsu"ived Sw'iffi crr'‘iasqrre
Altlial period the legul profession not unfrequently the lower passag^quitedeS, a dSlerent form of areh^plS
obliquely to the abutments, and yet exerting its thrust in
the direction of the upper passage, is almost the only prac¬
ticable alternative. Such a structure is called a skew bridge,
and is very frequently required since the more general in¬
troduction of railways, in which it is of great consequence
to preserve as direct or straight a line as possible. Nay, it
is not uncommon for a railway to have to traverse districts
in which it may neither be allowable nor practicable to use
any means of avoiding the obliquity with which it may have
to cross canals, roads, &c.; its course being so much con¬
trolled by conflicting interests, and by the natural features
of the country.
altered, to pass uninterruptedly under it; or, it must be
built stretching at right angles to the lower passage, and
having its embankments and abutments so much extended,
that the whole structure may both stand securely, and fur¬
nish sufficient area above for the upper passage to continue
its oblique course oyer it unaltered. An arch partaking of
both these forms might, it is true, be employed; but to such
expedients, a proper skew bridge is in general greatly pre¬
ferable, and is indeed sometimes the only allowable form of
was likewise an advorate and aTlu\wUC ^ const,;uction that wil1 serve the purpose required. As for
bis wi comrsSv of S, aPITntly altJera,i°n t0 be n,ade in the originarcour/esof canalSf&c;
lessor of law in that university ^f his T t PT f,"' 6Ven were,there no snch restrictions, the diversion of
ings we find an a^ the courses might be attended with great expense, and might
P»pil, who relinquished the study of kw fnr fW nf S £CCaJ0n ™uch .^convenience to the traffic. The wide or
vinity. “In the thrid and fonrt Zir * f f ‘ ^ broa^ ar1ch aSain> 18 a most unscientific mode of overcom-
direction of my fetherflliM-d'th^comissar MrWl ^ ,Ro0m for ity with the requisite embank-
couia nota!waysji^hatkanditwouid,besides,great-
E",uiry iu“s“ive °f ,he ms
375
     ~ * was [Jicstiniy
disponed to the advocate ; which grieved the father be¬
yond all measure. And the case indeed was pitiful, and
much regrated by all honest men; for he had been a man
much employed, and honoured with divers legations, which
he discharged with good credit, and now in age to be cir¬
cumvented in this sort by the simplicity or folly of his son,
’twas held lamentable. The king being informed of the
abuse by the old mans complaint, was very careful to
satisfie him, and to have the son reconciled to his father,
which after some travel was brought to pass: yet so ex¬
ceeding was the old man’s discontent, as within a few days
—   L    umi cijutiiiuy
opened the road to emoluments and wealth comparatively
great. He acquired the demesnes of Curriehill and Red-
hall in the county of Edinburgh, and Edinganoch in the
county of Aberdeen. His title on the bench w'as Lord
Curriehill. His son Sir James Skene succeeded him on
the 12th of June 1612, and became president of the Court
of Session on the 14th of February 1626. On the 15th
of October 1633, he died in his own house near the gram¬
mar school. The second son, named John, was appointed
one of the principal clerks of Session in 1614. He purchased
the estate of Hallyards. About twenty years ago, his last
descendant, Elizabeth Skene, bequeathed to the Advocates
Library a collection of family papers, together with a very
Curious rvf* —U* U   . i
j r——— xtxi. Agamicy, wiiu nas aucieu a
copious and elaborate introduction, together with notes
and illustrations.2 Alexander, the third son of Sir John
Skene, was clerk of the registration of hornings. Beside
these three sons, he had four daughters. The eldest
daughter became the wife of Alexander Hay of Fosterseat,
a judge and privy councillor. The second daughter was
married to Sir William Scott of Ardross; the third to
Robert Lermont, advocate, brother to Lermont of Bal-
comy; and the fourth to Sir Robert Richardson of Pen-
caitland.3
The clerk register had a brother named Alexander, who
Cowper’sACrn.,nt V;f «- T L C rauney’±jSqMi‘-S’A-Scot- Edinb. 1838,4to. ^ '
aecnmit Robert the TJf" John^Cotper o'Gova/’diidtt B^b T ^ Prerd,eCe^or? aild Successors, MS. The author of this
‘ f Cue’s Life of Andrew Melville, voL i n. ?13 Balberton near Edinburgh in 1726, in the ninetieth year of his age.
Th rueed t0 avoid interruptions and accidents it is alwavscWir hi fh Thaiy of James Melville, p. 23. Edinb. 1829, 4to.
Tbe hke may be said of cJ beSdesCannot wXnt sn^ k- ? T Cr0SS’a^w!th a railway sl>ould take place on different levels.
*nd m fact ^n only be crossed quite on the same level! kind °f moveable bndSe8>be crossed closely above by any sort of road,
quite the same level by some water course; not to say any thing of fording or wading through them.
376
S K E
S K E
Skew lv increase the expense, owing to the necessity of construct-
Bridge. ing a bridge of much larger dimensions than would be re-
quired were a proper oblique arch introduced, which, from
its exerting its thrust in the most advantageous direction,
is stronger than any other of the same magnitude, h or,
besides endeavouring to preserve a certain degree o equi
librium amongst the several parts of an arch, it is consider¬
ed still more necessary to the insuring the greatest strength,
especially where the span is considerable, and the up¬
per passage narrow, that the beds of the courses o e
stones should be everywhere at right angles, both to the
soffit or under surface of the arch, and also to every ver¬
tical plane running in the direction of the roador other pas¬
sage carried over the bridge. There is no difficulty in tu -
filling or combining these conditions in a square bridge, bu
it is very different with the oblique sort.
The screw Writers on the theory of bridges for the most part say
thread arch nothing of the oblique arch; and the few who do mention
it, generally content themselves with slurring it over in sue
brief, vague, or general terms, as to he nearly unintellig¬
ible. Those again who have professedly drawn up, what they
reckon practical rules for workmen, have, for the most part,
tacitly assumed it as perfectly ascertained and indisputab e,
that the conditions above mentioned may, with only a little
more labour, be equally well attained in the case of the o -
lique, as in that of the square bridge, by merely making the
courses of the stones to form portions of the thread of a
square threaded screw, or rather, perhaps, of a thread some-
what of the dovetailed form; the highest part of each thread,
or that on the crown of the arch, being at right angles to
the direction of the road. Such, in particular is the doc¬
trine laid down by Mr. Nicholson, and also by Mr. Fox, and
it is not a little amusing, that the honour of inventing this sup¬
posed valuable theory has been warmly disputed between
these gentlemen, or at least their friends. When the soffit
is to be a cylindrical surface, the side of the screw-thread
may, it is true, be readily formed so as to be everywhere at
rio-ht angles to the soffit; and, as all the beds of the courses of
the stones would have the same curvature, the stones might
be conveniently prepared beforehand, which is a great re¬
commendation to the scheme. But unfortunately, the other,
and by far the more important condition of the two, name¬
ly to have the beds of the courses everywhere at right
angles to the direction of the upper passage, can by no
means be accurately fulfilled by the figure of the screw ; for
no two parallel planes can both of them cut the same thread
of the screw at right angles, if they intercept a less portion
of it than a revolution, so that a thread which has the pro-
Its defects, per position or direction at the crown of the arch, can have
it at no other point; its direction on the one side of the
. crown being too much inclined to the course of the undei
passage, whilst, on the other side, it is too little inclined.
However, although it thus appears that the principle of
the screw thread cannot well serve the purpose of the skew
bridge, especially when the obliquity is great; yet there
can be no question that the beds of the courses of the
stones might always be formed with such a curvature as
would make them very nearly fulfil both the conditions
above specified; but as the several parts of this curved sur¬
face, if different from that of a screw, would necessarily be
far from being uniform, the stones, owing to their requiring
to be of so many different shapes, could not, without im¬
mense labour of measurements, drawings, and innumerable
patterns, be prepared beforehand; and, therefore, most pro-
bablv, the easiest way of putting such a scheme in practice,
would be to prepare the stones no faster than they are re¬
quired in building, and then it would be easy to form each Sb
stone in such a manner, that two of its opposite sides, orat Brid;
least the middle parts of these sides, should be as nearly as.
possible at right angles, both to the soffit, and also to the
direction of the passage over the bridge. In this way ot
working, the soffit need not be restricted to the cylindrical
form, because it may suit equally well though ot a very
different figure. We are aware, that something similar to
the method just mentioned has been already acted on, and
has also been heartily ridiculed as unscientific and unsys¬
tematic; but it will be quite in time to condemn it when
once a better shall have been substituted in its s^ead: for,
most assuredly, if closely followed up, it should form an
incomparably more perfect structure than that with the
screw thread. The like remarks are equally applicable
when the material is brick.
Some bridges may be said to consist generally ot a plat¬
form supported by a set of curved iron ribs, which either
abut like a stone arch against the piers, or, if the curvature
be small, and especially if there be nothing to abut against,
each rib has its extremities connected and kept from spread¬
ing, by a straight rod crossing the span underneath. Ribs
of this last construction are often used as beams for sup¬
porting floors in large buildings; for, being in effect beams
of great depth, they only rest or press downwards upon the
piers or walls supporting them, and so have no horizontal
thrust. Curved iron ribs, whether with or without the rods,
are equally applicable to the oblique as to the square arch,
since each rib may always be placed in a plane, which is
both vertical, and runs in the direction of the upper pas¬
sage. The horizontal rods, though generally of unneces¬
sarily great strength throughout the most part of their length,
are commonly rendered very weak near their extremities,
owing to their either being very needlessly pierced with
large holes near the ends, or by being very much reduced
there, for the purpose of being formed into a screw. Com¬
mon sense, one would think, could not fad to hint to even
the most inexperienced, that to resist a longitudinal pull,
there is no use in having one part of the rod stronger than
another; because one weak part will render it as likely to
fail, as if the whole were equally weak. Neither is it ne¬
cessary that such rods should be stronger at the middle to
sustain their own weight, since they are commonly sus¬
pended there by a vertical strap. . , L e nn
It is evident that the opposite horizontal thrusts of an
arch, formed of any other materials as well as iron, mig ,
in a similar manner, be made to annihilate or counteract each
other by means of horizontal rods beneath, so that a com¬
mon square arch, having the thrusts obviated in this way
could be used instead of a skew bridge, wherever there
sufficient head-room for the horizontal rods, and hkewi
space for carrying out a mere wall as far as wil s(luare
faces of the arch, and support its weight at the ^pro¬
jecting corners; no additional embankment being i q
where there is no thrust. , •ti1.
An elegant mode of constructing arches of brick, wii Mfi
out requiring the aid of anything like ordinary centring on 1
the great scL, has been introduced by Mr. Bnmel, and ■« J
equally applicable to the oblique as to the square b g
The principle of this, as originally adopted, and i
ficiency tested in constructing the shaft of the a
Tunnel, depends on the cohesive Power for
coupled with a system of ties, the most ehgib e nia g
which Mr. Brunei found to be hoop iron. After the
have been constructed in the usual manner, a ra0»lu> , d
according to the figure of the arch, is fixed to, and s
0f.‘s« pSCpfaTM^XelT April 1836, January and March 1837, and Reports of British Association for 1638.
Mr; ?en:
kmi fed
arcli
S K E
between these piers, and upon this a narrow arch or rib of
brick is carried over and keyed, using cement, with the oc-
^casional insertion of ties. The adhesion of the cement to
the brick being greater than the cohesion of the brick itself,
enables the rib to be carried to any extent of which the
strength of the material will admit. When once a sufficient
number of such ribs have been successively constructed,
side by side, like so many beams stretched between the
piers, they will be in a state to receive and support all the
other materials necessary to complete the structure.
The bridge of the Santissima Trinita at Florence, though
of ruble construction, affords a magnificent example of the
strength of cementitious architecture, and of the durability
of the materials; the arches being composed of a mass of
irregular stones so strongly united by mortar, as to have
the consistence of a single stone. It is evidently a matter
of perfect indifference whether such arches were square or
oblique. A very ancient bridge, said to have been built
by the Romans, over the Danube at Ratisbon, has wonder¬
fully resisted the ravages of time. It consists of gray
freestone and thin bricks, firmly united by pozzolano ce¬
ment.
s On several lines of railway, an ingenious mode of con¬
structing arches of laminated ribs of wood or iron has been
introduced by Mr. Green, and is alike applicable to the
oblique as to the square arch. At the Ouseburn, close to
the east side of the town of Newcastle, is one of the great
viaducts constructed in this manner by Mr. Green, on the
Shields railway. The piers and abutments are of stone,
with large projecting buttresses on each side, whilst the
arches, which are circular, are of Memel timber. Each
arch is one hundred and sixteen feet in span, and consists
of three separate and parallel curved ribs, and each rib,
which is four feet in depth by twenty-two inches in thick¬
ness, is composed of sixteen layers of three-inch planks la¬
minating over each other, and these again, whilst being bent
over a curved frame or centre into the form of the re¬
quired arch, were firmly fixed together by means of oaken
pins and iron straps. The three ribs of each arch are con¬
nected by diagonal braces, and their ends rest in large iron
sockets fixed on the stone piers or abutments. From the
upper sides of the ribs a series of very strong struts, braces,
and framing, bound with iron straps and bolts, is carried up,
filling the spandrils, to support the platform or roadway,
which is formed of longitudinal beams; these again are
covered with three-inch planks to carry the rails. Hitherto
almost all wooden bridges had been constructed of straight
timbers, upon the same principles as are used in roofing;
and on account of the shrinkage from the frequent joggles
and the weight of the structure, the roadway and framing
generally became bent or crippled. But the ribs constructed
by Mr. Green make a very close approach to solid pieces of
timber. Their strength is very little impaired by the joining
of the planks, which are from twenty to forty-five feet in
length by eleven inches in breadth; particularly since great
care has been taken that no two junctions of their ends
might occur at the same place. In forming a rib, the first
layer of planks consists of two whole deals in breadth, and
the next of one whole and two half deals, and so on alter¬
nately, until the rib is completed. This construction is sup¬
posed to be better able to resist the load which it may have
to bear at a given point, than can be done by the same
quantity of materials in a different form. The struts which
discharge the weight from the spandril beams upon the ribs,
s an at right angles to the latter, and divide them into
equal parts. The strength, durability, and beauty, can only
ne exceeded by arches of stone. The whole of the timber
vvas subjected to Kyan’s process, and between every two
ems was introduced a layer of brown paper dipped in tar,
o exclude moisture. The bridge across the Ouseburn has
ve wooden arches of one hundred and sixteen feet span,
vol. xx. r
SKI
377
and four of stone of forty-three feet span. Each of the Skinner,
wooden arches required three centres, which were made so’
light as to admit of being shifted from one arch to another
without being taken to pieces. The total length of this
bridge is nine hundred and fifty feet, and greatest height
one hundred and eight feet. At Willington, four miles
farther east, on the same railway, is a still longer bridge of
the same construction.
Mr. Green has applied the same principle to the con ¬
struction of iron bridges with laminated ribs of that metal.
Wrought iron bars from T5 to 4 inches square, according
to the span of the arch, and from fifteen to twenty-five feet in
length, grooved on the under, and tongued on the upper
side, are laid one over another, and bent over a centre until
the rib is formed. The bars are bound together with iron
straps at intervals of from four to six feet apart. A con¬
siderable saving of expense, and great lightness, as com¬
pared with stone or ordinary iron bridges, may thus be at¬
tained. *
SKINNER, John, a poet and theologian, was born at
Balfour in the parish of Birse and county of Aberdeen, on
the third day of October 1721. His father, who bore the
same name, was master of the parochial school, and had
married Jane the widow of Donald Farquharson, Esq. of
Balfour, grandfather to the late Dr. Farquharson of Edin¬
burgh. The mother, whose maiden name was Gillanders,
died about two years after the birth of this their only son;
and Mr. Skinner afterwards removed to the parish of Echt,
at the distance of about twelve miles from Aberdeen. Here
he continued for fifty years to discharge the duties of a
schoolmaster, “ to the entire satisfaction of many persons
of distinction, whose sons were entrusted to his care and
tuition; and so great was his diligence in the line of his
profession, that he fitted out more young men for the uni¬
versity, than most country schoolmasters of his day.” After
having continued a widower for several years, he contract¬
ed a second marriage, and had a numerous family. His
youngest son, Mr. James Skinner, a solicitor of Edinburgh,
still survives, and has reached a very advanced age.
For the rudiments of learning, John was indebted to his
father’s school, where he made rapid progress in the acqui¬
sition of the Latin language. At the early age of thir¬
teen, he was emboldened to present himself at the annual
competition in Marischal College $ and there he gained a
considerable bursary, or exhibition, which served to defray
a great proportion of his expenses during the four years of
his academical course. After the completion of this period,
he was for a few months employed as a teacher in Kemnay
school; from which he transferred his services to the ad¬
joining parish of Monymusk, as an assistant to the school¬
master. Lady Grant, admiring some of his poetical effu¬
sions in the Scotish dialect, “ was pleased to encourage his
i ustic muse, by affording him in the house of Monymusk
every accommodation for prosecuting his studies, and im¬
proving his mind in the attainment of useful learning.
Here it was, that enjoying the conversation, and the bene¬
fit of reading under the direction of a worthy episcopal
clergyman in that neighbourhood, he became a convert to
the principles of episcopacy, and united himself to the
venerable remains of the old established church of Scot-
land.” This venerable church was, at that period, chiefly
distinguished by a narrow bigotry in politics, as well as re¬
ligion. In the month of June 1740, he became tutor to
the only son of Mr. Sinclair of Scalloway, a gentleman of
considerable property in Zetland. Here he only resided
for about twelve months, the death of his pupil’s father
having occasioned another arrangement. He honoured
his memory by an English elegy and a Latin epitaph, both
of which were printed by Ruddiman. Here he became
intimately acquainted with Mr. Hunter, the only episcopal
clergyman in those islands, who not only assisted him in
3 B
378
Skinner.
S K I
his theological studies, but likewise bestowed upon him
the hand of his eldest daughter; “ and with her the best
of all earthly blessings, a sweetly soothing affectionate wife,
who was his dear companion, and ministered tenderly to
all his wants, for the uncommon space of fifty-eight years.
This marriage must have taken place when he had scarcely
attained the twentieth year of his age.
Having now returned to Aberdeenshire, and made some
further preparation, he received ordination from Bishop
Dunbar, who resided at Peterhead. In November 1742
he fixed his residence at Linshart in the parish of Long-
side, as minister of a congregation which his biographer
describes as large and respectable.1 It is not however to
be supposed that his stipend was very ample. 1 he rebel¬
lion, which ensued in 1745, exposed him to no small an¬
noyance. The episcopal clergy were very generally disaf¬
fected to the existing government, and many of them were
subjected to useless severities. On returning home one
evening, Mr. Skinner “ found his house in the possession
of a military party; some of them guarding the dooi with
fixed bayonets, and others searching the several apart¬
ments, even the bedchamber where Mrs. Skinner was ly¬
ing-in of her fifth child, and little able to bear such a rude
unseasonable visit. No lenity was to be looked for from
such unfeeling visitors, who pillaged the house of every
thing they could carry with them, hardly leaving a change
of linen to father, mother, or child in the family. The
chapel with all its furniture was destroyed; and for seve¬
ral years the congregation could find no place to meet in
for public worship but the clergyman’s house, which not
being sufficiently large, many of them were obliged to
stand in the open air, during divine service.’ Of this
miserable species of persecution, it is not easy to devise
any plausible justification. The episcopalians ot Longside,
even if we suppose all of them to have been the most de¬
cided Jacobites, certainly could not convert their chapel
to any political or military purpose; nor is it very obvious
how this mode of treatment could have any tendency to
increase their attachment to the reigning family. With
the view of preventing his flock from being scattered from
the true fold, he now prepared a small tract, entitled “ A
Preservative against Presbytery,” which was printed in the
year 1746.
In the course of the same year, an act of parliament en¬
joined the episcopal clergy to register their letters of orders
before the first day of September ; after which date, it was
provided that none should be admitted for registration, ex¬
cept such as had been obtained from a bishop of the church
of England or of Ireland. And another act, passed two
years afterwards, declared that no letters of orders, unless
such as were granted by bishops of those churches, should
after the 29th of September be sufficient to qualify any
minister of an episcopalian meeting. From such vexatious
and unavailing regulations as these, many hardships must
have resulted, and Skinner seems to have experienced his
full share. In 1753 he was apprehended under the au¬
thority of a warrant from the sheriff-substitute of the coun¬
ty ; nor did he hesitate to make a voluntary confession
that he had violated the recent act, by officiating as a cler¬
gyman to more than four persons, beside the members of
his own family. For this offence he was sentenced to six
months imprisonment. His wife, with her six children,
were in the mean time kindly treated by the good people
of Longside. The solitude of his prison was enlivened by
S K I
the visits of some faithful friends, to whom he was likewise Skt
indebted for a liberal supply of books. His literary ardour >-**
did not suffer any abatement; and he frequently declared
that no six months of his life had ever passed with so little
interruption to his studies and improvement. In the exer¬
cise of his poetical talents he found a pleasing recreation,
but his attention was chiefly directed to more serious pur¬
suits.
For several years he had devoted much of his leisure to
the study of the Hebrew language; and during his prison
hours he formed the design of his Dissertation on the
Shechinah, which appeared amongst his posthumous works.
In the year 1757 he published at London “ A Dissertation
on Jacob’s Prophecy, Genesis xix. 10.” According to his
interpretation, this prophecy denotes “ that the tribeship
should not depart from Judah, nor a typifer from between
his feet, or from among his descendants, till Shiloh (the
Messiah) should come, and till the gathering of the people
should be to him.” This explanation, w^e are informed,
was highly approved by Bishop Sherlock, and by other
biblical critics of acknowledged eminence. Flis next work
was of a different denomination. Mr. Sievwright, an epis¬
copal minister of Brechin, published a sornewhat curious
volume, exposing the principles and practices of his non-
juring brethren.2 It appeared in 1767, and Mr. Skinner
soon afterwards published, but without his name, “ A Let¬
ter to Norman Sievwright, M.A., in Vindication of the
Episcopal Clergy of Scotland from his Charge of Innova¬
tions in Politics and Religion.” Of his next publication,
neither the date nor the precise title is mentioned by his
biographer. It however assumed the form of an answer
to an Enquiry into the Powers of Ecclesiastics, on the
Principles of Scripture and Reason, written by the Rev.
Thomas Gordon, minister of Spey mouth.
This was followed by a more elaborate work, “ An Ec¬
clesiastical History of Scotland, from the first appeaiance
of Christianity in that kingdom, to the present time: with
remarks on the most important occurrences. In a Series
of Letters to a Friend.” Lend. 1788, 2 vols. 8vo. Pre¬
fixed is a dedication, in Latin verse, to his son the bishop.
The value of this work is far from being considerable. It
is written in a spirit too sectarian, and in a style too pro¬
vincial. Many facts are very inaccurately stated. Thus
he asserts that with the exception of Dr. Featley, no epis¬
copalian divine ever sat in the Westminster assembly.
According to this ecclesiastical historian, the praise of
Archbishop Laud “is and ever will be in the English
church.” A man who could thus bestow commendation
on a merciless bigot, is not to be admired for his wis¬
dom or moderation. Nothing is so apt as bigotry to blind
a man’s understanding, and to suppress the best fee-
ings of his heart. In the nefarious sentence of death
pronounced on the earl of Argyle for adding an explana¬
tion when he took the test-oath, Mr. Skinner finds no¬
thing to condemn. According to the same authority. King
James’s attachment to popery was acknowledged by his
greatest enemies to be the only blemish of his character.
The sufferings of the episcopal clergy after the Revolution
are commemorated in terms sufficiently tragical; but ie
bloody persecution of the presbyterians during the reign o.
Charles the Second is represented as a very trivial matter,
and it seems to have been the author’s deliberate opin
ion, that they were treated neither better nor worse a‘
they deserved. A very different opinion was entertained
if
w
1 During the following year, he wrote a Latin elegy on the death of Bishop Rattray, which appeared in a sma p r j^in-
“ A Letter to a Friend: with two Poems sacred to the memory of the late R. R. Dr. Thomas Rattray of Craig a , 1 ,.g. t
burgh.” Edinb. J743, 4to. The letter was also written by Skinner. This elegy is followed by an English poem, wn e y
PU2 Principles, Political and Religious: or, a Preservative against Innovations in Politics and Religion. By Norman SievwTight,
a Presbyter of the Communion of the Church of England as by Law established, and Minister to the authorise piscopa
in Brechin. Edinb* 1767 l2rno.
S K I
>t. by a more impartial, as well as a more able writer. “Scot-
*»^]and, says Jonathan Edwards, “has also been the scene,
for many years together, of cruelties and blood by the
hands of high-churchmen, such as came very little short
of the popish persecution in Queen Mary’s days, and in
many things much exceeded it.”1 Mr. Skinner is lively
where he is not edifying or instructive; and if he is here
entitled to any other praise, it is that of supplying an ac¬
count of his own sect from the era of the Revolution. A
supplementary volume, under the title of “ Annals of Scot¬
tish Episcopacy,” was published at Edinburgh in 1818 by
the authors grandson the Rev. John Skinner of Forfar.
Towards the close of the century, he published “ a Let¬
ter to the Congregation of the Chapel of Old Deerand
Some plain Remarks on a plain Account of Conversion,
now in circulation through the Parish and Neighbourhood
ofOldDeei. Ihis last tract, printed in 1799, is directed
against William Ward, A.M., a clergyman of the church
of England. He continued to augment his stores of theo¬
logical learning, and undertook some more laborious works,
which were not however published till after the death of
the author. His name was favourably known to many dis¬
tinguished individuals in England, as well as Scotland. As
a poet, he corresponded with Burns; as a man of erudition,
withDoig. The master of Stirling school and the minister
of Longside chapel were both remarkable men in their
generation; and to those who complain of the w*ant of lei¬
sure, opportunities, and encouragement in the pursuit of
learnings their history supplies a most edifying example.
During the summer of 1795, Dr. Doig and Mn Ramsay of
Ochtertyre paid him a visit; and he spent a delightful week
with them at Peterhead, which was then a watering place
of fashionable resort, s
Of the activity, as well as the benevolence of his dispo¬
sition, he exhibited a signal proof by devoting a portion of
Ins time to the study of physic, not for his own benefit, but
jor that of his poor neighbours, whether episcopalians or
presbyterians. “ Nor was it only to those,” says his bio¬
grapher, “ who were placed more immediately under his
pastoral care, that his benevolence was extended. Though
he always considered them as entitled to his first and prin¬
cipal concern, yet did he never feel himself more happily
employed, than when administering relief to the distresses,
whether bodily or mental, of all that were within his reach,
and would listen to his advice, whatever might be their reli¬
gious profession. As no medical practitioner resided within
oui or five miles of Longside, soon after his settlement
there, Mr, Skinner’s sympathy was often excited by per-
ceiving his neighbours suffering under a want, of which the
state of the country afforded no prospect of a regular sup¬
ply- He resolved therefore to devote part of his own time
to the study of physic; and with the aid of an eminent
P ysician in Aberdeen [Dr. Thomas Livingston], who ap¬
proved of his design, and felt the force of the motives from
which it sprung, he soon acquired such a knowledge of the
healing art, as enabled him to afford to the poor, labouring
on er disease, that relief which they could not otherwise
have easily obtained, and the want of which might some¬
times have proved fatal. It is proper to add, that for his
medical prescriptions he accepted no fees.”
i ^.e auturan of 1799 he had the heavy misfortune
° ose his wife. This w^as a loss which could not be repair¬
ed; and at length, when the weight of age pressed more
eavuy up0n him, his only surviving son Bishop Skinner
rnf tj t0 Spend the remainder of his days under his
y De accordingly removed to Aberdeen on the 4th of
ne 180/, and for about eight days he apparently enjoy-
witl, and sPirits> s°me feverish symptoms,
1 a dilficulty of respiration, afterwards supervened: but
S K I
379
during the last day of his life, he moved into the garden, Skinner,
when finding his strength to be totally impaired, and having
with much difficulty been supported into the house, he was
placed in a chair, and calmly closing his eyes, expired with¬
out a groan or a struggle. He thus departed on the 16th
of June, in the eighty-sixth year of his age. In compliance
with his own request, his remains were interred in the
church-yard of Longside, in the same grave with those of his
wife. A marble tablet was there erected by the members of
his congregation, by whom his memory was much revered.
Skinner appears to have been a man of a cheerful and
friendly disposition ; and in the discharge of his pastoral
duties, he is represented as very exemplary. During the
greater part of his professional life, it was not his practice
to commit his discourses to writing, but he nevertheless
pi cached with much ease and fluency. His opinions were
deeply tinctured with the Hutchinsonian philosophy. To
a lively fancy he added no despicable share of learning.
He had cultivated not only a knowledge of the Latin and
Greek, but likewise of the Hebrew language. In the com¬
position of Latin verse he had attained to great facility, and
to considerable skill. The longest of his poems is a Latin
version of the Batrachomyomachia ascribed to Homer. He
likewise translated Christis Kirk of the Grene, a Scotish
poem remarkable for its genuine humour. The measure
which he has here adopted, hexameter and pentameter
verse, is not peculiarly suited to so familiar and ludicrous a
subject: iambics would certainly have been more appropri¬
ate.^ Some of his Scotish poems are written in a pleasant
strain, and three of his songs, Tullochgorum, John o’ Ba-
denyon, and the Ewie wi’ the crookit Horn, have obtained
a great share of popularity.
Not long after his death appeared “ Theological Works
of the late Rev. John Skinner, Episcopal Clergyman in
Longside, Aberdeenshire. To which is prefixed a biogra¬
phical memoir of the author.” Aberdeen, 1809, 2 vols. 8vo.
This publication was accompanied or immediately followed
by “ A miscellaneous Collection of Fugitive Pieces of
Poetry, &c. Vol. III. of his Posthumous Works.” Edinburgh,
1809. A separate edition of his poems was published un¬
der the title of “ Amusements of Leisure Hours: or, Poeti¬
cal Pieces, chiefly in the Scottish dialeci.” Edinburgh,
1809, 12mo. A copious life of the author, evidently written
by his son, is prefixed to the theological works. The first
volume likewise includes a series of “ Letters addressed to
Candidates for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Church of
Scotland. The second contains “ A Dissertation on the
Shechinah, or Divine Presence with the Church or People
of God,” “ An Essay towards a literal or true radical Ex¬
position of the Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s,” and
Psafms vm., xxiii., and xlv. translated into Latin verse.”
In his Essay he strenuously maintains the opinion of those
v.ho regard the Song of Solomon as an inspired book. Of
the value of his Dissertation, some notion may perhaps be
ormed bom a single specimen. The divine presence, says
this learned theologian, “ is not now to be looked for, but
in the way of God’s own divine appointment, and under the
sacred symbols of bread and wine, set apart and instituted
for that very purpose by Christ himself. . . . And if Corah
and his company met with so signal and sudden a punish¬
ment for invading but a part of Aaron’s office, of how much
soier punishment shall they be thought worthy, as St. Paul
argues in a like case, who dare thrust themselves, without
any call, order, or commission, into the ministry of the
nstian priesthood, and will take upon them to consecrate
tne symbols of the divine presence, and to stand as priests
between God and the people ? It is no wonder that such
unruly invaders of the priesthood should do what they can
to bring the sacrament of the divine presence into contempt
1 Edwards’s History of the Work of Redemption, p. 291. Edinb. 177 1. 8vo
380
SKI
Skinner and should refuse to appear in any posture of adoration be¬
ll fore it, since they cannot but know that God wid not vouch-
®kye’ safe to be present in it, but in the way and method of his
' own appointment.” According to this pure and enlighten¬
ed theology, the divine presence, utterly withheld from all
non-episcopalian assemblies of worshippers, is regularly
manifested wherever a popish or half-popish priest “ ofteis
the unbloody sacrifice.” It is truly pitiful that any man,
calling himself a protestant, should be so besotted as to re¬
present all this as the way and method of God’s own ap¬
pointment. It is the very essence of such an adulterated
form of Christianity, that, without the supplementary aid o
bishops and priests', Christ has died in vain, and in vain has
risen from the dead. (x0
Skinner, Stephen, an English lexicographer, was born in
tbeyear 1622. He travelled, and studied in several foieign
universities during the civil wars; and in 1654, he return¬
ed and settled at Lincoln, where he practised physic with
success until the year 1667, when he died of a malignant
fever. His posthumous work was published m folio in 11>/1,
by Mr. Henshaw, under the title of Etymologicon Lingua
Anqhcance.
SKIPTON, commonly called Skipton in Craven. It is
in the wapentake of Staincliffe, in the West Hiding of
Yorkshire, 216 miles from London. It stands on the river
Aire, in a wild and romantic district near two lolly moun¬
tains. Being on the canal from Leeds to Liverpool it has
some trade with both these places, and of late years it has
become the seat of some manufactures of glass, of silk, and
of cotton goods. The ancient castle has been preserved,
and is now a mansion of the Earl of Thanet. The quartei
sessions for the West Riding are held here. It has a well
supplied market on Saturdays, and several fairs for the sale
of cattle. The inhabitants were, in 1801, 2305; in 1811,
2868; in 1821, 3411 ; and in 1831, 4181.
SKIROS, an island of Turkey, on the western side of the
Archipelago, about twenty-three miles from the mainland.
It is sixty-three square miles in extent, and contains 1800
Greek inhabitants, who grow oil and cotton, and feed cattle
in the valleys between the rocky hills which cover the
greater part of the surface. The chief town is of the same
name, and has a small harbour.
SKYE, the largest of the western islands of Scotland, is
situated between the outer range of the Hebrides, and the
mainland of Scotland, from which it is separated by a nar¬
row strait, varying from a gun-shot to three miles in breadth.
It forms part of the county of Inverness, and is divided in¬
to seven parishes. The extreme length of the island is
about forty-five miles, and its extreme breadth twenty-four
miles ; but a better idea of its dimensions will be formed,
by measuring it across the middle, which will give a mean
breadth of fifteen miles. These measurements do not, how¬
ever, give any idea of the superficial extent of the island, in
consequence of the remarkable indentations of the coast,
no part of the island being distant four miles from the sea¬
shore. The area of the island is computed at700 square miles,
and contains therefore 448,000 acres, of which 30,000 are
arable. It is divided into five districts. The south-east
district, which is close upon the mainland, is called Sleat.
The greater portion of the central part of the island is
named Minginish, whilst the northern extremity is divided
by Loch Snizort and Loch Follart into three extensive
tracts of land, called Trotternish, on the north- eastern, W ater-
nish on the north-west, and Kilmuir on the west side.
The position of Skye protects it in some measure from
the storms that assail the outer range of islands. The nume¬
rous lochs provide it with a variety of excellent bays and
harbours, which point it out as admirably adapted for carry¬
ing on the fisheries, but which, from the habits of the peo¬
ple, has never been prosecuted to any extent. The surface
of the island is invariably hilly, and may be called one great
SKY
mountainous moorland, presenting three distinct assemblages S
of mountains, which are separated by intervening tracts of ^
high and undulating land. Kilmuir plain, and a small tract
of land near Loch Braccadale, are the only exceptions.
In that part of the country, in the southern border of
Minginish, occurs the greatest assemblage of mountains.
They are divided into two portions, intimately united, but
characterised by striking differences in their external out¬
lines and general features. The range called the Cuchullins,
so often mentioned by Ossian, average in height from 2000
to 3000 feet above the level of the sea. On the west side
of the island, the land is from 600 to 1000 feet in height,
and its surface is covered with brown heath. The north¬
eastern portion of the island, rI rotternish, offers more va¬
riety, and it attains an altitude of 2000 feet in height. The
shore scenery is famed for the caves with which they abound,
and the mountainous parts of the island for wild and rugged
scenery, equal in grandeur to any in the Highlands.
The south-east portion of the island, from the point of
Sleat to Kyle-rhea, consists of regular stratified rock, which,
whether primary or secondary, extend in a line from south¬
west to north-east; but the remaining mass of the island
must be considered as formed of unstratified rock, all be¬
longing to the family of trap, (including under that term
syenite), and all incumbent on the stratified rocks, and of
posterior date.
From the height of the hills, and the proximity of the
sea, the air seldom continues long of the same temperature
sometimes it is dry, oftener moist, and in the latter end ot
winter and beginning of spring cold and piercing. At an
average, three days in twelve, throughout the whole year,
are scarcely free from rain, far less from clouds. These,
attracted by the hills, sometimes break in useful and refresh¬
ing showers ; at other times suddenly bursting, they pour
down their contents with tremendous noise, and impetuous
torrents deluge the plains below, and render the smallest
rivulet impassable, which, together with the stormy winds
so common in this country in the months of August and
September, frequently blast the hopes ot the husbandman.
Snow has been often known to lie on the ground from three
to seven wreeks. .
Skye is not well adapted for agriculture. 4 he soil is
good, but too light for the culture of wheat; oats are rais¬
ed in considerable quantities, which, with barley and po¬
tatoes, form the agricultural produce of the island. Much
might be done in the improvement of the land, for the subsoil
is every where of the finest quality, and both in the trap and
the gneiss districts, the calcareous rock is found to be decom¬
posed to the depth of several feet, and yielding a loam ol
excellent quality. The greater part, however, is suffocated
with peat or stones, and is swampy and rocky. The peat is
nevertheless thin, and by burning the peat, and turning up
the rock, either by manual labour, or by the subsoil plough,
and proper drainage, the agriculture of the island, in course
of time, would be much improved. The land is also ren¬
dered cold by the want of trees, for which the soil and cli¬
mate are well adapted. Skye is unquestionably a grazing
country, and the proprietors have wisely directed their at¬
tention to the improvement of the stock of black cattle and
sheep, and to the enlargement of their farms, of which they
have latterly in many places given leases. Kelp in former
years was manufactured to a considerable extent, but that
branch of industry is now nearly annihilated. The climate
is, as already stated, damp, and the farmers in consequence
are all provided with wattled barns, in which they may dry
their scanty crops in the rainy season. The caschrome, or
ancient crooked spade, is a good deal used by the poor, and
the quern, or handmill, is still to be found in some o
remote districts of the island. The roads in Skye are muc
superior to those of Mull, and they traverse the islan m
various directions.
The people are of short stature, robust, and healthy.
They generally profess the Protestat religion; but education
is in a very low state. In 1831, one half of the population
were unable to read in any language. Great numbers have
lately emigrated to America. The towns in Skye are of no
importance. The population in 1821 amounted to 20,627;
and in 1831, to 22,796, of whom 11,883 were females.
There are two or three fairs held annually at Portree,
the principal town, to which almost every part of Skye sends
cattle. The commodities which are sold there are horses,
cows, sheep, goats, hides, butter, cheese, fish, and wool. In
Skve appear many ruins of Danish forts, watch-towers, bea¬
cons, temples, and sepulchral monuments. All the forts are
known by the term Dun; such as Dun-Skudborg, Dun-
Derig, Dun-Skeriness, Dun-David, and so on.
SLACKEN, in Metallurgy, a term used by miners to
express a spongy and semivitrified substance Avhich is mixed
with the ores of metals, to prevent their fusion. It is the
scoria or scum separated from the surface of the former
fusions of metals. To this is frequently added limestone,
and sometimes a kind of coarse iron ore, in the running of
the poorer gold ores.
. SLAVERY is a word, of which, though generally under¬
stood, it is not easy to give a proper definition. An ex¬
cellent moral writer has defined it to be “ an obligation to
labour for the benefit of the master, without the contract
or consent of the servant.” But may not he be properly
called a slave, who has given up his freedom to discharge a
debt which he could not otherwise pay, or who has thrown
it away at a game of hazard ? In many nations, debts have
been legally discharged in this manner; and in some savage
tribes, it is no uncommon thing for a man, after having lost
at play all his other property, to stake, on a single throw of
dice, himself, his wife, and his children. That persons ■who
have thus lost their liberty are slaves, will hardly be denied ;
and surely the infatuated gamester is a slave by his own con¬
tract. The debtor, too, if he was aware of the law, and
contracted debts larger than he could reasonably expect to
be able to pay, may justly be considered as having come
under an obligation to labour for the benefit of a master
with his own consent; for every man is answerable for all
the known consequences of his voluntary actions.
But this definition of slavery seems to be defective as well
as inaccurate. A man may be under an obligation to la¬
bour through life for the benefit of a master, and yet that
master have no right to dispose of him by sale, or in any
other way to make him the property of a third person; but
the word slave, as used amongst us, always denotes a per¬
son who may be bought and sold like a beast in the market.1 2
As nothing can be more evident than that all men have,
kby the law of nature, an equal right to life, liberty, and the
produce of their own labour, it is not easy to conceive what
can have first led one part of them to imagine that they had
a right to enslave another. Inequalities of rank are indeed
inevitable in civil society; and from them results that ser¬
vitude which is founded in contract, and is of temporary
duration. He who has much property has many things to
attend to, and must be disposed to hire persons ‘to assist
and serve him; whilst those who have little or no property
must be equally willing to be hired for that purpose. And
if the master be kind, and the servant faithful, they will
both be happier in this connection than they could have
been out of it. But from a state of servitude, where the
slave is at the absolute disposal of his master in all things,
and may be transferred without his own consent from one
proprietor to another, like an ox or an ass, happiness must
be ibr ever banished. How then came a traffic so unna¬
tural and unjust as that of slaves, to be originally introduced Slavery,
into the world ?
The common answer to this question is, that it took its
rise amongst savages, who, in their frequent wars with eacn
other, either massacred their captives in cold blood, or con¬
demned them to perpetual slavery. In support of this opi¬
nion etymologists observe, that the Latin word servus, which
signifies not a hired servant, but a slave, is derived from
servare, to preserve; and that such men were called ser-
vi, because they were captives, whose lives were preserved
on the condition of their becoming the property of the victor.
That slavery had its origin from war, we think extremely Origin of
probable, nor are we inclined to controvert this etymology slavery,
of the word servus ; but the traffic in men prevailed almost
universally, long before the Latin language or Roman name
was heard of; and there is no good evidence that it began
amongst savages. The word in the Old Testament,
which in our version is rendered servant, signifies literally
a slave, either born in the family or bought with money, in
contradistinction to VOty, which denotes a hired servant;
and as Noah makes use of the word TUP in the curse which Prior to the
he denounces upon Ham and Canaan immediately after the deluge,
deluge, it would appear that slavery had its origin before
that event. If so, it may be plausibly conjectured that it be¬
gan amongst those violent persons whom our translators have
called giants? though the original word C3'bS33 literally sig¬
nifies assaulters of others. Those wretches seem to have
first seized upon women, whom they forcibly compelled to
minister to their pleasures; and from this kind of violence
the progress was natural to that by which they enslaved
their weaker brethren amongst the men, obliging them to
labour for their benefit, without allowing them fee or reward.
After the deluge the first dealer in slaves seems to have Nimrod en-
been Nimrod. “ He began,” we are told, “ to be a mighty slaved his
one in the earth, and was a mighty hunter before the Lord.” captives.
He could not, however, be the first hunter of wild beasts;
nor is it probable that his dexterity in the chase, which
was then the universal employment, could have been so
far superior to that of all his contemporaries, as to entitle
him to the appellation of “ the mighty hunter before the
Lord.” Hence most commentators have concluded, that he
was a hunter of men ; an opinion which they think receives
some countenance from the import of his name, the word
Nimrod signifying a rebel. Whatever be in this, there
can be little doubt that he became a mighty one by vio¬
lence ; for it appears from Scripture, that he invaded the
territories of Ashur the son of Shem, who had settled in
Shinar; and, obliging him to remove into Assyria, he seized
upon Babylon, and made it the capital of the first kingdom
in the world. As he had great projects in view7, it seems
to be in a high degree probable that he made bond-servants
of the captives whom he took in his wars, and employed
them in building or repairing the metropolis of his king¬
dom ; and hence may perhaps be dated the origin of post¬
diluvian slavery.
That it began thus early can hardly be questioned; for Slavery in
we know that it prevailed universally in the age of Abraham,
who was born within seventy years after the death of Nim- >Ia am’
rod. That patriarch had three hundred and eighteen ser¬
vants or slaves, born in his own house, and trained to arms,
with whom he pursued and conquered the four kings who
had taken captive his brother’s son.3 And it appears from
the conversation which took place between him and the king
of Sodom after the battle, that both believed the conqueror
had a right to consider his prisoners as part of his spoil.
“ Give me,” says the king, “ the persons, and take the goods
to thyself.” It is indeed evident from numberless passages
1 The Roman orator’s definition of slavery, Parad. V. is as accurate as any that we have seen. “ Servitus est obedientia fracti animi
et abjecti et arbitrio carentis suo whether the unhappy person fell into that state with or without his own contract or consent.
2 Gen. vi. 4. 3 Gen xiv.
SLAYER Y.
382
Slavery, of scripture, that the domestics whom our translators call
seVvants, were in those days universally considered as the
most valuable part of their master’s property, and classed
with his flocks and herds.
Authorised That the practice of buying and selling servants thus early
by the Mo- begun amongst the patriarchs descended to their posterity,
saic law. js iinown to every attentive reader of the Bible. It was ex¬
pressly authorised by the Jewish law, in which are many
directions how such servants were to be treated. They
were to be bought only of the heathen; for if an Israelite
grew poor and sold himself either to discharge a debt, or to
procure the means of subsistence, he was to be treated not
as a slave lUlt, but as a hired servant vaty, and restored to
freedom at the year of Jubilee. Unlimited as the power
thus given to the Hebrew's over their bond-servants of hea¬
then extraction appears to have been, they were strictly pro¬
hibited from acquiring such property by any other means
than fair purchase. “ He that stealeth a man and selleth
him,” said their great lawgiver, “ shall surely be put to
death.”1
Spread over Whilst slavery, in a mild form, was permitted amongst
the whole the people of God, a much worse kind of it prevailed amongst
world. t]ie heathen nations of antiquity. With other abominable
customs, the traffic in men quickly spread from Chaldea into
Egypt, Arabia, and over all the east, and by degrees found
its way into every known region under heaven.
Of this hateful commerce we shall not attempt to trace the
progress through every age and country, but shall content
ourselveswith taking a transient view of it amongstthe Greeks
and Romans, and a few other nations, in whose customs and
manners our readers must be interested.
Slavery One can hardly read a book of the Iliad or Odyssey, with-
aniongstthe out perceiving that, in the age of Homer, all prisoners of war
Greeks. vvere hable to be treated as slaves. So universally was
this cruel treatmentof captives admitted to be the right of the
conqueror, that the poet introduces Hector, in the very act
of taking a tender and perhaps last farewell of his wife,
when it was surely his business to afford her every consola¬
tion in his power, telling her, as a thing of course which
could not be concealed, that, on the conquest of Troy, she
would be compelled
To bear the victor’s bard commands, or bring
The w'eight of water from Hyperia’s spring..
At that early period, the Phoenicians, and probably the
Greeks themselves, had such an established commerce in
slaves, that, not satisfied with reducing to bondage their pri¬
soners of war, they scrupled not, for supplying their foreign
markets, to kidnap persons who had never kindled their
resentment. In the fourteenth book of the Odyssey, Ulys¬
ses represents himself as having narrowly escaped a snare of
this kind laid for him by a false Phoenician, who had doom¬
ed the hero to Lybian slavery; and as the whole narrative,
in which this circumstance is told, is an artful fiction, in¬
tended to have the appearance of truth to an Ithacan pea¬
sant, the practice of kidnapping slaves could not then have
appeared incredible to any inhabitant of that island.
Such were the manners of the Greeks in the heroic age;
nor were they much improved in this respect at periods of
greater refinement. Philip of Macedonia, having conquered
the Thebans, not only sold his captives, but even took mo¬
ney for permitting the dead to be buried;2 and Alexander,
who had more generosity than his father, afterwards razed the
city of Thebes, and sold the inhabitants, men, women, and
children, for slaves.3 This cruel treatment of a brave peo¬
ple may indeed be supposed to have proceeded, in the first
instance, from the avarice of the conqueror; and in the se¬
cond, from the momentary resentment of a man who was
savage and generous by turns, and who had no command of
his passions. We shall not positively assign it to other causes;
but from the manner in which the Spartans behaved to their Slavil
slaves, there is little reason to imagine that, had they receiv-'x*\ v
ed from the Thebans tbe same provocation with Alexander,
they would have treated their captives with greater lenity.
It has been said, that in Athens and Rome slaves were Slave-
better treated than in Sparta. But in the former city their amon|;,
treatment cannot have been good, or their lives comfortable,tlie k,
when the Athenians relished that tragedy of Euripides in:nans,
which Hecuba, the wife of Priam, is introduced as lament¬
ing that she was chained like a dog at Agamemnon’s gate.
Of the estimation in which slaves were held in Rome, we
may form a tolerable notion from the well-known fact, that
one of those unhappy beings was often chained at the gate
of a great man’s house, to give admittance to the guests in¬
vited to a feast. In the early periods of the commonwealth
it was customary, in certain sacred shows exhibited on so¬
lemn occasions, to drag through the circus a slave, who had
been scourged to death, holding in his hand a fork in the
form of a gibbet.4 But we need not multiply proofs of the
cruelty of the Romans to their slaves. If the inhuman com¬
bats of the gladiators admit of any apology on account of
the martial spirit with which they were thought to inspire
the spectators, the conduct of Vedius Pollio must have pro- |
ceeded from the most wanton and brutal cruelty. This man,
who flourished not in the earliest periods of the republic,
when the Romans were little better than a savage banditti,
but in the polished age of Augustus, frequently threw such
slaves as gave him the slightest offence into his fishponds to
fatten his lampreys; and yet he was suffered to die in peace.
The emperor, indeed, upon coming to the knowledge of his
cruelty, ordered his lampreys to be destroyed, and his ponds
to be filled up; but wre do not recollect that any other pu¬
nishment was inflicted on the savage master.
The origin of slavery in Rome was the same as in every Origi-
other country. Prisoners of war were of course reduced Roma
to that state, as if they had been criminals. The dictator Sla'e
Camillus, one of the most accomplished generals of the re¬
public, sold his Etrurian captives to pay the Roman ladies
for the jewels which they had presented to Apollo. Fabius,
whose cautious conduct saved his country when Hannibal
was victorious in Italy, having subdued Tarentum, reduced
thirty thousand of the citizens to slavery, and sold them to
the highest bidder. Coriolanus, when driven from Rome,
and fighting for the Yolsci, scrupled not to make slaves of
his own countrymen ; and Julius Caesar, among whose faults
wanton cruelty has never been reckoned, sold at one time
fifty-three thousand captives for slaves. Nor did the slaves
in Rome consist only of foreigners taken in war. By one
of the laws of the twelve tables, creditors were empowered
to seize their insolvent debtors, and keep them in their
houses till, by their services or labour, they had discharged
the sum they owed. The children of slaves were the pro¬
perty not of the commonwealth, or of their own parents,
but of their masters ; and thus was slavery perpetuated in
the families of such unhappy men as fell into that state,
whether through the chance of war or the cruelty of a sor¬
did creditor. The consequence was, that the number of bond-
men belonging to the rich patricians was almost incredible.
Cains Csecilius Isidorus, who died about seven years before
the Christian era, left to his heirs four thousand one hun¬
dred and sixteen slaves; and Augustus once puttwenty thou¬
sand of his own slaves on board the corn ships.
Though many laws were enacted by Augustus and other Its dn
patriotic emperors to diminish the power of creditors overt10"-
their insolvent debtors; though the influence of the mild
spirit of Christianity tended much to meliorate the condi¬
tion of slaves even under Pagan masters; and though the
emperor Hadrian made it capital to kill a slave without a
just reason, yet this infamous commerce prevailed univers-
4 Cicero de Div. lib. i. cap. *26.
2 Justin, lib. iii. cap.
1 Lev. xxi. 16.
3 Justin et Arrian.
SLAVERY.
383
ivy.
ya-
ally in the empire for many ages after the conversion of
Constantine to the religion of Christ. It was not indeed
completely abolished even in the reign of Justinian ; and
in many countries which had once been provinces of the
empire, it continued long after the empire itself had fallen
to pieces.
Amongst the ancient Germans, it was not uncommon for
1 tliean ardent gamester to lose his personal liberty by a throw
of the dice. This was indeed a strong proof of savage man¬
ners ; but the general condition of slaves among those
barbarians seems to have been much better than among the
polished Greeks and Romans. In Germany the slaves were
generally attached to the soil, and only employed in tend¬
ing cattle, and carrying on the business of agriculture ; for
the menial offices of every great man’s house were perform¬
ed by his wife and children. Such slaves were seldom
beaten, or chained, or imprisoned. Sometimes indeed they
were killed by their masters in a fit of sudden passion ; but
none were considered as materials of commerce, except those
who had originally been freemen, and lost their freedom by
play.
In jigland Such is the account which Tacitus1 gives of slavery
an :cot- amongst the ancient Germans. The Anglo-Saxons, how-
11,1 ever, after they were settled in this island, seem not to have
carried on that traffic so honourably. By a statute of Al¬
fred the Great,2 the purchase of a man, a horse, or an ox,
without a voucher to warrant the sale, was strictly forbidden.
That law was, doubtless, enacted to prevent the stealing of
men and cattle; but it shows us that so late as the ninth or
tenth century a man, when fairly purchased, was, in Eng¬
land, as much the property of the buyer as the horse on
which he rode, or the ox which dragged his plough. In
the same country, now so nobly tenacious of freedom and
the rights of man, a species of slavery similar to that which
prevailed amongst the ancient Germans, subsisted even to
the end of the sixteenth century. This appears from a
commission issued by Queen Elizabeth in 1574, for inquir¬
ing into the lands and goods of all her bond-men, and bond-
women, in the counties of Cornwall, Devon, Somerset, and
Gloucester, in order to compound with them for their manu¬
mission, that they might enjoy their lands and goods as free¬
men. In Scotland there certainly existed an order of
slaves, or bond-men, who tilled the ground, were attached
to the soil, and with it were transferable from one proprie¬
tor to another, at a period so late as the thirteenth century :
but when or how those villeins, as they were usually called,
obtained their freedom, is a question not yet completely
solved. Colliers and salters were, in the same country, in
a state little removed from slavery, till near the end of the
eighteenth century, when they were manumitted by the Bri¬
tish legislature, and restored to the rights of freemen and citi¬
zens. Before that period the sons of colliers could follow
no business but that of their fathers; nor were they at
liberty to seek employment in any other mines than those
to which they were attached by birth, without the consent
of the lord of the manor, who, if he had no use for their
services himself, transferred them by a written deed to some
neighbouring proprietor.
a igst t^ie savaSe nations of Africa were at any period
Martha-!1^orY exempted from this opprobrium of our natui’e,
I ,ns. which spread over all the rest of the world, the enlightened
leader will not suppose. It is indeed in that vast country
that slavery has in every age appeared in its ugliest form.
We have already observed, that about the era of the Tro-
pi* War’ a coramerce in slaves was carried on between
Bhcenicia and Libya; and the Carthaginians, who were a
colony of Phoenicians, and revered the customs, manners,
and religion of their parent state, undoubtedly continued
the Tyrian traffic in human flesh with the inland tribes of Slavery.
Africa.
With the ancient state of the other African nations we Slavery
are but very little acquainted. The Numidians, Maurita- amongst
nians, Getulians, and Garamantes, are indeed mentioned byt,ie ls,umi-
the Roman historians, who give us ample details of thedlans
battles which they fought in attempting to preserve their
national independence; but we have no particular account
of their different manners and customs in that age when
Rome was disputing with Carthage the sovereignty of the
world. All the African states of which we know any thing,
were in alliance with one or the other of those rival republics;
and as the people of those states appear to have been less
enlightened than either the Romans or the Carthaginians,
we cannot suppose that they had purer morals, or a greater
regard for the sacred rights of man, than the powerful na¬
tions by whom they were either protected or oppressed.
They would, indeed, insensibly adopt their customs; and
the ready market which Marius found for the prisoners taken
in the town of Capsa, although Sallust acknowledges3 that
the sale was contrary to the laws of war, shows that slavery was
then no strange thing to the Numidians. It seems indeed to
have prevailed through all Africa from the very first peopling of
that unexplored country; and we doubt if in any age of the
world the unhappy negro was absolutely secure of his per¬
sonal freedom, or even of not being sold to a foreign trader.
It has been often said, that the practice of making slaves Slave-trade
of the negroes is of a very modern date; that it owes its with the
origin to the incursions of the Portuguese on the western 0*
coast of Africa; and that, but for the cunning or cruelty 0f Guinea.
Europeans, it would not now exist, and would never have
existed. It is quite certain, however, that the negroes
themselves, like all other savage tribes, have from ancient
times enslaved their prisoners ; and the establishment of a
trade by foreigners in African slaves, may at an early pe¬
riod have tempted them, in some quarters, to make captives
expressly for the purpose of selling them. But Christians
were not the first tempters. It has been proved, that from
the coast of Guinea a great trade in slaves was carried on
by the Arabs some hundreds of years before the Portuguese
embarked in that traffic. Even the wandering Arabs of the
desert, who never had any friendly correspondence with the
Christians of Europe, have from time immemorial been serv¬
ed by negro slaves. In all probability, indeed, these tribes
have, without interruption, continued the practice of slavery
from the days of their great ancestor Ishmael; and it seems
evident, that none of the European nations had ever seen a
woolly-headed negro till the year 1100, when the crusaders
fell in with a small party of them near the town of Hebron
in Judaea, and were so struck with the novelty of their ap¬
pearance, that the army burst into a general fit of laughter.4
Long before the crusades, however, we know with certainty
that the natives of Guinea had been exposed to sale in
foreign countries. In 651 the Mohammedan Arabs of
Egypt so harassed the king of Nubia or Ethiopia, who was
a Christian, that he agreed to send them annually, by way
of tribute, a vast number of Nubian or Ethiopian slaves into
Egypt. Such a tribute as this at that time, we are told, was
more agreeable to the khalif than any other, as the Arabs
then made no small account of these slaves.5
On the beginning of this commerce, or the dreadful
cruelty with which it has been carried on to the present
day, it is impossible to reflect without horror; but there is'
more consolation, however small, in knowing that its origi¬
nal authors were n ot Europeans. The purchase of Guinea
blacks for slaves by foreign nations, commenced ages before
the Portuguese had laid that country open to the intercoui'se
of Europe. Even after they had made many incursions into
1 De Mor. Germ. 24, 25.
0 Le Bello Jugurth. cap. 91.
* Wilkins’ Collection of Laws from Ethelbert to Henry III.
4 Malmsbury, fol. p. 83. 3 Modern Universal History, vol. i. p. 525.
384
Slavery.
Present
state of
slavery.
Slavery of
white men
SLAVERY.
Negro
slavery.
Negro
slavery in
North and
South
America.
it, the inhabitants'were as regularly purchased for slaves by
some of the adjoining states, as they were afterwards by the
maritime Europeans.
Without prosecuting farther the history of slavery, we
pass to the consideration of its present state in the world,
and, in particular, the revolutions which have taken place in
that worst department of the system which we have been
last occupied in examining.
Before describing the altered position now held by negro
'• slavery, it must be remarked that the slavery of white men
is by no means yet extinct. Details on this subject will be
found in the articles devoted to those countries in which,
under various modifications, bondage still prevails; and
here a sentence or two must suffice for summing up the
result. The nature of that slavery which still prevails
among most Asiatic nations, modified in the Mohammedan
states by some precepts of their religion, but nowhere en¬
tirely extirpated, is familiarly known to most readers, and
infbrmation regarding it is sufficiently easy of access. The
branch of it in which Europeans are most nearly interested,
is that atrocious system of piracy which, carried on for cen¬
turies by Algiers and the other Barbary states, filled the
cities of Northern Africa with Christian prisoners, but has
in the present generation been nearly destroyed by the ex¬
ertions of our own government, aided by the subsequent
expeditions of the French. But the snake is scotched
only, not killed; and European captives are still said to
pine in Morocco, Tunis, and Tripoli. In a preceding para¬
graph we have considered the villeinage of the dark and
middle ages as being a species of slavery. There is no
sound reason for regarding it in any other light; and,
however far the serf’s condition may be superior to that of
the slave who belonged to a Roman patrician or a West In¬
dian planter, his servitude is still so utterly repugnant both
to humanity and religion, as to make us ashamed of the
fact that, in a shape not much improved, it exists still in
Christian provinces of northern Europe. The article
Russia has described the status of the boors or unfree
peasants in that empire; and in more than one kingdom
bordering on it, villeinage has never been completely abo¬
lished till our own times.
But slavery in its most horrible shape, long averted by
the spirit of Christianity from those whom Christians were
compelled to consider as their fellow-men, has, in regard
to the unfortunate people of Africa, been maintained with
unrelenting severity by men and nations professing to be
disciples of the gospel. The present age has seen the
truth mightily triumph in reference to this dark blot of the
civilized world ; but the evil is not yet entirely eradicated,
even where its atrocities have been most decisively con¬
demned ; and in several extensive regions of the globe, no
acknowledgment of error has yet been extorted.
Slavery is still lawful over a large part of the American
continent. It extends throughout the empire of Brazil, and
is general in the southern provinces of the United States.
On the declaration of independence, however, seven of the
thirteen British provinces which then formed the confede¬
ration, abolished slavery absolutely ; and the example was
followed by two or three of the rest, as well as by several
of those afterwards added to the Union. On the whole, in¬
cluding the remnants of bondage in some of the Spanish
republics, it has been calculated that the continent of Ame¬
rica now contains 4,000,000 of black and coloured slaves.
Of these the United States possess about 2,000,000, making
about a sixth part of their whole population; but, as the
slaves are unequally distributed, they amount in several pro¬
vinces to half the number of the free whites, and in some
places make up a much larger proportion. The French
and Spanish colonies in the West Indies, in which likewise Slay
slavery remains unabolished, have a slave population
amounting to at least 400,000 souls.
For the British colonies, the exertions of benevolent and Slaver I
enlightened men during the last fifty years, have at length the B l
effected a mighty change, the history of which can here becol°ni-
but too briefly told.
1. The Suave Trade. If the merit of originating the Com- ,
great scheme of abolition is to be shared by every one who, mencei t
either through word or writing, has expressed convictions :
of the inhuman injustice involved in the slave-trade, or Sug-|100rna*,!j|
gested means for its destruction, our list of emancipation-s]ave( '
ists would both be long, and would commence at an early
date. But the honour of having planned that systematic i
co-operation, which alone could effect the end, does clear¬
ly belong to the Society of Friends; and in the series of
efforts by which that religious body heralded the exertions
of our eminent statesmen, the leading part was acted by An¬
thony Benezet, a French protestant, who, educated in Eng¬
land, became a Quaker and a citizen of Philadelphia; and
to William Dillwyn, an American, and a member of the
same sect. The former, besides unwearied personal exer¬
tions, published, in 1762, the work which first attracted in
this country general notice to the slave-trade; the other,
visiting England in 1774, opened communications between
the American philanthropists and those of our own coun¬
trymen who had already engaged in the same cause
Among these latter, the foremost place belongs to the ho¬
noured name of Granville Sharp.
This able and excellent man had been induced to interestGranvi
himself in a classof questions, which arose about themiddle ofSbarpt
the eighteenth century. West Indian planters, after having g ems*a'
brought negro slaves to England, were accustomed to carry 8omer!
them back to the colonies, or even to sell them to others
for that destination; and the opinion of eminent lawyers
had sanctioned the practice as legal. Instances of crying
hardship aroused the sympathy of individuals: Granville
Sharp rescued several victims ; and, in the year 1772, he
obtained a decision of the English judges in the famous case
of the negro Somerset, that, as soon as a slave sets his foot
on English ground, he becomes free.1
At length, in May 1787, there was instituted in London Sonet; ■
a Society for the Suppression of the Slave Trade. Besidesthe s.u .
Dillwyn and Sharp, its most distinguished member was^^gjf
Thomas Clarkson, a young graduate of Cambridge, who, jra(]ei
led to study the subject as the theme of an academical es- 1787.
say, had solemnly devoted his life to the cause of negro
emancipation. But the Society immediately numbered
among its supporters several men of rank and influence;
and, among other converts, its founders had gained, even
before their organization, William Wilberforce, then mem¬
ber of Parliament for Hull, and afterwards for Yorkshire.
Although our own days have witnessed a sharp contest in State o
the last stages of those measures, it is not very easy for us to public >
conceive the magnitude of the obstacles which then opposed nl0,1•
themselves, even to the most cautious approach towards the
subject. Fear of exposure felt by individuals who knew them¬
selves guilty of malpractices, was aided by fear of pecuniary
ruin, felt by many who had no other reason for dreading in¬
quiry; and, among the public men of the nation, the corrupt
influence of private interests biassed many, while others were
influenced by more honest fears for the effects which change
might have on the prosperity of the colonies. The Society
determined, from the first, to keep the question of slave
emancipation studiously in the background. They pro¬
claimed their aim to be, simply, the abolition of the trade
in slaves; maintaining, and endeavouring to convince the
public, that the slave population of the colonies could be
i It fnust be noticed, however, that, a very few years ago, it was decided by Lord Stowell, that slaves who had gained freedom in this
way did, on their return to the colonies, become slaves anew.
SLAVERY.
ry. effectually kept up without new importations; and that,
indeed, such importation was in itself not only injurious to
the real interests of the planters, but eventually pregnant
with ruin to the West India Islands as British dependen-
These topics, with others appealing more directly to
385
cies.
Gov
ner
moral principle and humane feeling, had already been treat¬
ed in various publications, and they were now anxiously
disseminated through the whole of Britain in pamphlets,
newspaper articles, and personal communications; while
the indefatigable Clarkson travelled everywhere collecting
information as to the state of the slave trade.
Ar\ excitement was produced which enforced the atten¬
tion of the government; and its results were still farther
int0 aided by the circumstance that Mr. Pitt, who was the inti-
ve mate friend and political chief of Wilberforce, had already
examined the question, and privately declared himself fa¬
vourable to the views of the society. In February 1788,
an order of the crown directed that a committee of the
Privy Council should inquire into the state of the slave
trade, and its consequences both to Africa, to the colonies,
and to the general trade of the kingdom. Before the end of
that season, there lay on the table of the House of Com¬
mons one hundred and three numerously signed petitions,
praying for the abolition of the traffic in human life.
Slav Mr. Wilberforce’s ill health detaining him in the coun-
^r,u try, Mr. Pitt, on the 9th of May 1788, declining to state
^his own opinion, moved a resolution that the House would,
Paihaent earty *n ^ next Session, take into consideration the cir¬
cumstances of the slave trade complained of in the peti¬
tions. This, excepting a motion made by David Hartley
some years before, against slavery in the abstract, was the
first time the subject had ever been mentioned in the Bri¬
tish Legislature. The prayer of the petitions was warmly
supported, and delay opposed by Mr. Fox, Mr. Burke, and
others. In the meantime, a bill was introduced by Sir
William Dolben, and carried through both Houses after
virulent opposition, for regulating the burden of the slave-
ships, and otherwise diminishing the horrors of the Middle
Passage, as it was called, between Africa and the West In¬
dian islands.
On the 12th of May l789,Wilberforcemadehisfirst£peech
in the House upon the subject, introducing twelve resolu¬
tions deduced from the evidence which had been taken be¬
fore the Privy Council. The propositions, all condemna¬
tory of the trade, were supported by Burke, by Fox, by
Granville, and by Pitt, who now declared his opinion un¬
alterable ; but the opponents gained their end of delay, by
obtaining an order for hearing evidence. It was not till
the spring of 1791, that Wilberforce was able to move for
leave to bring in a bill, for preventing the further importa¬
tion of slaves into the colonies in the West Indies. After
a stormy debate, the motion was lost by 88 to 163. The
enthusiasm of the people, and the favourable dispositions of
the legislature, had alike cooled ; insurrections of the ne¬
groes had broken out in Dominica, the leaders of the French
‘evolution had corresponded with some members of the
society, Clarkson had not only visited France, but was the
friend of Brissot; and every means had been used for pre¬
possessing the public against the abolitionists.
But the defeated party bated “ no jot of hope;” and the
i Publ'c mind became calmer. In April 1792 the House ofCom-
' mons received from England 330 petitions, and from Scot-
and 187 ; and Wilberforce moved an opinion of the House
mat the slave trade ought to be abolished. He was met
>y one of the most dangerous enemies of the measure, Mr.
uni as, afterwards Lord Melville, under whose dexterous
management an amendment for gradual abolition was car-
,lec y a large majority; and a few days afterwards the
ouse passed a resolution for abolishing the trade in 1796 ;
mt m the House of Lords even this tardy justice was
118 rafcd by a resolution to hear further evidence,
von. xx.
:ent,
In 1793 the House of Commons refused to repeat their Slavery,
resolution of the previous year: in 1795, and each of the
four following years, the motion for abolition was made and Character
lost; and the abolitionists then resolved to wait for betterof them.
times. And thus a measure, calculated to wipe oft’in partan^ t^ie’r
a foul disgrace from the nation,—a measure supported {3yOPP0nen,s-
men of all parties and of all sects,—a measure openly and
encouragingly advocated, not only by all the men of highest
talent in the country, but by the minister of the day him¬
self, was defeated, after a struggle which, at the time, was
aptly called the battle of the pigmies against the giants.
Of the sincerity of the other great promoters of the scheme,
no doubt has been expressed ; but on Mr. Pitt’s sincerity
there have been thrown very grave suspicions, which it is
not possible entirely to dispel. For, although the charge
of absolute duplicity is sufficiently rebutted, both by his un¬
bending character and by his admirable speeches on the ques¬
tion, it is unaccountable how he, the most peremptory of all
rulers, should not, if he pleased, have forced to silence
those subalterns, who trembled to oppose him in any plan
but this. The proud son of Chatham loved truth and jus¬
tice not a little, but he loved power and place greatly more ;
and he was resolved that negro emancipation should not
lose him either a shred of political influence, or a beam of
royal favour.
But the triumph was already at hand. The excitement
of the war, indeed, still for a time diverted public atten¬
tion ; and, though the principles which had been so con¬
vincingly promulgated were silently making converts every¬
where, nothing of importance took place for some years,
except the appearance of a new and most able advocate
in the person of Mr. Stephen, Wilberforce’s friend and bro¬
ther-in-law. In 1804, however, the annual motion of Wil¬
berforce was renewed. The first reading of his Bill for
immediate abolition was carried by 124 to 49, the majority
containing all the Irish members ; and the votes for the
third reading were 99 to 33. On the second reading of
the Bill in the House of Lords, it was adjourned, without
a division, till the following session. In that session, (the
spring of 1805,) a new Abolition Bill was thrown out by
the House of Commons on the second reading; but, in the
same year, a measure of Pitt’s for abolishing, by an Order
in Council, the slave trade in the newly conquered colo¬
nies, which had no charters, was carried into effect without
the smallest resistance.
The next two years were to witness the final victory. The abo-
Pitt died; and the ministry of Fox and Lord Grenville I’Bon of the
was formed. In June 1806, resolutions proposed bv the ,t’*ave
new ministers, pledging the House of Commons to aboli • Trade ^ar'
tion “ with all practicable expedition,” were carried bynt ’
more than 100 to 41 ; and an address to the king, for ob¬
taining the co-operation of foreign powers, was adopted
without a division. A bill, founded on the resolutions,
was successful in both Houses, and received the royal as¬
sent on the 25th of March 1807.
The great measure of the British legislature was imitat- Slave
ed, in the first instance, by the United States, who were Trade of
next followed successively by the new South American forei£n
Republics of Venezuela, Chilh and Buenos Ayres, by Swe-powcrs‘
den and Denmark, Holland and trance- But Spain was
brought no farther than to promise in J814 that she would
abolish the slave trade in eight years; while Portugal in
1815 abolished to the north of the equator, promising to
abolish finally eight years afterwards, and receiving a sum
of money as the price of her acquiescence.
In the meantime, the abolitionists in England soon had Inrfficienry
the disappointment to discover, that the law had no sane-0Dhe Abo-
tion sufficient for enforcing its provisions; whilst the faet,li,ion AcU
that the horrible trade must now, if conducted at all, bean<Ir'm"
carried on as an act of smuggling, augmented all its miser-
ies, and introduced atrocities not less shocking than those
3 c
386
SLAVERY.
Slavery, which had prevailed before the passing of Sir \\ illiam
Dolben’s carrying act. An energetic remedy was neces¬
sary, and such an one was suggested by Mr. Brougham,
who, in 1811, introduced a bill, (carried unanimously
through both Houses,) declaring the trade in slaves to be
felony, and punishable with fourteen years transportation,
or five years’ imprisonment. After a time, even this de¬
cided measure seemed not decided enough ; an act of 182
made slave-trading a capital offence, by the name of piracy;
and the recent acts of 1837, for mitigating the criminal
law, have left it punishable with transportation for life.
“ There is every reason to think,” says Lord Brougham,
“ that no British subjects are now, or have for many years
been, directly engaged in this execrable traffic, with the
exception of those belonging to the Mauritius. In that
island it is certain, that, with the connivance, if not under
the direct encouragement, of the higher authorities of Lie
colony, slave-trading to an enormous extent was for some
years openly carried on.” . . .
Treaties * The treaties with foreign powers, crippled by national
with fo- jealousies, were found equally inefficient with our own law.
reign pow- qqie 0f Spain, one of the two great offenders, after
ers for sup-laying had the meanness to accept, by a treaty of 1817, a
KlTve large sum from our treasury, as the price of his promise to
Trader abolish his slave-trade on the north of the equator immedi¬
ately, and to put a final stop to the traffic in 1820, had
next the effrontery to refuse all performance of the en¬
gagement for which he had thus received the consideration;
and a vote of abolition, passed by the Cortes in 1822, re¬
mained of course inoperative. The great difficulty, 'the
right of one nation’s cruisers to search vessels under the
dag of another power, when suspected of slaving, was how¬
ever mutually conceded in 1817, between Great Britain on
the one hand, and Portugal and Spain (within the limits em¬
braced in the subsisting treaties) on the other ; and a simi¬
lar treaty was effected with Holland in the succeeding year.
Faults and But, besides other faults, there were, in our treaties of
defects of this sort, two main defects, which, of themselves, rendei ed the
our treaties whole system of checks quite inoperative. First, the cruisers,
except‘under our treaty with the Netherlands, had no
power to capture vessels not having slaves on boaid, al¬
though it might be fully proved that they were slaving-
ships, or even that they had just delivered a cargo. In
consequence of this, not only were notorious slavers fre-
euently dismissed after examination, but, in several instan¬
ces, which have been fully authenticated, the wi etches in
command were known to throw their slaves overboard on a
chase, in the hope of thus removing the only ground on which
their detention could be legally justified. Secondly, con¬
demned vessels, instead of being broken up, were sold, and,
being fitted for no trade but their own, fell again almost in¬
variably into the hands of the slave-dealers.
New and In neither of these particulars was any improvement ef-
more effee-fected till after the late revolution in France, whose sub-
tual trea- jects, since the restoration, had begun to rank amongst
ties since ‘t]ie niost active of the contraband slave merchants. In
18.30. 1833 a treaty was concluded between our government and
that of France, by which the breaking up of the vessels
was agreed to; and it was also declared, that all vessels
ascertained by certain equipments to be intended for the
slave trade, might be lawfully detained and confiscated,
even though slaves had not been found on board, nor even
embarked. France and England have since taken the lead
in urging all other Christian powers to accede to these con¬
ventions ; but as yet their success has been far from gene¬
ral. The five powers with which this country previously
had conventions on the subject have come very reluctantly
into the additional measures; and one of them, namely,
Portugal, has shown a most disgraceful want of faith in
fulfilling her engagements. The protection of the Portu¬
guese flag was and is sold by the authorities of that govern¬
ment on the African coast; and miscreants, thus furnished Sla»
with papers apparently regular, and not having yet receiv-Wvj,
ed their slave-cargoes, insolently defy our cruisers, or even
prosecute our captains for damages, on account of illegal
detention. Our government, however, have recently shown
a determined front; and we may perhaps hope that the
feeble and faithless power which insults us and outrages
humanity, will at length suffer condign punishment. As
to Spain, between 1823 and 1832, her slavers imported into
Cuba 100,000 slaves at least. The equipment clause was
always refused by the cabinet at Madrid; and it was not
till 1835, after the death of Ferdinand, that our minis¬
ter at that court was able to extort the accession of the
Spanish government to that essential article. The effects
of this new treaty have been exceedingly encouraging:
within six months after its execution, as many Spanish
slavers lay waiting the sentence of our Confiscation Court
at Sierra Leone, as had been taken during any three years
under the previous conventions. The Brazilian govern¬
ment, although professedly anxious to discourage the im¬
portation of new slaves, on account of the danger the
whites already incur from an increasing black population,
have pleaded, with some plausibility, their want of power
to check the trade effectually, so long as the Portuguese
flag shall be allowed to protect the slavers. Sweden and
the Netherlands wrere not prevailed on to accede to the
French conventions till the year 1838.
Of those powers with which we had previously no agree¬
ment, Denmark and the Sardinian States both acceded in
1834. Prussia has shewn a reluctance, for which it is not
easy to account. The display of the same spirit by Russia
was not so much matter of surprise. Austria, though the
emperor has imitated our laws, declaring any slave free
who touches Austrian ground, and also making the slave-
trade heavily punishable, has acted with its accustomed
jealousy, in refusing co-operation with other states. Tos¬
cany and the Two Sicilies joined the league in 1838. With
the republics of the New World our negociations have
been exceedingly unsuccessful. The United States have
peremptorily refused to combine with any foreign power
for the suppression of the slave-trade; and, amongst the
Spanish commonwealths, Venezuela is the only one which
has come cheerfully forward, although the objections started
by some of the rest do not seem to be insupeiable.
Altogether, those efforts which philanthropists have soD.s*
long continued for removing this blot from the name ofF I ^
Christianity, have not yet by any means produced such;
results as can allow us to believe that the struggle is nearly fors
at an end. Partly through defects in the machinery otpreS:
the laws and treaties,—partly through dishonesty or luke-the
warmness in the contracting powers or their officials,--
partly through causes which can never be removed while
the foul shape of slavery itself darkens any corner of the
earth, the traffic in human blood still goes on with an ac¬
tivity that is incredible to all but those who have studie
the subject. The proofs of this lamentable fact are no¬
where so convincingly stated as in a work on The Afri¬
can Slave Trade, published in 1839, by Mr. Fowell Bux¬
ton, from which we can afford to abstract but a very tew
statements, observing, at the same time, that there is no
one of them but is below the truth. According to the
highest of those estimates which have been founded on
assured data, the Christian slave trade still robs Africa
every year of 250,000 human beings. According to tne
very lowest computation, it absorbs 150,000. to
number must be added that of the Mohammedan trade,
which exports at least 50,000 annually; so that we a
much below the mark when we assert, that, in the cou
of every year, 200,000 negroes, at least, are carried ott i
hopeless slavery. But this is not all. It may be sa y
asserted, that, for every slave who is exported, tn
SLAVERY.
jsery. sacrificed one human life, and perhaps much more. Mr.
''Buxton’s calculation is the following: First, the slaughter
of the wars which supply the slaves, the ill-usage of the
captives on their march, and their sufferings while detained
on the coast, cause together a mortality of 100 per cent.
Secondly, the disease and cruelty of the voyage, now worse
than ever it was, carries off, at the very least, 25 per cent.
Thirdly, the loss after landing in the colonies, and during
what planters used to call the “ seasoning,” amounts to at
least 20 per cent. Upon these assumptions, “ for every
1000 negroes alive at the end of a year after their deporta¬
tion, and available to the planter, we have a sacrifice of
1450. Of 150,000 negroes, landed annually in Cuba, Bra¬
zil, &c. 30,000 die in the seasoning, leaving 120,000 avail¬
able to the planter. If 150,000 were landed, there must
have been embarked 37,500 more, who perish in the pas¬
sage; and if 187,500 were embarked, 187,500 more must
have been sacrificed in the seizure, march, and detention.
It is impossible for any one to reach this result, without
suspecting, as well as hoping, that it must be an exagger¬
ation ; and yet there are those who think that this is too
low an estimate.” Putting these facts in another shape,
we find, that the slave trade between Africa and America
subjects annually to the miseries of permanent bondage,
no fewer than 120,000 negroes; whilst, during the same
period, it destroys the lives of 255,000 more.
II, Slavery. But, leaving here the consideration of the
slave trade, we pass to the history of those measures which,
following up its abolition in our own colonies, have destroy¬
ed it effectually as to them, by eradicating slavery itself.
Co lence- Immediately on the passing of the act 1807, there was
me i fprmed by the abolitionists a new association, which they
!!!: •!! called “ Tlle African Institution.” Besides objects connect
387
tio, /the ed wit.h t^e recent measure, and embracing the tasks of
nee watching its execution, of prevailing on foreign powers to
slai imitate our policy, and of aiding in the civilization of Africa,
this body gradually began to bestow great attention on the
state of slavery in our own colonies, having an especial view
to its ultimate abolition, which was afterwards taken up by
the Anti-blavery Society; for their hopes soon waxed very
low as to that progressive amelioration in the treatment and
even the enlightenment of the slaves, to which some among
them had looked forward as one consequence to flow from
the stoppage of the foreign supply. The abolitionists were
speedily united in the great aim of emancipation; Clarkson
renewed his agitation in the provinces; local societies were
formed every where, and tracts and larger w'orks were circu¬
lated; while in Parliament, Wilberforce, the apostle of the
cause, was now seconded by Messrs. Brougham, Mackin¬
tosh, Buxton, Lushington, William Smith, and others, in
pressing vainly on the House of Commons the adoption of
measures tending to prepare the slave for eventually obtain¬
ing freedom.
Cfe( . At length the trenches were opened in Parliament; and
far nentn i nevv’ attac>k, as in the former, the van was led by the
r an- uakers, whose petition for the extinction of slavery was
,n presented by Mr. Wilberforce to the House of Commons in
March 1823. Soon afterw ards, a motion by Mr. Buxton, for
a resolution declaring slavery repugnant both to Christian
ity and to the British constitution, was defeated by Mr. Can¬
ning on counter resolutions, recommending certain ne¬
cessary reforms. These and other improvements, it was
asserted, might be safely left to the colonial legislatures; and
ne ministry at the same time intimated, that, if the West
n lan Assemblies refused to do their duty, it would become
necessary for t he British Parliament determinedly to interfere.
lhat no effectual reforms could proceed from the plan¬
ers themselves, the abolitionists had been long convinced.
e government and their supporters, said they, had for¬
gotten two of the prominent features of society in the West
n(nes; the management of estates by agents for absentee
Firs
proprietors, and that spirit of reckless adventure which was Slavery,
at once a cause and an effect of West Indian embarrassments,
It might have been added, and some had the firmness to
add it, that the planters, supposing them ever so well dis¬
posed, dared not to introduce any such mitigation of rigour
as would afford sufficient protection against individual op¬
pression. The slavery of multitudes was never in any coun¬
try maintained but by the reign of terror; and, when an en¬
slaved population has reached a certain limit in strength and
intelligence, society must inevitably undergo one or anothei
of three changes;—inhumanly increased severity, or univer¬
sal emancipation, or universal revolution.
In 1824, Mr. Canning, who, though he had been a zealous Case of the
abolitionist, acted in regard to the new question a part to- Missionary
tally unworthy of him, defeated, by a ministerial majority, Snath.
Mr. Brougham’s very guarded motion of censure on the au¬
thorities of Demerara for the infamous and cruel injustice
which destroyed the missionary Smith. But the publicity
which the debates in Parliament, in this case, gave to the
atrocities which, although certainly not common in the co¬
lonies or any where upon earth, the colonial laws allowed,
when they did occur, to pass with perfect impunity, did
more than any thing ever yet had done to excite the indig¬
nation of the British people.
The question, in fact, was surprisingly narrowed. When, New state
in 1788, the abolitionistsattacked the outworks which flanked °f public
the edifice of slavery, the fortress itself was pronounced by °Pimon.
its defenders to be absolutely impregnable. The good of
the empire, the good of the slave, the principles of all go¬
vernments, the very Bible itself, were appealed to as autho¬
rising the property in human flesh. But now, for many
years, no man had breathed any argument of the sort. It
was plain that emancipation must come, and that speedily;
the parties wTere only at issue as to the time and the manner.
Even the more intelligent among the planters, who saw the
negroes swarming around them in hundreds of thousands,
and already beginning to think dangerously, (that is, justly,)
seem scarcely to have extended their hopes farther than to
obtaining liberal compensation for all their losses, present or
prospective, certain or conjectural. But the attitude which
they chose, almost universally, to assume, was that of defi¬
ance towards the mother-country; and, accordingly, the
right of the Colonial Assemblies to legislate for their own is¬
lands, and the danger which would be incurred by irritating
them, were urged alternately with those other topics, of the
risk of revolution through hasty changes, the unfitness of
the uninstructed negroes to act as freemen, and such other
grounds, which now became the arguments of those who
wished the British Parliament to decline interfering.
Down to the year 1830, how much had been done, either in Review of
the chartered colonies, or in those governed immediately by reforms ef-
the crown, for carrying into effect the reforms embodied in the fected in
resolutions of 1823, and in the subsequent recommendations sb*ve-
of the government ?—1. For providing the means of educa- ,a7 °/ ti,e
tion and religious instruction for the slaves, no one effectual r'.'^'Tso^
measure had been taken in the colonies of either class. The to 1830.
consolidated slave law for the crown colonies, contained in
an Order in Council, dated 8th February 1830, was held out
as an improvement on the Trinidad Order in Council of
1824, and was proposed to the chartered colonies as a mo¬
del for their adoption. It contained no provision for this
purpose. 2. The Sunday markets were abolished in the
crown colonies by the order of 1830, and they were also
abolished by Grenada and Tobago, two of the chartered
islands. The other colonies of this class had expressly le¬
galised them. 3. Even this partial abolition was rendered
useless, by the total omission of any allowance of equivalent
time to the negroes in lieu of Sunday, for marketing or for
cultivating their provision grounds. 4. The new order wise¬
ly made the evidence of slaves admissable in the crown co¬
lonies to the same extent as that of free persons, subject on-
388
SLAVERY.
Slavery, ly to remark on the slave’s status as affecting credibility.
'Grenada and Tobago had adopted a similar law; while, in
the other colonies of their class, the admission of slave evi¬
dence was hampered and restricted so much as to make the
grant perfectly useless. 5. In the crown colonies the mar¬
riages of slaves were legalized under certain restrictions ;
in all others such marriages were everywhere exposed
to harassing impediments. 6. In the crown colonies the
separation of families had been peremptorily provided against,
the order, however, being somewhat vague as to the de¬
scription of persons whom it should embrace. In the char¬
tered colonies the provisions of this kind were univei sally in¬
sufficient. 7. Therightof acquiring property was conferred on
the slaves in the crown colonies; on those in the others it
was also conferred, but under limitations which made the
privilege quite illusory. 8. The order in council gave the
slaves the right of redeeming themselves and their families,
at a fair appraisement, even against the will of the owmets;
but it imposed, in reference to this grant, several very harsh
conditions. The chartered colonies refused unanimously
to introduce any such compulsory manumission. 9- The
new order most unfortunately omitted that provision in the
Trinidad code, which forbade the master to punish the slave
corporally more than once in twenty-four hours; but it li¬
mited him to twenty-five lashes at a time. This latter en¬
actment was imitated in two or three of the chartered co¬
lonies; and in all the rest the old law remained, which al¬
lowed the master to inflict thirty-nine lashes at once on any
slave, of any age, or of either sex, for any offence, or for
none; and the same law allowed him to imprison in the
stocks or workhouse as long as he pleased- 10. In the
crown colonies there was required a return, as well as a re¬
cord, of arbitrary punishments inflicted on the slaves on the
plantations; but no such check was imposed as to any other
classes, such as mechanics or domestics. In the other co¬
lonies there was no return, and no adequate record.
By the order in council, the flogging of females was abo¬
lished; in every one of the chartered colonies it was still
permitted and practised. 12. The order forbade, though
not in sufficiently explicit terms, the use of the driving-whip
in the field. The legislature of the Bahamas did the same
thing. The other legislatures retained the old instruments
of punishment. 13. Official protectors of the slaves, none
of whom could be slave-holders, were appointed in the crown
colonies. The chartered colonies all refused to appoint such
functionaries; though in some of them the local magistrates
(composed of slave-holders) acted in a similar capacity. 14.
Another proposed reform was, the providing that no slave¬
holder should be appointed to any function connected with
the administration of the slave-laws. The order in council,
though it obeyed this salutary rule in respect to the protec¬
tor, disregarded it as to his assistants, or. whom devolved
a great part of his ordinary duty. In the chartered colonies
the rule was little attended to, except in the leading ap¬
pointments made by the crown. 15. It was also proposed
that, in cases involving the status of individuals, the legal
presumption should be for freedom and against slavery.
This rule, adopted in the crown colonies, was also imitated
bv Tobago and Grenada, but by no other chartered island.
16. For purifying the administration of justice, which called
most grievously tor amendment, nothing was done in any
colony of either class.
In July 1830, Mr. Brougham brought forward his motion,
that the House should resolve, at the earliest possible period
reem..^... in next session, to take into consideration the state of the
1830-3L-32 s|aves qn ortier to the mitigation and final abolition of sla¬
very, and more especially in order to the amendment of the
administration of justice. It was lost by a large majority,
in a very thin House. The great changes m the ministry
soon came on; and, during the eventful years 1831 and 1832,
the subjects of Great Britain and Ireland had their own bat¬
tles to fight at home, instead of extending aid to foreign Slave-:
dependents. The only steps taken in that period were, the'«-'V
issuing of neW orders in council by the Whig ministry in
1831, which proved as ineffectual as those of their predeces¬
sors; and the appointment of committees, both in the Lords
and Commons, before both of which a large mass of evi¬
dence was taken.
At length, after the friends of emancipation had repeat- Introdu;
edly pressed the ministry to redeem their pledge of bring-tion of
ing forward a government measure, the ministerial proposi-
tion was introduced in May 1833, by Mr. Stanley, then se-j^
Parliamen¬
tary pro¬
ceedings in
cretary for the colonies. I he parts of the resolutions on yg^ j^ j
which the emancipationists were most divided were two;
first, the plan of an intermediate state, called an apprentice¬
ship, into which the slave was to be received on his manu¬
mission, and which, according to the first draft of the mea¬
sure, was to last for no less than twelve years ; secondly,
the proposal of compensation to the slave-owners, which,
brought forward at first hesitatingly, at last developed itself
into a grant of twenty millions sterling. On the principle
of compensation most men were agreed; there was guilt, it
is true, in the very act upon which the claim was grounded,
but the nation was a thousand times guiltier than the plant¬
ers, and it would have ill become us to make the minoi of¬
fenders the only sufferers. The amount and application of
the grant were matters less certain. On the question of the
apprenticeship there was much more room for doubt; and
the most consistent opponents of slavery were decidedly
against it. Lord Howick, the under secretary for the colo¬
nies, threw up his place rather than advocate it; and it was
strenuously resisted in the House by him, Mr. Buxton, and
Mr. O’Connell, whose opposition, however, was defeated by
an overwhelming majority. Among those who advocated the
great principle of the resolutions, the most prominent were,
besides the members already named, Mr. Buckingham, Dr.
Lushington, Admiral Fleming, and Mr. T.B. Macaulay. The
opposition, which scarcely amounted to more than exhorta¬
tions to caution, with insinuations of insurmountable difficul¬
ties, was headed temperately and skilfully by Sir Robert Peel,
whose most decided supporters were, Sir Richard Vyvyan,
Mr. Godson, Mr. W. E. Gladstone, and Mr. Hume. No di¬
vision was attempted on any question involving the principle.
The resolutions, on being communicated to the House ot
Lords, where they were carried without a vote, were sup¬
ported by the Earl of Ripon, Lord Suffield, Earl Grey, and
Lord Chancellor Brougham, and cautiously opposed by the
Duke of Wellington, the Earl of Harewood, Lord Llien-
borough, and Lord Wynford.
A bill was next brought forward, founded on the resolu¬
tions. In the discussion on this bill in the Commons, the most
important change effected was, the limitation of the appren¬
ticeship to the term of six years for the plantation-negroes,
and four for all others. In the House of Lords, the amend¬
ments unsuccessfully proposed by the Duke of Wellington
were moderate in themselves, and candidly advocated. Un
the 28th of August 1833, William the Fourth, giving his
royal assent to the act, atoned in some measure for the op¬
position which, in his early days, he, in common with tus
whole family, except the Duke of Gloucester, had offered
to the abolition of the slave trade. William Wilber(orce died
while the resolutions preparatory to the bill were at their
last stage in the House ot Commons. ,
The leading provisions of the great measure for the aoo-
lition of slavery were the following.
The act was to take effect on the first day of August S ?
1834, on which day slavery was to cease throughout tn®forabCj
British colonies. And, in the first place, all registered.^
slaves, who should at that date be within any o our colo-in the
nies, and should appear to be six years old and upward*, tlsh dc
were to become “ apprenticed labourers” to those wbo badm**
been their owners in slavery; while slaves who had be
SLAVERY.
ery. already brought, or apprenticed labourers who hereafter
might be brought, into the United Kingdom, with the con¬
sent of their possessors, were to be absolutely free from the
date of the act. The apprentices were divided into three
classes. The first two classes, called “ praedial apprenticed
labourers,” comprised all slaves “ usually employed in agri¬
culture, or in the manufacture of colonial produce,” upon
the lands in the colonies; the first class being slaves of
this sort, who were usually employed on lands belonging to
their owners, and who were declared to be “ attached to
the soilthe second class, declared to be “ not attached
to the soil,” being such slaves as were similarly employed
on lands not belonging to their owners. The third class,
called “ non-praedial apprenticed labourers,” embraced all
slaves not included in either of the two other classes. The
apprenticeship of the first and second classes was not to
continue beyond the first day of August 1840; and such
apprentices were not to be liable, in virtue of their appren¬
ticeship, to labour for their employers for more than forty-
five hours in any one week. The apprenticeship of the
third class was not to continue beyond the first day of Au¬
gust 1838. Voluntary discharges by the employers, before
the expiration of these periods, were allowed, under provi¬
sions to secure old and infirm apprentices against destitu¬
tion ; and the apprentice was to be entitled to claim his
discharge, even against his employer’s consent, on payment
of the appraised value of his services. No apprentices were
to be removed from the colony to which they belonged ;
and those of the first class were not to be removable even
from their own plantation, except that they might be re- -
moved to other plantations of the same owner in the same,
colony, on a certificate of justices of the peace that the re¬
moval would not injure their health or welfare, nor separate
members ol the same family. Under similar restrictions
and conditions, the services of the apprentices during their
term were to be transferable property. It was conditioned
that the employers were to furnish the apprentices with
food, clothing, lodging, and other necessaries, according to
the existing laws of the several colonies, and to allow them
sufficient provision-ground, and time for cultivating it, in'
cases where that mode of maintenance was adopted. Chil¬
dren born upon or after the first of August 1834, as also
all those under six years of age at that date, although they
became at once free, might, if proved destitute to the sa¬
tisfaction of a magistrate, be bound out by the magistrate
as apprentice to the employer of the mother, by indenture,
to continue in force till the child had completed its twenty-
first year. For giving effect to the act. the crown was de¬
clared entitled to name, or to authorise governors of colo¬
nies to name, justices of the peace by special commission,
and to give salaries not exceeding L.300 a-year, to such
justices, not exceeding one hundred in all.
1 he act limited itself to general principles, such as those
now specified, declaring that, for carrying the principles
into effect, enactments by the several local authorities were
the most proper means ; and it therefore provided for hav¬
ing such regulations made by the local legislatures for the
colonies which had charters, and by the king in council for
the crown colonies. It was provided, however, that no such
local acts were to authorise the employers, or any one but
the special justices, to punish the apprentices by whipping,
beating, imprisonment, or addition to the hours of labour;
and that they were not to authorise corporal punishment of
emales on any account, or by sentence of any court. The
special justices w^ere made exclusive judges, in the first in¬
stance, in all questions between the employer and the ap¬
prentices ; and no sentence was to impose as punishment
extra-work for more than fifteen hours in any week, nor
prolongation of apprenticeship, except in the case of run¬
aways, whose prolonged service should not be compellable
er the termination of seven years from the end of the ap-
389
prenticeship. No apprentice was, whether under the act, Slavery,
or by way of punishment, or otherwise, to be compelled to^—
labour on Sundays, except for certain necessary purposes ;
and none was to be prevented from attending anywhere on
Sundays for worship at pleasure.
The remaining sections of the act provided for the rais¬
ing and application of the twenty millions of compensation-
money. The sum might be raised by loans, under the
usual restrictions on the government; and commissioners,
not few^er than five, were to be appointed by the crown for
distributing it, while assistant commissioners were to act
for the same purpose in the colonies. No money was to
be payable to any slaveholder in any colony, until it should
have been declared by an order in council, that satisfactory
provision had been made by law in such colony, for giving
effect to the act by special or supplementary regulations.
The whole money was to be divided into nineteen shares,
one for each of the colonies, each share being proportional
to the number of registered slaves in the colony, taken in
connection with the market-price of slaves in each colony,
on an average of eight years ending with 1830.
1 In virtue of this act, upon the first of August 1834, proceed.
nearly 800,000 negroes became nominally free ; but bothings taken
the friends and the opponents of emancipation watched under the
with much anxiety what would be their conduct duringact-
that probationary state which it had been deemed proper
for them to pass through,—a state which, by the very
removal of some evils, opened the way for certain others,
and which, while it gave increased protection against
some kinds of oppression, left the negroes more helpless
against severities and neglect of other kinds. Two subse¬
quent acts of Parliament provided as far as possible against
abuse; and, although many conflicting accounts have
reached this country, there does seem to be no sufficient
reason for believing that the treatment of the apprentices
was really in any material respect worse than it had been dur¬
ing their slavery ; while there appears to be as little reason
for doubting, that the slaves in general conducted themselves
with thankfulness and decency on their change of condition.
But in different islands the policy of the local legislature Shortening
was very various. Many of the colonists were as well satisfied of the up¬
as the most zealous members of the Anti-Slavery Society, prentice-
that the apprenticeship was wrong and dangerous. Anti-shiP by
gua had the honour of leading the way in making this opi- son?<: c°l0
nion operative. The legislature of that island declined to
take advantage of the apprenticeship at all; its slaves were
emancipated at once, and “ on Christmas-day 1834, for the
first time these thirty years, martial law was not proclaimed
in Antigua.” Bermuda followed the example, which was
next imitated by the small isles, and afterwards by the great
island of Barbadoes. Stillsomecoloniesheldout, with Jamaica
at their head; and, particularly from this island, there reach¬
ed us not only threatening resolutions of the Assembly, but
reports of extreme severities towards the slaves, and of decid¬
ed hostility to the stipendiary magistrates; while one or two of
the colonies would not even condescend, for several years, to
take such steps as the act declared to be necessary for entitling
their landholders to payment of the compensation-money.
In the spring of 1838, the question of immediate aboli¬
tion of the apprenticeship was stirred, on those and other
grounds, in both Houses of Parliament. Lord Brougham’s
motion to this effect, supported by Lord Lyndhurst and
others, was met by the previous question. Sir George
Strickland’s, in the House of Commons, was also negatived ;
and, although a similar resolution was afterwards carried in
the Commons, the ministry intimated that they would throw
every obstacle in the way of any measure founded on it, and Final and
the attempt was therefore given up. complete
But the colonists were warned in time, by the spirit whicli non'ofTh"
reigned here, and by that which appears to have been rising negroes *
among the negroes. They proceeded forthwith to aboli- 183S.
390
S L E
Sleaford tion; and, on the first of August 1838, there was not a slave
left in any British colony, except the Mauritius alone, in
which instructions from the home government have since
' carried the enfranchisement into effect. The act of the
Assembly of Jamaica for putting an end to the apprentice-
Sledge.
SEE
shown a disinclination to work, except during the few weeks
immediately succeeding their complete manumission ; and
we look forward with a confident hope to improvement both v
of society and statistics, believing firmly that the planters
have now fairer prospects before them than they have en-
Sleep-
I!
Sleida
Assemmy oi Jamaica ior ijuium- an cuu m —    —-- v - r, ^
ship was accompanied by a protest, which, in its tone of joyed at any time during the last half century. If the event
.l , 1 , ^ . . n . v _  hoc af loocf honn Hnnp ? nnn snmp
mingled sullenness and pertness, is assuredly the strangest
document that ever emanated from any legislative body.
Of the results of this mighty change, we are not yet in
a condition to speak. From Jamaica the accounts have been
of various complexions ; from the other islands almost uni¬
versally favourable. The negroes have scarcely anywhere
shall be otherwise, justice has at least been done ; and some
atonement has been made for the most heinous crime which
our nation ever committed. Nay more, a revolution has
been averted, which, before many generations, would as¬
suredly have repeated in our Caribbean Islands all the hor¬
rors of Saint Domingo. (b. l.)
Of the Twenty Millions voted hy Parliament as compensation to the owners of slaves, the following Table shews the
proportions assigned to each colony by the Commissioners appointed by the Act for the Abolition of Slavery, with
the value and numbers of slaves in each.
COLONY.
Average Value
of a Slave from
1822 to 1830.
Bermuda ^ 
Bahamas 
Jamaica 
Honduras 
Virgin Islands 
Antigua 
Montserrat.... 
Nevis 
St. Christopher’s 
Dominica .....
Barbadoes 
Grenada 
St. Vincent’s I 58
Tobago  45
St. Lucia 
Trinidad 
British Guiana 
Cape of Good Hope 
Mauritius. 
£
27
29
44
120
31
32
36
39
36
43
.47
59
Number of
Slaves by
the last re¬
gistration
in this
country.
56
105
114
73
69
s. d.
4 Hf
18 9f
15 2i
4 7f
16 If
12 10^
17 10f
3 Ilf
6 10f
8 7£
1 3i
6 0
6 8
12 Of
18 7
4 5f
11 5f
9 11
14 3
Relative Value of the
Slaves.
4,203
9,705
311,692
1,920
5,192
29,537
6,355
8,722
20,660
14,384
82,807
23,556
22,997
11,621
13,348
22,359
84,915
38,427
68,613
780,993
£
114,527
290,573
13,951,139
230,844
165,143
964,198
234,466
341,893
750,840
624,715
3,897,276
1,395,784
1,341,491
529,941
759,890
2,352,655
9,729,047
2,824,224
4,783,183
s. d.
7 5f
15 3f
2 3
0 0
9 3
8 lOf
8 Of
6 3f
7 1
2 0
19 Of
16 0
13 4
16 2f
10 4
18 Of
13 5f
7 9
15 3
Proportion of the
L.20,000,000, to which the
colony is entitled.
£
50,584
128,340
6,161,927
101,958
72,940
425,866
103,558
151,007
331,630
275,923
1,721,345
616,444
592,508
234,064
335,627
1,039,119
4,297,117
1,247,401
2,112,632
d.
0|
s.
7 o^ -41
7 5f-47
5 lOf,
19
8
7
18
2
10
12
19
17
18
J-58
7 2 '92
5f 76
Of -13
5^-38
Hf-35
7f -82
8f -30
7 0-87
7£ -03
Of-93
4 Ilf .55
15 Hf .19
1 3^ -n
10 64.30
0 7f 76
10 Ilf-06
* -08
45,281,738 15 lOf 20,000,000 0 0
SLEAFORD, a town in the hundred of Fleswell, part
of Kesleven of the county of Lincoln, 116 miles from Lon¬
don. It was once the residence of the bishops of Lincoln.
It has a fine ancient Gothic church, adorned with many
monuments. It has a good market on Fridays. The inha¬
bitants were, in 1801, 1596; in 1811, 1904; in 1821, 2220;
and in 1831, 2587.
SLEBEZE, a small island in the straits of Sunda. Long.
105. 24. E. Lat. 5. 54. S.
SLEDGE, a kind of carriage without wheels, for the con¬
veyance of weighty things, as stones, bells, and the like. The
sledge for carrying criminals, condemned for high treason,
to execution, is called a hurdle. Fhe Dutch have a kind
of sledge on which they can carry a vessel of any burden
by land. It consists of a plank of the length of the keel of
a moderate ship, raised a little behind, and hollow in the
middle; so that the sides go a little aslope, and are furnish¬
ed with holes to receive pins. The rest is quite even.
Sledge is a large smith’s hammer, to be used w ith both
hands. Of this there are two sorts, the up-hand sledge,
which is used by under workmen, when the work is not of
the largest sort. The other, which is called the about-
sledge, and which is used for battering or drawing out the
largest work, is held by the handle with both hands, and
swung round over their heads, at their arm’s end, to strike
as hard a blowr as they can.
SLEEP, that state of the body, in which, though the vi¬
tal functions continue, the senses are not affected by the
ordinary impressions of external objects. See Dreams,
Physiology, and Somnambulism.
SLEEPERS, in Natural History, a name given to those
animals which sleep all winter, such as bears, marmots, dor¬
mice, bats, hedgehogs, swallows, and the like. These do
not feed in winter, have no sensible evacuations, breathe
little or none at all, and most of the viscera cease from their
functions. Some of these animals seem to be dead, and
others return to a state like that of the foetus before birth.
In this state they continue, till, by an increase of heat, the
animal is restored to its former functions.
SLEIDAN, John, an excellent German historian, born
of obscure parents, in 1506, at Sleidan, a small town on
the confines of the duchy of Juliers. After studying
some time in his own country, together with his towns¬
man, the learned John Sturmius, he went to France, and m
Deficient fractions ,
g wick
h.
S L E
1525 entered into the service of the cardinal and archbishop
John du Bellay. He retired to Strasburg in 1542, where
he acquired the esteem and friendship of the most consider¬
able persons, particularly of James Sturmius, by whose ad¬
vice and assistance he was enabled to write the history of
his own time. He was employed in some public negocia-
tions; but the death of his wife, in 1555, plunged him in¬
to so deep a melancholy, that he entirely lost his memory,
and died the year following. In 1555 came out, in folio,
De Statu Heligionis et Heipublicce sub Carolo Quinto, in
fifteen books, from the year 1517, when Luther began to
preach, to the year of its publication, and this history was
presently translated into most of the languages of Europe.
Besides this great work, he wrote, De quatuor summis Im-
periis, libri tres; with some other historical and political
pieces.
SLESWICK, or Schleswig, a province in the kingdom
of Denmark, in that division usually denominated the Du¬
chies, including, with this province, Holstein and Lauen-
berg, all of which are inhabited by people of German ori¬
gin, who speak that language, and are regulated by differ¬
ent laws from the rest of Denmark. This province is bound¬
ed on the north by Jutland; on the north-east by the Little
Belt, wherein the Island of Aroe, which is a part of it, lies;
on the east by the Baltic sea, wherein are the Islands Alsen
and Femern ; on the south by Holstein, from which it is
divided by the river Eyder and the Sleswick canal; and
on the west by the German Ocean, in which are the islands
of Nordstrand, Pellworm, and some other smaller ones.
The wrhole extent is 3515 square miles. It comprehends
thirteen cities, fourteen market-towns, and 1500 hamlets or
villages, divided into 257parishes, which contained 36,000 in¬
habitants in 1832. It is in general a level district, having on
the western side many tracts of rich meadow land; while, on
the eastern side, its agricultural produce are corn, butter,
cheese, and meal; but through the middle of the province
runs a ridge of sandy hills, which scarcely repay the cost of
cultivation. There are many lakes and marshes, and on
the eastern side, fiorden or bays, formed by project¬
ing woody headlands, which have a picturesque appear¬
ance. The climate is cold in winter, but remarkably vari¬
able. There are few manufactures, and the trade chiefly
consists of the export of the products of the soil, or of the
fisheries; which last forms an important part of the occupa¬
tion of a great number of the inhabitants. The principal
towns, besides the capital, are Hadersleben, Apenrade,
Tondern, Bredsted, Husum, Nordstrand, Toning, Fred-
richstadt, Flensburg, and Eckenfiorde.
Sleswick, a city, the capital of the province of that
name in the continental dominions of Denmark. It stands
on an arm of the sea on the German Ocean, and the
buildings are erected in the form of a crescent. It is an
open town, most irregularly built, and is divided into four
distinct parts. It is the seat of a Lutheran bishop, has a
domkirche or cathedral, and four other churches, and seve¬
ral collegiate institutions for education. The harbour has
only nine feet water, and is of small extent. The trade is
inconsiderable. There are sugar refineries, tanneries, dis¬
tilleries, and breweries, all for the home consumption. It
contains 1320 houses, with 10,640 inhabitants. Lat. 54.
31. 15. Long. 9. 29. 25. E. i
SLEUI-Hound, the ancient Scots name of the blood¬
hound. The word is derived from the Saxon slot, the im¬
pression that a deer leaves of its foot in the mire, and hound,
d qt’tpu t*le^ ^er‘ve t*le^r name from following the track.
1 f 11 *n Metallurgy, the ore of any metal, particular-
y o gold, when it has been pounded and prepared for fur¬
ther working.
The manner of preparing the slich at Chremnitz in Hun¬
gary, is this. They lay a foundation of wood three yards
oeep; upon this they place the ore, and over this there
S I, I
twenty-four beams, armed at their bottoms with iron • these
by a continual motion, beat and grind the ore, till it is re¬
duced to powder. During this operation, the ore is cover¬
ed with water. T here are four wheels used to move these <
beams, each wheel moving six ; and the water, as it runs
off, carrying some of the metalline particles with it, is re-
ceived into several basons, one placed behind another •
and finally, after having passed through them all, and de¬
posited some sediment in each, it is let offinto a very lame
pit, almost half an acre in extent; in which it is suffered to
stand as long as to deposit all its sediment, of whatever
kind, and after this is let out. This work is carried on day
and night, and the ore is taken away and replaced by more
as often as occasion requires. That ore which lies next the
beams, by which it was pounded, is always the cleanest or
richest.
When the slich is washed as much as they can, a hundred
weight of it usually contains about an ounce, or perhaps but
half an ounce of metal, which is not all gold; for there is
always a mixture of gold and silver, but the gold is in a
larger quantity, and is usually two-thirds of the mixture.
They then put the slich into a furnace with some lime¬
stone, and slacken, or the scoria of former meltings, and run
them together. The first melting produces a substance
called lech, which they burn with charcoal, to make it lighter,
to open its body, and render it porous, after which it is call¬
ed rost; to this they add sand in such quantity as they find
necessary, and then melt it over again.
At Chremnitz many other methodsare practised of reducing
go from its ore, but particularly one, in which they em¬
ploy no lead during the whole operation: whereas, in ge¬
neral, lead is always necessary, after the before-mentioned
processes.
SLICKENBURG, a small island near the north-west
coast of Borneo. Long. 112. 31. E. Lat. 3. 59. N.
SLIDING-kule, a mathematical instrument, serving to
work questions in gauging, measuring, and the like, with¬
out the use of compasses; merely by the sliding of the
parts of the instrument one by another, the lines and divi¬
sions of which give the answer by inspection. This instru¬
ment is variously contrived and applied by various authors,
particularly Everard, Coggeshall, Gunter, Hunt, and Par-
triage ; but the most common and useful are those of Ever-
ard and Coggeshall.
SLIGO, a maritime county in the province of Connaught
in Ireland, is bounded on the north by the Atlantic Ocean,
on the east by Leitrim, on the south-east by Roscommon,
and on the south and west by Mayo. It extends from 53°
54' to 54° 28' north latitude, and from 8° 10'to 9° 10'west
longitude; being thirty-eight miles in its greatest length
from north to south, between Mullaghmore Head and
Lough Gara, and forty-one in breadth from west to east,
r cl-6611 ^rt^maree an(l the junction of the three counties
of Sligo, Roscommon, and Leitrim, and comprehending an
area of 461,753 acres, or 721 square miles.
According to Ptolemy the geographer, this district was
inhabited by the tribe of the Nagnatae, whose chief city,
Nagnata, is supposed to have been situated somewhere in
the vicinity of the town of Sligo. It afterwards formed
part of the kingdom of Connaught, one of the five into
which the island was divided previously to the arrival of
t e English, in the reign of Henry II. It was afterwards
possessed by one of the family of the O’Conors, kings of
Connaught, who was called O’Conor Sligo, to distinguish
him from the other chieftains of the same family; and
under him the heads of the septs of O’Bean, O’Doud,
O Gai a, O Hara, M‘Donogh, and M'Firbis, were subordi¬
nate chieftains in their respective districts. After a pro-
tracted struggle between the natives and the English, it
ell into the hands of the De Burgos, who, either by force
or treaties, had made themselves masters of the greater
391
Slickeu-
burg.
II
Sligo
392 S L 1
Sligo, part of the ancient kingdom of Connaught. When the
y- “w' province was made shire-ground by Elizabeth, in 15o9j
Sligo formed one of the seven counties into which it was
divided; but so far from being thus rendered amenable to
the jurisdiction of that queen, it became the theatre o
several conflicts in the war against O Heil, chieftain of Ty¬
rone, in the latter part of her reign. The most remarka¬
ble of these was that with Sir Conyers Clifford, who, m
attempting to pass into the county from Roscommon with
a body of from 1500 to 2000 men, in order to relieve Bel-
leek, was attacked in a defile of the Curlew mountains by
O’Roark, chieftain of Breffney, was himself killed, and his
troops were driven back with considerable loss. During the
civil wars of 1641, the Irish kept possession of the open
country until nearly its close, when they were reduced to
submission by the parliamentary forces under Ireton. In
the subsequent war of 1688, the county was held by the
forces of King James for some time, but ultimately yielded
to the victorious arms of William III. The French force
which landed at Killalla under General Humbert in 1798,
had a severe skirmish at Colooney with the Limerick militia,
commanded by Colonel Vereker, which ended in the re¬
treat of the latter.
The county includes an extensive line of sea-coast
along its northern border, in which are the bays of Classy-
vaun and Milkhaven in the north, and Brown Bay, which
branches into the smaller and less frequented indentations
of Drumcliff, Sligo, and Ballysadare Bays. Rillalla Bay,
to the west of the county, belongs also to Mayo.
island of Innismurray lies about five miles off the northern
coast, being separated from the mainland by a passage
dangerous, except in moderate weather, from the number
of reefs under water. The island itself rises precipitously
on the ocean side, but shelves gradually downwards on
that of the land : there is but one practicable landing-place.
The whole surface extends over 209 acres, of which about
120 are arable, affording pasturage to a few cattle and
sheep. There is also a large extent of bog. The in¬
habitants depend chiefly on the fishery, which in most sea¬
sons is abundant. The place is peculiarly remarkable for
a small chapel or cell, celebrated for an image of its pa¬
tron, St. Molasse. Near the chapel is a singular relic,
called the cursing-stone, so named from a superstitious
opinion of its efficacy in punishing guilt if appealed to ac¬
cording to an established form. The island is also a favour¬
ite burial- place : males and females are interred in separ-
ate cemeteries.
Mountains. The land rises into mountains of considerable height in
its northern extremity. The principal of these are Benbul-
ben, 1722 feet high; King’s mountain, 1527; Cuilogher-
boy, 1430; and Truskmore, part of which is in Leitrim,
2072. In the west are the ranges of the Slieve, Gamph,
and Ox mountains, the highest points of which are 1321
and 1446 feet respectively. In the east Kishcorrin and
Carriskea rise to the heights of 1183 and 1062 feet.
The Curlew mountains in the south-east, between Ros¬
common and Sligo, only rise to the height of 863 feet.
The entire surface of the county contains 449,013 acres of
land, of which about 272,000 are capable of cultivation,
and the remainder mountain or waste, and 12,740 acres
under water. The principal rivers are the Moy, which
forms the western boundary, separating the county from
Mayo, and emptying itself into Killalla Bay; it is naviga¬
ble to Ballina, six miles inland, for vessels of ten feet
draught; the I inned, the Easkey, the Ballybeg, the Dun-
neill, the Ballysadare river, with its branches the Owen-
more, Owenbeg, and Arrow, or Unshin, and the Garvogue,
a short but rapid stream, rising in Lough Gill, and passing
through Sligo town into the bay of the same name. All
these^rivers have their sources within the county. The
lakes are numerous, and several of them large ard highly
G O.
picturesque. Lough Gill, the most northern, spreads over %
3130 acres, besides a small portion in Leitrim ; its western
side is richly planted, and in it are ten islands, the largest
of which are Church Island, 41 acres, and Cottage Island,
13. Lough Arrow, in the east, 3010 acres, is of very irre¬
gular form, and contains the islands of Annagowla, 34 acres,
Muck, 21, and Inish, 20; Lough Gara, in the south-east,
3683 acres, contains the islands of Derrymore, 33 acres,
Inchmore, 21, and the smaller islands of Inch, Inchbeg,
Eagle, Crow, and Derrynatallan. Lough Talt, in a basin
of the Ox mountains, surrounded by projecting cliffs, 300
acres, and 455 feet above sea level, is remarkable for its
abundance of trout, which vary in shape and flavour in
various parts of the lake. Lough Easkey, 33/ acres, lies
in the same mountain range; Templehouse lake contains
356 acres, Cloonacleigha, 177. Smaller lakes are numer¬
ous in all parts. .
The carboniferous, or mountain limestone, including Geolog-
the lower limestone, calp or black shale series, and the
upper limestone, forms the basis of by much the greater
portion of the county. A small tract of the yellow sand¬
stone and conglomerate shews itself in the extreme north,
as also on the north and east of Lough Gara, whence it
penetrates, extending into Mayo. The old red sandstone,
and sandstone conglomerate, appears in two masses near
Lough Arrow, the southern and larger portion plunging
deeply into the adjoining county of Leitrim. A very small
portion of the granite formation, which lies between Lough
Conn and Foxford, enters the county, giving place to a
broad belt of trap porphyry, bounded by a narrow fringe
of old red sandstone, and stretching in a north-eastern di¬
rection, along the line of the Ox mountains to Ballysadare
Bay; a mass of granite protrudes through the middle of
this formation. To the south of the same bay, and west
of Ballysadare town, is a small field of quartz rock. The
sandstone in some tracts assumes an appearance which gave
rise to the opinion that coal existed under it, but, on mak¬
ing the experiment, the hopes of the speculator were al¬
ways baffled. Iron was procured in large quantities, par¬
ticularly at the base of the Ox mountains, until the timber
used as fuel for smelting was exhasted. Sulphate of cop¬
per and iron pyrites are frequently found in small pieces;
and pure copper occasionally in the beds of some of the
rivers. Manganese has also been found in various places,
and amethysts of large size near Ballymote.
The climate, owing to the proximity of the sea and theClimati
lofty tracts of mountains with which the county is inter¬
sected, is moist, and the weather extremely variable, Ihe
atmospheric changes being so frequent and sudden, as often
to render the barometer an unsatisfactory test of the wea¬
ther. The soil, in the mountainous districts, is a light
sandy loam on a freestone bottom, interrupted by large
patches of bog, and often overspread with a thin coat of
turf mould. In the low country it is rich and dc tp, rest
ing on a substratum of limestone, and suitable to the growth
of every kind of agricultural produce. In many parts a
superior stratum, called by the people lac-leigh, or tie
grey flag, is found incumbent on the limestone bottom.
It is principally composed of silicious marl, m a state so
compact, as to be impenetrable to water; thus, by pre¬
venting the drainage of the surface, opposing what was tor
some time deemed an insurmountable obstacle to the suc¬
cessful culture of the land. But it was afterwards dis¬
covered, that deep trenching, so as to cut through the at -
hesive layer, not only served to carry off the water ettec-
tually, which now passed freely through the subjacent
limestone gravel, but to add to the fertility of the soil; the
marl, when broken up and mixed w’ith the surface mou (,
proving a valuable compost. Timber was abundant, until
destroyed by the consumption of it required for the iron
works, and by its lavish use for domestic and agricu u
SLIGO.
igo.
Fella¬
tio
purposes, without any regard to the formation of a fresh
^ supply. 1 hat the land is capable of furnishing plenty of
this valuable article, is evident from the manner in which
young forest trees of various kinds shoot up in the moun¬
tainous districts, and in the escars which traverse the
county in various directions, checked in their growth only
by want of due care to protect the young shoots from the
depredations of cattle. But this defect in the picturesque
and agricultural character of the surface is daily diminish¬
ing. The attention of the principal landholders is now
particularly directed to the increase of forest timber, and
numerous plantations are to be seen round the mansions
and villas of the gentry, particularly on the borders of the
beautiful lakes which grace the landscape. The preva¬
lence of western gales from the Atlantic forbids the full
growth of any trees near the shore, except the willow and
sycamore, which are observed to incline in the direction of
the prevailing blast. Arbutus of small size grows freely
in most parts, as does the myrtle in more favoured aspects.
Many parts of the beach along the sea-shore is covered
with a coraline sand, interspersed with numerous beds of
oyster-shells of considerable extent. These beds are also
found in some parts of the interior, at elevations of more
than fifty feet above high water mark.
The population, like that of every other county in Ire¬
land, has been steadily on the increase, ever since the ob¬
servations of statistical writers have been directed to this
subject. I he numbers of inhabitants at several periods, are
as follows:
Tear. Authority. No.
1760 De Burgo 38,736
1792 Beaufort 60,000
1812 Parliamentary census..! 19,265
1001  ditto 146,229
393
Sligo.
munerated by the pupils’ fees, seventy-four were supported,
either wholly or partially, by voluntary subscriptions, and
but twenty-two by grants of public money.
I he county is divided into the six baronies of Carbery, Divisions.
Coolavin, Corran, Leney, Firaghrill, and Tyreragh, which
are subdivided into thirty-nine parishes: of these, twenty-
three are in the diocese of Tuam, and sixteen in that of El-
phin. The county was represented in the Irish Parliament
by four members; two for the county and two for the bo¬
rough of Sligo. By the act of Union, the number was re¬
duced to three, one being deducted from the borough. The
Reform act made no change in this respect. The consti¬
tuency of the county, as registered under the same act at
different periods, together with the numbers under the pre¬
vious act of 1829, by which the forty-shilling constituency
had been abolished, was as follows:
1831
1832
1834
1837
£50.
399
168
273
£20.
315
151
220
£10.
299
370
546
Total.
1013
695
804
1039
1821,
1831,
• ditto 171,508
According to the last of these results, the population
is to the acreable extent of the cultivated land, as one
to 1.585 acres, and to that of the total landed surface,
as one to 2.693 ; or, in other words, there is one inhabitant
to every acre and a-half in the first case, and to every two
acres and a-half in the second. The census taken by the
commissioners of Public Instruction in 1834, being ar¬
ranged in dioceses instead of counties, cannot be depended
on as strictly accurate. According to it, the population
may be estimated at 174,400, of which number 17,900
were Protestants, and 156,500 Roman Catholics; the for¬
mer being to the latter as one to nine nearly. The num¬
ber of presbyterians and other dissenters, who are included
in the preceding statement of numbers among the pro-
testants, amounts only to 560. The number of children
receiving instruction in public schools, was as follows, ac¬
cording to the returns made under the Population act in
1821, the Commission of Education in 1824-6, the Com¬
mission of Public Instruction in 1834, and the Report of
the Commissioners of National Education in 1839:
Males.
1821 5849.
1824-6 6516.
1834 8562.
1838 1551.
Females.
...3010...
...3686..
...5259..
...1102..
Sex not
ascertained.
Total.
—  8,859
221  10,432
—  13,821
—  2,653
In the return of 1824-6, the only one in which the differ¬
ence of religious persuasion is noted, the numbers of each
of these are,ofthe Established Church, 2558; Protestant dis¬
senters, 200; and Roman Catholics, 7495; the religion of
me remaining one hundred and eighty not having been as-
certamed. Of the total number of schools, two hundred
an twenty-six, included in the same return, one hundred
an turty were pay-schools, in which the teachers were re-
VOL. XX.
According to the last specified return, the number of elec¬
tors is to the total population as one to one hundred and fifty,
and to the number of heads of families as one to twenty-
6vc« The county is in the Connaught circuit; the assizes,
and some of the sessions of the peace, are held in the town
of Sligo, which contains the county court-house and prison.
Sessions of the peace are also held at Ballymote and Easkey,
where there are likewise court-houses and bridewells.
The county infirmary, and four hospitals are in the first-
named town. The lunatic asylum is in Ballynasloe, but
several of the unhappy creatures, for whose protection and
recovery it was designed, are still kejit in the county jail.
I here are nine dispensaries in various places.
Most parts of the county afford ample scope for agricul- Agricul
tural improvements, either in tillage or pasturage. Oats andture*
potatoes are the principal crops on the tillage land. The
culture of wheat was long unknown, the coldness and hu¬
midity of the climate having been deemed insuperable bars
to its successful treatment, but it is now' raised in consider¬
able quantities on the rich lowdands. Green crops, under
the rotation system, are also more and more attended to
every year. Ploughing is usually effected by two horses,
and, in some light soils, two asses are substituted for them;
oxen are never used for this purpose. The spade, in many
of the mountain districts, still supplies the place of the
plough. Fences of every kind are usually constructed;
those of dry stones being most common, particularly in the
more elevated districts, where the farmers adopt this mode
of structure as well to clear their fields of surface stones, as
to secure them from trespass. Sea-weed, collected on the
shore, which, some years ago, had been manufactured into
kelp, is now used as manure, and is in such repute, that it
is carried twenty miles up the country. The beds of oys¬
ter shells and the coraline sand on some stretches of the
beach, are applied to the same purpose. Tillage farms are
iiom five acres, and even lower, to two hundred or three
mndred in size. Ihose used chiefly for pasturage are of-
ten of much greater extent, and, until lately, were mostly
held by a number of tenants in a species of partnership,
according to which, each had an exclusive portion of tillage
ground, while a large tract of mountain or coarse bottom¬
land was depastured in common; but this system has been
or several years so much discouraged as to be nearly if
not altogether obsolete. The average rent of land is ten
shillings and eightpence per acre. Though the tillage sys¬
tem, as stated, is much encouraged and rapidly extending,
it is still subordinate to that of pasturage, which is adopted
in all parts of the county, and on every description of soil.
Horned cattle of the largest size are fattened in the rich
lowland plains; young cattle are reared in the hilly and
3 D
394
SLIGO.
Sligo.
Manufac¬
tures.
mountain districts; sheep also are kept in la^ flo^s> P
ticularly in the western baronies. Much butter is made,
both in dairy farms and by small landholders. Swine,
which are reared in great numbers, are looked upon as a
very profitable source of income. Goats are not common.
The native breed of horses has little to recommend it, un¬
less when improved by crosses from those of the neighbmir-
ino- counties, in which more attention is paid to them. I lie
maritime situation of the county is well adapted for increas-
ine the quantity of human nutriment, in addition to that de
rived from agriculture. The bays abound with both round
and flat fish. "The herring visits the coast m large shoals,and
the sun-fish and some species of shales are frequently seen
in the offing. But this source of profitable industry is tar
from being rendered as productive as the natural capabih-
ties of the place would lead us to infer, fl e
pital paralyzes the exertions of the fisherman. As ong a
the boatmen were enabled to procure materials for the mak¬
ing and Teparing of their craft, and for the purchase of the
necessary fishing gear by the aid of bounties and loans, the
occupation was profitable, and the numbers engaged in it
increased annually, but since the withdrawing of those en¬
couragements in 1830, the fisheries have retrograded, both
as to numbers of men, and as to rate of profit. Of the larger
fish,cod,hake,haddock,skate, and turbot are themostabun-
dant. Sprats are taken in great quantities. The Lassadi
oyster is so much esteemed, that there is a regu ar e™a"
for it in Dublin and other large towns. This fish, with y
others of the shell kind, as lobsters, crabs, scallops, &c-,are
found in many other parts of the coast. There are g
and profitable salmon fisheries at Ballina, Sligo, and Ik >
sadare ; and the numerous lakes and rivers supply the usual
species of fresh water fish in equal abundance. I he i
crease of agricultural improvement of late years is'“am y
attributable to the facilities for ertport afiorded by the p<n ts
of Sligo and Ballina, but more especially the former, it be
ing the great mart of commerce for the whole county, ex¬
cept its western districts, which, for the same pui pose, take
advantage of their vicinity to the latter. The statements
relative°to the external trade will be found - the subse-
nuent description of the town and port of Sligo, ine
land trade, in consequence of the want of oommumcatjon by
inland navigation or railroads, is confined to that of coa .e
cloths, woollens, and stockings from Connaught, and to the
sale of linen, mostly for domestic use. i he chiet trade oi
this description is from Sligo town to Boyle in^SC^^
and thence, by the Shannon and the two canals, to more
distant counties. A more confined traffic is carried on with
Colooney. Among the late plans for stimulating national
industry by inward channels of communication, it is pro¬
posed to carry a railroad from Sligo through Ballysadare,
Colooney, and Drumsna to Longford, thence to be divided
into two branches; 1 st, by Granard, to join tbep^P®®^™^
railroad from Dublin to Enniskillen at Kells m Meath, 2d,
through Mullingar, to join the proposed south-western
railroad from Dublin to Kilkenny at Ce bndge. No measures
have been yet adopted to effect this plan.
The linen manufacture was introduced into the county
so lately as the middle of the last century, when a number
of weavers were located at Ballymote by Lord Shelburne.
It continued to flourish for many years, but at length suf¬
fered, as in other parts, by the depression of the trade, and
by the introduction of that of cotton; it is now reviving.
Coarse woollens are made for domestic consumption. In
the neighbourhood of the larger towns are several thriving
tanneries, distilleries,and breweries; and the manufacture of
flour has caused the erection of numerous mills, which pre¬
pare large quantities of grain, both for home consumption
Lid export. The manufacture of kelp is nearly extinct.
There is a considerable number of resident gentry in the
county in proportion to its size, and consequently many ele¬
gant mansions and well planted demesnes, which contribute Sl,go
more and more every year to diminish the former denuded
appearance of the landscape, arising from the improvident
destruction of its ancient timber The houses of the smaller
farmers are plain, but comfortable; but the cottages of the
peasantry generally present indications o poverty. They
are either of stone or mud, rudely thatched with straw or
rushes. The food of the labouring classes are potatoes
and oaten bread, with some milk and fish, and meat on
extraordinary occasions. Fuel from the bogs is abundant.
Coal imported from Great Britain by the vessels which take
in return cargoes of agricultural produce, is used m the
larger towns, and by the respectable families in their vici¬
nity ; but the high price precludes its general use throughout
thecounty. The garments of the men are chiefly of home-
manufactured wool, and so were those of the women unti
lately, when the native fabrics have been nearly supplanted
by cheap cottons. Irish is scarcely spoken, except in some
of the retired mountain tracts. Early marriages are much
encouraged: they generally take place in the winter and
snrinsr. The rustic customs and amusements resemble those
of the other north-western counties, in which the language
and habits introduced from Scotland are less prevalent than
in the eastern parts of Ulster.
There are numerous relics of ancient structures. AAntiqu
round tower at Drumcliff, in Carbery barony, differs from •
all others in Ireland, in being of smaller size, and inferior
architecture. Near the church where it stands, are two stone
crosses. On Knocknaree mountains are several cairns; and
in the same mountains, a deep valley, thickly planted and
watered by several romantic falls, appears to have been
formed by a violent organic shock, causing a fi^^ ^roug
the mountain. Some grottoes, hollowed out of the side of
a hill near Carron, are of unknown antiquity. Near Sligo
town is a cromlech, and a number of circular structures,
popularly called giants’ graves. Near Castleconnor, m
Tyreragh barony, are several vaults of a square form, whether
built for cemeteries or storehouses, is uncertain. There
are several remains of ancient castles. That of Knockna-
movle crowning an elevated hill near Skreen, is supposed
to have existed before the arrival of the English ; the others
are thought to have been built since. Upwards of forty
monastic buildings are noticed by antiquaries, the rums o
ten of which are still visible; eight others have been con
verted into parochial churches, but the remainder are kn
only by name, even the site of some of them being either
doubtful or undiscoverable. Close to the ruins of ^ an¬
cient chapel on Church Island, in Lough Gill, is a kind oi
chamber!Por cavity, called the “lady’s bed,” to which is
attached the superstitious notion, that women who ^
in it will be preserved from the risk of death m ch Id
A well called Tubber-art, in Kilmacteige parish, hMt
character of performing cures in diseases that have set
defiance the ordinary resources of medicine.
Sligo, the assize town ot the county, became a place o ,
importance by the building ot a castle there, bj the ewlo
Kildare, soon after the English settlement: ton^quence
was increased by the subsequent foundation of a l?0""
monastery; but its progress was subsequently much'M
bv fires and by the hostilities produced by the strung
fol superiority between the Eng^sh and the native. It
was incorporated and invested with the privilege of a par
hamentary borough in 1613, and in 162 obtained a charte
of the staple* In the early period of the wa; of it
was taken by the parliamentarians, under Sir , con_
but after some time evacuated by. ^. ’' rmination
tinned in the possession of the royalists till t
of the war. In 1688 it declared in favour o King Janie ,
was taken for King William by the Enniskinener^who^e
turn, were driven out by General Sarsfieh , n is
ultimately surrendered to the earlof Granar .
S L I
S L O
395
Ugd. situated on both sides of the mouth of the Garvogue, where
U it discharges itself into the bay. The river is crossed by
two bridges. The streets are narrow, winding, and irregu¬
larly built. Its public buildings are, two protestant churches,
a Roman Catholic chapel, a Dominican friary, Presbyterian,
Independent, and Methodist meeting-houses. The existing
remains of the ancient monastery of Sligo still exhibit a fine
specimen of the architecture of the period in which it was
erected. Near its high altar is the tomb of the O’Conor
Sligo, embellished with effigies. The town contains the
county infirmary and fever hospital, two dispensaries, cavalry
barracks for a hundred men, a library, and a small theatre.
There is a mendicity association, which has been for some
time in existence, but will shortly be closed, as Sligo is
selected for the site of the workhouse for a union that ex¬
tends over the whole county, except a few detached parts
on its borders that are annexed to unions in the adjacent
counties. The town is divided, under the poor law act,
into three wards, with two guardians to each ; the rest of
the union being divided into twenty wards, with thirty-three
guardians. The markets, which are held daily, the princi¬
pal being on Thursday and Saturday, are well supplied with
grain, meat, fish, and vegetables. Fairs are held five times
in the year. The town is a chief station for the constabu¬
lary, and for the coast-guard. The paving, lighting, and
other departments of the municipal police, are under the
direction of commissioners, appointed by several acts of
parliament; their jurisdiction extends a mile in every direc¬
tion from the market cross. Previously to the union, the
borough returned two members to parliament; subsequent¬
ly the number was reduced to one, the right of franchise
being vested in the mayor and twenty-seven burgesses and
freemen, till the passing of the reform act, when it was ex¬
tended to the L.10 householders. The number of electors
in 1832 was 418; and in 1834, 694. The assizes and
sessions of the peace for the county are held here in the
court-house, an elegant modern building, and petty sessions
are likewise held weekly. The county prison is commodi¬
ous, well arranged, and under a good system of discipline. It
has a tread-mill.
Sligo bay, in its more extended bearings, stretches from
Rinoran to Gessige point, at its opening, a distance of about
six miles, and is divided into three branches, the central,
largest, and deepest of which terminates at the town of
Sligo. The entrance of this branch is screened from the
violence of the ocean waves by two small islands, Oyster
island and Coney island. There are three lighthouses at
the mouth of the harbour. Across its main entrance is a
bar, with but ten feet depth at low water. Though the
entrance of ships of deep draught is thus prevented, yet
vessels of 300 tons can come up to the quays in the turn of
spring tides. The increase of trade has been very consider¬
able of late years. The number of vessels that entered in
1800, was 65 ; in 1830, 540, but in 1834 the number fell
to 391. The export of oats in 1831, was 130,000 quarters;
in 1832, 134,000 ; and in 1833, 154,000. That of wheat
trebled itself in the three years ending with 1833, but the
quantities were still small as compared with the oats, amount¬
ing in 1833 to no more than 3127 quarters. The export
of butter and pork is also increasing rapidly, and steadily ;
no fewer than 150,000 casks of the former, and 8547 bar¬
rels of the latter, having been shipped in 183.3. The in¬
creased demand in Great Britain for grain and provisions,
has produced a considerable change in the cultivation of the
soil, both in enlarged extent, and superior skill applied to
tillage-land. The exports in 1835 amounted to L.369,490,
estimated value, the principal being of grain, 504,803
cwts., value L.25,240 ; and provisions, 55,389 cwts., value
L-181,836. The imports of the same year amounted to
L.124,692, of which the principal were, tobacco, 101,066
ibs., L. 16,450 ; salt, 90,640 bushels, L.6,728 ; British spi¬
rits, 33,000 gallons, L.l 1,000 ; and tea, 20,186 lbs., L.4037. Sling
Both exports and imports are chiefly confined to the cross- 11
channel trade. The revenue of customs and excise duties Sloane.
has not increased in the same proportion. The amount of
each, at various periods, is as follows :
Customs.
1802....L.14,690
1803  14,747
1804  11,462
1805  16,201
1806  16.772
1807  14,567
1808  18,699
1809  20,309
1810  15,133
1811  13,101
1812  10,651
1813  16,138
1828....L.39,484
1829  37,823
1830  40,069
1831  39,741
1821 ....L.26,083
1824 33,619
1829  46,151
1830  39,438
1831  33,162
1832  26,631
1833  28,954
1834  34,916
1835  33,703
1836  35.864
1837  32,120
1832....L.31,654
1833 24,040
1835  33,507
1836  35,864
The regulations of the port and harbour are placed under
the commissioners of the town police, already noticed, who
are authorised to assess a tax at a maximum of 2s. 6d in
the pound, on all houses of L.5, and upwards, annual value,
for all the purposes under the acts.
The population of Sligo town, and of the only other
town of any note in the country, was in 1831, Sligo, 15,152 ;
Ardmaree, 2,47.
SLING, an instrument serving for casting stones with
great violence. The inhabitants of the Balearic islands
were famous in antiquity for the dexterous management of
the sling. It is said they used three kinds of slings, some
longer, and others shorter, which they used according as
their enemies were either nearer or more remote. It is
added, that the first served them for a head-band, the se¬
cond for a girdle, and the third they constantly carried in
their hand.
SLINGING is used variously at sea, but chiefly for hoist¬
ing up casks or other heavy things with slings, that is, con¬
trivances of ropes spliced into themselves at either end, with
one eye big enough to receive the cask or whatever is to be
slung. There are other slings, which are made longer, and with
a small eye at each end, one of which is put over the breech
of a piece of ordnance, and the other comes over the end
of an iron crow, which is put into the mouth of the piece,
to weigh and hoist the gun as they please. There are also
slings by which the yards are bound fast to the cross-trees
aloft, and to the head of the mast, with a strong rope or
chain, that if the tie should happen to break, or to be shot to
pieces in fight, the yard, nevertheless, may not fall upon the
hatches.
Slinging a Man overboard, i n order to stop a leak in a ship,
is managed thus. The man is trussed up about the middle
in a piece of canvass, and a rope to keep him from sinking,
with his arms at liberty, a mallet in one hand, and a plug,
wrapped in oakum and well tarred in a tarpauling clout, in
the other, which he is to beat with all dispatch into the hole
or leak.
SLIPPER Island, a small island in the Eastern sea.
Long. 93. 30. E. Lat. 14. 8. N.
SLOANE, Sir Hans, eminently distinguished as a phy¬
sician and a naturalist, was of Scotish extraction, his father,
Alexander Sloane, having been at the head of that Scotish
colony which King James I. settled in the north-of Ireland,
396
S L O A N E.
Sloane-
where the son was born, at Killieagh, on the 19th of
April 1660. At a very early period, he displayed a strong
inclination for natural'history; and this propensity being
encouraged by a suitable education, he employed those
hours which young people generally lose by pursuing low
and trifling amusements, in the study ot nature, and con¬
templating her works. When about sixteen, he was at¬
tacked by a spitting of blood, which threatened to be at¬
tended with considerable danger, and which interrupted the
regular course of his application for three years. He had,
however, already learned enough of physic to know that a
malady of this kind was not to be sudden y removed, and
he prudently abstained from wine and other liquors that were
likely to increase it. . •
By strictly observing this severe regimen, which he n
some measure continued ever afterwards, he was enabled to
prolong his life beyond the ordinary bounds; being an ex¬
ample of the truth of his own favourite maxim, that sobrie¬
ty, temperance, and moderation, are the best and most power¬
ful preservatives that nature has granted to mankind. As
soon as he recovered from this infirmity, he resolved to
perfect himself in the different branches of physic, which
was the profession he had made choice of; and with this view
he repaired to London, where he hoped to receive that as¬
sistance which he could not find in his own country.
On his arrival in the metropolis, he entered himself as a
pupil of Stafforth, an excellent chemist, bred under the il¬
lustrious Stahl; and by his instructions he gained a perfect
knowledge of the composition and preparation ot the dif¬
ferent kinds of medicines then in use. At the same time,
he studied botany at the garden at Chelsea, assiduously at¬
tended the public lectures of anatomy and physic, and in
short neglected nothing that he thought likely to prove ser¬
viceable to him in his future practice. His principal merit,
however, was his knowledge of natural history ; and it was
this part of his character which introduced him early to the
acquaintance of Mr. Boyle and Mr. Ray, two of the most
eminent naturalists of that age. His intimacy with these
distinguished characters continued as long as they lived;
and as he was careful to communicate to them every ob-
iect of curiosity that attracted his attention, the observations
which he occasionally made often excited their admiration
and obtained their applause.
After studying four years at London with unremitting se¬
verity, Mr. Sloane determined to visit foreign countries for
further improvement. In this view he set out for trance
in the company of two other students, and having crossed
to Dieppe, proceeded to Paris. In the way thither they were
elegantly entertained by M. Lemery the elder; and in re¬
turn Mr. Sloane presented that eminent chemist with a spe¬
cimen of four different kinds of phosphorus, of which, upon
the credit of other writers, M. Lemery had treated in his
book of chemistry, though he had never seen any of them.
At Paris Mr. Sloane lived as he had done m London. He
attended the hospitals, heard the lectures of Tournefort, De
Verney, and other eminent masters ; visited all the literati,
who received him with particular marks of esteem; and em¬
ployed himself wholly in study. .
From Paris he proceeded to Montpellier; and, being
furnished with letters of recommendation from M. Tourne¬
fort to M. Chirac, then chancellor of that university, he found
easy access, through his means, to all the learned men of the
province, particularly to M.Magnol, whom he always accom¬
panied in his botanical excursions in the environs of that city,
where he beheld with pleasure and admiration the sponta¬
neous productions of nature, and learned under his instruc¬
tions to class them in a proper manner.
Having here found an ample field for contemplation, which
was entirely suited to his taste, he took leave of his two
companions, whom a curiosity of a different kind led into
Italy. After spending a whole year in collecting plants, he
travelled through Languedoc with the same design; and Sloane.
passing through Toulouse and Bordeaux, returned to Paris,
where he made a short stay. About the end of the year 1684
he set out for England, with an intention of settling there as
a physician. On his arrival in London, he made it his first
business to visit his two illustrious friends Mr. Ray and Mr.
Boyle, in order to communicate to them the discoveries which
he had made in his travels. The latter he found at home, but
the former had retired to Essex; to which place Mr.Sloane
transmitted a great variety of plants and seeds, which Mr.
Ray has described in his History of Plants, and for which
he makes a proper acknowledgment.
About the year 1706 Sloane became acquainted with
Sydenham, who soon contracted so warm an affection for
him that he took him into his house, and recommended him
in the strongest manner to his patients. He had not been
long in London before he was proposed by Dr. Martin Lis¬
ter as a candidate to be admitted a fellow of the Royal
society, on the 26th of November 1684; and being ap¬
proved, he was elected on the 21st of January following.
In 1685 he communicated some curiosities to the So¬
ciety; and in July the same year he was a candidate for
the office of assistant secretary, but without success, as he
was obliged to give way to the superior interest of his com¬
petitor Dr. Halley. On the 12th of April 1687, he was
chosen a fellow of the College of Physicians in London; and
the same year his friend and fellow traveller Dr. Tancred
Robinson, having mentioned to the society the plant called
the star of the earth as a remedy newly discovered for the
bite of a mad dog, Dr. Sloane acquainted them that this vir¬
tue of the plant was to be found in a book called De Grey’s
Farriery; and that he knew a man who had cured with it
twenty couple of dogs. This observation he made on the
13th of July, and on the 12th of September following he
embarked at Portsmouth for Jamaica with the duke of Al¬
bemarle, who had been appointed governor of that island.
The doctor attended his grace in quality of physician, and
arrived at Jamaica on the 19th of December following.
Here a new field was opened for fresh discoveries in na¬
tural productions; but the world would have been deprived
of the fruits of them, had not Sloane, by incredible ap¬
plication, converted, as we may say, his minutes into hours.
The duke of Albemarle died soon after he landed, and the
duchess determined to return to England whenever an an¬
swer should be received to the letter which she had sent to
court on that melancholy occasion. As he could not think
of leaving her grace in her distress, whilst the rest of her
retinue were preparing for their departure, he improved it
in making collections of natural curiosities; so that, though
his whole stay in Jamaica was not above fifteen months, be
brought together such a prodigious number of plants, that
on his return to England, Mr. Ray was astonished that one
man could procure in one island, and in so short a space, so
vast a variety.
On his arrival in London, he applied himself to the prac¬
tice of his profession, and soon became so eminent, that he
was chosen physician to Christ’s Hospital on the 17th Oc¬
tober 1694; and this office he held till the year 1730, when,
on account of his great age and infirmities, he found it ne¬
cessary to resign. It is somewhat singular, and redounds
much to the doctor’s honour, that though he received the emo¬
luments of his office punctually, because he would not la\
down a precedent which might hurt his successors, yet he con¬
stantly applied the money to the relief of those who were the
greatest objects of compassion in the hospital, that it might
never be said he enriched himself by giving health to the
poor. He had been elected secretary to the Royal Society
on the 30th of November 1693; and upon this occasion he
revived the publication of the Philosophical Transactions.
which had for some time been neglected. He continued to
be the editor of this work till the year 1712; and the vo-
S L O A N E.
ifie. lutnes which appeared daring that period are monuments of
i /'^’^his industry and ingenuity, many of the pieces contained in
them being written by himself.
In the mean time he published Catalogus Plantarum
quae in Insula Jamaica sponte proveniunt; sen Prodromi
Historia; Naturalis pars prima ; which he dedicated to the
Royal Society and the College of Physicians. About the same
time he formed the plan of a dispensary, where the poor
might be furnished at prime cost with such medicines as
their several maladies might require; and this he afterwards
carried into execution, with the assistance of the president
and other members of the College of Physicians.
His eager thirst for natural knowledge seems to have
been born with him, so that his cabinet of curiosities may
be said to have commenced with his being. He was con¬
tinually enriching and enlarging it; and the fame which, in
the course of a few' years, it had acquired, brought every
thing that was curious in art or nature to be first offered to
him for purchase. These acquisitions howeverincreaseditbut
very slowly in comparison of the augmentation which it re¬
ceived in 1701 by the death of Mr.William Courten, a gentle¬
man who had employed all his time, and the greater part of
his fortune, in collecting rarities, and who bequeathed the
whole to Dr. Sloane, on condition of his paying certain debts
and legacies with which he had charged it. These terms
our author accepted, and he executed the will of the donor
with the most scrupulous exactness; on which account some
people have said, that he purchased Mr. Courten’s curiosi¬
ties at a dear rate.
In 1707 the first volume of Dr. Sloane’s Natural History
of Jamaica appeared in folio, though the publication of the
second was delayed till 1725. By this very useful as well
as magnificent work, the materia medica was enriched with
a great number of excellent drugs not before known. In
1708 the author was elected a foreign member of the Royal
Academy of Sciences at Paris, in the room of Mr. Tschir-
naus; an honour so much the greater, as we were then at
war with France, and the queen’s express consent was ne¬
cessary before he could accept it. In proportion as his credit
rose among the learned, his practice increased among the
people of rank. Queen Anne herself frequently consulted
him, and in her last illness was blooded by him.
On the advancement of George I. to the throne, that
prince, on the 3d of April 1716, created Sloane a ba¬
ronet, an hereditary title of honour to which no English phy¬
sician had before attained; and at the same time made him
pnysician-general to the army, in which station he continued
till 1727, when he was appointed physician in ordinary to
George II. He attended the royal family till his death; and
was particularly favoured by Queen Caroline, who placed
the greatest confidence in his prescriptions. In the mean
time he had been unanimously chosen one of the elects of the
College of Physicians on the 1st of June 1716, and he was
elected president of the same body on the 30th of Septem¬
ber 1719, an office which he held for sixteen years. During
that period he not only gave the highest proofs of his zeal
and assiduity in the discharge of his duty, but in 1721 made
a present to that society of L.100, and so far remitted a very
considerable debt, which the corporation owed him, as to
accept it in such small sums as were least inconvenient to
the state of their affairs. Sir Hans was no less liberal to
other learned bodies. He had no sooner purchased the ma¬
nor of Chelsea, than he gave the company of apothecaries
the entire freehold of their botanical garden there, upon
condition only that they should present yearly to the Royal
Society fifty new plants, till the number should amount to
two thousand.1 He gave besides several other considerable
donations for the improvement of this garden, the situation
of which, on the banks of the Thames, and in the neighbour¬
hood of the capital, was such as to render it useful in two
respects; first, by producing the most rare medicinal plants;
and, secondly, by serving as an excellent school for young
botanists, an advantage which he himself had derived from
it in the early part of his life.
The death of Sir Isaac Newton, which happened in 1727,
made way for the advancement of Sir Hans to the presi¬
dency of the Royal Society. He had been vice-president,
and frequently sat in the chair for that great man; and by
his long connection with this learned body he had contracted
so strong an affection for it, that he made them a present of
an hundred guineas, caused a curious bust of Charles II. its
founder, to be erected in the great hall where it met, and,
as is said, was very instrumental in procuring Sir Godfrey
Copley’s benefaction of a medal of the value of five guineas,
to be annually given as an honorary mark of distinction to
the person who communicates the best experiments to the
Society.
On his being raised to the chair, Sir Hans laid aside all
thoughts of further promotion, and applied himself wholly
to the faithful discharge of the duties of the offices which
he enjoyed. In these laudable occupations he employed his
time, from 1/27 to 1740, when, at the age of fourscore, he
formed a resolution of quitting the service of the public,
and of living for himself. With this view he resigned the
presidency of the Royal Society much against the inclina¬
tion of that respectable body, who chose Mr. Martin Folkes
to succeed him, and in a public assembly thanked him for
the great and eminent services which he had rendered them.
In the month of January 1741, he began to remove his lib¬
rary, and his cabinet of rarities, from his house in Blooms¬
bury to that at Chelsea; and on the 12th of March follow¬
ing, having settled all his affairs, he retired thither himself,
to enjoy in peaceful tranquillity the remains of a well-spent
life. He did not however bury himself in that solitude
which excludes men from society. He received in Chelsea,
as he had done in London, the visits of people of distinction,
of learned foreigners, and of the royal family, who some¬
times did him the honour to wait on him; but, what was
still more to his praise, he never refused admittance or ad¬
vice to rich or poor who came to consult him concerning
their health. Not contented with this contracted method of
doing good, he now, during his retreat, presented to the
public such useful remedies as success had warranted, dur¬
ing the course of a long-continued practice. Among these,
is the efficacious receipt for distempers in the eyes, and his
remedy for the bite of a mad dog.
During the whole course of his life, Sir Hans had lived
with so much temperance, as had preserved him from feel¬
ing the infirmities of old age; but in his ninetieth year he
began to complain ol pains, and to be sensible of a univer¬
sal decay. He was often heard to say, that the approach of
death brought no terrors along with it; that he had long
expected the stroke; and that he was prepared to receive
it whenever the great Author of his being should think fit.
After a short illness of three days, he died on the 11th o.
January 1752, and was interred on the 18th at Chelsea, in
397
Sloane.
esftal*li*hed by ‘he company in 1673; and having, after that period, been stocked by them with a great variety of
ritance of it hei.TP °f botarT’ Slr Hans> ,n order t0 encourage so serviceable an undertaking, granted to the company the irfhe-
plf of ts i hls/s‘ate a"d of Chelsea, on condition that it should be for ever preserved as a physic garden. As a
their weeklv St?™ fifY ^ ^ °bl,g,ed,tbe comPaiiy. ™ consideration of the said grant, to present yearly to the Royal Society, in one of
distinct from ear-h nti^ 7 SP,TTnS 0f Plantybat had bee" grow" in the garden the preceding year, and which were all to be specifically
1733 thecomntnv ' St* number two thousand should be completed. This number was completed in the year 1761.
with a Latin Lprint ^ a mar— of .Slr Hans’ execnted by Rysbrac, which is placed upon a pedestal in the centre of the garden,
. a Latin inscription, expressuur his donation, and the design and advantages of it.
398
S L O
S L U
. Slobodsk- the same vault with his lady, the solemnity being attended
Ukraine —4.w^ r»nnr*rmr«p nf neonle* of all ranks and
Sluice.
tne same vavm wun muy, me ——o
with the greatest concourse of people, ot all ranks and
conditions, that had ever before been seen on the like oc-
Sir Hans being extremely solicitous lest his cabinet of cu¬
riosities, which he had taken so much pains to collect, should
be again dissipated at his death, and being at the same time
unwilling that so large a portion of his fortune should be lost
to his children, bequeathed it to the public, on condition
that L.20,000 should be made good by parliament to his
family. The sum, though large in appearance, was scarce¬
ly more than the intrinsic value of the gold and silver me¬
dals, the ores and precious stones that were found in it; for
in his last will he declares, that the first cost of the whole
amounted at least to 1,50,000. Besides his library, con¬
sisting of more than fifty thousand volumes, three hundred
and forty-seven of which were illustrated with cuts finely
engraven and coloured from nature, there were three thou¬
sand five hundred and sixty manuscripts, and an inhmte
number of rare and curious works of every kind. I he
parliament accepted the legacy, and fulfilled the condi¬
tions.
' sLOBODSK-Ukraine, a province of European Bus-
ia, which extends in north latitude fro™ 48« 35 » 51 16,
sia, wnicli extenus m nmtu u i
and in east longitude from 34° 10' to 38° 21 , comprehend-
ino- 26,217 square miles. It is an elevated plain, over which
few hills are to be seen. It contains but few forests, and the
soil is generally dry, but by no means unfruitful. I here
are many small rivulets and rivers, which discharge their
waters into either the Don or the Dnieper. Ihe climate
is considered healthy, though intensely hot in summer, and
as severely cold in winter. The land varies m quality,
but much of it is highly productive in corn. The inha¬
bitants are of various races, some ot them of Little Kus-
sian origin, others Cossacs, others from Great Russia, many
called colonists, consisting chiefly of Germans or Poles, a
tew Kalmucks, and many Jews. The whole population is
718 500, the far greater part of whom adhere to the Greek
church, but there are Arminians, Catholics, Lutherans, and
a few Mahomedans and Pagans. The province is divided
into twelve circles, and contains 15 cities, 547 parishes, with
1180 market-towns and villages. The capital is Charkow,
or Kharkow, in latitude 49- 59- 20., and longitude 36.
10 E
SLOT, in the sportsman’s language, a term used to ex¬
press the mark of the foot of a stag or other animal proper
for the chace in the clay or earth, by which they are en¬
abled to guess when the animal passed, and which way he
went. The slot, or treading of the stag, is very nicely studied
on this occasion. If the slot be large, deeply imprinted in
the ground, and with an open cleft, and, added to these
marks, there is a large space between mark and mark, it is
certain that the stag is an old one. If there be observed
the slots or treadings of two, the one long and the other
round, and both of one size, the long slot is always that ot
the larger animal. There is also another way of knowing
the old ones from the young ones by the treading; which
is, that the hinder feet of the old ones never reach to their
fore feet, whereas those of the young ones do.
SLOUGH, a market town of the county of Buckingham,
in the hundred of Stoke. Though a town it is not a pa¬
rish, one partbeing within the parish of Upton, and another
part in the parish of Stoke Poggis. It is twenty miles
from London and two from Eton, and is furnished with ex¬
cellent inns, being on the great road to Bath and Bristol.
It has a market on Thursday. It is chiefly remarkable from
having been the residence of the celebrated astronomer
Dr. Herschel, who constructed, in a garden near the road,
his large and invaluable telescope, and made those discoveries
in the heavens which have immortalised his name.
SLUICE, a frame of timber, stone, or other matter, serv¬
ing to retain and raise the water of a river, and on occasion Slur
t0 Such hTthe sluice of a mill, which stops and collects
the water of a rivulet, to let it fall at length in greater'-^
plenty upon the mill-wheel; such also are those used as vents
or drains to discharge water off land; and such are the sluices
of Flanders, which serve to prevent the waters ot the sea
from overflowing the lower lands.
Sometimes there is a kind of canal inclosed between two ,
gates or sluices, in artificial navigations, to save the water,
and render the passage of boats equally easy and safe, up¬
wards and downwards; as in the sluices ot Briare in r ranee,
which are a kind of massive walls built parallel to each other,
at the distance of twenty or twenty-four feet, closed with
strong gates at each end, between winch is a kind ot canal or
chamber, considerably longer than broad; in which a vessel
being inclosed, the water is let out at the first gate, by which
the water is raised fifteen or sixteen feet, and passed out or
this canal into another much higher. By such means a boat is
conveyed out of the Loire into the Seine, though the ground
between them rises above one hundred and fifty feet higher
than either of those rivers. „
Sluices are made in different ways, according to theusetcr
which they are intended. When they serve for navigation,
thev are shut with two gates, presenting an angle towards
the”stream; when they are made near the sea, two pair ot
gates are made, the one to keep the water out and the other
in, as occasion requires. In this case, the gates towards
the sea present an angle that way, and the others the con¬
trary way; and the space inclosed by those gates is called
the 'chamber. When sluices are made in the ditches of a
fortress, to keep up the water in some parts, instead of gates,
shutters are made so as to slide up and down ,n grooves;
and when they are made to raise an inundation, they are
then shut by means of square timbers let down in culhses,
so as to lie close and firm. „ , , ,. ,
The word sluice is formed of the French escluse, which
Menage derives from the Latin exc/um, which is found in
the Salic law in the same sense. But this is to be lestncted
to the sluices of mills, for as to those serving to raise ves¬
sels thev were wholly unknown to the ancients.
SLU R, in Musical Notation, a curved line drawn over two
or more notes, signifying, that these are to be perfonnrf m
a smooth and connected manner (legato.) When the slur
“s allied to two notes of the same degree, tins gene ally
occurs in what is called a sywopalion, t. e. wheie anoUj of
the accented time of the measure is umted with a note of
the same name belonging to the unaccented time imm
diately preceding, thus:
EAjSSiipi
—P—-i——i—
m--
SLUYS, a town of Dutch Flanders, opposite the island
of Cadsand, with a good harbour, ten miles north of Bruge ,
containing 14,000 inhabitants. Long. 3. 25. h. Lat. 0 •
10 N.
SLUZK, a city, the capital of a circle of the same name,
in the province of Minsk in West Russia, 715 miles on
St. Petersburg. It is situated on a river which gives ff ^
name, is the best city in the province, contains two ^l U
two Greek, a Lutheran, and a Reformed church, and 00
houses, with 5800 inhabitants, among whom aremanyde •
There is a public school or college, where mathematics nil
natural philosophy are taught. Its chief employment is m
agriculture. Lat. 53. 3. Long. 27-22. E.
SMACK, a small vessel, commonly rigged as a ^P o
hoy, used in the coasting or fishing trade, or as a tende
the king’s service. , r c See
SMALAND, a province in the south of Sweden.
Calmar.
S M A
g kald SMALKALD, a town of Germany, in Franconia, and in
the county of Henneberg; famous for the confederacy en-
S ton- tered into by the German Protestants against the emperor,
commonly called the league of Smalkald. The design of
it was to "defend their religion and liberties. It is seated on
the river Werra, twenty-five miles south-west of Erford,
and fifty north-west of Bamberg. Long. 10. 53. E. Lat. 50.
40. N. It is subject to the prince of Hesse-Cassel.
SMALL Key, a small island in the Eastern Sea. Long.
247. 16. W. Lat. 10. 37. N.
SMALT, a kind of glass of a dark blue colour, which when
levigated appears of a most beautiful colour; and if it could
be made sufficiently fine, would be an excellent succedaneum
for ultramarine, as not only resisting all kinds of weather,
but even the most violent fires. It is prepared by melting
one part of calcinated cobalt with two of flint powder, and
one of potash. At the bottoms of the crucibles in which
the smalt is manufactured, we generally find a regulus of
a whitish colour inclined to red, and extremely brittle. This
is melted afresh, and when cold,separated into two parts; that
at the bottom is the cobaltic regulus, which is employed to
make more of the smalt; the other is bismuth.
SMEATON, John, an eminent civil engineer, was born
on the 18th of June 1724, at Austhorpe, near Leeds, in a
house built by his grandfather, and where his family have
resided ever since.
The strength of his understanding and the originality of
his genius appeared at an early age. His playthings were
not the playthings of children, but the tools which men em¬
ploy ; and he appeared to have greater entertainment in see¬
ing the men in the neighbourhood work, and asking them
questions, than in any thing else. One day he was seen on
the top of his father’s barn, fixing up something like a wind¬
mill ; another time, he attended some men fixing a pump at
a neighbouring village, and observing them cut off a piece
of bored pipe, he was so lucky as to procure it, and he ac¬
tually made with it a working pump that raised water. These
anecdotes referred to circumstances that happened while he
was yet in petticoats, and most likely before he attained his
sixth year.
About his fourteenth or fifteenth year, he constructed for
himself an engine for turning, and made several presents to
his friends of boxes in ivory or wood very neatly turned. He
forged his iron and steel, and melted his metal; he had tools
of every sort for working in wood, ivory, and metals. He
made a lathe, by which he cut a perpetual screw in brass,
a thing little known at that day, which was the invention of
Mr. Henry Hindley of York, with whom Mr. Smeaton soon
became acquainted, and they spent many a night at Mr.
Hindley’s house till day-light, conversing on those sub¬
jects.
Thus had Mr. Smeaton, by the strength of his genius and
indefatigable industry, acquired, at the age of eighteen, an
extensive set of tools, and the art of working in most of the
mechanical trades, without the assistance of any master. A
part of every day was generally occupied in forming some
ingenious piece of mechanism.
Mr. Smeaton’s father was an attorney, and desirous of
bringing him up to the same profession. Mr. Smeaton there¬
fore came up to London in 1742, and attended the courts
in Westminster hall; but finding that the law did not suit
the bent of his genius, he wrote a strong memorial on that
subject to his father, whose good sense tfom that moment
left the youth to pursue the bent of his genius in his own
way.
In 1751, he began a course of experiments to try a ma¬
chine of his invention to measure a ship’s way at sea, and
also made two voyages in company with Dr. Knight to
try it, and a compass of his own invention and making,
which was rendered magnetical by Dr. Knight’s artificial
magnets. The second voyage was made in the Fortune
S A1 E S99
sloop of war, commanded at that time by Captain Alexan- Smeaton.
der Campbell.
In 1753 he was elected member of the Royal Society.
The number of papers published in their Transactions will
show the universality of his genius and knowledge. In 1759
he was honoured by an unanimous vote with their gold me¬
dal for his paper entitled “ An Experimental Inquiry con¬
cerning the Natural Powers of Water and Wind to turn
Mills, and other Machines depending on a circular motion.”
This paper, he says, was the result of experiments made
on working models in the years 1752 and 1753, but not
communicated to the Society till 1759 ; before which time
he had an opportunity of putting the effect of these experi¬
ments into real practice, in a variety of cases, and for va¬
rious purposes, so as to assure the Society he had found them
to answer.
In December 1755, the Eddystone lighthouse was burned
down. Mr. Weston, the chief proprietor, and the others, be¬
ing desirous of rebuilding it in the most substantial manner,
inquired of the Earl of Macclesfield, then president of the
Royal Society, whom he thought the most proper to rebuild
it; and his lordship recommended Mr. Smeaton. He ac-
coi'dingly undertook the work, and he completed it in the
summer of 1759. Of the preparation for this extraordinary
work, of its commencement and progress, Mr. Smeaton has
given an ample and interesting description in a splendid fo¬
lio volume which was first published in 1791- The same
volume contains the history of the different buildings which
have been erected on the Eddystone rock.
Though Mr. Smeaton completed the building of the Ed¬
dystone lighthouse in 1759> yet it appears he did not soon
get into full business as a civil engineer; but in 1764, while
in Yorkshire, he offered himself a candidate to be one of the
receivers of the Derwentwater estate, and on the 31st of
December in that year, he was appointed at a full board of
Greenwich hospital, in a manner highly flattering to him¬
self, when other two persons, strongly recommended and
powerfully supported, were candidates for the employment.
Mr. Smeaton having now got into full business as a civil
engineer, performed many works of general utility. He
made the Calder navigable; a work that required great skill
and judgment, owing to the very impetuous floods in that ri¬
ver. He planned and attended the execution of the great canal
in Scotland for conveying the trade of the country either to
the Atlantic or German Ocean; and having brought it to the
place originally intended, he declined a handsome yearly sa¬
lary, in order that he might attend to the multiplicity of his
other business.
The vast variety of mills which Mr. Smeaton constructed,
so greatly to the satisfaction and advantage of the owners,
will show the great use which he made of his experiments in
1752 and 1753; for he never trusted to theory in any case
where he could have an opportunity to investigate it by ex¬
periment. He built a steam-engine at Austhorpe, and made
experiments upon it, purposely to ascertain the power of
Newcomen’s steam-engine, which he improved and brought
to a greater degree of perfection, both in its construction
and powers, than it was before.
About the year 1785 Mr. Smeaton’s health began to de¬
cline; and he then took the resolution of endeavouring to avoid
all the business he could, so that he might have leisure to
publish an account of his inventions and works, which was
certainly the first wish of his heart; for he has often been
heard to say, that “ he thought he could not render so much
service to his country as by doing that.” He got only his
account of the Eddystone lighthouse completed, and some
preparations to his intended Treatise on Mills; for he could
not resist the solicitations of his friends in various works; and
Mr. Aubert, whom he greatly loved and respected, being
chosen chairman of Ramsgate harbour, prevailed upon him
to accept the place of engineer to that harbour. To their
400
Smell,
Smellie.
S M E L L I E.
joint efForts the public is chiefly indebted for the improve¬
ments which have been made there, as fully appears in a re¬
port that Mr. Smeaton presented to the board of trustees in
1791, which they immediately published.
Mr. Smeaton being at Austhorpe, walking in his garden
on the 16th of September 1792, was struck with palsy, and
died the 28th of October.
SMELL, a word which in most languages has two mean¬
ings, signifying either that sensation of mind of which we
are conscious, in consequence of certain impressions made
on the nostrils, and conveyed to the brain by the olfactory
nerves; or that unknown virtue, or quality in bodies, which
is the cause of our sensations of smell.
SMELLIE, William, a learned and ingenious printer,
was born at Edinburgh in the year 1740. His father, Alex¬
ander Smellie, who followed the occupation of a master-
builder, is said to have been a classical scholar, and a writer
of Latin verses. He belonged to the sect of reformed Pres¬
byterians, more commonly described as Cameronians. He
left two sons and three daughters. John, the elder son,
followed his father’s employment, and married a sister of
the late James Perrier, Esq. clerk of session. Two of his
daughters were likewise married. Residing in the subur¬
ban street called the Pleasance, he sent his younger son to
Duddingstone school, which is scarcely a mile distant. Wil¬
liam Smellie was there initiated in the ordinary branches of
education, including the Latin language ; but he left school
at the early age of twelve, and was destined to follow some
mechanical employment. It was his father’s original inten¬
tion to bind him an apprentice to a stay maker, but some dif¬
ference occurred as to the terms of the indenture ; “ and the
voung scholar was preserved from the mortifying drudgery
of scraping whalebone, and stitching coats of armour to force
the female form into every shape save that of natural ele¬
gance.” On the first of October 1752, he was bound an
apprentice, for six years and a half, to Hamilton, Balfour,
and Neill, printers to the university.
To this occupation he applied himself with great assi¬
duity, and he soon became conspicuous for the rapidity, as
well as the correctness, with which he dispatched his work.
With equal assiduity he devoted his evenings to the acqui¬
sition of knowledge. Two years before the expiration of
his apprenticeship, his masters appointed him a corrector of
the press, with a weekly allowance of ten shillings, which at
that period was no despicable remuneration. His father
was now dead, and two of his sisters were materially in¬
debted to him for their support. During his apprenticeship,
he was permitted to attend some of the academical lectures.
The printing-office was within the precincts of the univer¬
sity buildings; “ and he generally continued at work till he
beard the bell ring for lecture, when he immediately laid
down his composing-stick, shifted his coat, ran oft with his
note-book under his arm, and returned to his work imme¬
diately after lecture.” The Edinburgh Philosophical So¬
ciety having offered a silver medal for the most accurate
edition of a Latin classic, Smellie set and corrected an edi¬
tion of Terence, which obtained this prize for his employers.
His edition, which bears the date of 1758, but was actual¬
ly printed during the preceding year, has been described as
immaculate ; but of the literal accuracy of this description,
we entertain some doubt. It is very elegantly printed, and
is in all respects creditable to the Edinburgh press of that
period. His apprenticeship was completed on the first of
April 1759; and in the ensuing month of September, he
agreed to transfer his services to the office of Murray and
Cochrane. Here he was not only to perform the ordinary
work of a corrector, but was likewise to collect articles for
the Scots Magazine, and to make abstracts, extracts, or
transcripts of such pieces as his employers should direct.
He was moreover to lend his aid “ in writing accounts, and,
in cases of hurry in printing, in composing or case-work;”
and in return for these various services, he was to receive a Smelli.
weekly salary of sixteen shillings.
It was one advantage of his new situation, that his em¬
ployers allowed him three hours a-day for the prosecution
of his academical studies ; and thus, under peculiar circum¬
stances, he was enabled to obtain a regular education. He
not only studied the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages,
but likewise mathematics, logic, rhetoric, moral, and natu¬
ral philosophy. He besides attended all the medical courses,
including the lectures on chemistry and botany. The He¬
brew class he attended in the year 1758, with the immedi¬
ate view of preparing himself to superintend the printing of
Dr. Robertson’s Hebrew Grammar. His course of study
had thus been so regular and complete, that he was in a
state of mature preparation for more than one of the learn¬
ed professions. Some of his friends recommended the study
of divinity ; Dr. Buchan urged him to betake himself to the
practice of physic ; but the hazard of relinquishing a certain
though small income for a very uncertain experiment, must
have served to mancipate him to his original avocation.
An early marriage fixed him more completely in the print¬
ing-office. His wife, Jane Robertson, was the daughter of
an army-agent in London, who had once been opulent, but
who finally left his family in indigent circumstances. Her
mother was the cousin of Mrs. Oswald of Dunikier, and there
w ere other family connexions described as genteel, but they
do not appear to have rendered any service to Smellie or
his children. The marriage took place in 1763, when he
had only attained the twenty-third year of his age.
In the mean time, his love of learning suffered no abate¬
ment. In the year 1760 he had become a member of the
Newtonian Society, a literary association chiefly composed
of young men educated in the university. They held their
weekly meetings in one of the class-rooms. At each meet¬
ing an essay was read by one of the members; and a sub¬
ject, previously assigned, was discussed in due form. The
essays were restricted to subjects of natural science, but the
debates extended to a wider range. The list of members
included various names which were afterwards conspicuous¬
ly known ; and among others, we find that of Robert Blair,
the late president of the court of session. To this associa¬
tion likewise belonged Thomas Blacklock, Robert Hamilton,
Alexander Adam, Henry Hunter, Samuel Charters, and
William Buchan. After the interruption of their regular
meetings as a society, some of the members continued for
several years to hold a weekly meeting in a tavern, where
they partook of a sober repast, and spent their evenings in
literary and social conversation. With two very estimable
members of this club, Dr. Hamilton of Aberdeen, and Dr.
Charters of Wilton, Smellie always retained a friendly con¬
nexion. A new association, of which he acted as secretary,
was formed in the year 1778, under the denomination of
the Newtonian Club. Most of the other members were
connected with the medical profession, and five of them
either then were or afterwards became medical professors
in the university. In the list of these associates we find
the names of Dugald Stewart and James Gregory- No per¬
son was eligible unless he was a member of the Philosophi¬
cal Society ; and the meetings of the club were appointed to
take place immediately after the close of each meeting of
the society. The number of members was not to exceed
twenty ; and a single black ball was to exclude any candi¬
date. The last of their regulations stands thus: “ As this
club consists entirely of philosophers, it would therefore be
ridiculous to make any laws for its internal police.”
For the different branches of natural history Smellie had
evinced an early predilection. To the study of botany he
devoted so much attention, that in 1765 his Dissertation on
the Sexes of Plants gained the gold medal given hy Dr.
Hope. In this dissertation, w hich was inserted in the first
edition of the Encyclopaedia, he strenuously opposed the
S M E L L I E.
doctrines of Linnaeus.1 The substance of it was incorpo-
rated in his Philosophy of Natural History; and his opinions
were then controverted by Dr. Rotheram, afterwards
professor of natural philosophy at St. Andrew's. Of his
proficiency in these studies we find a more conspicuous
proof. While he was attending the botanical class, the pro¬
fessor sprained his leg so severely that for a considerable
interval he was unable to meet his students; and on this
occasion he selected Smellie to continue the course of lec¬
tures. In a botanic garden, lectures cannot be servilely
read from papers, either written by the lecturer himself, or
supplied by others.
On the 25th of March 1765 he commenced business as a
printer, in conjunction with two brothers named Robert and
William Auld, the former of whom was a solicitor. His pri¬
vate resources were obviously scanty; and two of his friends,
Dr. Robertson, professor of oriental languages, and Dr Hope,
professor of botany, advanced to him the sum of seventy
pounds, which we reckon equivalent to twm hundred in our
present currency. This copartnery was dissolved within
the space of less than two years, by the retirement of Ro¬
bert Auld; but a new company, consisting of Balfour, W.
Auld, and Smellie, commenced business on the 22d of De¬
cember 1766. John Balfour, who was likewise a bookseller,
had been a partner in thehouseofHamilton, Balfour, and Neill.
The new house published the Journal, a newspaper suppos¬
ed to have been unprofitable. Their connexion only con¬
tinued till the month of November 1771 ; and the modified
firm of Balfour and Smellie continued the business from
the twelfth of that month. Beside his share of the profits,
the junior partner was to receive ninety pounds a-year, and
he was bound to conduct the entire business of the office.
His average income amounted to about L.200. After an
interval of more than two years, he easily obtained from
Lord Kames the favour of his becoming surety to the Royal
Bank for a cash-account to the extent of two or three hun¬
dred pounds. Their acquaintance had arisen from a se¬
ries of anonymous strictures which he communicated to his
lordship when the Elements of Criticism were passing through
the press of Murray and Cochrane. The author requested
the acquaintance of his nameless critic, and afterwards hon¬
oured him with various marks of his friendly attention. He
incidentally mentions his supping with Lord Kames, in com¬
pany with Hume and other guests. He was likewise a
guest at the learned suppers of Lord Monboddo; and he
reckoned Lord Hailes, as well as Lord Gardenstone, among
the number of his friends and well-wishers.
Balfour and Smellie were appointed printers to the uni¬
versity. The chief advantage which attended this appoint¬
ment was the profit of printing the dissertations written by
candidates for medical degrees. Smellie likewise printed
the theses written by candidates for admission to the Fa¬
culty of Advocates; and his knowledge of the Latin lan¬
guage was in both cases found very serviceable to the writers.
He rendered material assistance to his friend Dr. Buchan,
m the composition of a work which attained to very exten¬
sive popularity. This work, entitled “Domestic Medicine,
or, a Treatise on the Cure and Prevention of Diseases,” was
published at Edinburgh in the year 1770. In the course of
orty years, it is said to have passed through twenty edi-
tmns, each consisting of 6000 copies, besides many pirated
Of T”8 *n ^r.e'an(^ 311 d America, and some even in Britain.
this treatise, Smellie was sometimes represented as the
sole author; but it appears with sufficient evidence that the
manuscript was placed in his hands, and that in preparing
1 or t“e press, he made many essential alterations in its
401
form and style. It was so diffuse and redundant, that a sin- Smellie.
gle chapter, as originally W'ritten, would nearly have equalled
the size of the entire book, as at first printed. These ser¬
vices were compensated with a bill for one hundred pounds.
Of Smellie’s life, we have now arrived at an era which
recommends him to the more particular regard of the writers
and readers of the present work. The first edition of the
Encyclopaedia Britannica consisted of only three volumes,
which began to be printed in the year 1771. The princi¬
pal articles were written, compiled, or devised by him, and
he prepared and superintended the entire publication. “As
you have informed me,” says a letter of Andrew Bell, the
chief proprietor, “ that there are fifteen capital sciences
which you will undertake for, and write up the subdivisions
and detached parts, conformably] to your plan, and like¬
wise to prepare the whole work for the press, &c. &e., we
hereby agree to allow you L.200 for your trouble.” If his
capital sciences had not exceeded the old number of seven,
this remuneration could scarcely have been considered as
extravagant. One of his original articles, contributed to
this edition, was that on JElher, which attracted a consi¬
derable degree of attention, and gave no small offence to
Dr. Cullen, whose theory was there exposed, though with¬
out any mention of his name. From internal evidence, he
was convinced that the article must have been written by
his colleague Dr. John Gregory. He at length ascertain¬
ed the real author; and this discovery, says the late Dr.
Gregory, “gave occasion to the complete alteration and
softening of the article ./Ether in the second and all the sub¬
sequent editions of the Encyclopaedia; so that nothing of
it was allowed to remain that could give offence to Dr.
Cullen.”2
Of the second edition of this work Smellie was offered
a share, apparently a third, conjoined with the charge of
editorship. This offer he unfortunately declined, and thus
lost the only golden opportunity that fortune ever present¬
ed to him. “ At the death of Mr. Macfarquhar, printer, in
April 1793, the whole work became the property of Mr.
Bell. It is well known that Mr. Macfarquhar left a hand¬
some fortune to his family, all or mostly derived from the
profits of the Encyclopaedia; and that Mr. Bell died in great
affluence, besides possessing the entire property of that vast
work; every shilling of which may be fairly stated as hav¬
ing grown from the labours of Mr. Smellie in the original
fabrication of the work, which is confessedly superior, and
all of which he and his family might have shared in equally
with Mr. Bell and the other proprietor, if he had not been
too fastidious in his notions, and perhaps too timid in his views
of the risk which might have been incurred in the mercan¬
tile part of the speculation.”3 His chief objection is stated,
not with much probability, to have arisen from a difference
of opinion as to the general plan : “ because the other per¬
sons concerned, it has been said upon the suggestion of a
very distinguished nobleman of the highest rank and most
princely fortune, insisted upon the introduction of a system of
general biography; which Mr. Smellie objected to, as by
no means consistent wfith the title.” If this statement is
accurate, we consider the nobleman as decidedly right, and
Smellie as decidedly wrong; inasmuch as the historical and
biographical part of the work has recommended it to many
readers, who do not feel an equal degree of interest in the
arts and sciences. I he perfection of such a work is to ren¬
der it agreeable as well as instructive to the greatest pos¬
sible number of readers. The second edition, consisting of
1500 copies, began to be published in 1776. The third,
extending to no fewer than 10,000 copies of eighteen vo-
, ®melfie’s Philosophy of Natural History, vol. i. p. 245.
s „re£ory s Additional Memorial to the Managers of the Royal Infirmary, p. 188.
2 vols'svo em<”r8 thfc L^e’ WritinhTf!> aild Correspondence of William Smellie, F.R.S. & F.A.S., vol. i. p. 363.
VOL. XX
Edinb. 1811,
3 s
S M E L L I E.
402
Smellie luraes, commenced in 1786. By this edition, we are in-
formed, the two proprietors “are said to have cleared a net
profit of L.42,000, besides being each paid for their respec¬
tive work in the conduct of the publication as tradesmen ;
Mr. Bell as engraver of all the plates, and Mr. Macfarquhar
as sole printer.” ,
Smellie afterwards embarked in a speculation which did
not prove so lucrative. This was “ The Edinburgh Maga¬
zine and Review,” of which the first number appeared in
the month of October 1773. The editor was Dr. Stuart,
whose temper and discretion were not equal to his talents
and learning. Smellie was one of five partners, including
the editor; and besides printing the work at the ordinary
rates, he “ was regularly to compile the last halt-sheet ot
every number, to consist of foreign and domestic occur¬
rences, or the news-department, and other articles ; to keep
the accounts of the concern; to answer all letters relative
to the concern ; and to review certain articles, as should be
agreed upon between him and Dr. Stuart. The worK only
extended to five volumes, closing with the number for Au¬
gust 1776. It was conducted with so much ability, that it
might have run a more prosperous career, if the personali¬
ties of the editor, displayed within so narrow a field, had
not excited a degree of hostility with which it was hopeless
At the request of the Society of Antiquaries, he had in Smelt
1781 digested the plan of a statistical account of all the
parishes of Scotland. The circulation of this plan did not
excite much industry; but, at no distant period, it was fol¬
lowed by an extensive and important work. As superin¬
tendent of the museum, he was authorized to deliver in their
hall a course of lectures on natural history. “ His object
was to deliver lectures on the philosophy of natural history,
which is a subject totally different from what a public pro¬
fessor is obliged to teach. A professor must instruct his
students in the technical and elementary part of the science;
but the private lecturer was to confine himself to general
views of the economy of nature.”1 The professor of natu¬
ral history, who certainly had reason to fear such a rival,
was alarmed at what he considered as an encroachment on
his province, and this plan of lectures was reluctantly aban¬
doned. On the death of Dr. Ramsay in the year 1775,
Smellie had offered himself as a candidate for the professor¬
ship ; but his claims were disregarded, and it was bestowed
upon Dr. Walker, at that time minister of Moffat, and af¬
terwards of Colinton.
Smellie however continued to prosecute his favourite study,
and he published “ Natural History, general and particular,
by the Count de Button: translated into English. Illus-
yas nopeiess uy me   —   ^
“ our notice ^ ^ S
Of the Society of Antiquaries, instituted at Edinburgh in
1780, Smellie was an original member. In 1781 he was
elected Superintendent of the Museum of Natural History,
which they proposed adding to their antiquarian cabinet. He
afterwards published an “Account of the Institution and Pro-
oress of the Societ y of the Antiquaries of Scotland.” Edinb.
1782, 4to. To this account he added a second part in 1784.
He was elected to the office of secretary in 1793. This
new institution excited the jealousy of some other learned
bodies. The senate of the university presented a memo¬
rial to the lord advocate, remonstrating against the grant
of a royal charter to the Society of Antiquaries, on the al¬
legation that Scotland was too limited a country for two
literary Societies ; and proposing, that instead of granting
such a charter, the king should incorporate a society under
8vo. “ Much the greater portion of this extensive work,”
says Mr. Kerr, “ was executed in a small correcting room
or closet connected with his printing-office, where he was
continually liable to interruption, from the introduction of
proof-sheets for correction, and revises for comparison, and
to the almost perpetual calls ot customers, authors, and idle
acquaintances: yet such was his accuracy of self-possession,
that, as usual with almost every thing he wrote, he gave it
out page by page, as fast as written, to his compositors,
and hardly ever found it necessary to alter a single word
after the types were set up from his first uncorrected manu¬
script. Although, to have enabled him to execute this
translation in the excellent manner in which it is done, Mr.
Smellie must necessarily have possessed a very thorough
knowledge of the French language, it appears that he had
such a charter, the king should incorporate a society unuei “ V A 7 “ , u:a nnVate studv
S designate of th/Hova, Society of Scot^d. They
further suggested “ that the Society of Antiquaries would
intercept the communication of many specimens and ob¬
jects of natural history, which would otherwise be deposit¬
ed in the museum of the university, and of many docu¬
ments tending to illustrate the history, antiquities, and laws
of Scotland, from being deposited in the library of the Fa¬
culty of Advocates. They likewise noticed that the pos¬
session of a museum of natural history might enable and
induce the Society of Antiquaries to institute a lectureship
of natural history, in opposition to the professorship in the
university.” Nor did the curators of the Advocates Library
remain inactive. They represented to the lord advocate
that the grant of a charter to the Antiquaries “ might prove
injurious to that magnificent library, by intercepting ancient
manuscripts and monuments illustrative ot the histoiy and
antiquities of Scotland, which would be more useful when
collected into one repository than in a state ot division.”
To all these representations the Society returned an elabo¬
rate answer, in the form of a memorial addressed to the lord
advocate; and the royal charter was finally ratified in the
month of May 1783. It is scarcely necessary to add, that
few or none of the multifarious evils which had thus been
predicted, were found to result from the incorporation of
this Society, which has proved almost as harmless as any
institution in the kingdom. The Royal Society of Edin
and without the assistance of any teacher; for we have been
assured by those who knew him very intimately, that he
was quite unacquainted with the pronunciation of rrench.
A second edition of his translation, in nine volumes, follow¬
ed in the year 1785. Other three editions, all of them ex¬
tensive, were afterwards published; so that the work ma)
be considered as having been eminently successful. Ihe
translator’s notes were allowed to have added no mconsiclei •
able value to the text; and the chief fault imputed to
him was the use of provincial idioms. He was honouret
with the correspondence of Button, and likewise of en-
""The firm of Balfour and Smellie having been dissolved,
that of Creech and Smellie began business on the Hth
of September 1782, and continued it till the c ose of th
vear 1789. Creech, well-known as a bookseller, was m
all cases difficult to bring to a settlement of accompts.
when he had any reason to believe the balance to be
the wrong side. The affairs of this copartnery, being some¬
what intricate, were submitted to arbitration, and a balance
was ultimately found due to Smelhe; but the decision iw
so long deferred, that it was not pronounced till some time
after his death. After the termination of these difteren
partnerships, he continued the business on ins own a
count. Lord Karnes died in the year 1782; and he wa.
institution in the kingdom. The Royal Society ot Edm- count. . f & .Gardenstone, who
burgh soon afterwards obtained its charter ; and as a mem- now indebted to the km of gir w< Forbes
her of the Philosophical Society, Smellie was incorporated became his surety to the bank &
on the 23d of June 1783. and Co*   
Smellie’s Account of the Society of Antiquaries, part ii. p. 24.
S M E ]
ie. His next publication was “ An Address to the People of
(■^Scotland, on the Nature, Powers, and Privileges of Juries.
By a Juryman.” Edinb. 1784, 8vo. This tract is entitled
to particular notice, because it contains a clear and judicious
exposition of legal principles, very important in themselves,
and at that period very little understood. “ It is,” he remarks,
“a common notion that jurymen are judges of the^/ac^ only,
and not of the laiv. This absurd, and often fatal prejudice
is much more prevalent than might be expected, in a city like
this, where general knowledge ought to be pretty widely diffus¬
ed. It has perhaps been too much fostered by the injunctions
of judgesand magistrates. It is exceedingly natural that plain
simple jurymen should look up with veneration to the high
rank, and superior abilities of those men who are appointed by
their sovereign to dispense justice over the nation. For this
reason it is, that the English judges are so extremely solicitous
not to inculcate their own opinions on the minds of jurymen,
but to leave their determinations solely to the dictates of
their own consciences. But from whatever source this pre¬
judice may have derived its origin, I shall endeavour to shew'
that it has neither law nor common sense for its support.”
A further specimen may very satisfactorily be produced.
“ I know it to be the opinion of many jurymen, that after
the court admits a relevancy, they are bound by their oaths
to find the libel either proved or not proved. But these
gentlemen should consider, that their business is to give a
verdict of a very different kind. They are to judge" both
of the criminality of the culprit, and of his exculpatory evi¬
dence. The words proved or not proved should be for ever
banished from the verdicts of juries. A relevancy may be
found, when the jurymen, who hear the indictment impugn¬
ed, are of an opposite opinion from the court. A crime may
be libelled, when the facts related in the indictment, though
completely proved, do not constitute the essence of the
crime charged. Hence, whenever the minds of jurymen
are convinced that a relevancy has been improperly found,
their verdict, however the proof may stand, should be Not
guilt I/. Indeed, the expressions, Guilty or Not guilty ought
alone to be employed in verdicts.” This tract excited a
considerable degree of attention ; and it was quoted with
much approbation by Lord Erskine, in his famous speech
in defence of Dr. Shipley, dean of St. Asaph. He published
several other pamphlets, which chiefly related to local po¬
litics.
But the most elaborate of his wwks is “ The Philosophy
of Natural History.” Edinb. 1790, 4to. This is an ingenious
book, written in a very pleasing style, and it accordingly
experienced a favourable reception. It was reprinted at
Dublin and Philadelphia. Lichtenstein published a Ger¬
man translation, to which some notes were added by C. A.
W. Zimmermann. For the original volume, Charles Elliot
agreed to pay one thousand guineas, at six, twelve, and
eighteen months, as well as a certain sum for every edition
after the first. This enterprising bookseller died before the
work was ready for publication; but the agreement was
mnourably fulfilled by his trustees, though the benefit ac¬
crued, not to the author himself, but to his family. “ This,”
says Mr. Kerr, “was probably the largest sum that had
ever been given, at least in Edinburgh, for the literary pro¬
perty of a single quarto volume, and evinced both the liber-
a ity of the bookseller, and the high estimation in which he
very justly held the fame and talents of the author.”
His plan however was not yet completed, and he imme-
lately applied himself to the preparation of a second volume.
e ived to bring it to a conclusion, though not to make
any arrangement for its publication. During the last years
0 is ife, his health appears to have been infirm and pre-
canous In June 1793, he stated to his friend Dr. Hutton,
a he had for several months been distressed w'ith a debi-
1 V m ms limbs, accompanied with a want of appetite ; and
0 another medical friend, Dr. Gardiner, w'e find him stat-
L, L I E.
ing very unfavourable symptoms in the course of the follow¬
ing year. After a long illness, he died on the 24th of June
1795, at the age of sixty-five. He left a widow, with four
sons and four daughters; two sons and three daughters
having died before their father. His eldest daughter was
married to Mr. George Watson, an eminent portrait-painter
in Edinburgh. Smellie had never been in affluent circum¬
stances, but he left to his family the means of prosperity;
and the printing business has been more successfully con¬
ducted by his son Mr. Alexander Smellie.
Of his Philosophy of Natural History, the second volume
was published by this son in the year 1799- Another pos¬
thumous work speedily followed: “ Literary and charac-
teristical Lives of John Gregory, M.D., Henry Home, Lord
Kames, David Hume, Esq., and Adam Smith, LL. D. To
which are added a Dissertation on Public Spirit, and three
Essays.” Edinb. 1800, 8vo. His original plan compre¬
hended the lives of other twenty-five men of literary emi¬
nence, with whom he was personally acquainted. One of
these was his friend Dr. Stuart, with whose private history
he was sufficiently familiar, and of which he could have sup¬
plied very curious, though perhaps not very edifying de¬
tails. It is not however a subject of much regret that his
plan was never completed. In the specimen with which
we have thus been presented, there is too little biography,
and too much discussion. This remark is more particularly
applicable to the life of Dr. Gregory, which extends to 118
pages, but is almost entirely occupied, with an account, not
of the writer, but of his writings. The other lives are of
less extent. In his account of Hume, he relates, without
any symptom of disapprobation, the indecent levity with
which he sported on the verge of another world; and in
the same manner he likewise repeats the declaration of Dr.
Smith as to the character of that philosopher, “ I have al¬
ways considered him, both in his lifetime and since his
death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly
wise and virtuous man, as perhaps the nature of human
frailty will permit.” This ingenious printer may himself
have been somewhat too anxious to be classed among phi¬
losophers.
Smellie appears to have been a man of excellent talents,
and of extensive knowledge. His disposition was social,
his habits were convivial, and he was distinguished by a
sarcastic vein of wit and humour. According to the de¬
scription of his biographer, he “was about the middle size,
and had been in his youth well-looked and active ; but when
rather past the middle of life, he had acquired from al¬
most constantly stooping at his desk to write or correct, a
rather lounging gait and appearance; and from a long-con¬
tinued series of difficulties in his affairs, and much disap¬
pointment in matters of affectionate moment, he had be¬
come careless and rather slovenly in his dress and appear¬
ance ; wearing his hair long and bushy, his ordinary black
and wide-made clothes ill brushed, and well sprinkled w ith
snuff, and his usual old-fashioned cocked hat for the most
part rusty.” Burns describes him as “ a man positively of
the first abilities and greatest strength of mind, as well as
one of the best hearts and keenest wits, that he had ever
met with ” And in the following lines, which allude to a
club called the Crochallan Fencibles, he has exhibited a
graphic delineation of Smellie :
To Crochallan came
The old cock’d hat, the brown surtout the same ;
His bristling beard just rising in its might,
’ 1 was tour long days and nights to shaving-night;
His uncomb'd grizzly locks, wild staring, thatch’d
A head for thought profound and clear unmatch’d;
And though his caustic wit was biting, rude,
His heart was warm, benevolent, and good. (x.)
SMELLING is the act by which we perceive smells, or
become sensible of the presence of odorous bodies. The
403
Smelling.
404
S M E
Smelling, sensations of smell are excited by certain effluvia, which, m
> the open air, are always issuing from the surfaces of most
bodies, and striking on the extremities of the olfactory nerves,
o-ive them a peculiar sort of impression, which is communi¬
cated to the brain. The particles wh.ch issue thus from
bodies are extremely volatile, and produce sensation by a
degree of contact, which, though insensible, is still more
efficient than if it were more gross and palpable. It is by
a similar species of insensible contact that the eyes and ear,
are affected by external objects; while, in the excitation ot
the sensations of touch and of taste, an actual and sensible
contact of the object with the organ is necessary. 1 he or¬
gans of smelling are the nostrils and olfactory nenes, the
minute ramifications of the latter being distributed through¬
out the whole concavity of the former.
The effluvia from odorous bodies are constantly boating
about in the atmosphere, and must of course be drawn into
the nostrils along with the air in inspiration ; * so that
there is,” as Dr. Smith observes, “ a manifest appearance
of design in placing the organ of smell in the inside ot t la
canal through which the air is continually passing m inspi¬
ration and expiration ” It has been affirmed by Boerhaave,
that the matter in animals, vegetables, fossils, and the like,
which chiefly affects the sense of smelling, is that attenuat¬
ed substance, inherent in their oily parts, called spirits ;
because, when this is t aken away from the most fragrant
bodies, what remains has scarcely any smell at all , but this,
he says, if poured on the most inodorous bodies, gives them
a fragfancy.1 We cannot however enter at present upon
tn The^sense of smell has a close alliance with that of taste;
and it seems probable from the proximity in the situation
of their organs in all animals, that both are principally m-
tended to guide them in the choice of their food ; so that
from this close connection, they are better enabled to choose
what is good for them, and to reject what would be injuri¬
ous. This is the opinion of Dr. Reid, as it was, in a very
early period of the history of philosophy, that of Socrates
and'of Cicero.2 Dr. Reid also remarks, that the sense of
smell probably serves the same purpose in the natural state
of man ; but it is not always a sure guide for this purpose.
The organs of smell differ, like those of the other senses,
according to the destination of the animals to which they
belong; and we know, that this sense is in man much less
acuter than in many other animals. We see, that
choice of their food, they are guided by the senses of smel
and of taste, except when man has brought them into a sort
of unnatural state by domestication. And this circumstance
renders it probable, that both these senses were intended
to serve the same purpose in the natural state of our spe¬
cies, although less calculated for this end than they were in
the brutes, on account of the great superiority of their
smelling organs. Besides, since it is probable that man, in
the natural state, acts more by instinct than when civilize
in society, so also it is reasonable to think, that he may pos¬
sess some of the senses, this of smell for instance, m great¬
er acuteness than we do. This indeed we are assured to
be a fact; for we are told in the Histoire des Antilles, that
S M E
there are negroes who, by the smell alone, can distinguish Smdlfy
the footsteps^of a Frenchman from those of a negro.
The sense of smell is much more obtuse in man than in
some of the lower animals. Dogs we know possess a power
of smelling, of which we can scarcely form a conception,
and which it is happy for us we do not possess and birds
of prey are said to possess this sense in still greater acute¬
ness. ‘But although this be more perfect, still the sense
of smelling in man, who has other means ot judging ot
his food, if such as to fit him for deriving enjoymentfrom
a diversity of scents, particularly those of flowers and per¬
fumes, to'which dogs and other animals seem perfectly in¬
sensible. It has been said, we are aware, that some ani¬
mals, the elephant for instance, are capable ot this enjoy¬
ment ;4 but of this fact we cannot help being very doubtful.
There is a very great sympathy between the organs ot
smell and of taste'; tor any defect or disease ot one is ge¬
nerally attended with some corresponding defect or disease
of the other. There is also a greater similarity between
the sensations of both these, than between those ot any
other two senses ; and hence it is, that we can sometimes tell
the taste of an object from its smell, and vice versa. Hence
also the reason why we apply the same epithets to the
names of both these classes of sensations; as a sweet smell
01* taste*
It deserves also to be remarked, that both these senses
seem subservient to the preservation of the animal exist¬
ence, rather than to any other purpose, i hey according¬
ly constitute an object of the natural history ot man, rathei
than of intellectual or of moral philosophy. Die other
three senses, on the contrary, seem rather intended for, as
they certainly are essential to, our intellectual improvement,
and become,‘of course, a proper object of investigation in
the sciences ot moral philosophy, or metaphysics.
The advantages derived by man and the other anima
from the sense of smelling are not confined to the assistance
which it affords them in the choice ot their food. Most
bodies in nature, when exposed to the open air, are con¬
stantly sending forth emanations or effluvia of such extreme
minuteness as to be perfectly invisible. lhese
themselves through the air, and however nox.ous or ^
tary, would not be perceived without the sense of smelling,
which, if not vitiated by unnatural habits, is not only a fai -
ful monitor when danger is at hand, but conveys to us like¬
wise the most exquisite pleasures. Ihe fragrance ot a r ,
and of many other flowers, is not only pleasant, but gu es a
refreshing and delightful stimulus to the whole syste ,
rwtle the odours proceeding from hemlock, or any noxious
vegetable, or other substance, are highly offensive
nostrils. Hence we are naturally led to seek the one class
of sensations, and to avoid the other.
In some species of animals the sense of smell seem
connected with certain mental sympathies, as tho®e d
ing and sight are in all that possess them m ^ny high
gree ; for not only their sexual desires appear to be
by means of it, but other instinctive pa8Slons’^^
cording to the usual system ot nature, should be still more
remote from its influence. Dogs, although wholly unac
1 See also Sir William Drummond’s Academwal Qoestions, book i cha? ^ aer subire debet, custos pnepomtur, morutur
, « Ut gustus,” says a learned physiologist, “ cibrnUnen, ^ 7™™^ 0lfactus ad salutarem cibum invitat, a noxio aut
ne quid noxii, via qme semper patet in corpus admittatur. Porro, ut gustus, qu q
corrupto, putrido imprimis vel rancido, deterret. whatever they desire, always placed near the nose and eyes, tbinK
“ When thou seest the month, through which animals take , Xenophon’s Memorabilia, book i. chap. 4.) amJ
y&zs. chet. ^ r £
rs„. ^ ^
* “”P
chaud.”
S M E
t ug- quainted with lions, will shudder at their roar; and an ele-
pliant that has never seen a tiger, will in the same manner
show the strongest symptoms of horror and affright at the
smell of it. “ The late Lord Clive,” says an ingenious
writer, “ exhibited a combat between two of these animals
at Calcutta; but the scent of the tiger had such an effect
upon the elephant, that nothing could either force or allure
him to go along the road, where the cage in which the
tiger was inclosed, had passed, until a gallon of arrack was
given him. Upon this, his horror suddenly turning into
fury, he broke down the paling to get at his enemy, and
killed him without difficulty.”
If riding along a road, near which a dead horse, or part
of its carcass, happens to be lying, we know, that our horse
although he sees it not, cannot be made to pass the place
but with difficulty. Where blood has been shed, parti¬
cularly that of their own species, oxen will assemble, and
upon smelling it, roar and bellow, and show the most mani¬
fest signs of horror and distress; and yet these symptoms
could not arise from any associated notions of danger or
death, since they appear in such as never had any oppor¬
tunities of acquiring them. They must therefore be in¬
stinctive like other instinctive antipathies and propensities.
But although in their mutual intercourse, animals make
much use of the sense of smell, still it does not seem to be
further concerned in exciting their sexual desires, than in
indicating their object.
Some of those splenetic philosophers, who are ready up¬
on all occasions to quarrel with the constitution of nature,
have taken the liberty of condemning their Maker, because
it has pleased his unfathomable wisdom to bestow in some
instances upon the brutes senses and instincts more perfect
than he has given to man, without reflecting that he has given
to man an ample equivalent; for it may be asked with the poet,
Is not his reason all these powers in one ?
Is Heaven unkind to man and man alone ?
Shall he alone, whom rational we call.
Be pleased with nothing if not blessed with all ?
W ith respect to that unknowm peculiarity of bodies, which
is the cause of our sensations of smell, the opinions of philo¬
sophers have been very various. Until of late, the doctrine
of Des Cartes and Locke on this subject was pretty general¬
ly received; but, since the publication of Dr. Reid’s works,
his opinion, which we deem the most correct and satisfac¬
tory, has become very popular. We will endeavour to
abridge his account of this matter. For this purpose, let
us suppose a person, who has grown up without the sense
of smell, to be immediately endowed with the use of this
organ, and placed near some flowers of an exquisite savour.
When he examines what he feels in such a situation, he can
find no resemblance between this new sensation, and any
thing with which he is already acquainted. He finds him¬
self unable to explain its nature, and cannot ascribe to it
figure, extension, or any known property of matter. It is
a simple affection, or feeling of mind, and, considered ab¬
stractedly, can have no necessary connection with the nerves,
the nostrils, or effluvia, or with any thing material whatever.
By the nature of his constitution he is however led to re¬
fer this peculiar sensation to the nostrils, as its organ; and
v hen, from experience, and by means of touch, he learns
that external objects have the power of exciting this sen¬
sation, he concludes, that there must exist in bodies some
unknown cause by which it is excited. In the first part of
this process he considers the feeling, or sensation, abstract¬
edly. As such, it exists in the mind only; and cannot ex¬
ist there but when the mind is conscious of it. His con¬
sciousness soon enables him to distinguish different sorts
of smells, all of them very distinct from one another, but,
conformably to the nature of all sensation, extremely sim¬
ple. He concludes, that each of these must have a distinct
cause; and finding, by experience, that this cause is an un¬
known something in bodies, he concludes, that it must be
S M E 405
a property of matter, and, for want of another, gives it the Smelling,
name of smell. When he removes an odorous body from
the organ, the sensation vanishes; when the body is again
applied, the sensation is excited; and hence it is, that he
is led naturally to connect the sensation with this unknown
peculiarity of bodies by which it is produced. But since
we see, that the sensation is, in a great degree, related to
other objects besides its unknown cause, to the mind in
which it exists, for instance, and to the organ which is its
instrument, it may be asked why it becomes associated in
the mind with its cause only ? The reason seems pretty ob¬
vious. No single sensation, or class of sensations, is more
connected with the mind, than any other of which it is sus¬
ceptible. Nor is the connection subsisting between the
organ and any of the sensations peculiar to it, greater than
that which subsists between it and every other sensation of
which it is the inlet. Hence the connection between the
smell of an orange and the mind, or between it and the
nostrils, is very general, and cannot, in the former instance,
distinguish it from any other sensation of whatever kind,
nor, in the latter, from any other particular smell. But the
connection between this sensation and the orange is pecu¬
liar and permanent; and we accordingly find them always
associated in the mind, just as we associate the notion of
fire with the sensation of burning. The relation which a
sensation of smell, or any sensation, bears to the mind, to
an organ, or to the memory and conception of itself, is
common to all sensations. The relation which any sensa¬
tion bears to its own cause, suppose of the sensation of smell
to a particular virtue or quality of bodies, is common to it
with every other sensation, when considered with respect
to its peculiar cause. And finally, a sensation of any kind
bears the same sort of relation to the memory and concep¬
tion of itself, that any other feeling or operation of mind
bears to the conception and memory of that particular feel¬
ing or operation.
Whatever then be the nature of the minute particles of
bodies by which our sensations of smell are excited, we can¬
not help considering their unknown cause as a virtue or
quality of matter. Like all other modifications of material
substance, it must be confessed, that this can have no re¬
semblance to the sensations of mind. But we are not there¬
fore to conclude w ith the follow7ers of Des Cartes and Locke,
that this secondary quality is a mere sensation ; especially
as we can readily conceive it existing w here it is not smell¬
ed, or even after supposing the annihilation of every sen¬
tient being throughout the universe. The existence of the
sensation we know to be momentary and fugitive; but in
the existence of its cause we can, without difficulty or in¬
consistency, conceive a permanency independent of mind
and of its sensations.
The doctrine which we have been illustrating has of late
been called in question by a sceptical writer, who, it ap¬
pears to us, has upon this occasion been entirely deficient in
his accustomed acuteness. Dr. Reid’s speculations seem
so full, so clear and convincing, that we are at a loss to con¬
ceive how his meaning can be misunderstood; and yet the
argument and objections of the writer to whom w e allude,
derive all their plausibility from a misinterpretation of Dr.
Reid’s meaning, and from a deviation from the established
use of language. “ An eminent metaphysician,” says this
author, “ has declared that he has not the least difficulty
in conceiving the air perfumed w ith aromatic odours in the
deserts of Arabia ; and he has decided, that the man who
maintains smells to exist only in the mind must be mad, or
must abuse language and disgrace philosophy. There are
some authors, nevertheless, who differ widely on this sub¬
ject from the learned metaphysician. Is it possible for a
sensation to exist where there is no sentient? The au¬
thors to whom I allude think it impossible.” And so, we
may tell this learned author, does Dr. Reid, if he will take
his word for it. Of the sensation of smell he remarks, “ It
406
S M E
S M E
Smelling, is indeed impossible, that it can be in any body ; it is a sen-
'sation, and a sensation can be in a sentient thing only. 1
A<xain, “ I can think of the smell of a rose when I do not
smell it; and it is possible that when I think ot it, there
is no rose any where existing; but, when I smell it, I am
necessarily determined to believe that the sensation really
exists. This is common to all sensations, that, as they can¬
not exist but in being perceived, so they cannot be per¬
ceived but they must exist.”2 But, continues this acute
metaphysician, “ a smell is nothing else than a sensation.
It is a feeling, which may be agreeable or disagreeable;
which may, as some think, be excited by various combina¬
tions of elements ; but which, since it is a feeling, cannot
be those elements which are said to cause it, and cannot
exist where there is no creature to perceive it. What is to
be understood, in philosophical strictness, by the perfumes
of the desert? We can excuse the poet when he makes
the ocean smile,3 the winds dance,4 and the flowers re¬
spire ;5 or even were he to perfume the desert. But the
philosopher is no such magician, and had better not wander
through the regions of fancy in search of sensations wheie
there is no sentient.” And is it then true that the word
smell means only a sensation ? A sensation is no more B)344
an effect ; it is a transient modification of the mind, which
the mind itself can never produce. It must then have some
cause which is external to the mind. Now, it is to this
cause, and not to the sensation, that the name smell is most
frequently applied in all languages ; and it is this cause
which Dr. Reid supposes capable of existing in the deserts
of Arabia, where there is no sentient being to perceive it.
But let us hear himself. “ We have considered smell as
signifying a sensation, feeling, or impression upon the mind ;
and in this sense it can only be in a mind or sentient being ;
but it is evident that mankind give the name of smell much
more frequently to something which they conceive to be ex¬
ternal, and to be a quality of body; they understand by it
something which does not at all infer a mind, and have not
the least difficulty in conceiving the air perfumed with aio-
vnatic odours in the deserts of Arabia, or some uninhabited
island where the human foot never trod.”6 “ The faculty
of smelling is something very different from the actual sen¬
sation of smelling; for the faculty may remain when we
have no sensation. And the mind is no less diffeient from
the faculty, for it continues the same individual being when
the faculty is lost. What is smell in the rose ? It is a qua¬
lity or virtue of the rose, or of something proceeding from
it, which we perceive by the sense ot smelling; and this is
all we know' of the matter. But what is smelling? It is an
act of the mind, but is never imagined to be a quality ot
the mind. Again, the sensation of smelling is conceived to
infer necessarily a mind or sentient being ; but smell in the
rose infers no such thing. We say, this body smells sweet,
and that stinks; but we do not say, this mind smells sweet,
and that stinks; therefore smell in the rose, and the sensation
which it causes, are not conceived, even by the vulgar, to be
thingsofthe same kind, although they have the same name. 7
There are some other remarks on Dr. Reid’s opinion, in
the work upon which w'e have been commenting, which we
shall pass by; we may however notice the author’s con¬
cluding argument. After mentioning some examples, he
observes, “ Now, in these instances, we see men and ani¬
mals, that must have perception of smell, if I may be per¬
mitted to say so, altogether different from each other. Is
not smell sensation when the spaniel finds spoit in the field
for his master ; when the shark pursues through the ocean
its expected victim ; and when the camel conducts the
thirsty wanderer to a fountain of fresh water, across the
burning sands of the Arabian desert ? If no animal had the
sensation of smell, there would be no odour ; for aroma and Smelt
oils may be thought to be material compositions, but are by ha
neither agreeable nor disagreeable feelings.” If men and l'1""
animals differ in their perceptions of smell, and, no doubt,'-
difference of organization will cause them to do so, the con¬
clusion should not be, we think, that smell is merely sensa¬
tion, but that there is actually something external which is
the cause of their sensations, and about which they differ.
A rose put to the nostrils of a man, and then to those ot a
dog, may excite very different sensations; but we cannot
think that the peculiarity of the rose, which excites those
different sensations, varies by thus changing the position of
the rose. If at table one person mistakes mutton for beef,
and another thinks that it is venison, the conclusion may be,
that it is neither venison nor beef; but no man in his senses,
can conclude that there is no meat at the table. But, “is not
smell sensation when the spaniel finds sport in the field ?”
There is sensation no doubt; but we may be permitted to
ask, what would become of the spaniel’s sensation of smell
and of his master’s sport, were there no game in the field ?
What of the shark’s sensation of smell and pursuit, were
there no victim in the ocean ? and what of the camel and the
thirsty w7anderer, were there no fountain of fresh water in the
Arabian desert ? ‘ The smell of a rose signifies two things,”
says Dr. Reid; “first, a sensation which can have no existence
but when it is perceived, and can only be in a sentient being
or mind ; secondly, it signifies some power, quality, or virtue
in the rose, or in effluvia proceeding from it, which hath
a permanent existence independent of the mind, and which,
by the constitution of nature, produces the sensation in us.
By the original constitution of our nature, we are both led
to believe that there is a permanent cause of the sensation,
and prompted to seek after it; and experience determines us
to place it in the rose. The names of all smells, tastes,
sounds, as well as heat and cold, have a like ambiguity in all
languages ; but it deserves our attention, that these names
are'but rarely, in common language, used to signify the sen¬
sations ; for the most part, they signify the external qualities
which are indicated by the sensations. ’8 V* e have been in¬
duced thus to discuss this topic at some length, because we
regretted to see Dr. Reid’s opinion and reasoning misrepre¬
sented ; and we shall now conclude, not as this modern Berk-
leian does, “ that if no animal had the sensation of smell,
there would be no odour,” but, that if there were no odour or
external cause of smell, no animal would have this sensation.
SMELTING Iron by Hot-Beast. Since the article on Recen
the Manufacture of Iron was published in the usual 01(
tier of the progress of this work, certain changes have been0f ^
introduced in the process of making iron, of so exten-j-actur;,
sive and important a character, that we cannot consider jr011
them in any other light than as effecting an entire ie-
volution in those branches of industry and of commerce
connected with the manufacture and application of that
most valuable of metals. The change has been compara¬
tively unnoticed, extending itself during the last ten years,
from the little spot in a remote part of this island whence
it took its origin, and has now found its way over a great
part of the old world, and been adopted extensively m
the new. Wherever it has found its way, wealth and pros¬
perity have attended it, poverty and sterility have fled be¬
fore it; and there have been opened up vast stores ot minera
wealth to assist in the advancement of civilization and in¬
dustry, which our former impotence and want of skill na
marked with the stigma of utter unproductiveness. It is
therefore necessary that we give in this article, as supp e
mentary to our former treatise, an account of the new pro¬
cess, now well known over the whole manufacturing wor
as the hot-blast process for smelting iron.
> Reid's Inquiry, ch- ii. sect. 2. 4 Reid’s Inquiry, chap. »• sect. 3. 5 Milton.
» Thomson. • 6 Inquiry, chap. ii. sect. 8 7 Inquiry, chap. u. sect. J.
4 Cowley.
8 Inquiry, ch. ii. seel’ ^
SMELTING.
407
s41
by
be i »-
ion.
The hot-blast process was invented in Scotland by Mr.
f- James Beaumont Neilson, a practical engineer at Glasgow,
and was by him made the subject of a patent, dated Sep-
‘Hf^tember 1828, being entitled, an “ improved application of
m' 0 air, to produce heat in fires, forges, and furnaces, where
^j: bellows and other blowing apparatus are required.”
JLf The invention of Mr. Neilson, like a great many other
inventions, and indeed some of the most valuable, is cha¬
racterized by extreme simplicity ; and his invention so per¬
fectly accords with all the known laws of physics, that we
at once apply to it the well known exclamation of wonder,
“ how strange ! that a thing so obvious should not have been
done long before!” an exclamation in which we too often
find ourselves doing an act of injustice to the very inventors
to whom we lie under the weightiest obligations. Mr. Neil-
son’s hot blast is as simple a contrivance as was the steam-
engine condenser of his countryman, Mr. Watt, and indeed
bears a very close analogy to its character as an invention.
Before the time of Mr. Watt, steam was introduced into
that part of the steam-engine where it performed its la¬
bour, and was then condensed into water in the same place
where it had done its duty, thereby causing great waste of
fuel and loss of power; and to remedy this defect, Watt
introduced his new principle on which his fame rests; he
used a separate condenser, that is, cooled the steam, and re¬
converted it into water, not in the cylinder, where it wras
detrimental, but in a separate vessel communicating with it.
In like manner, Mr. Neilson’s invention consists in separate¬
ly heating that which was formerly done so as to be inju¬
rious to the process intended. Cold air was blown into a
furnace designed to produce intense heat for the smelting
of iron from ore, so that the cold blast of air itself re¬
quired to be heated by the fuel in the furnace intended to
smelt the iron, and so its temperature was cooled down by
the very intensity of the blast required for the desired com¬
bustion. To remedy this defect, Mr. Neilson introduced
his new principle of hot blast; and instead of allowing this
blast of cold air to enter at once from the blowing machine
or bellows into the furnace, to be heated there, he provided
a separate heating apparatus, by which the air of the blast
was to be heated by a separate furnace and fire, previously
to its entrance into the smelting furnace. This is the whole
invention. A hot blast of air, instead of a cold one, is thus
introduced for the generation of heat. Could any thing
be more simple, more natural, more appropriate, or more
likely to prove effectual ? This is the hot blast, w'hich has
already in this and other countries created many millions of
valuable property out of what was formerly worthless, be¬
cause unavailable by any of the processes formerly knowm.
Like most other inventions, the progress of this was at
first very slow. Retarded by practical difficulties, which be¬
set all new processes in their first use, by men who have
every thing to learn,—stopped every now- and then by the
prejudices of custom and ignorance, which cling with inve-
ttrate tenacity to maxims of established practice, and repel
equally the innovations which improve and those which
merely alter without improvement,—opposed also by the
change of interests which such a revolution must neces¬
sarily involve; the invention, tardy in its first steps, and
feeble in its early efforts, was more than once at the point
of being altogether abandoned. Like the invention of
Vatt, a great part of the interest in its possible remunera¬
tion was transferred by the inventor to strangers, whose
combined efforts and influence it was necessary to obtain
oh the side of the innovation. To Mr. Dunlop of Clyde
iron-works Mr. Neilson had to give up three-tenths of his
patent rights ; to Mr. Mackintosh three-tenths ; and one-
tenth to Mr. Wilson of Dundivan, retaining to himself only
ree-tenths of this valuable monopoly. But the transfer
was judicious; it was necessary. Mr. Mackintosh is dis¬
tinguished as a man of much practical science ; Mr. Dun-
°P was one of the most sagacious iron-masters of his
Prac!
introi
tion
lot-b
time; and Mr. W ilson was a man of tried practical talent. Smelting
I he co-operation of these gentlemen was essential to the by hot-
speedy and successful trial Of the novel though simple process. blast-
The following is the specification of Mr. Neilson’s pa-'^>^“
tent j u I, James Beaumont Neilson, do hereby declare,
that the nature of my said invention for the improved ap-
plication of air to produce heat in fires, forges, and furnaces, blast pa-
where bellows or other blowing apparatus are required, and tent. *
the manner in which the same is to be performed are par¬
ticularly described and ascertained as follows: That is to
say, a blast or current of air must be produced by bellows
or other blowing apparatus in the ordinary way, to which
mode of producing the blast or current of air this patent is
not intended to extend. The blast or current of air so pro¬
duced is to be passed from the helioses or blowing appara¬
tus into an air vessel or receptacle, made sufficiently strong
to endure the blast, and through and from that vessel or
receptacle, by means of a tube, pipe, or aperture into the
fire, forge, or furnace. The air vessel or receptacle must
be air-tight, or nearly so, except the apertures for the ad¬
mission and emission of the air; and at the commencement,
and during the continuance of the blast, it must be kept
artificially heated, to a considerable temperature.
“ It is better that the temperature be kept to a red heat,
or nearly so; but so high a temperature is not absolutely
necessary to produce a beneficial effect. The air-vessel or
receptacle may be conveniently made of iron ; but as the
effect does not depend upon the nature of the material, other
metals or convenient materials may be used. The size of
the air vessel must depend upon the blast, and on the heat
necessary to be produced. For an ordinary smith’s fire or
forge, an air vessel or receptacle, capable of containing
1200 cubic inches, will be of proper dimensions ; and for a
cupola of the usual size for cast-iron founders, an air-vessel
capable of containing 10,000 cubic inches will be of a pro¬
per size. For fires, forges, or furnaces, upon a greater
scale, such as blast-furnaces for smelting iron, and large
cast-iron founders’ cupolas, air-vessels of proportionably in¬
creased dimensions and numbers are to be employed. The
form or shape of the vessel or receptacle is immaterial to
the effect, and may be adapted to the local circumstances
or situation. The air-vessel may generally be convenient¬
ly heated by a fire, distinct from the fire to be affected by
the blast or current of air, and generally it will be better
that the air-vessels and the fire by which it is heated should
be inclosed in brick-work or masonry, through which the
pipes or tubes connected with the air-vessel should pass.
The manner of applying the heat to the air-vessel is, howr-
ever, immaterial to the effect if it be kept at a proper tem¬
perature. In witness whereof, I, the said James Beaumont
Neilson, have hereunto set my hand and seal, the 28th day
of February, in the year of our Lord 1829.”
The only part of the process of smelting the iron which Manner of
is at all affected by this novelty, is the transit of the air using the
from the blowing machinery into the smelting furnace.hot-blast.
The bellows, steam-engine, water-wheel, blowing cylin¬
ders, equalizing reservoirs, or other apparatus of whatever
sort, for producing the current of air to blow the fire, are
left unchanged, as we have already described and figured
them in our article on Iron. The furnace may be left of
its former shape and dimensions in every respect as used in
the old process, and as we formerly described them; all
that is required for the introduction of the new process, is
to interpose between the smelting furnace and the blowing
machinery an oven, heated by a separate fire, through which,
in appropriately shaped vessels or pipes, the blast of air on
its w ay to the furnace may be heated to a considerable tem¬
perature,—400°, 600°, or any temperature found most suit¬
able to the purpose, and so blown upon the incandescent
fuel in the furnace in a hot blast, as distinguished from the
ordinary cold blast of atmospheric air.
The consequences of this hot blast system in an econo-
blast.
408
Smelting mic point of view, may be illustrated by the following ex-
by hot- perimental facts. ,
In a given furnace in Scotland, previous to the mtroduc-
' tion of the new process, the following was the average re-
Advan- sujj- obtained:
bot-blast 20 tons of COal (coked)’
system. with 3| tons of limestone,
smelted tons of iron,
being 3| tons of fuel to each ton of iron.
In the same furnace, by the introduction of the new pro¬
cess, the result was as follows:
14 tons of coal (raw),
with tons of lime,
SMELTING.
blast in
Scotland.
smelted 8 tons of iron,
being If tons of fuel to each ton of iron.
Here, then, we see that, in the first place, one half of
the fuel only is required; that coking, a very expensive
process, is avoided, the coal being used raw, which was
formerly impossible; and that only about one-third of the
quantity of limestone is required to flux the iron, and al
the cost of these materials, and all the labour employed in
their transport, and in the process of melting, are clearly
saved. But these were not the only benefits conferred on
the iron-master. The same furnace, blowing apparatus,
and establishment, that formerly produced fifty tons a-week,
yielded under the hot blast more than double that quantity.
Peculiar As it was in Scotland that these advantages were first
advantage obtained, so it is there that they are still possessed in tie
of the hot- kio-hest degree. Previously to the introduction of the hot
K,"cf blast, it had become an almost hopeless competition to pro¬
duce iron there at so cheap a rate as the Welsh iron-mas¬
ters could import it into Scotland. The hot blast at once
turned t\\e scale; and Scotland now transmits annually many
thousand tons of iron to all the markets of England, and even
into the very heart of the iron districts of the principality itself.
The 'Cause of this difference between the advantage which
Wales has derived from the hot-blast process, and that
conferred on Scotland, is simply this: the coal fields of
Wales are a rich, strong, and highly carbonaceous fuel,
which loses not more than thirty to forty per cent, in the
process of coking. The coal basin of Scotland in the iron
district is, on the contrary, of a poor, earthy, light descrip¬
tion, so as to lose from fifty to sixty per cent, in the pro¬
cess of coking, and giving, for every two tons of coal, not
more, and frequently much less, than one ton of coked fue
fit for the cold-blast smelting-furnace. The expense and
loss in the Scotish coal by this preparatory process of cok¬
ing, was therefore excessive, when compared with the W elsh
coal; and hence the adoption ot this new plan, which did
not require this preliminary process ot coking, became a
much greater boon to the Scotchman, in exact propoition
to his former disadvantage.
Great as these advantages have been found in Scotland,
they have by no means been limited to the country of the
inventor. In Staffordshire, in the wonderfully rich mineral
basins of Dudley, and in Derbyshire, the invention was
very early introduced, and most successfully practised.
The following are the general results of the hot-blast sys¬
tem, as now practised in Staffordshire, in comparison with
the old system:
By the cold blast,
8 tons of coal (coked),
with 1 jg ton of lime,
yielded 3 tons of iron,
being 2§ tons of fuel to each ton of iron.
By the hot blast, in 1840,
2-3; tons of coal (raw),
with T60ths of a ton of limestone,
Hot-blast yield 2-g- tons of iron,
admits the being 1 ton of fuel to each ton of iron.
ferior ma- The saving thus obtained in the article of fuel, is accom-
terials. panied, it will be noticed, in every instance, with a corres-
Result in
Stafford¬
shire.
ponding saving in the limestone employed to flux the Sm,
metal ° But even here the whole amount of advantage by
does not meet the eye. It was formerly important to use J
the very best quality of coal that could be obtained,
light, bituminous, or earthy coal, being least fit for the
purpose, and most unprofitable. Now, although it is still
desirable to have a better rather than a worse fuel, the im¬
portance of this point is so greatly diminished, that almost
all the inferior descriptions of poorer and more bituminous
coal may be employed with economy and advantage. Lime¬
stone of the best quality was essential to the produce ot
.rood iron by the old method; by the new method, it is
obvious, from inspection ot the examples given, that the
saving in limestone varies from a third to two-thiids of the
quantity employed ; but, in addition to this, it has become
practicable to employ limestone of a very inferior quality,
where better may be scarce, without sensible deterioration
of the metal. , , ,, .
For the production of good iron, the hot-blast system q;J
has thus opened vast resources, which formerly could notcred
be rendered available, in consequence of the inferior quah valu.
ty of some one of the raw materials w hich could be brought
together in a given locality. In one place, abundant in^ '
excellent carbonate of lime and rich ore, it became ini-an(j
possible to realise the mineral wealth, on account of the in¬
ferior quality of the coal; while, in another, an abundant
supply of good limestone, and of good coal, could not be
used with advantage, from the poverty of the ore, which
happened to be a day stone, containing a small proportion
of iron. Perhaps, also, a portion of sulphur mixed with
the materials in such a quantity, as to ruin the iron.
These all are counterbalanced by thehot blast, and every one
of these impracticable cases is now exemplified in daily use.
But there is no sphere in which the hot blast has exerted ^
a more beneficial influence in promoting the success of in*teb(
dustry,and extending the resources of civilization, than
application to those sterile districts of the mineral world, advl
known as the region of the stone coal, blind coal, or an¬
thracite formation. In the blind or stone coal strata, we
have that most valuable of all combustibles, carbon, in a
condition of high density and purity, amounting to as much
as ninety or ninety-five per cent, of the stone coal, with a
very small per centage of earthy or hydrogenous matter,
yet so contracted, and, as it were, iron-bound, so hard and
obdurate, that, instead of forming a good combustible, it
seems to partake of the nature of that wonderful and bril¬
liant substance, so hard of combustion as to have been
reckoned one of the incombustibles until the glass ot the
accomplished analyst resolved the glittering brilliant into
its primitive carbon. The anthracite seems, in fact, ruly
to deserve the name of the “ black diamond,” having been
rendered, by its dense and close structure, nearly as in¬
combustible. Although America, and many wide districts
of Europe, abound with this rich carbon, it has tailed to
furnish, even in the hands of many accomplished chemists
and mechanicians, an available fuel, either for the genera¬
tion of steam, or for the ordinary wants of social life, ana
has resisted even the intense heat of the blast furnace.
But even its consummate obstinacy has yielded to tne
power of the hot blast. In Wales, and in America, bot-
blast iron of the very finest quality is now made from stone
coal; and thus stores of the richest fuel which the woria
contains, appear only to have been reserved, by their won¬
derful obduracy, from the rapid destruction to which al
other fuel has been so wastefully subjected, to supply tne
civilization and science of the nineteenth century with
the means of rewarding and extending its astonishing isc
veries. So kindly has Providence placed at the surtac
of the earth one mineral fuel to replace the forests w ic
supplied the fires of our forefathers, and deposited an -
ther still richer, but more remote m the b(i,we,sot1t f
• earth, to await and to reward the industry and research
SMELTING.
tH 'ite
felct,
;lting their children and our own. What geologist will hence-
ihot- forth call in question the abundance of that supply, which
now seems to augment with the very means that are in-
4j vented for increasing its consumption ?
Luke of The Welsh coal-field is perhaps the richest in the world.
tl|ot- Rich with bitumen on one side, it gradually falls off by
ij in insensible gradations into a more purely carbonaceous, but
lrt;an' still free-burning coal, and, passing through every interme-
' 1 e diate gradation, is found at last in the state of a rich,
resplendent refractory anthractous, or stony coal. This,
mixed in the proportion of two to three, three to two,
or half and half, smelts iron readily under he hot blast,
and produces a rich powerful pig, possessing the quali¬
ties of a rich charcoal iron, and also capable of being con¬
verted into a most tenacious and malleable bar iron. In
the anthracite district of Wales, new furnaces are rapid¬
ly rising into use; and Mr. Crane is distinguished by his ex¬
tensive use of Mr. Neilson’s hot-blast in that application of it.
But it is probably in America that the hot-blast system
will most extensively contribute to the development of
di ict of mineral wealth. The anthracite is there the staple of
nca. fuel. It covers a vast extent of country, and constitutes
the only substitute with which our transatlantic brethren
can replace those forests that are so rapidly receding before
the advances of civilization. Here the hot-blast is most
successfully employed.
D ription We have thus given our readers the general specifica-
ul ie hot-tion ol the hot-blast improvement; a specification so general
bl aPPa as to include all possible forms of apparatus, applicable, not
409
ar in the
at racite
only to the smelting of iron, but to all cases of manufacture
in which a blast is employed to produce heat, and which
touches only the process of heating the air, without regard
either to the mode of producing the blast, the mode of ap-
plying the blast, or the means of heating air; and the pa¬
tent only provides for the carrying into effect the process of
heating the air, that the blast shall be passed through a
heated vessel or receptacle of any form or dimensions, such
as a cast or malleable iron retort, kept to a dull red heat of
some 1000° of temperature as the most desirable. It will
readily be imagined that this apparatus, described is terms of
so great generality, would assume various forms, according
to the different views which the various practical men em¬
ployed to construct the apparatus took of the most effective
mode of heating the air. This is accordingly what occurred
with the progress of time, and the increasing experience of
those who used the apparatus; practical difficulties gradually
diminished with the increased experience which was every day
suggesting new and better expedients. It was also soon
found that the advantage gained was increased in a rapid
proportion with the degree of heat communicated to the air,
so that the apparatus which gave at first some 300° of tem¬
perature to the air, and produced one measure of benefit,
was soon superseded by a second form of apparatus giving
400°, and conferring still higher advantages ; and this in its
turn gave way to another and another, each giving a higher
temperature to the air, and promising a higher degree of eco-
nomy to the user. And thus at last a temperature between
00° and 700° was given to the air; a temperature higher
than that of melting lead, which is indeed the criterion now
generally applied to test the working heat of the blast,
ess of W e shall probably give our readers the clearest views of
Vexhi 686 ^fnera^ improvements, and of the progress which has
inthegen , y taken Place in carryiog them into effect, by taking
rly a S1,ngle example. For this purpose we have selected the
lr° »orks. vari°as modes of heating the air that have necessarily sug¬
gested themselves to, or been put in practice by the ingeni¬
ous proprietors of the Butterly iron-works in Derbyshire,
°Were first to introduce the hot-blast into that part
e country, and who have been among the most success
m carrying it into effect, and producing one of the most
►erior u,**. ui , ^ •  °
superior qualities of hot-blast iron.
ateCCCCLXII. fig. 1, shoxvs the construction of the
vol. xx.
earliest and simplest plan by which the inventots of hot-blast Smelting
first brought it into use. An iron vessel hhh was formed of by bat-
malleable plates, rivetted together like a common steam- blast,
boiler, something near three feet in diameter, and eight or
ten feet long, cylindrical, and fitted at the ends to two pipes
B6, communicating with the bellows, andSs with the smelting
furnace. Below this large pipe or tube a fire is placed, which
is fed tiom the door D, and the whole is enclosed in an oven
of brickwork O O O O, leaving a clear space all round the
pipe hhh, so that the flame and hot air rising up and enve¬
loping the receptacle, should keep it so hot as to communi¬
cate through the sides of the vessel a higher temperature to
the air rushing through it, on its way from the bellows, B,
towards the smelting furnace S. And in order to communi¬
cate this temperature more uniformly and completely to all
the air passing through the vessel hhh, lunular partitions
ppp proceeding alternately from opposite sides of the tube
on its interior surface, cause the stream of air to impinge
first on one side, and then on the other side of the heated
iron pipe, as shown in the figure. By this apparatus a mo¬
derate current of air has been heated to three or four hun¬
dred degrees.
Fig. 2 shows the manner in which the method of heat- First ap¬
ing the air was employed at first in the Butterly iron-paratus.
works. In the oven O O are placed the two cast-iron
retorts hh, about thirty-two inches in diameter, and nine
feet long, being of metal an inch and an eighth part in thick¬
ness. They are laid parallel to each other ; one of them is
at one end connected with the pipe B b from the blowing
apparatus, and this conducts the air from its other extremity
through a curved junction pipe J J, into the second recep¬
tacle hh ; where, on its way becoming hot, it passes through
the hot-air pipe S s, from the heating furnace or oven, and
is blown by the orifice T through the twyre T into the hearth
of the smelting furnace at F. In this, as is usual, more than
one blast, as at I , was blown into the same smelting furnace.
The fire dd, is placed at one corner of the oven on the bars
rr, and is fed from the door D, and the smoke and flame
rising up and surrounding h)hl, pass through a partition by
the flue /J and fill the second compartment of the oven, clear
spaces being left quite round the retorts on every side for the
communication of the heat; only at the points ft and k, they
are supported by contact on the brick pillars kk. Finally,
the products of combustion pass through a flue / into the
short chimney C. In this way the cold air from the blast
pipe B 6 passing into the vessel A2 P, is partially heated,
and is conducted into a second chamber, which, being placed
immediately over the fire, is much more intensely hot, and
from this second chamber at once discharged into the smelt¬
ing furnace.
This apparatus was first tried in November 1830. The Bs effects,
air was only heated to 240°. Yet so admirable is the pro¬
cess, that it was attended with the following effect:
With cold blast there were previously used at Butterly,
tons coal (coked),
to 1 ton of iron.
By the new apparatus there were required
only 3 tons coal (raw),
to 1 ton of iron.
So admirable an effect as this was not to be neglected
on account of the practical difficulties attending it, which
indeed only served as an inducement to further exertion;
and in about a year after the following improved apparatus,
with an increased number of tubular vessels, having increased
dimensions of length, was successfully introduced.
fig. 3. In the transverse section h} fi1 h3, are three Second ap-
pipes of east-iron inch thick, being about 17 feet long, paratus.
and about 22 inches in diameter. They are similarly de¬
noted in the ground plan, and in the longitudinal section
by the letters A1 h2 h?. The cold air pipe from the blow-
ing apparatus B, enters the heating oven at b and traverses
the pipe A1 A1 to the opposite end of the furnace: here a
3 F
410
SMELTING.
Smelting bent pipe h} h2 conveys the air into a second longitudina
by hot- pipe h2 A2, by which the stream of air returns back to tlie
blast. en(j 0f the oven at which it entered, and is conducted by a
     second bent pipe A2 A3 into the third tubular vessel A° h° in
which it is for the last time exposed to the heated metal,
and passes oif from the heating oven into the smelting tur-
nace, by the hot air pipe S, whence, as formerly, it is ms-
charged through the twyre into the hearth of the furnace.
The fuel is placed through the door D upon the fire of the
oven on the bars r, and by means of a number of small pigeon
holes ccc, ccc, ccc, is spread over the whole length of the
pipes with some measure of uniformity, whereas, it allowed
lo act directly on the retorts, it would irregularly and less
effectually heat their surface. The manner of
the retorts from the direct action of the fire, is well shown
in the transverse section : a brick arch is thrown over
the fire, and the flame is only permitted to ascend through
the aforesaid openings cc, cc. It will be noticed that the
retorts are every where clear of the budding and of each
other, that they are wholly enclosed by the oven O 0 0, and
it will also be seen in the transverse section, and in the lon¬
gitudinal section, that the products of combustion are car¬
ried off by a descending flue// regulated by a damper ee,
into the short vertical chimney C. This damper is very use¬
ful in retarding the draught of air, so as to leave the products
of combustion a longer time in contact with the heaters.
Its effects. This apparatus is more effective and more dmable tha
the last. It raised the heat of the air as high as 400° to
500®, being 200° higher than the former plan as indeed we
should expect from the greater number and tength of the
vessels, and the greater surface in contact with the an.
The result, compared with the last, is as follows.
By the former plan with air at 240°,
3 tons of coal were required
to melt 1 ton of iron. ^
By the improved plan, with air at 400 to 500 ,
tons of coal were required
to melt 1 ton of iron. . , , r .
The reader will not fail to be struck with the fact, that
a much greater gain was obtained by the original ruder
plan of using the air, when compared with the old sys¬
tem of hot-blast, than was afterwards got from the introduc¬
tion of the improved apparatus over the former one. I e
higher temperature does not appear to have conferred an ad¬
vantage at all proportionable to the increased temperature.
Third ap- Fig. 4 is a very superior and durable heating apparatus,
paratus. which continues in efficient use to the present time. Its
form is well adapted to prevent all the evils of expansion
and contraction; and it is our opinion that by multiplying
the vessels, a more effective apparatus might be made
than any now in use. Its form is very ingenious, and its
functions may be easily learned by studying the figure,
in which the letters describe the same parts with those ot
the previous figures. B is the pipe coming from the b.ow¬
ing apparatus to the heating furnace O O O O ; S is the hot
air pipe, proceeding from the heating oven to the smelting
furnace; A1 A1 A1 is a large retort into which the air is at
first carried, and from the further end of which a malleable
iron tube i1*1, concentric with the retort, carries it oack
again to that end where it first entered, and through a bent
pipe II conducts it along by a second interior tube to
the further end of the second heater A2A2A2, along the hot
surface of which it returns in the manner shown by the ar¬
rows to the base of the second retort: now, this second re¬
tort communicates at the base with a third A3 A3, and ahei
traversing its heated surface to the end, is brought back by
a tube concentric with the axis to the base ot the retoit.
This process might be continued with great advantage, and
make one of the best series of heating vessels. The fire is
covered by arches a a a, with small apertures ccc, as m the
former case, to prevent the vessels from being injured by the
local action of the intense fires.
This apparatus raised the temperature to between 500° and Smelt:,
600° and produced a further saving in coals. By the former l>y h,
plan 24 a tons of coal were required to smelt one tonot iron. By
E . . *2 O   0,0 , mdltAfl a ton of iron.
rian z toiio^  ^
this improved apparatus,2^ tons of coal melted a ton of iron. ^ ^
Figs 5 and 6 are the general forms ot apparatus now
most extensively used. Fig. 5 is a form first given tofWth
the apparatus, we believe, by Mr. D.xon at Calder, and“'
hence generally called the Calder pipes. Similar pipes were
also early introduced at Gartsherrie, and at Wedensbury; and
are very generally approved of from their extensive heat¬
ing surface, although they are liable to the inconvenience
of cracking, from unequal expansion. The form, as erect¬
ed at Butterly, consists of two parallel horizontal pipes
L L called technically “ the lying pipes, one forming
a communication immediately with the cold-blast pipe B,
and the other with the hot-blast pipe S. Into sockets formed
in the lying pipe, are inserted a series of smaller pipes spring¬
ing up at right angles with the one lying pipe, and after
forming an arch, returning down to the second lying pipe,
being inserted in like manner into sockets m it. 1 he air,
therefore, on entering the first lying pipe, is forced through
these transverse heating pipes, or “ A pipes” as they are call-
ed from their figure, and thus exposed to the heat ot a very
extensive surface, is delivered into the hot-air pipe. Some¬
times, as at Gartsherrie and many other works, there are se¬
veral times as many pipes as in this example, and the air
is made to cross and recross the fire several times.
The figures of the transverse pipes are as various as the
taste of the parties who use them. Sometimes they rise up
and form a large semicircular arch over the fire, which is
placed in the centre ; sometimes a double tier of such arches
is employed. Sometimes they cross the fire in the form ot
a pointed arch variously acuminate. Then again by some,
the pipes are carried up four, six, eight, or ten feet, like
columns, united at the top by a semicircular arc .
The cross section of the heating pipe is as various as the
form into which the pipe itself is made to bend. A circular
pipe was used at first, then a flattened elliptical one for the
purpose of exposing more surface in proportion to volume ;
next a pipe, flat at one part, and semicircular on the other,
was introduced; next a pipe of a cardioid or heart-like sec¬
tion was employed. At Butterly Mr. Terrop used a circu¬
lar pipe cast with a solid core, to keep the air near the hot
surface, as shown in the figure ; and finally, he employed the
rectangular section as shown in our figure 6th. All ot these
appear to answer their purpose of heating the air sufficiently
well, and all of them cause trouble and expense by cracking
now and then. . ,, .
The result of all these forms is to produce a hot-blast
of more than 600° temperature, and at Butterly, tigs, b
and 6 yield as follows: 2^ tons of coal melt one ton of
iron. It is found, however, at Butterly, that pigs, fo
forge, require about three cwt. less of coal than this average
quantity, and that No. I iron requires about three cwt. moie
than this, as we should expect.
The Scotch use less coal than the Butterly Company,
principally on this account, that the former use cakined
ore, of which thirty-two cwt. with seven cwt. of hme, makes
a ton of iron, while at Butterly, the quantity used to. a
ton of iron is 2| tons, with a ton of lime, being 3^
materials in one case, and less than two tons in tie
The explanation of the principles from which ho st^ ^
derives its efficacy as the means ot producing e eva ..i cess,
perature, is very easy and plain to any one acquainted with
the elementary principles of chemistry and ^ a _ 1
that we think it necessary to add on this subjec ,
state in the words of Mr. Babbage and Dr. Ure.
“ The increased effect,” says Babbage, “ Prod"cc^ itsbage’s
the air is by no means an obvious result; /d .L LL appli-"te
action will lead to some curious views repectmg tbe future app
cation of machinery for blowing furnaces. _ fi.mace, con-
“ Every cubic foot of atmospheric air, driven into a
Sj »>g
li Ot-
t.
SMELTING.
Dr. -es’
ex;,:
tiun
sists of two gasesabout one-fifth being oxygen, and four-fifths azote.
According to the present state of chemical knowledge, the oxygen
alone is effective in producing heat; and the operation of blowing
/a furnace may be thus analyzed.
“ 1. The air is forced into the furnace in a condensed state, and,
immediately expanding, abstracts heat from the surrounding bodies.
“ 2- Being itself of moderate temperature, it would, even without
expansion, still require heat to raise it to the temperature of the hot
substances to which it is to be applied.
“ 3. On coming into contact with the ignited substances in the
furnace, the oxygen unites with them, parting at the same moment
with a large portion of its latent heat, and forming compounds which
have less specific heat than their separate constituents. Some of
these pass up the chimney in a gaseous state, whilst others remain in
the form of melted slags, floating on the surface of the iron, which
is fused by the heat thus set at liberty.
“ 4- The effects of the azote are precisely similar to the first and
second of those above described ; it seems to form no combinations,
and contributes nothing, in any stage, to augment the heat.
The plan, therefore, of heating the air before driving it into the
furnace, saves obviously the whole of that heat which the fuel must
have supplied in raising it from the temperature of the external air
up to that of 600° Fahrenheit; thus rendering the fire more in¬
tense, and the glassy slags more fusible, and perhaps also more ef¬
fectually decomposing the iron ore. The same quantity of fuel, ap-
plied at once to the furnace, would only prolong the duration of its
heat, not augment its intensity.
The circumstance of so large a portion of the air 2 driven into
furnaces being not merely useless, but acting really as a cooling, in¬
stead of a heating, cause, added to so great a waste of mechanical
power in condensing it, amounting, in fact, to four-fifths of the
whole, clearly shews the defects of the present method, and the
want of some better mode of exciting combustion on a large scale.”
The reader will find it interesting to compare this account
with the following by Dr. Ure.
“ Wherever a forced stream of air is employed for combustion,
the resulting temperature must evidently be impaired by the coldness
of the air injected upon the fuel. The heat developed in combus¬
tion is distributed into three portions ; one is communicated to the
remaining fuel, another is communicated to the azote of the atmos¬
phere, and to the volatile products of combustion, and a third to the
iron and fluxes, or other surrounding matter to be afterwards dis¬
sipated by wider diffusion. This inevitable distribution takes place
in such a way, that there is a nearly equal temperature over the whole
extent of a fire-place, in which an equal degree of combustion exists.
We thus peiceive that if the air and the coal be very cold, the
portions of heat absorbed by them might be very considerable, and
sufficient to prevent the resulting temperature from rising to a proper
pitch ; but if they were very hot they would absorb less caloric, and
would leave more to elevate the common temperature. Let us sup¬
pose two furnaces charged with burning fuel, into one of which cold
*ir is blown, and into the other hot air, in the same quantity. In
the same time, nearly equal quantities of f uel will be consumed with
a nearly equal production of heat; but notwithstanding of this, there
will not be the same degree of heat in the two furnaces, for the
one which receives the hot air will be hotter by all the excess of heat
in its air above that of the other, since the former air adds to the
neat while the latter abstracts from it. Nor are we to imagine that
yinjecting a little more cold air into the one furnace, we can raise
its temperature to that of the other. With more air indeed we should
burn more coals in the same time, and we should produce a greater
quantity of beat, but this heat being diffused proportionally among
more considerable masses of matter, would not produce a greater tem-
perature; we should have a larger space heated, but not a greater
intensity of beat in the same space.
distriw-5’ aCr°,r<lirlg t0 the Physical principles of the production and
distribution of heat, fires fed with hot air should, with the same
non nSut0a hlg£er Pitch of temperature than fires fed with com-
n,™ air; Th,s consequence is independent of the masses^
rue for a small stove which burns only an ounce of cbar-
i. . a minute, as for a furnace which burns a hundred weight •
samp ’6 eXT* temPeratul'e produced by hot air cannot be the
1‘“ a" Sma)i ”re,s as in Sreat; because the waste of heat is usually
mss the more fuel is burned. 3
This principle may be rendered still more evident by a numeri-
411
f ■take’ t examPle’ a blast furnace, into Smelting
which 600 cubic feet of air are blown per minute; suppose it to by hot
contain no ore but merely coal or coke, and that it has been burning blast *
long enough to have arrived at the equilibrium of temperature, and —^
let us see what excess of temperature it would have if blown with '
air of 300°C. (572° F.) instead of being blown with air at 0° C.
“ Six hundred cubic feet of air under the mean temperature and
pressure, weigh a little more than 45 pounds avoirdupoise ; they con¬
tain 10’4 pounds of oxygen, which would burn very nearly 4 pounds of
carbon, and disengage 16,000 times as much heat as would raise by one
degree cent, the temperature of two pounds of water. These 16,000
portions of heat, produced every minute, will replace 16,000 other
portions of heat, dissipated by the sides of the furnace and employed
in heating the gases, which escape from its mouth. This must take
place in order to establish the assumed equilibrium of caloric.
“ If the 45 pounds of air be heated beforehand up to 300° C., they
will contain about the eighth part of the heat of the 16,000 disen¬
gaged by the combustion, and there will be therefore in the same
space one-eighth of heat more, which will be ready to operate upon
any bodies within its range, and to heat them one-eighth more. Thus
the blast of 300° C. gives a temperature which is nine-eighths of the
blast at zero C., or at even the ordinary atmospheric temperature;
and as we may reckon at from 2200° to 2700° F. (from 1200° to
1500° C.) the temperature of blast furnaces worked in the common
way, we perceive that the hot-air blast produces an increase of tem¬
perature equal to from 270° to 360° F.
“ Now in order to appreciate the immense effects which this excess
of temperature may produce in metallurgic operations, we must con¬
sider that often only a few degrees more temperature are required to
modify the state of a fusible body, or to determine the play of affi¬
nities ^dormant at lower degrees of beat. Water is solid at 1° under
32 l4. , it is liquid at 1° above. Every fusible body has a deter-
mniate melting point, a very few degrees above which it is quite fluid,
though it may be pasty below it. The same observation applies to
ordinary chemical affinities ; charcoal, for example, which reduces the
greater part of metallic oxides, begins to do so only at a deter¬
minate pitch of temperature, under which it is inoperative, but a few
degrees above, it is in general lively and complete. It is unneces¬
sary, in this article, to enter into any more details to show the in¬
fluence of a few degrees of heat, more or less, in a furnace, upon
chemical operations, or merely upon physical changes of state.
i liese consequences might have been deduced long ago, and indus¬
try might thus have been enriched with a new application of science;
hut philosophers have been and still are too much estranged from
the study of the useful arts, and content themselves too much with
the minutiae of the laboratory or theoretic abstractions. Within the
space of seven years, the use of the hot-blast has been so much extend¬
ed in Great Britain, as to have enabled many proprietors of iron-works
to add 50 per cent, to their weekly production of metal, to diminish
the weekly expenses of smelting by 50 per cent., and, in many cases,
to produce a better sort ot cast-iron from indifferent materials.”
The following table is from a report of M. Dulfesnoy, r
made to the director-general of mines in France in 1834. jronbyhot
Cost price of a ton of piy-iron at the Clyde Iron- Works. blast.
Materials used.
Coal for fusion, at
5s. per ton, 
— for blowing ma¬
chine, at Is. 8d.
per ton, 
— for the beating ap¬
paratus,  
Calcined ore, at 12s. ;
per ton,3 1
Limestone, at 7s 
Labour, at 10s 
General charges, in- 1
terests of capital,
6s  I
flu 1829, with cold air. In 1833, with hot air.
ton. cwt.
6 13
1 15
10
L. s. d.
1 13 3
0 3 6
1 1 0
0 3 6
0 10 0
0 6 0
ton. cwt.
2 0
0 11
0 8
1 18
Total.
.L.3 17 3
h. s. d.
0 10 0
0 0 11
0 0 8
i 2 9
0 3 6
0 10 0
0 6 0
L.2 13 10
2 The accurate proportions are, by measure, oxygen 21, azote 79.
quantity of air It would de^erveTm iflr t0 ^ a|?an<* burner, whether used for consuming oil or gas, admits almost an unlimited
"* JU possibly, a different supply
ststs it costs from 4© Sapper'ton ^ Tbs ro -°tf th" lr°-n ral1nes.!]of tile Glasgow coal basin is 44 per cent, after calcination ; in this
•. p ton. 1 he cost of the mineral will, therefore, be very nearly as stated in the table.
41/2
SMELTING.
Since that period the cost has been rendered much lower,
and those who have made good arrangements for mineral
property, can manufacture iron at a cost of little more than
L.2 per. ton. . _
^UCI111V.„, At the request of the British Association, Dr. Thomson
constitution Qf Glasgow examined the chemical constitution of hot-blast
of hot-blast jror1j an(j |ie gives the following as the result of his m-
Smelting
by hot-
blast.
Chemical
93-594
0-708
3 080
1-262
0038—99-414
Iron.
Iron, 
Manganese    
Carbon, 
Silicon, 
Aluminum,  U 2
Sulphur     ® O'*?'
« The presence of sulphur in this specimen leads to the suspicion
that it is not a Swedish specimen ; for as the Swedish ore is magne¬
tic iron, and the fuel charcoal, the presence of sulphur in the iron
m y ; is very unlikely.1
“ f 11 The specific gravity of hot-blast iron is greater than that of « In this specimen, the atoms of iron and manganese are to those
hi- t P 8 7 of carbon, silicon, and aluminum, in the proportion of ‘H to one, m-
C°<‘ Tlio fnllnwino- are the specific gravities of eight specimens of stead of 3j to one, as in cast-iron No. 1.
“The following are the specinc graru 6 .< Xhe a5toms 0f carbon, silicon,, and aluminum, approach the pro¬
cold blast iron : portions of 7, 2, and 1, so that in cast-iron, No, 2, judging from one
specimen, there is a greater proportion of carbon, compared with the
silicon and aluminum, than in cast-iron, No- 1.
« Mr> Teiment analyzed a specimen of hot blast-iron, No. 2, from
Gartsherry. Its specific gravity was 6-9156, and its constituents,
Atoms.
25-86
Smelt
by 1:
blat
quiry
1st. Muirkirk 6-410
2nd. Ditto ^
3rd. Ditto ^
4th. Ditto ®
5th. Ditto ? _ _ .
6th. From pyrites.
.6-9444
Iron, 90 "542
Manganese,  2-764
Carbon  3*094
Silicon  0-680
Aluminum,     2894
Sulphur,...    0 0‘23
99-997
3-72
7th. From Canon 6-9888
8th. Clyde Iron Works 7-0028
“ The specific gravity of the Muirkirk iron is considerably less
than of that smelted at Carron and the Clyde Iron-Works ; the mean
of the eight specimens is 6-7034.
“ It has been hitherto supposed that the difference between cast-
iron and malleable iron consists in the presence of carbon m the . . • f
former and its absence from the latter ; in other words that cast go that it reSembles cast-iron, No. 1, in the proportion of its consti-
iron is’a carburet of iron. But in all the specimens of cast iron tuentSj The carbon is almost the same as m cold-blast iron, No, l
which we analysed we constantly found several other ingredients but tiie proportion of aluminum is four
besides iron and carbon. Manganese is pretty generally present m con ig little more than half as much. The atomic ratios are, carbon,
minute quantity, though in one specimen it amounted to no less a , siijcon> q-67 ; aluminum, 2"28. . . ,
ouantitv than 7 per cent.; its average amount is 2 per cent. Sih- „ g Five specimens of hot-blast cast iron, No. 1, were ana f2® •
wanting, though its amount is exceedingly variable, the Tw0 oftbese were fromCarron,and three from the Clyde Iron-Works,
itity is about 14 per cent.; some specimens contained where the hot.blast originally began; and where, of course, it has been
  ‘ longest in use. The specific gravity of these specimens was found to
be as follows : nmo
1st. From Clyde Works 
From Carron, 7-0721
From Carron,  ' ‘"A l
From Clyde Works  
„. jjuv ... — — -r_- tuents. The carbon is almost the samei
which we analysed we cons.amly fonnd sevend other ing.ed.^nB bul the p[oporli„„ of aln^nnm is four umes a.^eah while .he „h
besides i
minute c
quantity
con is never
average quantity »—— -5 r— -- -. ■ ,  
31 per cent, of it, while others contain less than a half per cent.
Aluminum is very rarely altogether absent, though its amount is
more variable than that of silicon. Its average amount is 2 per
cent.; sometimes it exceeds 4£ per cent., and sometimes it is not
quite sTjWh Part of the weight of the iron.
“ Calcium and magnesium are sometimes present, but very rarely,
and the quantity does not much exceed ith per cent. In a speci- ,
men of cast iron which I got from Mr. Neilson, and which he had Mean,   ^ 0623
smelted from pyrites, there was a trace of copper, showing that the „ Jt appears from this, that the hot-blast increases the specihc gra-
pyrites employed was not quite free from copper; and in a specimen vi of cast.iron by about *nd part. It approaches ^arer the spe-
from the Clyde Iron-Works there was a trace of sulphur. The ^ gravity of cast iron No. 2, smelted by cold air, than to that ol
following table exhibits the composition of six different specimens No j, .
of cast iron, No. I, analyzed in my laboratory, either by myself or „ The f0ii0Wing table exhibits the constituents of these tour spe-
by Mr. John Tennent. cimens,
2d.
3d.
4th.
Muirkirk. Muirkirk. Muirkirk.
Iron 
Copper, 
Manganese,
Sulphur,....
Carbon, 
Silica, 
Aluminum,
Calcium 
Magnesium,
90-98
7-40
0-46
0-48
90-29
7.14
1-706
0-830
0-016
0-018
91-38
2-00
4-88
1-10
6-20
89-442
0-288
3-600
3 "220
3-776
94-010
0-626
3-086
1-006
1-032
90-824
2-458
0-045
2-458
0-450
4-602
0-340
91-154
2 037
3-855
1-177
1-651
Iron, 
Manganese,...
Carbon, 
Silicon, 
Aluminum,..
Magnesium,.
Clyde.
97-096
0-332
2-460
0-280
0-385
100-55
Carron.
95-422
0-336
2-400
1-820
0-488
Carron.
96 09
0-41
2-48
1-49
0-26
100-466 | 100-73
Clyde.
94-966
0-160
1-560
1-322
1-374
0-792
100-174
Clyde.
94-345
3-120
1-416
0-520
0-599
100-
<« The constant constituents of cold-blast cast-iron, No. 1, are iron,
manganese, carbon, silicon, and aluminum. The occasional consti¬
tuents are copper, sulphur, calcium, and magnesium. These occur so
rarely, and in such minute quantity, that we may overlook them
“^The constant constituents occur in the following mean atomic
proportions:
22 atoms iron,  = 2^
* atom manganese, =
4-36 atoms carbon,  = y
1 atom silicon, = .40-84 42
“ 2. I examined only one specimen of cast-iron. No. 2. It was
an old specimen, said to have come from Sweden, but I have no evi¬
dence of the correctness of this statement. Its specific gravity was
7-1633 higher than any specimens of cold-blast iron, No. 1. Its
constituents were,
The mean of these analyses gives us,
Iron nm'.&Stu*
Manganese,  0 8/1 or ^ 249 J
Carbon, - 2-099 or ^‘7 )
Silicon,  ^ or
Aluminum  0422 or 0 33/ j
101-285 f
Or, in the proportion of 61 atoms of iron and manganese to 1 atom °
c. Lon, silicon, .ml aluminum. In tkc cold-blast ct-non we h.v..
Iron. Carbon. «c.
In No.   35 atoms ! atom‘
In No.   41
In hot- blast, , , , Wast jts
“ Thus it appears, that when iron is smelted by the h" ‘ ion 0f
specific gravity is increased, and it contains a 8reater P ? than
iron, and a smaller proportion of carbon, silicon, and alum
when smelted by the cold-blast.  —
I have been told by Mr. Mushet that the Swedes add sulphur to their iron No. 2.
S M E
Iting At the request of the British Association, Mr. Eaton
hot- Hodgkinson examined the mechanical properties of hot and
st- cold-blast iron. The following are his general results.
Carron Iron, No. 2.
Tensile strength in ^
lbs. per square v
inch )
Compressive ditto
in lbs. per inch ^
from castings f
torn asunder.... )
Do. from prisms )
of various forms j
Do. from cylin-1
ders j
Transverse )
strength from all >
the experiments )
Power to resist)
impact j
Transverse
strength of bars (
one inch square f
in lbs j
Ultimate deflec- )
tion of do. in in. /
Modulus of elas- ^
ticity in lbs. per C
square inch j
Specific gravity 
16683 (2)
106375(3)
100631(4)
125403 (13)
 (H)
 (9)
476 (3)
1-313(3)
17270500 (2)
7066
13505 (3)
108540 (2)
100738 (2)
121685(13)
■ (13)
(9)
463 (3)
1-337 (3)
16085000(2)
7046
Ratio represent¬
ing Cold Blast
by 1000.
1000 : 809
1000: 1020-
1000: 1001
1000: 970
1000: 991
1000: 1005
1000: 973
1000: 1018
1000 : 931
1000: 997
Devon Iron, No. 3.
(3)
(4)
Tensile strength 
Compressive ditto
Transverse ditto)
from the experi- V
ments generally |
Power to resist l
impact f
Transverse I
strength of bars v
one inch square )
Ultimate deflec-)
tion ditto  |
“dittl.e!”:}329o,7oi)t2>
Specific gravity  7295(4)
448 (2)
•79 (2)
21907(1)
145435 (4)
(5)
 (4)
537 (2)
1-09 (2)
22473650 (2)
7229(2)
1000: 1417
1000:2786
1000: 1199
1000: 1380
1000 : 981
1000: 991
Buffery Iron, No. 1.
Tensile strength 
Compressive ditto...
Transverse ditto 
Power to resist)
impact  j
Transverse
strength of bars
one inch square
Ultimate deflec¬
tion do.
463 (3)
1-55 (3)
Modulus of elas- I .
, deity ditto...!.} 15381200 (2)
Specific gravity  7079
17466(1)
93366(4)
 (3)
 (2)
13434 (1)
86397 (4)
 (3)
 (2)
436 (3)
1-64 (3)
13730500 (2)
6998
1000: 769
1000: 925
1000 : 931
1000: 963
1000: 942
1000: 1058
1000: 893
1000: 989
Coed-Talon Iron, No. 2.
Pensile strength 
Compressive ditto...
Specific gravity 
16676 (2)
82739 (4)
6968 (3)
1000 : 884
1000 : 1012
1000 .- 1002
S M I
413
Tensile strength ....
Compressive ditto...
Specific gravity 
Cold-Blast.
14200 (2)
115442(4)
7135(1)
Hot-Blast.
Ratio represent¬
ing Cold Blast
by 1000.
17755(2) 11000 : 1250
133440(3) 11000 : 1156
7056(1) 11000: 989
oy not-
blast
II
Smith.
“ Of the three columns of numbers in the table above, the first is
the strength or other quality in the cold-blast iron; the second is that
in the hot-blast; and the third is the ratio of these quantities.
“ The results in this table contain nearly the whole information re¬
lative to the question of hot and cold-blast-iron that the preceding re¬
search affords ; and before adverting to them, it may be mentioned,
that it is usual for the makers of cast-iron to divide it, when taken from
the furnace, into three classes, called Nos. 1, 2,3, differing from each
other in the appearance and qualities of the material. No. 1 con¬
tains the softest and richest irons, those which have the largest crys¬
tals ; No. 3, the hardest and densest irons, those with the least
crystals; and No. 2, irons intermediate between the former two de¬
scriptions. Beginning with the No. 1 iron, of which we have a spe¬
cimen from the Buffery Iron-Works, a few miles from Birmingham,
we find the cold-blast iron somewhat surpassing the hot-blast in all
the following particulars; direct tensile strength, compressive strength,
transverse strength, power to resist impact, modulus of elasticity or
stiflfness, specific gravity; whilst the only numerical advantage pos-
sessed by the hot-blast iron is, that it bends a little more than the
cold-blast before it breaks.
“ In the irons of the quality No. 2, the case seems in some degree
different; in these the advantages of the rival kinds seem to be more
nearly balanced. They are still, however, rather in favour of the
cold blast.
“ Referring to the No. 2 iron, from the Carron Works in Scot¬
land, we find the tensile, compressive, and transverse strengths, toge¬
ther with the modulus of elasticity and specific gravity, all higher in
the cold-blast iron than the hot-blast, whilst the ultimate deflection
and power of sustaining impact are greater in the hot-blast. The
cold-blast iron is the better, but the difference is very small. '
“ In the iron No. 2, from the Coed-Talon Works in North Wales,
the tensile strength is greater in the cold-blast than in the hot; but
the resistance to compression is higher in the latter than the former,
and that is the case with the specific gravity.
“ So far as my experiments have proceeded, the irons of No. 1
have been deteriorated by the hot-blast; those of No. 2 appear also
to have been slightly injured by it; while the irons of No. 3 seem to
have benefited by its mollifying powers. The Carron iron No. 3,
hot-blast, resists both tension and compression with considerably more
energy than that made with the cold-blast; and the No. 3 hot-blast
iron from the Devon Works, in Scotland, is one of the strongest cast-
irons I have seen, whilst that made with the cold-blast is compara¬
tively weak, though its specific gravity is very high, and higher than
in the hot. The extreme hardness of the cold-blast Devon iron
above prevented many experiments that would otherwise have been
made upon it, no tools being hard enough to form the specimens.
The difference of strength in the Devon irons is peculiarly striking.
“ From the evidence here brought forward, it is rendered exceed¬
ingly probable that the introduction of a heated blast into the manu¬
facture of cast-iron has injured the softer irons, whilst it has fre¬
quently mollified and improved those of a harder nature ; And con¬
sidering the small deterioration that the irons of the quality No. 2
have sustained, and the apparent benefit to those of No. 3, together
with the great saving effected by the heated blast, there seems good
reason for the process becoming as general as it has done.” (c. a.)
SMITH, Sir Thomas, was born at Walden in Essex, in
the year 1512. At fourteen he was sent to Queen’s College,
Cambridge, where he distinguished himself so much, that he
was made Henry the Eighth’s scholar, together with John
Cheke. He was chosen a fellow of his college in 1531, and
appointed two years afterwards to read the public Greek
lecture. The common mode of reading Greek at that time
was very faulty, the same sound being given to the letters
and diphthongs, t, tj, v, a, oi, vt. Smith and Cheke had
been for some time sensible that this pronunciation was
wrong; and after a good deal of consultation and research,
they agreed to introduce that mode of reading which pre¬
vails at present. Smith was lecturing on Aristotle De
414
Sin th.
SMITH.
Republica, in Greek. At first he dropped a word or two
'at intervals in the new pronunciation, and sometimes he
would stop as if he had committed a mistake, and con-ect
himself. No notice was taken of this for two or three days ;
but as he repeated it more frequently, his audience began to
wonder at the unusual sounds, and at last some of his friends
mentioned to him what they had remarked. He owned
that something was in agitation, but that it was not yet suf¬
ficiently digested to be made public. They entreated him
earnestly to discover his project, He did so, and in a short
time great numbers resorted to him for information. I he
new pronunciation was adopted with enthusiasm, and soon
became universal at Cambridge. It was afterwards opposed
by Bishop Gardiner the chancellor ; but its superiority to
the old mode was so visible, that in a few years it spread
over all England.
In 1539 he travelled into foreign countries, and studied
for some time in the universities of Franee and Italy. At
Padua he took the degree of LL.D. On his return, he
was admitted ad eundem at Cambridge, and was appointed
regius professor of the civil law. He was useful in promot¬
ing the reformation of religion as well as of learning. Hav¬
ing gone into the family of the duke of Somerset the pro¬
tector, during the minority of Edward the Sixth, he was
employed by that nobleman in public affairs , and in 154S
he was made secretary of state, and received the honour of
knighthood. While Somerset continued in office, he was sent
as ambassador, first to Brussels, and afterwards to France.
Upon the accession of Mary, he lost all his places, but was
fortunate enough to preserve the friendship of Gardiner
and Bonner. He was exempted from persecution, and was
allowed, probably by their influence, a pension of L. 100.
During Elizabeth’s reign he was employed in public affairs,
and was thrice sent to France in the capacity of an ambas¬
sador. He died in the year 1577.
Sir Thomas Smith was a man of excellent talents, united
with solid and variegated learning. He obtained a re¬
spectable place among the scholars of the age, by the
publication of his epistle to the bishop of Winchester, “De
recta et emendata Linguae Graecae Pronuntiatione.” Lu-
tetiae, 1568, 4to. The same volume includes his dialogue,
“De recta et emendata Linguae Anglicanae Scriptione.”
But the work by which he is best known in modern times,
is entitled “ De Republica Anglorum: the Manerof Gouern-
ment or Policie of the Realme of England.” Lond. 1583,
4to. Of this treatise, which was translated into Latin, there
are many editions.
Smith, Edmund, an English poet, the only son of Mr.
Neale, an eminent merchant, by a daughter of Baron Lech-
mere, was born in 1668. By his father’s death, he was left
young to the care of Mr. Smith, who had married his fa¬
ther’s5 sister, and who treated him with so much tenderness,
that at the death of his generous guardian, he assumed his
name. His writings are not many, and these are scattered
in miscellanies and collections. His celebrated tragedy
of Phaedra and Hippolytus was acted in 1707; and be¬
ing introduced at a time when the Italian opera so much
engrossed the attention of the polite world, gave Mr. Addi¬
son, who wrote the prologue, an opportunity to rally the
vitiated taste of the public. Notwithstanding the esteem in
which it has always been held, it is perhaps rather to be
considered as a fine poem than as a good play. This tragedy,
with a poem to the memory of Mr. John Philips, three or
four odes, with a Latin oration spoken at Oxford, In laudem
Thomce Bodleii, were published as his works by his friend
Mr. Oldisworth. Mr. Smith died in 1710.
SMITH, Adam, was born at Kirkcaldy, on the 5th of June
1723. His father, who held the situation of comptroller of cus¬
toms in that town, died a few months before his birth; so that
the charge of his early education devolved wholly on his mother,
the daughter of Mr. Douglas of Strathenry, in the county of
Fife. His constitution during infancy is said to have been ex- Smit
tremely infirm and delicate, and required all the anxious
attention of his mother, who treated him with the greatest
indulgence. This did not, however, produce any unfavour¬
able effect on his temper or dispositions; and he repaid the
fond solicitude of his parent by every attention that filial
gratitude and affection could dictate, during the long period
of sixty years. When only three years of age, he was stolen
from Strathenry, to which place he had been carried by his
mother, by a party of gipsys. Fortunately, however, for the
best interests of mankind, he was speedily recovered by the
exertions of his uncle.
He received the first rudiments of his education in the
grammar school of Kirkcaldy. The weakness of his con¬
stitution prevented him from indulging in the amusements
common to boys of his age. But Mr. Stewart states, that
he was even then distinguished by his passion for books,
and by the extraordinary powers of his memory ; that he
was much beloved by his school-fellows, many of whom
subsequently attained to great eminence, for his friendly
and generous disposition; and that even then he was re¬
markable for those habits which remained with him through
life, of speaking to himself when alone, and of mental ab¬
sence in company. He continued at Kirkcaldy until 1737,
when he was sent to the University of Glasgow, where he
remained for three years. He then entered Balliol College,
Oxford, as an exhibitor on Snell’s foundation ; and he con¬
tinued for seven years to prosecute his studies at that cele¬
brated seminary.
Mr. Stewart mentions, on the authority of Dr. Maclaine
of the Hague, that mathematics and natural philosophy
formed young Smith’s favourite pursuits while at Glasgow.
But subsequently to his removal to Oxford he seems to have
entirely abandoned them, and to have principally devoted
the time not consumed in the routine duty of the Univer¬
sity to the study of polite literature, and of those moral
and political sciences of which he was destined afterwards
to become so great a master. Smith does not seem to have
felt any very peculiar respect for his English alma mater.
The severe remarks in the Wealth of Nations on the system
of education followed in Oxford and Cambridge, had evi¬
dently been suggested by his own observation.
While he resided at Oxford, something had occurred to
excite the suspicions of his superiors with respect to the
nature of his private pursuits ; and the heads of his college,
having entered his apartment without his being aware, un¬
luckily found him engaged reading Hume’s Treatise of Hu¬
man Nature. The objectionable work was, of course,
seized; the young philosopher being at the same time se¬
verely reprimanded.
Subsequently to his return from Oxford in 1747, he
continued to reside for nearly two years at Kirkcaldy with
his mother. He had been sent to Oxford that he might
be qualified for entering the church of England. Ihe
ecclesiastical profession was not, however, agreeable to
his taste; and in opposition to the advice of his friends,
he returned to Scotland, resolved to devote himself ex¬
clusively to literary pursuits. In the latter part of the
year 1748, he fixed his residence in Edinburgh, where,
in consequence of the encouragement and persuasion of
Lord Kames, and some of his other friends, he was pie-
vailed upon to deliver, during that and the two following
years, a course of lectures on rhetoric and polite litera¬
ture. The lectures were attended by a respectable au¬
ditory, composed chiefly of students of law and theology,
and he had the honour to reckon among his P1ff)llsJ:1,r-
Wedderburne, afterwards Lord Loughborough, Mr. Wil¬
liam Johnstone, afterwards Sir William Pulteney, and iJi-
Blair; with all of whom he subsequently continued on the
most intimate terms. It was also at this period that he an
the foundation of that friendship with David Hume, wfuen
S M I
| h. lasted, without the slightest interruption, till the death of
;Wthe latter.
No part of these lectures was ever published ; but it
would appear from the statement of Dr. Blair, who com¬
menced his course of Lectures on rhetoric in 1758, ten
years after Dr. Smith’s first course, that they had been re¬
duced into a systematic form. In a note to his eighteenth
lecture, Dr. Blair mentions that he had borrowed several of
the ideas respect ing the general characters of style, particu¬
larly the plain and simple, and the characters of those Eng¬
lish authors who are classed under them, from a manuscript
treatise of Dr. Smith on Rhetoric, of which the author had
shewn him a part.
In consequence of his increasing celebrity, Dr. Smith was
elected, in 1751, professor of logic in the University of
Glasgow; and the year following he was elevated to the
chair of moral philosophy in the same University, vacant by
the death of Mr. Craigie, the immediate successor of the
celebrated Dr. Hutcheson, under whom Dr. Smith had for¬
merly studied. He continued to hold this situation for
thirteen years; and, as the studies and inquiries in which
his academical duties daily engaged him, were the most
agreeable to his taste, it is not surprising that he should have
considered the period of his residence at Glasgow as the
happiest portion of his life. At the same time, it seems
reasonable to conclude that his professional pursuits must
have had a great effect in maturing his speculations in mo¬
rals and politics, and, consequently, in determining him to
undertake those great works which have immortalized his
name, and largely benefited the whole human race.
Mr. Millar, the distinguished author of the Historical
View of the English Government, and professor of law in
the University of Glasgow, had the advantage of hearing
Dr. Smith’s course of lectures on moral philosophy; of
which he has given the following account: “ There was
no situation in which the abilities of Dr. Smith appeared
to greater advantage than as a professor. In delivering
his lectures, he trusted almost entirely to extemporary
elocution. His manner, though not graceful, was plain
and unaffected; and, as he seemed to be always inter¬
ested in the subject, he never failed to interest his hearers.
Each discourse consisted commonly of several distinct pro¬
positions, which he successively endeavoured to prove and il¬
lustrate. These propositions, when announced in general
terms, had, from their extent, not unfrequently something
of the air of a paradox. In his attempts to explain them,
he often appeared, at first, not to be always interested in
the subject, and spoke with some hesitation. As he ad¬
vanced, however, the matter seemed to crowd upon him,
his manner became warm and animated, and his expression
easy and fluent. In points susceptible of controversy, you
could easily discern, that he secretly conceived an opposi¬
tion to his opinions, and that he was led upon this account
to support them with greater energy and vehemence. By
the fulness and variety of his illustrations, the subject gra¬
dually swelled in his hands, and acquired a dimension which,
without a tedious repetition of the same views, was calcu-
ated to seize the attention of his audience, and to af¬
ford them pleasure, as well as instruction, in following the
same object through all the diversity of shades and aspects
iu which it was presented, and afterwards in tracing it back¬
wards to that original proposition or general truth fromwhich
this beautiful train of speculation had proceeded.
“His reputation as a professor was accordingly raised
very high, and a multitude of students from a great distance
resorted to the University, merely upon his account. Those
branches of science which he tausht became fashionable at
his place, and his opinions were the chief topic of discus¬
sion in clubs and literary societies. Even the small pecu- Smith,
liarities in his pronunciation or manner of speaking became
frequently the objects of imitation.”
It is understood that Dr. Smith made his debut as an au¬
thor by contributing, anonymously, two articles to a publi¬
cation entitled the Edinburgh Review, commenced in 1755,
of which only two numbers were published. The first of
these articles is a review of Dr. Johnson’s Dictionary, and
displays considerable acuteness ; the second is in the form
of a letter to the editor, and contains some general obser¬
vations on the literature of the different European coun¬
tries. It is chiefly remarkable as evincing the attention
paid by the author to continental literature, at a period when
it was comparatively neglected in this country.
In 1759 Smith published his Theory of Moral Senti¬
ments. He had been engaged for a very considerable pe¬
riod in the composition of this work, which is through¬
out elaborated writh the greatest care. The fundamental
principle maintained by the author is, that sympathy forms
the real foundation of morals ; that we do not immediately
approve or disapprove of any given action, when we have
become acquainted with the intention of the agent and the
consequences of what he has done, but that we previously
enter, by means of that sympathetic affection which is na¬
tural to us, into the feelings of the agent and those to whom
the action relates ; that, having considered all the motives,
and passions by which the agent was actuated, we pronounce,
with respect to the propriety or impropriety of the action,
according as we sympathize or not with him ; while we pro¬
nounce, with respect to the merit or demerit of the action,
according as we sympathize with the gratitude or resent¬
ment of those who were its objects ; and that we necessari¬
ly judge of our own conduct by comparing it with such
maxims and rules as we have deduced from observations
previously made on the conduct of others.
Several, and, as it is now generally admitted, some unan¬
swerable, objections have been urged against this most ingeni¬
ous theory. But, whatever difference ofopinion may exist with
respect to the truth of the principle it involves, the Theory
of Moral Sentiments has been universally allowed to abound
in the most admirable disquisitions, in a faithful and skilful
delineation of character, and in the soundest and most ele¬
vated maxims for the practical regulation of human life.
The style various, but always eloquent, is worthy of the sub¬
ject ; and while it serves, by the beauty and richness of its
colouring, to relieve the dryness of some of the more ab¬
stract discussions, it gives additional force to the powerful
recommendations of generous, upright, and disinterested
conduct to be found in every part of the work.
Dr. Brown, who has criticised this theory with his usual
acuteness, and has shewm that though sympathy may dif¬
fuse moral sentiments, it can never originate them, bears,
notwithstanding, the strongest testimony to the transcend¬
ent merits of Dr. Smith’s work. “The Theory of Moral
Sentiments,” he observes, “ is, without all question, one of
the most interesting works, perhaps I should have said the
most interesting work, in moral science. It is valuable, how¬
ever, as I before remarked, not for the leading doctrine, of
which we have seen the fallacy, but for the minor theories
which are adduced in illustration of it; for the refined
analysis which it exhibits in many of its details ; and for an
eloquence which, adapting itself to all the temporary va¬
rieties of its subject, familiar, with a sort of majestic grace,
and simple even in its magnificence, can play amid the little
decencies and proprieties of common life, or rise to all the
dignity of that sublime and celestial virtue, which it seems
to bring from heaven indeed, but to bring down gently and
humbly, to the bosom of man.”1
1 Brown’s Lectures, vol. iv. p. 132. edit. 1824.
416
Smith.
SMI
Having published the substance of so important a part
of his lectures, Smith was enabled to make considerable
retrenchments from the ethical parts of his course, and to
give a proportionally greater extension to the disquisitions
on Jurisprudence and Political Economy. He had long
been in the habit of embodying in his lectures the results
of his studies and investigations with respect to both these
departments of political science, and particularly the la^er ;
and it appears from a statement which he drew up in 1755,
in order to vindicate his claims to certain political and lite¬
rary opinions, that he had been in the habit of teaching,
from the time he obtained a chair in the University of G as-
gow, and even when at Edinburgh, the same enlarged and
liberal doctrines with respect to the freedom of industry,
and the impolicy and injurious influence of artificial restraints
and regulations, which he afterwards so fully established
in the Wealth of Nations. His residence in a large com¬
mercial city, like Glasgow, gave him considerable advan¬
tage in the prosecution of his favourite studies, by affording
means of easily obtaining that correct practical information,
on many points, which cannot be learned from books, and by
enabling him to compare his theoretical doctrines with the
experimental conclusions of his mercantile friends. ot-
withstanding the disinclination so common among men of
business, to listen to speculative opinions, and the opposi¬
tion of his leading principles to the old maxims of trade, he
was able, before he quitted his situation in the University,
to rank some very eminent merchants among Ins prose-
'^The publication of the Theory of Moral Sentiments
brought a great accession of reputation to the author; and
placed him, in the estimation of all who were qualified to
form an opinion on such a subject, in the first rank of mo¬
ralists, and of able and eloquent writers. In I7b2 the Sena.te
of the University of Glasgow unanimously conferred on him
the degree of Doctor of Laws; in testimony, as it is expressed
in the minutes of the meeting, of their respect for his univer¬
sally acknowledged talents, and of the advantage that had
resulted to the University from the ability with which he
had for many years expounded the principles of jurispru¬
dence. But the most important effect of his increasing ce¬
lebrity, in so far at least as respected himself, was his re-
ceivino- in 1763 an invitation from Mr. Charles Townsend,
who had married the Duchess of Buccleugh, to attend her
Grace’s son, the young Duke, on his travels; and the ad¬
vantageous terms that were offered, combined with the
strong desire which he entertained of visiting the Continent,
induced him to accept the offer, and to resign his chair at
Glasgow. “ With the connexion which he was led to form
in consequence of this change in his situation, says Mr.
Stewart, “ he had reason to be satisfied in an uncommon de¬
gree, and he always spoke of it with pleasure and gratitude.
To the public it was not, perhaps, a change equally fortu¬
nate ; as it interrupted that studious leisure for which na¬
ture seems to have destined him, and in which alone he could
have hoped to accomplish those literary projects which had
flattered the ambition of his youthful genius.”
Dr. Smith set out for France in company with his noble
pupil in March 1764. They remained only a very few days
at Paris on their first visit to that capital, but proceeded to
Toulouse, where they resided for about eighteen months. The
society of Toulouse, a considerable city, and at that time
the seat of a parliament, must have been a good deal supe-
T H.
rior to that of most country towns; and Dr. Smith would, Smi
no doubt, avail himself of it, and of the leisure he then en-v^j
joyed, to perfect and extend his knowledge of the literature,
internal policy, and state of France. He has told us that he
was not disposed to place much confidence in the facts and
reasonings of political arithmeticians; and it is evident, from
his rarely stating facts on the authority of others, and from
the references he occasionally makes to circumstances con¬
nected with Toulouse, Geneva, and other places which he
visited, that he was chiefly indebted to his own observation
and inquiries for the accurate and extensive information he is
universally acknowledged to have possessed with icspectto
the institutions, habits, and condition of the French people.
After leaving Toulouse, Dr. Smith and his pupil proceed¬
ed to Geneva, where they resided two months. They re¬
turned to Paris at Christmas, 1765, and remained in that
city for nearly twelve months. During the whole of this
period, Dr. Smith lived on the most friendly footing with
the best society in Paris. Turgot, afterwards comptroller
general of Finance, D’Alembert, Helvetius, Marmontel,
the Abbe Morellet,1 the Ducde la Rochefoucault, and Ma¬
dame Iliccoboni, were of the number of his acquaintances;
and some of them he continued ever after to reckon among
his friends. He was also on familiar terms with M. Quesnay,
founder of the sect of the Economists ; and there is every
reason to think that he derived considerable advantage from
his intercourse with that able and excellent person, than
whom none was better qualified to strike out original and
ingenious views. So sensible, indeed, was Dr. Smith of his
great and various merits as a man and a philosopher, that
he intended, had he not been prevented by Quesnay’s death,
to have left a lasting testimony of the estimation in which
he held him, by dedicating to him the Wealth of Nations.
In October 1766, the Duke of Buccleugh and Dr. Smith
returned to London. The latter soon after removed to his
old residence at Kirkcaldy ; where he continued to reside,
with very little interruption, for about ten years, habitually
occupied in study, and in the elaboration of his great work.
The Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of
Nations appeared in 1776; an aera that will be for ever
memorable in the history of political philosophy. Of this
invaluable work, it is sufficient to observe, that, notwith¬
standing the defects that have been discovered in some ot
its principles, and the objections that have been made, and,
perhaps, with justice, to its arrangement, it will ever remain
one of the noblest monuments of profound sagacity, great
and varied learning, sound judgment, and persevering re¬
search, directed to the best, because the most useful, pur¬
poses. There can be no question with respect to the claim
of Dr. Smith to be considered as the real founder of the
modern system of Political Economy. Though he has not
left a perfect work, he has left one which contains a greater
number of useful truths than have ever been given to the
world by any other individual; and he has pointed out an
smoothed the route, by following which subsequent philoso¬
phers have been able to perfect much that he left incom¬
plete, to rectify the mistakes into which he fell, and to ma e
many new and important discoveries. Whether indee
we refer to the soundness of its leading doctrines, the liber¬
ality and universal applicability of its practical conclusions,
or the powerful and beneficial influence which it has a
on the progress of economical science, and on the policy ant
conduct of nations, the Wealth of Nation* must be placed n
i The paragraph which follows is extracted from the Mernoires of the Abbe Morellet published in publile^l759,
un vovage qii’il avait fait e» France, vers 1762 ; il parlait fort mal notre langue ; mais sa Theone des des hommes
m’avait donne und grande idee de sa sagacite et de sa profondeur. Et ventabiementjeleregar eencore ^ ^ animait ainsi que
qui a fait les observations et les analyses les plus completes dans toutes les ^e^ons qu il a t ^ ^ius : nous parla.nes thdone
moi la metaphysique, estimait beaucoup son talent- Nous le v mes plus.eurs fo.s; dJut P«W jol, portefeuille anglais
commerciale, banque, credit public, et de plusieurs points du grand ouvrage qu il medita.t. II me fit piesent un jo p
de poche, qui dtait k son usage, et dont je me suis servi vmgt ans.” lorn. i. p. 237.
SMITH.
ith. the foremost rank of those works that have helped to liber-
/^'alize, enlighten, and enrich mankind.
Dr. Smith survived the publication of the Wealth of
Nations fifteen years. He had the satisfaction to see it
translated into all the languages of Europe; to hear his
opinions quoted in the House of Commons; to be consulted by
the minister; and to observe that the principles which he had
expounded were beginning to produce a material change in
the public opinion, and in the councils of this and other
countries; and he must have enjoyed the full conviction
that the progress of events would ensure their ultimate
triumph, by showing that they were productive of signal
advantage, not only to the general mass of mankind, but to
the inhabitants of every country which should have good
sense enough to adopt them.
Mr. Hume died very soon after the publication of the
Wealth of Nations. Dr. Smith, with whom he had long
lived on the most intimate terms, was most assiduous in his
attentions to his illustrious friend during his illness ; and
he gave a brief account of the circumstances connected with
his death, together with a sketch of his character, in a
letter addressed to Mr. Strahan of London, which was soon
after published as a supplement to Mr. Hume’s autobio¬
graphy. The unqualified eulogium pronounced in this
letter on Mr. Hume’s character excited the indignation of
those who took offence at his religious opinions. Dr. Horne,
bishop of Norwich, in an anonymous letter, attacked Dr.
Smith on this ground ; and very naturally ascribed to him
the same sceptical opinions that had been entertained by
his deceased friend. But he took no notice of this attack ;
and wisely declined entering upon a controversy that could
have led to no useful result.
Dr. Smith resided principally in London during the two
years immediately subsequent to the publication of the
Wealth of Nations ; caressed by the most distinguished per¬
sons in the metropolis, who were justly proud of his ac¬
quaintance, and who, though they could not always sub¬
scribe to the justice of his remarks, were equally delighted
with the goodness of his heart, the simplicity of his man¬
ners, the vigour of his understanding, and the variety of his
attainments. In 1788 he was appointed, through the un¬
solicited application of his old pupil and friend, the Duke
of Buccleugh, a commissioner of customs for Scotland. In
consequence of this appointment he removed to Edinburgh,
where he continued afterwards to reside, possessed of an in¬
come more than equal to his wants, and in the enjoyment
of the society of his earliest and most esteemed friends.
His mother, then in extreme old age, and his cousin, Miss
Douglas, accompanied him to Edinburgh, the latter super¬
intending the domestic arrangements and economy of his fa-
mily. But though his appointment to the customs reflects
nigh credit on the nobleman by whose intervention it was
procured, it may be doubted whether it was worthy of the
country or of Dr. Smith. The philosopher who had pro¬
duced a work in which the true sources of national wealth
and prosperity were, for the first time, fully explored and
laid open, deserved a different and a higher reward.
In 1787 Dr. Smith was elected Lord Rector of the Uni¬
versity of Glasgow; on which occasion he addressed a letter
to that learned body, which strikingly evinces the high
sense he felt of this honour, and his affectionate regard for
ose from which it emanated. “ No preferment,” says he,
could have given me so much real satisfaction. No man
an owe greater obligations to a society than I do to the
to XTJ oftGlasg°w- They educated me ; they sent me
uxtord. boon after my return to Scotland, they elected
417
me one of their own members ; and afterwards preferred Smith
me to another office, to which the abilities and virtues oL
the never to be forgotten Dr. Hutcheson had given a su-
perioi degree of illustration. Ihe period of thirteen years,
which I spent as a member of that society, I remember as
by far the most useful, and therefore as by far the happiest
and most honourable, period of my life ; and now, after three
and twenty years’ absence, to be remembered in so very
agreeable a manner by my old friends and protectors, gives
me a heartfelt joy which I cannot easily express to you.”
His constitution, which had at no time been robust, be¬
gan early to give way ; and his decline was accelerated by
the grief and vexation he felt on account of the death of
his mother, to whom he had been most tenderly attached,
in 1/84, and of Miss Douglas, in 1788. He survived the
latter only about two years, having died in July 1790. His
last illness, which was occasioned by a chronic obstruction
of the bowels, was both tedious and painful : but he bore
it with the greatest fortitude and resignation : his cheerful¬
ness never forsook him ; and he had all the consolation that
could be derived from the affectionate sympathy and at¬
tention of his friends.
His conduct in private life did not belie the generous
principles inculcated in his works. He was in the habit of
allotting a considerable part of his income to offices of secret
charity. Mr. Stewart mentions that he had been made ac¬
quainted with some very affecting instances of his benefi¬
cence. “ They were all,” he observes, “ on a scale much
beyond what might have been expected from his fortune ;
and were accompanied with circumstances equally honour¬
able to the delicacy of his feelings and the liberality of his
heart.” J
Dr. Smith collected an exceedingly valuable and well-
selected, though not a very extensive, library. He was
veiy particular, not only with respect to the books them¬
selves, but also with respect to the condition of the copies
admitted into his collection. “ The first time,” says Mr.
Smellie, “ I happened to be in his library, observing me
looking at the books with some degree of curiosity and per¬
haps surprise, for most of the volumes were elegantly and
some of them superbly bound, ‘ You must have remarked,’
said he, that I am a heau in nothing hut my boohs? ”*
His library is still in the possession of Lord Reston’s widow.
Notwithstanding the apparent flow and artlessness of his
style, and his great experience in composition, Dr. Smith
stated, not long before his death, that he continued to com¬
pose as slowly, and with as great difficulty, as at first. He
did not write with his own hand, but generally walked up
and down his apartment, dictating to an amanuensis.2
Dr. Smith had been long resolved that none of his manu¬
scripts, except those which he himself judged fit for publi¬
cation, should ever see the light; and a few days before his
death he carried this resolution into effect, by having all
his papers committed to the flames, with the exception of
the fragments of some essays, intended to illustrate the prin¬
ciples that lead and direct philosophical inquiries, which he
left to the discretion of his friends to publish or not as they
thought proper. The contents of the manuscripts that were
destroyed are not exactly known ; but thev certainly con¬
tained the course of lectures on rhetoric delivered at Edin¬
burgh in 1/48, and the lectures on jurisprudence and na¬
tural religion, which formed a most important part of the
course of moral philosophy delivered at Glasgow. The
Joss of the latter must ever be a subject of deep regret.
We are ignorant of the motives which induced Dr. Smith
to destroy them; but Mr. Stewart supposes that it was not
\ ^mellie’s Lives, p. 296.
tbe original copy, with only a few w^gbar«)8rrTctioiiIntten ^ ^ aI‘d that the last volumes of his history were printed from
^OL. XX.
3 G
418
S M I T H.
Smith.
so much on account of any apprehended injury to his literary
'reputation from the publication of such unfinished works,
as from an anxiety lest the progress of truth should be re¬
tarded by the statement of doctrines of which the principles
were not fully developed.
The following observations on the private character and
habits of Dr. Smith proceed from the pen of Mr. Stewart,
who knew him well, and who was the last survivor of that
o-alaxy of illustrious men who shed, during the last century,
so imperishable a glory over the literature of Scotland.
“ The more delicate and characteristical features of his
mind,” Mr. Stewart observes, “ it is perhaps impossible to
trace. That there were many peculiarities, both in his
manners and in his intellectual habits, was manifest to the
most superficial observer; but although, to those who knew
him, these peculiarities detracted nothing from the respect
which his abilities commanded; and although, to his inti¬
mate friends, they added an inexpressible charm to his con¬
versation, while they displayed, in the most interesting light,
the artless simplicity of his heart; yet it would require a
very skilful pencil to present them to the public eye. He
was certainly not fitted for the general commerce of the
world, or for the business of active life. The comprehen¬
sive speculations with which he had been occupied from his
youth, and the variety of materials which his own invention
continually supplied to his thoughts, rendered him habitu¬
ally inattentive to familiar objects, and to common occur¬
rences ; and he frequently exhibited instances of absence,
which had scarcely been surpassed by the fancy ot La
Bruyere. Even in company he was apt to be engrossed
with his studies; and appeared at times, by the motion of
his lips, as well as by his looks and gestures, to be in the
fervour of composition. I have often, however, been struck,
at the distance of years, with his accurate memory of the
most trifling particulars ; and am inclined to believe, from
this and some other circumstances, that he possessed a
power, not perhaps uncommon among absent men, of re¬
collecting, in consequence of subsequent efforts of reflection,
many occurrences which, at the time when they happened,
did not seem to have sensibly attracted his notice.
“ To the defect now mentioned, it was probably owing,
in part, that he did not fall in easily with the common dia-
loo-ue of conversation, and that he was somewhat apt to
convey his own ideas in the form of a lecture. M hen he
did so, however, it never proceeded from a wish to engross
the discourse, or to gratify his vanity. His own inclination
disposed him so strongly to enjoy in silence the gaiety ot
those around him, that his friends were often led to concert
little schemes, in order to engage him in the discussions
most likely to interest him. Nor do I think I shall be
accused of going too far when I say, that he was scarcely
ever known to start a new topic himself, or to appear un¬
prepared upon those topics that were introduced by others.
Indeed, his conversation was never more amusing than when
he gave a loose to his genius upon the very few branches
of know ledge of which he only possessed the outlines.
“ The opinions he formed of men, upon a slight acquaint¬
ance, were frequently erroneous; but the tendency of his
nature inclined him much more to blind partiality than to
ill-founded prejudice. The enlarged views of human affairs,
on which his mind habitually dwelt, left him neither time
nor inclination to study, in detail, the uninteresting pecu¬
liarities of ordinary characters ; and accordingly, though in¬
timately acquainted with the capacities of the intellect, and
the workings of the heart, and accustomed, in his theories,
to mark, with the most delicate hand, the nicest shades,
both of genius and of the passions ; yet, in judging of indi¬
viduals, it sometimes happened that his estimates were, in
a surprising degree, wide ot the truth.
m Xn his external form and appearance there was nothing
uncommon. When perfectly at ease, and when warmed
with conversation, his gestures w^ere animated, and not un¬
graceful ; and, in the society of those he loved, his features'-^
were often brightened with a smile of inexpressible benig¬
nity. In the company of strangers, his tendency to absence,
and perhaps still more his consciousness of this tendency, ren¬
dered his manner somewhat embarrassed ;—an effect which
was probably not a little heightened by those speculative
ideas of propriety, which his recluse habits tended at once
to perfect in his conception, and to diminish his power ot
realizing;.”
The following is a list of the published works of Dr.
1. Two articles in the Edinburgh Revieiv for 1755, being,
(1) a Review of Johnson’s English Dictionary, and (2) A
Letter to the Editors. r ^
2 The Theory of Moral Sentiments. The first edition
of this work was published in 8vo, early in 1759. The sixth
edition was published a short time before the author s death.
It contains several additions, most of which were executed
during his last illness. , ^ . „ ,.
3 Considerations concerning the first formation of
Languages, and the different Genius of Original and
Compounded Languages. This essay was originally sub¬
joined to the first edition of the Moral Sentiments. It is an
ingenious and pretty successful attempt to explain the for¬
mation and progress of language, by means of that species
of investigation to which Dugald Stewart has given the ap¬
propriate name of Theoretical or Conjectural History; and
which consists in endeavouring to trace the progress and
vicissitudes of any art or science, partly from such histori¬
cal facts as have reference to it, and, where facts are want¬
ing from inferences derived from considering what would
be the most natural and probable conduct of mankind un¬
der the circumstances supposed. , , T,7 Uh
4. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth
of Nations. The first edition was published at London in
1776, in two volumes 4to. The fourth edition, which was
the last revised by the author, appeared in three volumes
8vo, in 1786. _
5. Essays on Philosophical Subjects. Lond. 1795, 4to..
These are the fragments which he exempted from the
general destruction of his manuscripts, and which were
published by his friends, Dr. Black and Dr. Hutton. In
an advertisement prefixed to the publication, the editors
state that, when the papers which Dr. Smith had left m
their hands were examined, “ the greater number ap¬
peared to be parts of a plan he once had formed for giving
a connected history of the liberal sciences and elegant arts.
“ It is long,” they add, “ since he found it necessary to
abandon that plan as far too extensive; and these parts of
it lay beside him neglected until his death. The reader
will find in them that happy connection, that full and ac¬
curate expression, and that clear illustration, which are con¬
spicuous in the rest of his works; and though it is difficult
to add much to the great fame he so justly acquired by his
other writings, these will be read with satisfaction and
pleasure.” The papers in question comprise, I. fragments
of a great work On the Principles which lead and direct
Philosophical Inquiries, illustrated (1) by the History of
Astronomy; (2) by the History of the Ancient Physics;
and (3) by the History of the Ancient Logics and Meta¬
physics. II. An essay entitled, Of the Nature of that Imi¬
tation which takes place in what are called the imitative
Arts. III. A short tract, Of the Affinity between certain
English and Italian Verses. IV. A disquisition, Of the
External Senses.
Of the historical dissertations, the first only, on the His¬
tory of Astronomy, seems to be nearly complete. They
are all written on the plan of the dissertation on the For¬
mation of Languages, being partly theoretical and partly
founded on fact. In the essay on the History of Astronomy,
Smith.
S M I
Smithery after premising some acute and ingenious speculations with
U respect to the effects of unexpectedness and surprise, and
^mo e~ . of wonder and novelty, the author proceeds to give a brief,
v masterly, outline of the different astronomical systems, from
the earliest ages down to that of Newton. The fragments
that remain of the other two historical essays are much
less complete, and do not possess the interest of the for¬
mer. The short essay, Of the Affinity between certain Eng¬
lish and Italian Verses, is curious rather than valuable. It
affords a striking illustration of the variety and extent of
Dr. Smith’s literary pursuits. The disquisition with re¬
spect to the External Senses is of considerable extent. It
embraces some ingenious discussions, and is a valuable con¬
tribution to the science of which it treats.
The Wealth of Nations has passed through many editions,
some of which have been accompanied with notes and il¬
lustrations ; but the best that has yet appeared, is that which
was edited by Mr. M‘Culloch, with notes and disserta¬
tions, embodying the views of later economists, and adapt¬
ing the work to the present state of that science of which
it has so eminently contributed to advance the progress.
SMITHERY, a smith’s shop; also the art of a smith,
by which iron is wrought into any shape by means of fire,
hammering, and filing.
SMITING-line, in a ship, is a small rope fastened to
the mizen-yard-arm, below at the deck, and is always furled
up with the mizen-sail, even to the upper end of the yard,
and thence it comes down to the poop. Its use is to loosen
the mizen-sail without striking down the yard, which is
easily done, because the mizen-sail is Juried up only with
rope-yarns ; and therefore when this rope is pulled hard, it
breaks all the rope-yarns, and so the sail falls down of it¬
self. The sailor’s phrase is, smite the mizen, that is, haul
by this rope that the sail may fall down.
SMOAKY Cape, on the east coast of New Holland.
Long. 153. 42. Lat. 30. 55. S.
SMOKE, a dense elastic vapour arising from burning
bodies. As this vapour is extremely disagreeable, and often
prejudicial to health, several contrivances have been devised
for the purpose of enabling us to enjoy the benefit of a
fire without being annoyed by smoke; hence the use of
chimneys, which, when properly constructed, carry it off
entirely, but when improperly constructed, allow a part of
it to escape into the room.
Chimneys operate in carrying off smoke by the rarity of
the gaseous fluids which escape from the fire, and which,
owing to their being expanded, are lighter than the ad¬
joining air, and are therefore pressed up by it, carrying
the smoke along with them. So long, then, as the gaseous
products of the fire are lighter than the air, they ascend,
while at the same time cold air must rush in from below to
supply their place, which air, being heated in its turn, con¬
sumed, and mixed with the smoke, must also rise. The
more, therefore, that the air in the chimney can be kept
warm, so much the better; not only will the draught be¬
come greater, but there will also be less chance of any of
the smoke being thrown back. The wurse the power of the
material of which the chimney is constructed for transmit¬
ting heat, the longer will the air within it be kept warm,
and therefore the chimney will work better; hence the su¬
perior efficacy of bricks.
It is evident from what has been said, that there is a cer¬
tain height to which chimneys may be carried, beyond
which any farther lengthening, instead of being beneficial,
will prove injurious; because, when the air within the
chimney and without become of the same weight, which
must be at a particular height in each, then if that chim¬
ney be made higher, the air within does not escape, or es¬
capes slowly; air must therefore enter in slowly from be¬
low, and consequently the draught must be diminished.
There are many circumstances which prevent chimneys
S M O 419
from working well, or in other words, which make them re- Smoke,
turn a part of the smoke into the room.
The causes of the smoking of chimneys may be reduced
to nine, differing from each other, and therefore requiring
different remedies.
1. Smoky chimneys in a nerv house are such frequently
from mere want of air. The workmanship of the rooms
being all good, and just out of the workman’s hands, the
joints of the boards of the flooring, and of the panels of
wainscotting, are all true and tight; the more so as the wralls,
perhaps not yet thoroughly dry, preserve a dampness in the
air of the room which keeps the wood-work swelled and close.
The doors and the sashes too, being worked with truth, shut
with exactness, so that the room is as tight as a snuff-box,
no passage being left open for air to enter except the key¬
hole, and even that is sometimes covered by a little drop¬
ping shutter. Now if smoke cannot rise but as connected
with rarefied air, and a column of such air, suppose it fill¬
ing the funnel, cannot rise unless other air be admitted to
supply its place ; and if therefore no current of air enter the
opening of the chimney, there is nothing to prevent the
smoke from being diffused in the room. If the motion up¬
wards of the air in a chimney that is freely supplied be ob¬
served by the rising of the smoke or a feather in it, and it
be considered that in the time such feather takes in rising
from the fire to the top of the chimney, a column of air
equal to the content of the funnel must be discharged, and
an equal quantity supplied from the room below, it will ap¬
pear absolutely impossible that this operation should go on
if the tight room is kept shut; for were there any force ca¬
pable of drawing constantly so much air out of it, it must
soon be exhausted like the receiver of an air-pump, and no
animal could live in it. Those therefore who stop every
crevice in a room to prevent the admission of fresh air, and
yet would have their chimney carry up the smoke, require
inconsistencies, and expect impossibilities. Yet under this
situation it is not uncommon to see the owner of a new house
in despair, and ready to sell it for much less than it cost;
conceiving it uninhabitable because not a chimney in any
one of its rooms will carry off the smoke unless a door or
window be left open. Much expense has also been incurred
to alter and amend new chimneys which had really no fault.
In one house particularly which Dr. Franklin knew that be¬
longed to a nobleman in Westminster, that expense amount¬
ed to no less than L.300, after his house had been, as he
thought, finished, and all charges paid. And after all, seve¬
ral of the alterations were ineffectual, for want of under¬
standing the true principles.
Remedies. When you find on trial that opening the door
or a window enables the chimney to carry up all the smoke,
you may be sure that want of air from without is the cause
of its smoking. “ I say from without,” adds Dr. Franklin,
“ to guard you against a common mistake of those who may
tell you the room is large, contains abundance of air suffi¬
cient to supply any chimney, and therefore it cannot be that
the chimney wants air. These reasoners are ignorant that
the largeness of a room, if tight, is in this case of small im¬
portance, since it cannot part with a chimneyfull of its air
without occasioning so much vacuum ; which it requires a
great force to effect, and could not be borne if effected.”
It appearing plainly then, that some of the outward air
must be admitted, the question will be, how much is abso¬
lutely necessary ? for you would avoid admitting more, as
being contrary to one of your intentions in having a fire,
namely, that of warming your room. To discover this quan¬
tity, shut the door gradually while a middling fire is burn¬
ing, till you find that before it is quite shut the smoke be¬
gins to come out into the room; then open it a little till
you perceive the smoke comes out no longer. There hold
the door, and observe the width of the open crevice between
the edge of the door and the rabbet into which it should shut.
420
Smoke.
SMOKE.
Suppose the distance to be half an inch, and the door eight
Meet high ; you thence find that your room requires an en¬
trance for air equal in area to ninety-six half inches, or
ty-eight square inches, or a passage of six inches by ei^ht.
rrhisf however, is a large supposition, there being Jew chi
neys that, having a moderate opening and a tolerable height
of funnel, will not be satisfied with such a crevice of a quar¬
ter of an inch. Dr. Franklin found a square of six by six,
or thirty-six square inches, to be a pretty good njedmm that
will serve for most chimneys. High funnels w,th small md
low openings may indeed be supplied through a less space,
because, (or reasons that will hereafter appear, the force of
levltv ii' one may so speak, being greater in such funnels,
the cool air enters the room with greater velocity, con¬
sequently more enters in the same time. Jh«> ^owe.CT,
has its limits; for experience shews, ‘f1"™‘"^rThrourii
locitv so occasioned has made the admission of air through
the key-hole equal in quantity to that through an open door,
though through the door the current moves slowly, and
throush the key-hole with great rapidity.
It remains then to be considered how and where this ne¬
cessary quantity of air from without is to be admitted so as
to be feast inconvenient; for if at the door, left so much
open, the air thence proceeds directly to the chimney, and
in its way comes cold to your back and heels as you sit be¬
fore your fire. If you keep the door shut, ami ra.se a little
the sash of your window, you feel a similar inconvenience.
Various have been the contrivances to avoid tlns. sudi as
bringing in fresh air through pipes in the jams of the chim
ney, which pointing upwards should blow the smoke up the
funnel; opening passages in the funnel above, to adlJllt a‘r
for the same purpose. But these produce an effect con¬
trary to that intended; for as it is the constant current o
air passing from the room through the opening of the chim-
neyPinto the funnel which prevents the smoke from coming
oul into the room, if you supply the funnel by other means
or in other ways with the air which it requires, and especial¬
ly if that air be cold, you diminish the force of that current,
and the smoke in its efforts to enter the room finds less re-
S1S The6 required air must then indispensably be admitted
into the room, to supply what goes off through the open¬
ing of the chimney. M. Gauger, a very ingenious and in¬
telligent French writer on the subject, proposes with judg¬
ment to admit it above the opening of the chimney ; and
to prevent inconvenience from its coldness, he directs that
it may be so made, that it shall pass in its entrance through
winding cavities made behind the iron back and sides of the
fire-place, and under the iron hearth-plate ; in which cavi¬
ties it will be warmed, and even heated, so as to contribute
much, instead of cooling, to the warming of the room, ibis
invention is excellent in itself, and may be used with advan¬
tage in building new houses, because the chimneys may
then be so disposed as to admit conveniently the cold air
to enter such passages. But in houses built without such
views, the chimneys are often so situated as not to afford
that convenience without great and expensive alterations.
Easy and cheap methods, though notquite so perfect in them¬
selves, are of more general utility; and such are the following.
In all rooms where there is a fire, the body of air warmed
and rarefied before the chimney is continually changing
place, and making room for other air that is to be warmed
in its turn. Part of it enters and goes up the chimney, and
the rest rises and takes place near the ceiling. If the room
be lofty, that warm air remains above our heads as long as
it continues warm, and we are little benefited by it, because
it does not descend till it is cooler. Few can imagine the
difference of climate between the upper and lower parts of
such a room, who have not tried it by the thermometer, or
by going up a ladder till their heads are near the ceiling.
It is then among this warm air that the requisite quantity of
outward air is best admitted, with which being mixed, its Sms
coldness is abated, and its inconvenience diminished so as to^
become scarcely observable. This may be easily done by
drawing down about an inch the upper sash of a window;
or, if not moveable, by cutting such a crevice through its
frame ; in both which cases it will be well to place a thin
shelf of the length to conceal the opening, and sloping up¬
wards, to direct the entering air horizontally along and un¬
der the ceiling. In some houses the air may be admitted
by such a crevice made in the wainscot, cornice, or plaster¬
ing, near the ceiling and over the opening of the chimney.
This, if practicable, is to be chosen, because the entering
cold air will there meet with the warmest rising air from be¬
fore the fire, and be soonest tempered by the mixture. I he
same kind of shelf should also be placed here. Another way,
and not a very difficult one, is to take out an upper pane of
glass in one of your sashes, set it in a tin frame, giving it
two springing angular sides, and then replacing it, with
hinges below? on which it may be turned to open more or
less above. It will then have the appearance of an internal
sky-light. By drawing this pane in, more or less, you may
admit what air you find necessary. Its position wffl natu¬
rally throw that air up and along the ceiling. In England
some have of late years cut a round hole about five inches
diameter in a pane of the sash, and placed against it a cir¬
cular plate of tin hung on an axis, and cut into vanes;
which, being separately bent a little obhquely, are acted
upon by the entering air, so as to force the p ate conti¬
nually round like the vanes of a windmill. I his admits
the outward air, and by the continual whirling of the vanes,
does in some degree disperse it. Ihe noise only is a little
A^econd cause of the smoking of chimneys is, then
openings in the room being too large ; that is, too wide, too
high, or both. Architects in general have no other ideas
of proportion in the opening of a chimney than what relate
to symmetry and beauty respecting the dimensions of the
room ; while its true proportion respecting its funcUon
utility depends on quite other principles; and they mgh
as properly proportion the step in a staircase to the he gut
of tlie storey, instead of the natural elevat.on of men s legs
in mounting. The proportion then to be regarded, is what
relates'to the heighMhe fennel. For as the fan* u.
the different storeys of a house are necessarily of diff
heights or lengths, that from the lowest floor being the
highest or longest, and those of the other floors shorte^ and
shorter, till we come to those in the garrets, which are o
:„:rse Ihe shortest; and the force of draft being
said, in proportion to the height of funnel ^ed with ram
fied air, and a current of air from the room into the ch.m
ney, sufficient to fill the opening, being necessary tooppom
and prevent the smoke from coming out into the room,
follows, that the openings of the longest ^k m jbe
larger, and that those of the shorter ^nnels should be
smaller. For if there be a larger opening to a chim y th
does not draw strongly, the tunnel may happen to be tu
nishedwith the air which it demands by a parfial current
entering on one side of the opening, and leav. gmoke
side free of any opposing current, may peimjtjh ^
to issue there into the room. Much, t > f ction in
draft in a funnel depends on the degree of rarefactioa ^
the air it contains, and that depends on ie
the fire of its passage in entering the ^
enter far from the fire on each side, or far abo
in a wide or high opening, it receives little hei*n P ^ J
by the fire, and the contents of the tunnel ?yatm0s-
means less different in levity from the “uMun^mg
phere, and its force in drawing consequently wea^r
if too large an opening be given to chimney PP .f tQ0
those rooms will be smoky. On t e o ’
small openings be given to chimneys in the
SMOKE
oke. the entering air operating too directly and violently on the
v—' fire, and afterwards strengthening the dratt as it ascends
the funnel, will consume the fuel too rapidly.
Remedy. As different circumstances frequently mix
themselves in these matters, it is difficult to give precise
dimensions for the openings of all chimneys. Our fathers
made them generally much too large. We have lessened
them ; but still they are often of greater dimensions than
they should be, the human eye not being easily reconciled
to sudden and great changes. If you suspect that your
chimney smokes from the too great dimensions of its open¬
ing, contract it by placing moveable boards, so as to lower
and narrow it gradually, till you find the smoke no longer
issues into the room. The proportion so found will be
that which is proper for that chimney, and you may employ
the bricklayer or mason to reduce it accordingly. How¬
ever, as in building new houses something must be some¬
times hazarded, Dr. Franklin proposes to make the open¬
ings in the lower rooms about thirty inches square, and
eighteen deep, and those in the upper only eighteen inches
square, and not quite so deep ; the intermediate ones di¬
minishing in proportion as the height of the funnel is di¬
minished. In the larger openings, billets of two feet long,
or half the common length of cordwood, may be burned
conveniently ; and for the smaller, such wood may be sawed
into thirds. Where coals are the fuel, the grates will be
proportioned to the openings. The same depth is nearly
necessary to all, the funnels being all made of a size proper
to admit a chimney-sweeper. If in large and elegant rooms
custom or fancy should require the appearance of a larger
chimney, it may be formed of expensive marginal decora¬
tions, in marble, or in any thing else. But in time, per¬
haps, that which is fittest in the nature of things may come
to be thought handsomest.
3. Another cause of smoky chimneys is too short a fun¬
nel. This necessarily happens in some cases, as w here a
chimney is required in a low building; for, if the funnel
be raised high above the roof, in order to strengthen its
draft, it is then in danger of being blown down, and crush¬
ing the roof in its fall.
Remedies. Contract the opening of the chimney, so as
to oblige all the entering air to pass through or very near
the fire; whereby it will be more heated and rarefied, the
funnel itself be more warmed, and its contents have more
of what may be called the force of levity, so as to rise
strongly and maintain a good draft at the opening.
Or you may in some cases, to advantage, raise additional
storeys over the low building, which will support a high funnel.
If the low building be used as a kitchen, and a contrac¬
tion of the opening therefore inconvenient, a large one
being necessary, at least when there are great dinners, for
the free management of so many cooking utensils ; in such
cases the best expedient perhaps vrould be to build two
more funnels joining to the first, and having three moder¬
ate openings, one to each funnel, instead of one large one.
When there is occasion to use but one, the other two may
be kept shut by sliding plates, hereafter to be described ;
and two or all of them may be used together when wanted.
This will indeed be an expense, but not an useless one,
since your cooks will work with more comfort, see better
than in a smoky kitchen what they are about, your victuals
will be cleaner dressed, and not taste of smoke, as is often
the case; and to render the effect more certain, a stack of
three funnels may be safely built higher above the roof
than a single funnel.
The case of too short a funnel is more general than
would be imagined, and often found where one would not
expect. For it is not uncommon, in ill-contrived build-
mgs, instead of having a funnel for each room or fire-place,
to bend and turn the funnel of an upper room, so as to
make it enter the side of another funnel that comes from
421
below. By these means the upper room funnel is made Smoke,
short of course, since its length can only be reckoned fromv,^^'v'^ta"’
the place where it enters the lower room funnel; and that
funnel is also shortened by all the distance between the
entrance of the second funnel and the top of the stack; for
all that part being readily supplied with air through the
second funnel, adds no strength to the draft, especially as
that air is cold when there is no fire in the second chim¬
ney. The only easy remedy here is, to keep the opening
of that funnel shut in w hich there is no fire.
4. Another very common cause of the smoking of chim¬
neys is, their overpowering one another. For instance, if
there be two chimneys in one large room, and you make
fires in both of them, with doors and windows close shut, you
will find that the greater and stronger fire shall overpower
the weaker, from the funnel of which it will draw down air
to supply its own demand; which air descending in the
weaker funnel, will drive down its smoke, and force it into
the room. If, instead of being in one room, the two chim¬
neys are in two different rooms, communicating by a door,
the case is the same whenever that door is open. In a
very tight house, a kitchen chimney on the lowest floor,
when it had a great fire in it, has been known to overpower
any other chimney in the house, and draw air and smoke
into its room as often as the door communicating with
the staircase was opened.
Remedy. Take care that every room have the means of
supplying itself from without with the air which its chim¬
ney may require, so that no one of them may be obliged
to borrow from another, nor under the necessity of lending.
A variety of these means has been already described.
5. Another cause of smoking is, when the tops of chim¬
neys are commanded by higher buildings, or by a hilly
so that the wind blowing over such eminences falls like
water over a dam, sometimes almost perpendicularly on
the tops of the chimneys that lie in its way, and beats down
the smoke contained in them.
Remedy. That commonly applied in this case is a turn-
cap made of tin or plate iron, covering the chimney above
and on three sides, open on one side, turning on a spindle ;
and which, being guided or governed by a vane, always
presents its back to the current. This may be generally
effectual, though not certain, as there may be cases in
which it will not succeed. Raising your funnels, if prac¬
ticable, so as their tops may be higher, or at least equal,
with the commanding eminence, is more to be depended
on. But the turning-cap, being easier and cheaper, should
first be tied. “ If obliged to build in such a situation, I
would choose,” says Dr. Franklin, “ to place my doors on
the side next the hill, and the backs of my chimneys on
the farthest side; for then the column of air falling over
the eminence, and of course pressing on that below, and
forcing it to enter the doors on that side, would tend to
balance the pressure down the chimneys, and leave the
funnels more free in the exercise of their functions.”
6. There is another case which is the reverse of that
last mentioned. It is where the commanding eminence is
farther from the wind than the chimney commanded.
Remedy. There is but one remedy, which is to raise such
a funnel higher than the roof, supporting it if necessary by
iron bars. For a turncap in this case has no effect, the
dammed-up air pressing down through it in whatever posi¬
tion the wind may have placed its opening.
Dr. Franklin mentions a city in which many houses are
rendered smoky by this operation. For their kitchens being
Built behind, and connected by a passage with the houses,
and the tops of the kitchen chimneys lower than the tops of
the houses, the whole side of a street when the wind blows
against its back, forms such a dam as above described ; and
the wind so obstructed forces down those kitchen chimneys,
especially when they have but weak fires in them, to pass
422
SMOKE.
Smoke, through the passage and house into the street. Kitchen-
chimneys so formed and situated have another inconve¬
nience. In sximmer, if you open your upper-room win¬
dows for air, a light breeze blowing over your kitchen chim¬
ney towards the house, though not strong enough to force
down its smoke as aforesaid, is sufficient to waft it into your
windows, and fill the rooms with it, which, besides the dis¬
agreeableness, damages your furniture.
7. Chimneys, otherwise drawing well, are sometimes made
to smoke by the improper and inconvenient situation oj a
door. When the door and chimney are on the same side of
the room, if the door being in the corner is made to open
aerainst the wall, which is common, as being there, when open,
more out of the way, it follows, that when the door is only
opened in part, a current of air rushing in passes along the
wall into and across the opening of the chimney, and flirts
some of the smoke out into the room. This happens more cer¬
tainly when the door is shutting, for then the force of the
current is augmented, and becomes very inconvenient to
those who, warming themselves by the fire, happen to sit
in its way.
The remedies are obvious and easy. Either put an in¬
tervening screen, from the wall round great part of the hie-
place; or, which is perhaps preferable, shift the hinges of
your door, so that it may open the other way, and when open,
throw the air along the other wall.
8. A room that has no fire in its chimney is sometimes
filled with smoke which is received at the top of its funnel
and descends into the room. Funnels without tires have an
effect according to their degree of coldness or warmth on
the air that happens to be contained in them. I he sur¬
rounding atmosphere is frequently changing its temperature;
but stacks of funnels covered from winds and sun by the
house that contains them, retain a more equal temperature.
If, after a warm season, the outward air suddenly grows cold,
the empty warm funnels begin to draw strongly upwards;
that is, they rarefy the air contained in them, which of course
rises, cooler air enters below to supply its place, is rarefied
in its turn, and rises ; and this operation continues till the
funnel grows cooler, or the outward air warmer, or both,
when the motion ceases. On the other hand, it after a cold
season the outward air suddenly grows warm, and of course
lighter, the air contained in the cool funnels, being heavier,
descends into the room; and the warmer air which enters
their tops being cooled in its turn, and made heavier, con¬
tinues to descend ; and this operation goes on till the fun¬
nels are warmed by the passing of warm air through them,
or the air itself grows cooler. When the temperature of
the air and of the funnels is nearly equal, the difference of
warmth in the air between day and night is sufficient to
produce these currents. The air will begin to ascend the
funnels as the cool of the evening comes on, and this current
will continue till perhaps nine or ten o’clock next morn¬
ing, when it begins to hesitate; and as the heat of the day
approaches, it sets downwards, and continues so till towards
evening, when it again hesitates for some time, and then
goes upwards constantly during the night, as before men¬
tioned. Now when smoke issuing from the tops of neigh¬
bouring funnels passes over the tops of funnels which are
at the time drawing downwards, as they often are in the
middle part of the day, such smoke is of necessity drawn
into these funnels, and descends with the air into the cham-
focr#
The remedy is to have a sliding plate that wdll perfectly
shut the offending funnel. Dr. Franklin has thus describ¬
ed it. “ The opening of the chimney is contracted by brick¬
work faced with marble slabs to about two feet between the
jams, and the breast brought down to within about three feet of
the hearth. An iron frame is placed just under the breast,
and extending quite to the back of the chimney, so that a
plate of the same metal may slide horizontally backwards
and forwards in the grooves on each side of the frame. Smok.
This plate is just so large as to fill the whole space, and
shut the chimney entirely when thrust quite in, which is
convenient when "there is no fire. Draw it out, so as to leave
between its further edge and the back a space of about two
inches; this space is sufficient for the smoke to pass; and
so large a part of the funnel being stopped by the rest of the
plate, the passage of warm air out of the room, up the chim¬
ney, is obstructed and retarded; and by those means much
cold air is prevented from coming in through crevices, to
supply its place. This effect is made manifest three ways.
1. When the fire burns briskly in cold weather, the howl¬
ing or whistling noise made by the wind, as it enters the
room through the crevices, when the chimney is open as
usual, ceases as soon as the plate is slid in to its proper dis¬
tance. 2. Opening the door of the room about half an
inch, and holding your hand against the opening, near the
top of the door, vou feel the cold air coming in against your
hand, but weakly, if the plate be in. Let another person
suddenly draw it out, so as to let the air of the room go up
the chimney, with its usual freedom where chimneys are
open,and you immediately feel the cold air rushing in strong¬
ly. 3. If something be set against the door, just sufficient,
when the plate is in, to keep the door nearly shut, by re¬
sisting the pressure of the air that would force it open; then,
when°the plate is drawn out, the door will be forced open
by the increased pressure of the outward cold air endea¬
vouring to get in to supply the place of the warm air
that now passes out of the room to go up the chimney.
In our common open chimneys, half the fuel is wasted, and
its effect lost; the air it has warmed being immediately
drawn off.”
9. Chimneys which generally draw well, do nevertheless
sometimes give smoke into the rooms, it being driven down
by strong winds passing over the tops oj their funnels, though
not descending from any commanding eminence. This case
is most frequent where the funnel is short, and the opening
turned from the wind. It is the more grievous, when it
happens to be a cold wind that produces the effect, because
when you most want your fire you are sometimes obliged
to extinguish it. To understand this, it may be considered
that the rising light air, to obtain a free issue from the fun¬
nel, must push out of its way or oblige the air that is over
it to rise. In a time of calm or of little wind this is done
visibly; for we see the smoke that is brought up by that
air rise in a column above the chimney. But when a vio¬
lent current of air. that is, a strong wind, passes oyer the
top of a chimney, its particles have received so much force
which keeps them in a horizontal direction, and follow each
other so rapidly, that the rising light air has not strength
sufficient to oblige them to quit that direction and move
upwards to permit its issue.
Remedies. In Venice, the custom is to open or widen the
top of the flue, rounding it in the true form of a funnel.
In other places the contrary is practised; the tops of the
flues being narrowed inwards, so as to form a slit for the
issue of the smoke, as long as the breadth of the funnel, and
only four inches wide. This seems to have been contrived
on a supposition that the entry of the wind would thereby
be obstructed; and perhaps it might have been imagined,
that the whole force of the rising warm air being condens¬
ed, as it were, in the narrow opening, would thereby n
strengthened, so as to overcome the resistance of winu.
This, however, did not always succeed; for when the win
was at north-east and blew fresh, the smoke was forced down
by fits into the room where Dr. Franklin commonly sa,
as to oblige him to shift the fire into another. 1 ie posi 101
of the slit of this funnel was indeed north-east and soutn-
west. Perhaps if it had lain across the wind, the elte
might have been different. But on this we can giye "c c
tainty. It seems a matter proper to be referred to e p
SMOKE.
ike. ment. Possibly a turncap might have been serviceable, but
^Wit was not tried.
With all the science, however, that a man shall suppose
himself possessed of in this article, he may sometimes meet
with cases that shall puzzle him. “ I once lodged,” says
Dr. Franklin, “ in a house at London, which in a little room
had a single chimney and funnel. The opening was very
small, yet it did not keep in the smoke, and all attempts to
have a fire in this room were fruitless. I could not ima¬
gine the reason, till at length observing that the chamber
over it, which had no fireplace in it, was always filled with
smoke when a fire was kindled below, and that the smoke
came through the cracks and crevices of the wainscoat,
I had the wainscoat taken down, and discovered that the
funnel which went up behind it had a crack many feet in
length, and wide enough to admit my arm; a breach very
dangerous with regard to fire, and occasioned probably by
an apparent irregular settling of one side of the house. The
air entering this breach freely, destroyed the drawing force
of the funnel. The remedy would have been, filling up the
breach, or rather rebuilding the funnel; but the landlord
rather chose to stop up the chimney.
“ Another puzzling case I met with at a friend’s country-
house near London. His best room had a chimney in which,
he told me, he never could have a fire, for all the smoke
came out into the room. I flattered myself I could easily
find the cause and prescribe the cure. I opened the door,
and perceived it was not want of air. I made a temporary
contraction of the opening of the chimney, and found that
it was not its being too large that caused the smoke to issue.
I went out and looked up at the top of the chimney: Its
funnel was joined in the same stack with others, some of
them shorter, that drew very well, and I saw nothing to
prevent its doing the same. In fine, after every other
examination I could think of, I was obliged to own the in¬
sufficiency of my skill. But my friend, who made no pre¬
tension to such kind of knowledge, afterwards discovered
the cause himself. He got to the top of the funnel by a
ladder, and looking down found it filled with twigs and straw
cemented by earth and lined with feathers. It seems the
house, after being built, had stood empty some years before
he occupied it; and he concluded that some large birds had
taken the advantage of its retired situation to make their
nests there. The rubbish, considerable in quantity, being
removed, and the funnel cleared, the chimney drew well,
and gave satisfaction.”
Chimneys whose funnels go up in the north wall of a
house, and are exposed to the north winds, are not so apt to
draw well as those in a south wall; because, when rendered
cold by those winds, they draw downwards. Chimneys en¬
closed in the body of a house are better than those whose
funnels are exposed in cold walls. Chimneys in stacks are
apt to draw better than separate funnels, because the fun¬
nels that have constant fires in them warm the others in
some degree that have none.
SMOKE-consuming. In manufacturing towns, where a
great deal of fuel is used, it is of the utmost consequence
to prevent, if possible, the production of smoke, so as not
only to get quit of a great source of annoyance, but also to
prevent the injury which it occasions to buildings ; indeed
to prevent the deterioration of property which in general
occurs. Hence the clauses in acts of Parliament and in
many police bills, compelling proprietors of steam engines,
&c., to consume their smoke, if practicable; as also the
numerous attempts which have been made to accomplish
this object. Of course, if it could be done without an
extra expenditure of fuel, so much the better; if with a
saving of fuel, then the advantages to be gained are im¬
mense.
Numerous methods have been recommended, and many
patents have been secured for accomplishing this desirable
42S
object. The principle of most of them depends on causing Smoke,
the smoke, immediately when given off from the coal, when
fresh put on the fire, to pass over the half-burned or charred
fuel, and thus be consumed.
Smoke is merely carbonaceous matter evolved from fuel;
for when the w'hole of the inflammable gaseous product is
not brought into contact with air at a proper degree of heat,
it is not burned, and therefore escapes in the state of smoke.
Now it is evident, that if that smoke or carbonaceous par¬
ticles, as it flows over the burning fuel, be supplied with
air, it also will be burned, provided they are brought toge¬
ther at a high temperature; but this is not done in tiie
usual way of combustion, because the air passing up from
the ash pit through the fuel, is almost entirely deprived of
its oxygen before it reaches the upper part of the furnace.
In addition to the air, therefore, which is requisite for the
combustion of the fuel, air must also be admitted above the
fire for the consumption of the smoke.
The most common method in practice for consuming
smoke is, instead of throwing the fuel back into the furnace,
to place it always on the dead plate or charring plate at
the mouth, gradually pushing it on upon the bars, as it is
charred, or deprived of its bituminous principle, and again
supplying more on the dead plate, which is in general in¬
clined, so as to allow the fuel placed on it to fall, and come
into contact w ith that on the bars. For the success of this
process, air must be admitted into the furnace, above the
fuel, so as to mix with the flame and smoke; but this is
attended with disadvantage, for being cold, it not only acts
injuriously, as in lessening the production of steam, but by
bringing down the temperature, prevents the action on the
smoke itself, which is consequently not all destroyed. Hence
the practice of heating the air to be thus admitted. When
this is done by an additional fire, though the smoke may to
a certain extent be consumed, yet it is attended with ex¬
pense ; but this is obviated in a great measure by the in¬
troduction of tubes into the flues or chimney, one end com¬
municating with the atmosphere, the other terminating in
the furnace, over the fuel, by which the air that passes
through them derives a part of that heat which is otherwise
carried up the vent.
This method of preventing smoke has not been attended
with the success at first expected from it, as is proved by
its not having come into general use. Perhaps one source
of failure is the difficulty of getting the firemen to supply
the coal carefully on the front of the furnace ; and hence it
has been recommended to employ hoppers, by which the
coal is always thrown on the dead-plate; but even when
these are used, the consumption of smoke is not complete.
As to the heating of the air, by passing it through tubes in
the chimney or vent, one great objection to them is the
powerful influence they have over the draught. It is well
known, that when cold air is allowed to rush into the chim¬
ney, the draught is instantly diminished. Now these tubes
must operate in the same way ; for though the air does not
mingle with that in the vent, yet by withdrawing heat from
it, it must reduce its temperature, and thus prevent it from
being forced up.
By far the most effectual method of consuming smoke is
that lately recommended and patented by Ivison. It con¬
sists in throwing steam into the fore-part of the furnace,
above the fuel, by means of a fan-shaped distributor, in the
front of which are small apertures, varying in size and num¬
ber, according to the width of the furnace and the pressure
of the steam. In general they are from five to eight or ten
in number, and about an eighth or a twelfth of an inch in
diameter. The quantity of steam thus admitted is very
trifling; and by its passage through the flame and smoke
given off from the coals on the charring-plate, it instantly
causes the disappearance of the smoke, and accordingly none
whatever escapes from the chimney-top, except just when
424
Smoke.
SMOKE.
fresh coal is thrown in, and then it is barely perceptible, and
'only for a few seconds. .
When applied to furnaces with boilers, steam is easily
procured, by taking from the top of the boiler a small tube,
which is carried into the furnace, and connected with the
distributor, and by means of a stop-cock the supply is regu¬
lated. In cases where there is no boiler, a very small one
must be erected, which can be placed on some part of the
furnace, and will thus give off steam without any extra ex¬
penditure of fuel. . r.
The most remarkable circumstance attending the use of
this patent process, is the almost total absence of draught
through the ash-pit, consequently little or no air passes up
through the fire, while there is a rush of air over the surface
of the fuel. Hence the necessity of allowing air to flow in
by the door of the furnace, or, which is better, by means of
Jbes placed in the chimney or flues, by which it is heated
previous to its entrance ; because, as before stated, the ad¬
mission of cold air must have a prejudicial effect, it is
evident from this, that the combustion must proceed almost
entirely by air supplied on the surface. Indeed, when pro¬
perly applied, the supply of air through the ash-pit is a-
most reduced to nothing; and accordingly the fire can be
kept in good condition, even though the ash-pit is closed in
h°In addition to the consumption of smoke, the application
of steam in this way is attended with another advantage ;
the saving of fuel, which is certainly a great recommenda¬
tion in its favour. Different statements have been given of Smok
the amount of saving effected; but if we can place reliance
in the reports given by the patentee, it seems to be consi¬
derable.
Watt, from his numerous experiments, concluded, that
for each pound of coal (English caking) consumed, rather
more than eight pounds of water could be evaporated, thus
requiring about eight pounds of coal for the cubic foot of
water. Since his time, however, improvements in the con¬
struction of furnaces have been introduced, which have in¬
creased the amount of evaporation.
Mr. Watt’s maximum result with Wallsend caking
coal, conducted with the greatest care, was 8.9 pound of
water to the pound of coal. The lowest was 5.93, the
mean 7.4.
Mr. Parkes of Warwick states the ordinary result with
one pound of caking coal to be 7.5 pounds, evaporated from
212°, but by his improved method in the furnaces of other
persons, it was 8.7, while by a similar mode with his own
furnace, it was 10.32 pounds.
With one of the Cornish boilers, coated and covered with
the greatest care, and in all other respects rendered as per¬
fect as possible, the result was 11.8 pounds, and a similar re¬
sult was more recently obtained by Henwood.
The following is a tabular view of the results of watt
and others, shewing the quantity of water evaporated, and
the quantity of fufel required for the horse-power of an en¬
gine :
experiments.
Watt’s average,   • • • •• •   V ”'AV
United Mines Loam (Ed. Phil Jour., July 1839)?
Parkes of Warwick’s method................ 
Huel Towan (Ed. Phil. Jour., July 1839), 
Mr. Kenwood’s experiment, 
. . lbs. English coal
*S-rleTW\ to cubic foot
1 lb. of English water> or horse,
power per hour.
7.4
9-58
10.32
10.55
11.87
8.4
6.23
6.03
5.9
5.32
Cubic feet of
water to 84 lb.
English coal.
10.
12.93
13.9
14.23
15.8
Cubic feet
water to 11‘2 lb.
English coal.
13.33
17.24
18.5
18.97
21.
By the use of the Ivison patent, when properly applie^ heat gven »u« by ^pared ‘o^gMcaHng coaUo
the amount of evaporation becomes much potion, or, which is the same thing, the quantity of fuel,
bCe" “aftfeVlowIng Ab^stewr The experiments Led in comparison with what is given in the preceding
wmfeonducted with Scotish coal; and considering the table.
experiments.
Average of 8 experiments, certified j
April 13, 1839, ;•••• (
Average of 3 experiments, certified (
May 10, 1839, ;•••*{
Average of 12 workings, certified (
July 1839, J
Maximum result of do., •;••••
Average of the four preceding lines.
lbs. water to
1 lb. of Scotish
coal.
11.41
13.94
13.25
14.72
13.43
lbs. water to
1 lb. of English
coal.
lbs. English coal
to cubic foot
water, or horse¬
power per hour.
Cubic feet of
water to 84 lb.
English coal.
Cubic feet
water to 112 lb.
English coal.
15.21
18.58
17.66
19.62
17.96
4.09
3-35
3.52
20.5
25.
23.91
26.47
24.02
27.4
33.46
31.78
From the above tables it appears, that the greatest quan-
titv of water evaporated by the pound of English coal is
11 37 . the maximum result by Ivisons process is, using
Scotish coal, 14.72; the average 13.43; which, if we con¬
sider the English to the Scotish as four to three, gives 17-9,
or equal to only about 3.46 of English coal to the cubic foot
of water or horse power of an engine, certainly by far the
largest and most economical result on record.
That this mode of consuming smoke is accompanied ^
saving of fuel, is also proved by comparative tna s ^
with and without the use of steam, on the same furna ,
is shewn by the following table:
S M O
S M O
nke.
Workings with the Patent.
Date.
Sept. 25, 1838.
— 26, —
— 27, —
Time.
5 h. 15 m.
5 - 15 -
5 - 15 -
Period of
day.
P.M.
A.M.
A.M.
Pounds of
Coal used-
560
449
612
Average, 558
For the same time, then, and for the same amount of
work done, the consumpt of fuel, as shewn by the above
table, is in the ratio of 812 to 540, or as 100 to 66, thus
indicating a saving of about 33 per cent.
By the admission of steam into the furnace in this way
of consuming smoke, the draught is prodigiously increased;
hence the absolute necessity, when applied to furnaces hav¬
ing tall chimneys, of resorting to means to counteract it. It
is remarkable that the damper in common use has compa¬
ratively little or no effect. The means found to answer best
are the admission of cold air into the chimney, by apertures,
which can be varied in size, according to circumstances;
or when this is found not to be sufficient, to have covers to
the ash-pit, by which the draught up through the bars may
be prevented; for it is only when the draught is properly
checked, and a due quantity of air admitted above the fuel,
that none flows into the ash-pit. In furnaces to be erected
for the purpose, the draught can be sufficiently checked,
by making the chimney much narrower and shorter than
those now in use. In fact, were it not for the necessity of
having a vent to carry off the gaseous products, the chim¬
ney might be dispensed with, as the steam of itself creates
sufficient draught to carry in air for the combustion. Hence
one very great advantage, in addition to the many others, to
be deiived fiom this mode; as, independent!v of economy in
fuel, thei e must be an immense saving in the outlav in con-
strucking furnaces; the application of the steam-tube with
its distributor costing very little.
Different opinions are entertained with regard to the
rationale of this process. Some suppose that the steam
merely acts mechanically, by carrying along with it a suffi¬
cient quantity of air to maintain the combustion ; and that
that air flowing over the fuel, not only carries on its con¬
sumption there, but, acting on the smoke, causes its combus¬
tion also, by which of course there is an additional supply
of heat. Besides, as the upper part of the furnace is free
from smoke, the radiation from the fire must have a more
powerful effect on the bottom of the boiler, and those parts
of it exposed in the flues being also free from soot, will more
easily transmit the heat. If, however, we place reliance on
the results of the trials stated above, and the names of the
scientific gentlemen by whom they were conducted is a
proof of their accuracy, it is difficult to conceive how so
large a result should be obtained, were there no further ac¬
tion than the consumption of the fuel. It is generally ad¬
mitted, that were the whole of the heat from coal under-
t,omg combustion rendered available, about fourteen pounds
or water would be evaporated on an average by each pound
ot coal. But this cannot be done, because part of the heat
must necessarily pass off by the chimney; but even with
his waste, the quantity of water evaporated bv Scotish
mil was in some trials beyond fourteen pounds. 'This has
given rise to the idea, that the steam, in addition to its me-
lamcal action of carrying air into the upper part of the
nace, acts also chemically, that in fact it is decomposed
is narrrd- ^ !las ^een ^<)n° known, that when steam
■ 5 ed trough tubes stuffed with incandescent carbon, it
nan"'?PK?Std’^nd reso,ved !nto gaseous products. In a
Paper published by Dr.Fyfe in the Edinburgh Phil. Jour-
XX*
Workings without the Patent.
Date.
Sept. 25, 1838.
- 26, —
- 27, —
Time.
Period of
day.
5 h. 15 m.
5 - 15 -
5 - 15 -
A.M.
P.M.
P.M.
Pounds of
Coal used.
812
812
812
Average, 812
425
Smoke
a
Smollett
nal, 1837, it is shewn, that these gaseous products are not
carbonic acid and carburetted hydrogen, as at one time sup¬
posed, but carbonic oxid and pure hydrogen. Now a simi¬
lar decomposition may be effected on the steam in the Ivi-
son process; for when it is brought into contact with the
carbonaceous matter of the smoke, as given off at a high
temperature from the coal on the charring-plate, it may he
decomposed, and give, by its action on the smoke, carbonic
oxid and hydrogen ; and these being freely supplied with
air, will be burned, and by their combustion give out an ad¬
ditional supply of heat, and it is well known that the heat
given forth by hydrogen is very great. If this explanation
be the correct one, (and it is strengthened by the fact, that
when the coal is thrown far back in the furnace, so as to be
beyond the influence of the steam, it is not consumed), then
the smoke is not burned by the direct action of the air, but
by first getting oxygen from the steam, so as to form car¬
bonic oxid, and which oxid then receives oxygen from the
atmosphere. An additional quantity of oxygen is thus re¬
quired ; and hence most probably the additional amount of
heat evolved by the process.
Smoke-Silver. Lands were held in some places by the
payment of the sum of sixpence yearly to the sheriff, call¬
ed smoke-silver (Par. 4. Edw. VI.) Smoke-silver and smoke-
penny are to be paid to the ministers of divers parishes as
a modus in lieu of tithe-wood; and in some manors for¬
merly belonging to religious houses, there is still paid, as
appended to the said manors, the ancient Peter-pence, by
the name of Smoke money. (Twisd. Hist. Vindicat. 77.)
SMOLENSK O, a circle or government of the eastern side
of the Russian empire. It was formerly a part of Lithuania,
;md being gained by Russia in 1654, was then called White
Russia. It is 10,980 square miles in extent, and contains
1,031,860 inhabitants, who are a mixture of Russians, Poles,
and Jews. The city from which the province takes its
name, stands in a valley, watered by the river Dnieper,
which runs from east to west, and which is navigable for
barges. I he city, which has been rebuilt since the war, is
now said to contain lo,000 inhabitants. For this popula¬
tion there are upwards of twenty churches. It has a cathe¬
dral for both Catholic ami Greek Christians, an ecclesias¬
tical seminary, and a gymnasium or high grammar school.
It is a frontier and fortified town, and is remarkable for
the great battle fought under the walls of the city, on the
16th of August 1812.
SMOLLET F, 1 oxsiAs, whose writings have conferred
distinguished honour upon the literature of his country, was
descended from a family of considerable antiquity and opu¬
lence in the county of Dunbarton. His grandfather, Sir
James Smol lett of Bonhill, married a daughter of Sir Aulay
Macaulay of Ardincaple, and by that lady had four sons, of
whom Archibald, the youngest, was the father of the nove-
ist. Archibald, who had been bred to no profession, died
at an early age, leaving his family, consisting of a widow
and three children, one of whom was an infant daughter,
solely dependent on the bounty of his father. Smollett was
born in 1/21, in the old mansion-house of’Dulquhurn, now
a ruin. It is situated near the village of Renton, in the
parish of Cardrpss. He was baptized Tobias George. The
3 H
426
SMOLLETT
Smollett, valley of the Leven, in which Smollett first saw the light,
^V^' is surpassed by no other spot in our island, either for the
grandeur of its scenery, or for the venerable associations
with which it is connected. Nor was the ground which
had been dignified by the tread of Wallace, Bruce, Napier,
and Buchanan, dishonoured by the steps of Smollett.
From the grammar-school of Dunbarton, in which he
had imbibed the rudiments of classical learning, Smollett
was transferred to the University of Glasgow, where he pro¬
secuted his more advanced studies with application and
success. He was afterwards bound an apprentice to M .
John Gordon, an eminent medical practitioner in that city.
His elder brother James had adopted the profession of
arms, an example which he was ambitious of following but
the old knight probably illustrated the advantages of the
study of physic by reasoning which it would have been
vain to controvert. When the young student had attained
his eighteenth year, his grandfather died, without ha\ mg
made any adequate provision for the children of his youngest
son. For this omission, his descendant furnished him with
a niche in Roderick Random, more conspicuous than de-
""'The term of his aoprenticeship having expired in his
nineteenth year, and being now thrown upon his own re-
sources Smollett proceeded to London where he attracted
the notice of Lord Lyt’elton. He had carried with him
his tragedy of The Regicide, a juvenile performance of un¬
common rnerit, but indifferently adapted to the purpose of re¬
presentation. The various efforts which he ineffectually used
to bring his play upon the stage, are detailed with indignant
prolixity in the preface to that production, which he sent
to the press some years afterwards, with a vieJ «[ ^apmg
confusion upon the lukewarm patronage of Lyttelton, and
upon the shuffling evasions of Garrick. The patron and
the manager were visited with many other tokens of his
displeasure; but he lived to repent of the severe retribution
whkh he had exacted for trivial wrongs, and made honour¬
able mention of both in his History of England.
Thwarted in his expectations of earning fame and profit
as a writer for the stage, Smollett was glad to accept the
Situation of surgeon’s mate on board the Cumberland.
That vessel, an eighty-gun ship, belonged to the armament
which was bound to the West Indies, to join the fleet under
the command of Admiral Vernon. Of the disastrous ex¬
pedition against Carthagena, Smollett inserted an animated
narrative in Roderick Random, and afterwards published
a more detailed account in the Compendium of Voyages.
When the discomfited squadrons returned to Jamaica, he
quitted the service in disgust, and fixed 1S. r^s'
the island. With Miss Lascelles, a fascinating West In¬
dian, he there formed an acquaintance, which afterwards
ripened into a matrimonial union. In 1/46 he returned to
London, which then resounded with acclamations occasion¬
ed by the victory at Culloden. With these were mmg ed
some7 expressions of indignation at the atrocities mflictet
bv the royal army upon the helpless families of the insur¬
gents. the voice of Smollett swelled the weaker cry, and
he produced his pathetic ode. The Tears of Scotland.
During the same year was published, yldwce, ^ Satire. His
next literary effort was Alceste, an 0//era, which hewiote
at the suggestion of Mr. Rich of Covent Garden Theatre.
In consequence of some dispute with that patentee, the
piece was withdrawn, and has never appeared in print, in
1747 he published Reproof a second part of his forme
satirical production. The versification of these poems is
sufficiently harmonious, and they abound with impetuous
invective ; but the rage of the satirist is without dignity, Srcoll
and rabid, without being infectious to readers of the present ,
dav About this period he married Miss Lascelles, who
was possessed of a small estate in the island of Jamaica; a
precarious species of property, from which her husband ap¬
pears to have derived little or no uhirnate beneht.
In the year 1748, appeared The Adventures oj Roderick
Random. Fielding had already evinced himself a noble
follower of Cervantes, and Smollett now stood forth, a no
less worthy disciple of Le Sage. It must be owned that
in this, and in all the other novels of Smollett, humour fre¬
quently appears in very loose attire. These scenes, how¬
ever, like sheet-lightning, are alarming, but perfectly in¬
nocuous. The solemn depravity of Rousseau is more dan-
o-erous than the ludicrous indecorum of Smollett. In 174y,
The Regicide was published by subscription. During the same
year Smollett took the degree of M.D., in what Un,vers,ty
has not been ascertained. In 1750 he went to Pans, where
he is supposed to have occupied himself in composing Ihe
Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, which were published in
1751. This admirable novel is disfigured by the introduc¬
tion of an impertinent episode, in which are detailed, with
unrelenting minuteness, the tedious intrigues of Lady Vane;
who is said to have rewarded Smollett handsomely for the
drudgery of compiling that durable record of her infamy.
To compensate for this blemish, and for some rash sallies of
humour, Peregrine Pickle is an absolute mine of character
and adventure. The entertainment prepared by the learn¬
ed physician, in the manner of the ancients, is perhaps the
molt irresistible piece of pleasantry that ^as ever devised
by a ludicrous fancy. In his heroes and heroines, Smollett
isnot happy. For Random we have no respect; for Pickle
we have no esteem ; and Narcissa and Emilia are only the
obiects of appetite. Since the days of Tom Bowling and
the Commodore, we have seen many sailors in print, who
display an accurate and profound knowledge of technical
minutiae; but their humour, if they have any, will not pass
“aiore. the medium through which ,t ts convejd
being to uninstructed ears a mere succession of un ntelh
gible gibberish. And these modern tars have all a strikn g
family likeness to each other, with the exception of some
sentimental rope-haulers of the American school, who ^e
evidently monsters of the imagination. But each of Smo
lett’s seamen, though drawn to thehfe^xhibits he strong
idiosyncrasy of character, and converses in a dialect whic
can be readily understood by those who have never s.en
The next production of Smollett’s pen was “ An Essay
on the External Use of Water, in a letter to Dr. ~«
with particular remarks upon the present method of^mg
the Mineral Waters at Bath, in Somersetslme, P
for rendering them more safe, agreeable, and efficacio ^
1752 4to. At the period of this publication, ^ n.
sided at Bath, where he solicited professiona employnj
but the reputation of the satirist effectua y ^ ^
prospects of the physician. Despairing of sue
profession, Dr. Smollett now hired a house at C
where he entirely devoted himself t0 of
The first fruits of his retirement were, The Adventu ^
Ferdinand Count Fathom which appem-ed m 175J.
author’s object in this production
character “ as a beacon for the benefit the ^ q{
and unwary.” This personage is as ™»ch be
Richardson’s heroes is above, the standard o g much
Few men are so virtuous or depraved as
sympathy with either; and it may very reasonably be qu
i The incident of Tom Pipes’s concealing in his shoe his master’s letter £ ScriL^rOr^lp-^154.
Ovid’s Art of Love; which has not escaped
Et vincto blandas sub pede ferre notas.
SMOLLETT.
Si ^
■ tioned, whether any one was ever allured to virtue by
* viewing the unattainable perfections of Grandison, or de¬
terred from vice by contemplating the superlative villany
of Fathom. Besides, a picture of insipid excellence is at
least harmless; but there is a moral insanity about some
men, which leads them not only to delight in, but some¬
times to emulate the achievements of fictitious desperadoes.
The most striking passage in this novel, is the adventure in
the forest, which creates terror as strong as the convulsions
of laughter which reward the exploits of Trunnion and his
myrmidons.
But although master of the passions of others, Smollett’s
own were under very indifferent control. A wretch, called
Peter Gordon, whom he had maintained for a series of
years, and in support of whose credit he had been prevailed
upon to indorse notes, suddenly withdrew' into the verge of
the court, where, by means of insulting letters and messa¬
ges, he provoked his benefactor to chastise him in such
manner as to furnish grounds for an action of damages.
The Hon. Alexander Hume Campbell, who was counsel
for the plaintiff, having opened the proceedings with much
gratuitous insolence towards the defendant and his wit¬
nesses, Smollett addressed a letter to that barrister, couched
in very indignant and sarcastic terms, which afterwards
found its way into the fifth volume of the European Maga¬
zine. This infamous prosecution terminated in the discom¬
fiture of Gordon, but the issue of Smollett’s dispute with
Campbell is involved in obscurity. In the beginning of
the year 1755, Smollett published his translation of Don
Quixote, which was executed amid the anxiety of pecuniary
embarrassment, and for which he had been paid by advance.
This version is infinitely more spirited and elegant than
that of his immediate predecessor Jarvis. But if Smollett
has surpassed Motteux in maintaining the solemn fatuity of
the knight, he is less happy in rendering the proverbial
humour of the squire; for the corresponding phrases in
English had already been appropriated, and he was reduced
to the necessity of alteration, when there was no room for
improvement. After the publication of Don Quixote,
Smollett paid a visit to his native country. Upon his re¬
turn to England, he undertook the superintendence of the
Critical Tleview. The editorship of that journal involved
him in a thousand vexatious disputes with persons who were
utterly unworthy of being promoted to the rank of his an¬
tagonists. A contemptuous critique on the Rosciad, of
which he was entirely innocent, provoked the spleen of
Churchill, whose brief career was a perpetual crusade against
genius and virtue, and whose coarse and rancorous effusions
are now consigned to merited oblivion ; for posterity has
not realized the hopes of an undying name, so confidently
expressed by the reverend bard, who proposed to annihilate
the reputation of Pope, and w'ho launched his slight javelins
at the massy buckler of Johnson.
In 1757, Smollett published a popular compilation, en¬
titled A Compendium^ of Authentic and Entertaining
Voyages. 7 vols. 12mo. During the same year was per¬
formed and printed The Reprisal, a comedy in two acts,
the characters in this piece are strongly marked, and the
dialogue is extremely spirited, but the situations are con¬
ceived with little dramatic artifice; a species of knowledge
which often enables the humble retainer of a playhouse to
concoct a drama, which shall be admirably well adapted for
the stage, and yet prove not more entertaining in the closet
than a book of arithmetic. In the same year was published
the “Complete History of England, deduced from the
jJescent of Julius Caesar to the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle,
W48, containing the transactions of one thousand three
427
hundred and three years. 4 vols. 4to. This surprising Smollett,
effort of industry and genius, is said to have been begun —
and completed in the course of fourteen months. If not the
most accurate and philosophical of historians, Smollett yields
to few in the unaffected elegance of his style, and in the
graceful animation of his narrative. He had been bred a
Whig, and whatever were the motives that led to the poli¬
tical tergiversation which is manifested in this work, it would
be uncharitable to suppose that they were those of self-in¬
terest ; a consideration which does not seem to have influ¬
enced any one action of his life.
In 1759, an article appeared in the Critical Review', anim¬
adverting in strong terms upon the conduct of Admiral
Knowles, who had written a pamphlet to vindicate himself
from the popular odium w'hich attached to his character, in
consequence of his share in a secret expedition to the
French coast, which was planned and miscarried in 1757.1
1 he admiral having commenced a prosecution against the
printer, of which the avowed object was to induce the
writer to declare himself, and give him satisfaction of an¬
other kind, Smollett, in this dilemma, solicited the good
offices of his friend Wilkes, whose rhetoric made no im¬
pression on the incensed commander. At this juncture,
Smollett stepped boldly forth, and proclaimed himself the
author of the obnoxious article, offering the aggrieved party
any satisfaction that he might desire. Upon this declara¬
tion, the magnanimous flag-officer immediately withdrew
his action against the printer, and entered a fresh suit
against the reviewer. The result of the action was, that
Smollett was fined one hundred pounds, and sentenced to
three months imprisonment in the King’s Bench.
To cheer the gloom of his confinement, this indefatigable
writer employed himself in composing The Adventures of
Sir Launcelot Greaves, which first appeared in the British
Magazine for 1760 and 1761, and was published in a
separate form in 1762. The eye of criticism has always
looked coldly upon this performance. Although it is one
of those works, of which the execution must be admitted to
surpass the conception, the story of the modern Doji
Quixote is no such incredible figment as it has been pro¬
nounced. Sir Launcelot Greaves is represented as a per¬
son of diseased understanding ; and who shall set bounds to
the vagaries of insanity ? Nor does Captain Crowe appear
to act out of character, in becoming a candidate for the
honours of chivalry. For that original is in a state of happy
ignorance concerning all terrestrial affairs; and the profes¬
sion of a knight-errant appears to his unsophisticated un¬
derstanding to be as lawful a calling as that of a tide-waiter;
and it is one which is not at all discordant with the head¬
long courage and extravagant generosity of a British sea¬
man.
J0 ^1G J^odern part of Universal History, which was
begun in 1759, and completed in 1764, Smollett contributed
the histories of France, Italy, and Germany. In 1761 had
appeared the first number of his Continuation of the His¬
tory of England, which he finished in 1765 ; the narrative
comprehending the transactions down to that period.
Upon the accession of George III., Smollett appeared
in the character of a political partisan, and drew his pen in
defence of the administration of Lord Bute, in a wreekly
paper, entitled The Briton. But being speedily tired of
protecting from obloquy a minister who was indifferent to
public opinion, he retired from the strife, leaving his an¬
tagonist, The North Briton, master of the field. This con¬
test terminated an intimacy of long standing between
Smollett and Wilkes. Notwithstanding his inferiority in
talents, that demagogue had some decided advantages over
KnrnwllHe iS 311 an engineer without knowledge, an officer without resolution, and a
60 guns. ver,iClty- Knowles was one of the heroes of Carthagena, at which memorable expedition he commanded the Weymouth, of
423
S M U
Smollett, his opponent. Wilkes was a cool political pugilist, who
gathered courage from the applauses of the mob; while
Smollett was greeted w ith a general burst of popular exe¬
cration, which worked him into a phrensy that deprive
him of his strength. . A .
Smollett’s name stands in the title-page of a translation
of the works of Voltaire, and also in that of a compilation,
entitled The Present State of all Nations. These works,
to which he contributed sparingly, were published in Wbd.
In that year he sustained an irreparable loss in the death ot
his only child, a daughter named Elizabeth, who had at¬
tained the fifteenth year of her age. This calamity threw
an impenetrable gloom over the brief remainder of his life.
In the hope of dissipating his own grief and that of his wife,
by change of scene, he passed over into trance; in which
country, and in Italy, he resided for two years. In 1766,
he published his Travels through France and Italy. Ihis
production displays his usual acuteness of observation, am
felicity of expression, but he appears to have contemplated
every obiect through the distorted medium of disease and
lacerated feelings. Sterne, who had met the bereaved
father abroad, took an opportunity of exulting over the
infirmities of rival genius in his Sentimental Journey.
In 1766, Smollett visited Scotland for the last time. At
this period, he was a martyr to asthma and rheumatic pains,
and afflicted with a viruient ulcer on his arm. In the fol¬
lowing vear, while residing at Bath, he enjoyed a short in-
teival of convalescence, during which he wrote The Adven¬
tures of an Atom. In this political romance, he has blend¬
ed, with greater dexterity than judgment, the reckless jolh y
of Rabelais with the withering sarcasm of Swift. With
much wit and humour, this production betrays great physi¬
cal indelicacy, a latent ferocity of sentiment, and an un-
nualified abhorrence of the lower order of the community,
which is far from edifying. It may here be remarked, that
the learning which is scattered through the fictitious narta-
tives of Smollett, would, with proper management, make a
most imposing show in works of much graver pretensions.
Neither does he ever, like Fielding, hover on the verge of
pedantry ; nor resort to the disingenuous artifice of dazzling
unlettered eyes with borrowed erudition, like Sterne, who
had cool effrontery enough to express his sovereign con¬
tempt of literary larceny, in the unacknowledged words of
BUAfter the publication of this romance, Smollett’s com¬
plaints returned with increased violence, and his medical
friends declared that his only chance of life lay in a more
salubrious climate. To the great he never applied m vain,
for he never applied at all. His friends however made
some fruitless efforts to interest the ministry in his behal .
But from Smollett was sternly withheld that bounty which
has often, before and since, been lavished with a prodigal
hand upon the most worthless and foolish of mankind.
With a constitution worn to the dregs in the service of
iterature, and with a purse which had been emptied in the
iap of indigence, Smollett proceeded to Italy in 1770.
The last, and perhaps the best of all his works, was I he
Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, published in 1771. Each
character in the galaxy of originals which are there pour-
trayed, may submit without apprehension to Ben Jonson s
test of humour:
When some one peculiar quality
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,
In their confluctions, all to run one way,
This may be truly said to be a humour.
Having bequeathed this legacy to the public, Srnollett
died at Monte Nero, a village in the neighbourhood of Leg-
S M U
horn, on the 21st of October 1771, in the fifty-first year W
of his age. A monument was erected to his memory by ^
his widow, and a cenotaph on the banks of the Lev en by
his cousin, Mr. Smollett of Bonhill. *
To a handsome person, and an address at once dignified
and engaging, Smollett added colloquial powers of the
highest order. His irascible passions were strong, but his
social affections were not less so. If it is remembered that
his personal and political prejudices were intense, let it not
be forgotten that zealous friendship and ardent patriotism
were among the number. He was improvident, for his
hand was only closed to the necessities of others when he
had nothing to bestow. He was a man of undaunted reso¬
lution, and lofty independence of mind. He was vindictive,
but not implacable, and melted at the first appearance of
contrition in those who had injured him. He was jealous
of his fame, his sole possession, but he envied that ot no
other man, whether deserved or otherwise. Of Smollett,
as an author, it may be truly said, that of the many different
kinds of composition which he has attempted, there is none
to which he has not communicated peculiar graces; nor can
wre hesitate for a moment in adding his name to the scanty
list of those who have extended the limits of intellectual
SMOOTH Island, on the east coast of Van Diemens
Land, in Norfolk Bay, about three-quarters of a mile long.
SMUGGLERS, persons who import or export prohibit¬
ed goods without paying the duties appointed by the law.
When we consider the nature, and still more the history
of mankind, we must allow that the enacting of severe
penal laws is not the way to prevent crimes. It is in¬
deed much to be wished that there were no such thing as
a political crime; for the generality of men, but especially
the poorer classes, not discerning the propriety or utility ot
such laws, consider them as oppressive and tyrannical, and
never hesitate to violate them when they can do it with
impunity. Instead therefore of punishing smugglers, it
would be much better to remove the temptation. But the
high duties which have been imposed upon the importation
of many different sorts of foreign goods, in order to dis¬
courage their consumption in Great Britain, have m many
cases served only to encourage smuggling ; and in all cases
have reduced the revenue of the customs below what moie
moderate duties would have afforded. The saying of Dr.
Swift, that in the arithmetic of the customs two and two, in¬
stead of making four, make sometimes only one, holds per¬
fectly true with regard to such heavy duties, which never
could have been imposed, had not the mercantile sys em
taught us, in many cases, to employ taxation as an instru¬
ment, not of revenue, but of monopoly.
The bounties which are sometimes given upon trie
portation of home produce and manufactures, and the draw¬
backs which are paid upon the re-exportation of the greater
part of foreign goods, have given occasion to many trail,
and to a species of smuggling more destructive of t P
revenue than any other. In order to obtain the bounty
drawback, the goods, it is well known, are sometimess p
ped and sent to sea, but soon afterwards clandestinely
landed in some other part of the country.
Heavy duties being imposed upon almost all goo
ported, our merchant importers smuggle as much, and ra ^
entry of as little as they can. Our merchant expo ,
the contrary, make entry of more than they export,
times out S’vanity, an/to pass for great dealers in goods
which pay no duty; and sometimes to gain a bounty^^^
drawback. Our exports, m consequence of the ^ ^
frauds, appear upon the custom-house books g > ^
balance our imports ; to the unspeakable comfort o
i |?r to the narrative* of Dr.Anderson and Dr. Moor.
S M Y
rna. politicians who measure the national prosperity by what
they call the balance of trade.
SMYRNA, a large commercial city of Asia Minor, situ¬
ated at the head of a long and winding gulph on the west¬
ern coast of the Grecian Archipelago, and, with the excep¬
tion of Constantinople, the most important sea-port of the
Turkish empire. It has an imposing appearance from the
sea; and its bay, besides numerous small craft, is frequent¬
ed by ships from the chief ports of Europe. The present
town is about four miles in circuit, and extends about a
mile along the water. The bay is so completely land¬
locked, that nothing is seen from the tow n but the projecting
points that enclose it. The interior of the city is not so
inviting as its aspect from without. The streets are nar¬
row, dirty, and ill-paved, and the houses are for the most
part unseemly wooden edifices; but though their external
appearance is rather gloomy, the situation of those built
along the water is delightful, as they have all gardens at¬
tached to them, at the foot of which are summer-houses
overlooking the sea. Of late years Smyrna has been great¬
ly improved, and well-built hotels and excellent lodging-
houses now invite the traveller to a city where, we are as¬
sured, not only the “ decencies of house-keeping and house¬
furnishing, but the comforts and luxuries of life flow' in abun¬
dantly from London and from Paris.” The houses of paint¬
ed wood, which were so unworthy of its ancient fame, are
rapidly giving way to palaces of stone, which are rising in
all directions ; and in the course of a few years Smyrna will
really be an elegant city, with every indication of prosperity
and opulence. The bazaars, though well provided with
goods, are by no means splendid in their structure. There
are two very fine caravanseras, enclosing square courts,
which, being covered wfith cupolas, make a handsome ap¬
pearance. The shops are also arched over, and are very
fine. The principal buildings are the mosques, the baths,
the inns, and the market-place. Some of the mosques are very
noble edifices ; and likewise the inns, as already remarked.
At the east end of the city is a large hill, about three quarters
ofamile in circumference, on which the castle was built.
The edifice appears to have been the work of the Genoese,
and to have been by no means magnificent. Along its cir¬
cumference, however, may still be traced the remains of a
very thick and strong wall, apparently that of the ancient
castle, and corresponding in its appearance with another
which appears to have surrounded the whole city. Behind
the city is an extensive plain, most luxuriant and highly
cultivated, and crowned with numerous olive-trees; it is
watered by a small river, from fifty to a hundred yards
road, which contains little water, unless when artificially
confined. Of the former magnificence of this ancient city,
scarcely any traces are now to be seen. The reason of
this is stated by Pococke to be, that the ancient struc¬
tures have been demolished to furnish materials for mo¬
dern ones ; and a more recent traveller, Arundel, assigns
much the same reason. The present does not occupy
,e of the ancient city. The latter was situated on
me lulls, to the south of the present town ; but the earth¬
quakes to which it is subject, and by which it was more
man once nearly destroyed, together with the greater con-
'emence of trade, occasioned its removal to the plain below,
ana to the lower declivities of the mountains ; and accord-
mgiy it is observed by Mr. Arundel, that “few of the
oman cities have furnished more relics of antiquity, or of
r?erit’ than Smyrna- But the convenience of trans-
Ln !f J ^ie numl>er of investigations, have ex-
iiausted the rums ; it is therefore not at all wonderful, that
e stoas and temples, the very ruins have vanished; and
of th °W difficult to determine the sites of any
the iLanfCiem knddings, with the exception of the stadium,
within !ire’ t lf. temPle of Jupiter Acraeus, which was
ie Acropolis. Of the stadium here mentioned,
S M Y
429
the ground-plan only remains, stript of its marble seats and Smyrna,
decorations; and only the foundations can be seen of the'
splendid theatre, built on the slope of a hill, the site of
which is now covered with houses. On a gateway belong¬
ing to the castle is a colossal statue of very fine workman¬
ship, though much mutilated, which has been supposed to
be that of the Amazon Smyrna, from which the city is re¬
ported to have derived its name. Marks of a very exten¬
sive aqueduct may also be traced, though a late traveller
doubts of its very high antiquity.
Smyrna is increasing in population and in wealth. It is
a great commercial emporium, and a crowded resort of mer¬
chants from all countries, with their various costumes, lan¬
guage, and religion. It is the most general entrepot for
the productions of the Levant, and its port is crowded with
ships from the most distant ports. It has a safe and capa¬
cious roadstead, where there is good anchorage, and where
the largest ships can load and unload close to the w harfs.
Nearly every power in Europe has a consul at Smyrna, who
is vested with more than ordinary authority. There are
about twenty commercial houses at Smyrna ; and the Ve¬
netians, Genoese, and other Italians, the Dalmatians, Dutch,
French, and Americans, have also establishments. No other
town in Asiatic or European Turkey has so great a trade.
All classes are engaged in business. The higher order of
Franks deal often to a great extent; while the lower classes,
consisting of persons from nearly every country in the Me¬
diterranean, obtain employment as boatmen, carpenters,
tailors, shoemakers, and the trade is carried on by Jews,
mostly brokers. The Greek dealers are in general petty
shopkeepers, very cunning, and not remarkably trustwor¬
thy. The Jewrs are liable to the same objections, but they
often guarantee each other’s transactions. The Armenians
are the largest traffickers, but though usually strict at a
bargain, they are generally solvent, and honourable as well
as honest. The I urkish dealers, are, however, superior to
them in all moral qualities, as they are inferior in means
and in talents for business ; yet they sometimes deal large¬
ly, and their bond is punctually discharged the day it be¬
comes due.
The largest article of import is coffee, the favourite be¬
verage of all classes in Turkey and Western Asia. The chief
supply is derived from America, from England, France,
also in smaller quantities from Holland, Trieste, Leghorn,
and Genoa. Sugar is the next article in importance, and
the supply is furnished by the same countries which sup¬
ply coffee. Indigo is exclusively imported from England.
Ihe exports from Smyrna consist of silk from Brassa,
about two hundred miles from Smyrna, which is forward¬
ed by caravans to this port, and is the richest article of ex¬
port. This branch of trade promises to increase, as there
is so great a demand for the raw' material in Britain. Opium
is largely exported, particularly to America, whence it has
found its way to China, though the trade is now vigorously
proscribed by the Chinese authorities, and has caused the
expulsion of the English from the port of Canton. Drugs
and gums are exported to the English market; galls
for England, Germany, France, and Valona or Avlona, a
sea-port in European Turkey at the entrance of the Gulf of
Venice. British shipping receives full cargoes of this more
than of any other article, with the exception of fruit. These,
w ith madder, sponges, olive-oil, w'ax, hare-skins, goats and
sheep’s w'ool, complete the articles of export. Figs and raisins
may be considered as the great staple article of Smyrna,
which are celebrated for their excellence, and are exported
in large quantities. The exports from this country to Smyrna
are increasing. From 1827 to 1830, they had increased from
L.531,/04 to L. 1,139,616, nine-tenths of which were cotton
goods, for which there is a great desire, being cheaper than
those from any other quarter; and the late commercial treaty
concluded with Turkey in 1838 will extend this trade.
4S0
Snaffle.
II.
Sneezing.
SNA
Smyrna is well supplied with provisions, with fish and
fruit of all kinds, and with excellent wines from the inte¬
rior or from the islands. Of late years a great change has
taken place in the manners and character of its inhabitants.
Mr. Arundel, who resided many years in the place as 1m-
tish chaplain, has stated that numerous printing-presses,
and journals in the different languages, viz. French, Eng¬
lish, Greek, and Italian, have familiarised the inhabitants
of Smyrna with the politics and literature of Europe.
Even a few years ago, the Greek youths of Smyrna had no
other means of acquiring knowledge, but very inferior dav-
schools and private instruction. There are now not only
several seminaries, one dignified with the name of a college,
for the education of the French youth of both sexes, but
likewise for the Greeks there are various free schools, where
numerous pupils not only learn the rudiments of know¬
ledge, but also every branch of polite literature. 1 here is a
public dispensary, where persons of all nations are gratui¬
tously relieved without regard to any distinction of religion.
It is not easy to form an accurate account of the popula¬
tion Mr. Arundel estimates the number of inhabitants
from 100,000 to 120,000. There are twenty mosques,
three Greek churches, two for Roman. Catholics, one Ar¬
menian, one Protestant Episcopal, and one Dutch. I he
Jews have numerous synagogues, and the environs are
adorned with cypress groves, the burial-places of the Ma¬
hometans. , , ,
Smyrna was one of the most celebrated cities in the an¬
cient world, and claims, along with others, to be the birth¬
place of Homer. It is said originally to have been a co¬
lony from Ephesus, and soon attained to great prosperity.
The original city was destroyed by the Lydians, and was
rebuilt by Antigonus and Lysimachus, though on a some¬
what different spot. It surpassed its former splendour : the
streets were beautifully laid out, well paved, and adorned
with porticoes. Under the Roman emperors, Smyrna,
which was esteemed one of the most beautiful of the
Ionian cities, was ruined by the desolations of the barbarians.
It was captured by Tamerlane, and sacked, with great
slaughter of the inhabitants. When the Turks gained un¬
disputed possession of the Greek empire, and peace was
restored, commerce again revived, owing to the favourable
position of the place; and from that period it enjoyed al¬
most uninterrupted repose, until the era of the Greek revo¬
lution. That event has now passed away, and bmyrna is
prospering as the greatest commercial city in the Levant.
Long. 27. 4. 45. E. Lat. 38. 29- IN-
SNAFFLE, in the manege, is a very slender bit-moutn
without any branches. It is much used in England, the
true bridles being reserved for war.
SNAITH, a town in the Wapentake of Osgoldcross, in
the West Riding of the county of York, one hundred and
seventy-four miles from London. It stands on the naviga¬
ble river Aire, in a pleasant situation. The inhabitants
were in 1801, 688; in 1811, 743 ; in 1821, 834; and
in 1831, 885; but the inhabitants of the whole parish are
8530.
SNAKE, in Zoology. See Serpents.
SNARES, a cluster of seven craggy islands in the 8outft
Pacific Ocean, discovered by Vancouver. Long. 166. 20.
E. Lat. 48. 3. S. , , . , . ,
SNEEK, a town in the Netherlands, in the province ot
Friesland, the capital of a circle of the same name. It is
situated on a canal connected with Leuwarden, a place of
much activity, having many saw and oil mills, and some ma¬
nufactories of pottery ware, and exporting much corn. It
contains two churches, a stadthouse, and 6455 inhabitants.
SNEEZING, a convulsive motion of the muscles of the
S N E
breast, by which the air is expelled from the nose with Snead
much vehemence and noise. It is caused by the irritation
of the upper membrane of the nose, excited by acrid
substances floating in the air, or by medicines called ster¬
nutatory.
This irritation is occasioned either externally, by strong
smells, or bv dust floating in the air, and taken in by inspi¬
ration ; or by sharp pungent medicines, as cresses and other
sternutatories, which vellicate the membrane of the nose;
or internally, by the acrimony of the lympha or mucus,
which naturally moistens that membrane. The matter cast
forth in sneezing comes primarily from the nose and throat,
the pituitary membrane continually exuding a mucus; and,
secondarily, from the breast, the trachea, and the bronchia
of the lungs. .
The practice of saluting the person who sneezed existed
in Africa, among nations unknown to the Greeks and Ro¬
mans. The accounts we have of Momomotapa inform us,1
that when the prince sneezes, all his subjects in the capi¬
tal are advertised of it, that they may offer up prayers for
his safety. The author of the Conquest of Peru assures
us, that the cacique of Guaehoia having sneezed in presence
of the Spaniards, the Indians of his train fell prostrate be¬
fore him, stretched forth their hands, and displayed to him
the accustomed marks of respect, while they invoked the
sun to enlighten him, to defend him, and to be his constant
S Every body knows that the Romans saluted each other
on these occasions: and Pliny relates,2 that liberius ex¬
acted these signs of homage when drawn in his chariot.
Superstition, whose influence can debase every thing, had
degraded this custom for several ages, by attaching favour¬
able or unfavourable omens to sneezing, according to the
hour of the day or night, according to the signs of the zo¬
diac, according as a work was more or less advanced, or ac¬
cording as one had sneezed to the right or to the left.3 If
a man sneezed at rising from table or from his bed, it was
necessary for him to sit or lie down again. You are struck
with astonishment, said Timotheus to the Athenians, who
wished to return into the harbour with their fleet,4 because
he had sneezed ; you are struck with astonishment, because
among ten thousand there is one man whose brain is
moist. , . „ „
Polydore Virgil pretends, that in the time of Gregory
the Great, there reigned in Italy an epidemic distemper,
which carried off by sneezing all those who were seized by
it; and that this pontiff ordered prayers to be made against
it, accompanied by certain signs of the cross. But besides
that there are very few cases in which sneezing can be
considered as dangerous, and that it is frequently a favour¬
able symptom,5 it is evident, that we ought not to date from
the sixth century the origin of a custom which loses itsel
in the obscurity of antiquity. Avicenna and Cardan aver that
it is a sort of convulsion, which gives occasion to dread an
epilepsy, and that this disease is endeavoured to be warded
off by prayers. Clement of Alexandria considers it as a
mark of intemperance and effeminacy, which ought to be
proscribed ; and he inveighs bitterly against those who en¬
deavour to procure sneezing by external aid. Montaigne,
on the contrary, explains this fact in a tone rather cymca.
It is singular enough, that so many ridiculous, contra ic-
tory, and superstitious opinions, have not abolished ^
customary civilities which are still preserved equally among
high and low; and which only the Anabaptists and Huake
have rejected, because they have renounced salutations
every case. , _„n(i
Among the Greeks sneezing was almost always a g
omen. It excited marks of tenderness, of respect, an
1 Strada, Prol Acad.
* Frontin. lib. i. cap. 11.
2 Plin. Hist. Nat. lib. ii. cap. 2.
s Hippocrates. Halleri Pbys.
5 Spend. Comment, in Homerum.
s n r
ling, tachment. The genius of Socrates informed him by sneez¬
ing, when it was necessary to perform any action. The
young Parthenis, hurried on by her passion, resolved to
write to Sarpedon an avowal of her love; she sneezes in the
most tender and impassioned part of her letter : this is suf¬
ficient for her; this incident supplies the place of an an¬
swer, and persuades her that Sarpedon is her lover. Pene¬
lope, harassed by the vexatious courtship of her suitors, be¬
gins to curse them all, and to pour forth vows for the return
of Ulysses. Her son Telemachus interrupts her by a loud
sneeze. She instantly exults with joy, and regards this
sign as an assurance of the approaching return of her hus¬
band. Xenophon was haranguing his troops; a soldier
sneezed in the moment when he was exhorting them to em¬
brace a dangerous but necessary resolution. The whole
army, moved by this presage, determined to pursue the
project of their general; and Xenophon ordered sacrifices
to Jupiter the preserver.
This religious reverence for sneezing, so ancient, and so
universal even in the times of Homer, always excited the
curiosity of the Greek philosophers, and of the rabbins.
These last have spread a tradition, that, after the creation
of the world, God made a general law to this purport, that
every living man should sneeze but once in his life, and that
at the same instant he should render up his soul into the
hand of his Creator, without any preceding indisposition.
Jacob obtained an exemption from the common law, and
the favour of being informed of his last hour. He sneezed
and did not die ; and this sign of death was changed into a
sign of life. Notice of this was sent to all the princes of
the earth ; and they ordained that in future sneezing should
be accompanied with forms of blessing, and vows for the
persons who sneezed.
Aristotle likewise remounts to the sources of natural re¬
ligion. He observes, that the brain is the origin of the
nerves, of our sentiments, our sensations, the seat of the
soul, the image of the Divinity; that upon all these accounts,
the substance of the brain has ever been held in honour ;
that the first men swore by their head; that they durst not
touch nor eat the brains of any animal; that it was even a
sacred word which they dared not to pronounce. Filled
with these ideas, it is not wonderful that they extended their
reverence even to sneezing. Such is the opinion of the
most ancient and sagacious philosophers of Greece.
According to mythology, the first sign of life Prome¬
theus s artificial man gave was by sternutation. This sup¬
posed creator is said to have stolen a portion of the solar
rays; and filling with them a phial, which he had made on
purpose, sealed it up hermetically. He instantly flies back
to Ins favourite automaton, and opening the phial, holds it
close to the statue; the rays still retaining all their activity,
insinuate themselves through the pores, and set the fictitious
man a-sneezmg. Prometheus, transported with the success
o is machine, offers up a fervent prayer, with wishes for
6 Pre®ervation of so singular a being. His automaton ob¬
served him, and, remembering his ejaculatious, was verycare-
m, on the like occasions, to offer these wishes in behalf of
>s descendants, who perpetuated it from father to son in
all their colonies.
in f,Nl^GLING’ a method of fishing for eels, chiefly used
ie day time, when they are found to hide themselves
e^r wears> mills, or flood-gates.
SXT ^Ce Gbnithoi'ogy*
thn V 0W’ a£.well-kn°wn meteor, formed by the freezing of
and 0 water in the atmosphere. It differs from hail
are nTa? 10 be'ng aS lt were crystallized, which they
n. Jn7- lh‘saPPears in examining a flake of snow by a
the who,e ofit wil1 aPPear to be
cent?! a bne/,nnmg sPicula Merging like rays from a
thev aL S • ,, es ^ down through the atmosphere,
y are continually joined bv more of those radiated sni.
S N O
cula, and thus increase in bulk like the drops of rain or
hailstones. Dr. Grew, in a discourse of the nature of snow,
observes, that many parts thereof are of a regular figure, for
the most part stars of six points, and are as perfect and
transparent ice as any we see on a pond. Upon each of
these points are other collateral points, set at the same an¬
gles as the main points themselves ; among which there
are divers other irregular, which are chiefly broken points,
and fragments of the regular ones. Others also, by various
windfe; seem to have been thawed and frozen again into ir-
regukr clusters, so that it seems as if the whole body of
snow were an infinite mass of icicles irregularly figured ;
that is, a cloud of vapours being gathered into drops, the
said drops forthwith descend ; 'upon which descent, meet¬
ing with a freezing air as they pass through a colder region,
each drop is immediately frozen into an icicle, shooting it¬
self forth into several points; but these still continuing
their descent, and meeting with some intermitting gales of
warmer air, or in their continual waftage to and fro, touch¬
ing upon each other, some of them are a little thawed,
blunted, and again frozen into clusters, or entangled so as
to fall down in what we call flakes.
The lightness of snow, although it is, firm ice, is ow¬
ing to the excess of its surface, in comparison to the
mattei contained under it; as gold itself may be ex¬
tended in surface till it ride upon the least breath of air.
The whiteness of snow is owing to the small particles in¬
to which it is divided ; for ice, when pounded, will become
equally white. An artificial snow has been made by the
following experiment. A tall phial of aquafortis being
placed by the fire till it is warm, and filings of pure silver,
a few at a time, being put into it, after a brisk ebullition,
the silver will dissolve slowly. The phial being then placed
in a cold window, as it cools, the silver particles will shoot
into crystals, several of which running together, will form a
flake of snow, which will descend to the bottom of the
phial. While they are descending, they represent perfect¬
ly a shower of silver snow, and the flakes will lie upon one
another at the bottom, like real snow upon the ground.
According to Signor Beccaria, clouds of snow differ in
nothing from clouds of rain, but in the circumstance of cold
that freezes them. Both the regular diffusion of the snow,
and the regularity of the structure of its parts, particularly
some figures of snow or hail which fall about Turin, show,
that clouds of snow are acted upon by some uniform cause
like electricity ; and he endeavours to show how electricity
is capable of forming these figures. He was confirmed in
his conjectures by perceiving, that his apparatus for observ¬
ing the electricity of the atmosphere never failed to be elec¬
trified by snow as well as rain. Professor Winthrop some¬
times found his apparatus electrified by snow when driven
about by the wind, though it had not been affected by it
when the snow itself was falling. A more intense electri¬
city, according to Beccaria, unites the particles of hail more
closely than the more moderate electricity does those of
snow, in the same manner as we see that the drops of rain
which fall from thunder-clouds are larger than those which
fall from others, though the former descend through a less
space.
But we are not to consider snow merely as a curious and
beautiful phenomenon. I he Great Dispenser of universal
bounty has so ordered it, that it is eminently subservient,
as well as all the works of creation, to his benevolent de-
signs. Were we to judge from appearances only, we might
imagine, that so far from being useful to the earth, the cold
humidity of snow would be detrimental to vegetation. But
the experience of all ages asserts the contrary. Snow, par¬
ticularly in those northern regions where the ground is co¬
vered with it for several months, fructifies the earth, by
guarding the corn or other vegetables from the intenser cold
of the air, and especially from the cold piercing winds.
431
Snow.
1
432
Snowdon
II
Soap.
S N O
S O A
Srtow or ice water is always deprived of its fixed air, when cold; not subject to become moist by exposure to S*
posing the snow-water to the air for some time. B«t seve- corrected or black che r oilsare
ral eminent physm.ans have rejected the notmnthat = e^^oilof Js;oSf hemp^ &*. These soaps, ex¬
water is the cause ot these wens, ^ ’ f_ ceL^ in consistence, are not essentially different from white
snow-water is commonly used, the inhabitants ae p i ^ n re mucb disposed to unite with oils that
f^oiflt^n^NovemberJand is seldom melted till the middle
its causticity, and its other saline alkaline properties are al¬
most entirely abolished. The same oil contained in soap
is less combustible than when pure, from its union with the
alkali, which is an inflammable body. It is miscible, or even
soluble, in water, to a certain degree, by means of the al¬
kali. Soap is entirely soluble in spirit of wine; and still
better in aquavitae sharpened by a little alkaline salt, accord-
. .  IV/Tv
of June. It is easily accessible in several directions. The
view from the summit is extensive and grand, on a clear
day, which does not often occur. The hills of Scotland are
to be seen, with a part ot the coast, as well as the Isle o
Man; and the hills of Lancashire, Westmoreland, and Cum¬
berland, and, in some very translucent days, the hills ot
Kerry, in Ireland, have been perceived. The mountain ot
began ta the
werp in 1579, and bred under his coun ryman y . _ • before which time this city was served with white
it. He was made painter to Ferdinand and Isabella, arch- pound-
duke and duchess, and became attached to the house ot the
cardinal infant of Spain. The king ot Spain and the elec¬
tor Palatine adorned their palaces with huntings by this ar¬
tist. Rubens, Jordaens, and Snyders, used to co-operate in
the enriching of each other’s pictures according to their se
veral talents
Concerning the decomposition of soap by means of acids,
we must observe, first, that all acids, even the weakest ve¬
getable acids, may occasion this decomposition, because
everv one of them has a greater affinity than oil with fixed
alkali. Secondly, these acids, even when united with any
ancTthus'they valuable than ff
finished by either of them singly. Snyders died in 1657.
SOAGHIM, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta terri¬
tories, province of Malwah, sixty miles west from Ooojain.
Long. 74.50. E. Lat. 23. 12. N.
SOANE Rivek has its rise on the east of the table land
of Omercuntire, in the province of Gundwana. It flows
through Pindarah, where, being joined by numerous other
streams from the north-east side of this mountainous terri¬
tory, it proceeds in a northerly course to the Ganges,
which it joins in the province of Bahar, after a winding
course of about five hundred miles.
SOANK, a small river of Hindustan, in the province of
same decomposition; whence all ammoniacal salts,all salts
with bases of earth, and all those with metallic bases, are
capable of decomposing soap, in the same manner as disen-
Saied acids are; with this difference,that the oil separated
from the fixed alkali, by the acid of these salts, may unite
more or less intimately with the substance which was the
basis of the neutral salt employed for the decomposiuon.
Soap may also be decomposed by distillation, as Lemery
has shown. When first exposed to fire, it yields a phlegm
called by him a spirit; which nevertheless is neither acid
nor alkaline, but some water which enters into the compo¬
sition of soap. It becomes more and more coloured an
SOANK, a small river ot Hindustan, in the province ot siuuii m . d which shows that it
Bahar, whence it flows in a southerly direction, and being empyieuma ic . , p tj e 0q jt seenis even to
joined by theraU river Borkee, .heir united streams form acL of thefire,
‘ soSTc^pStiroVcaustic, fixed alkaline salh and a small part of.thc “S^apredpSateTnTsdutionofcon
oil, sometimes hard and dry, sometimes soft and liquid; mist observes, i 0L this phleirm the oil rises altered,
much used in washing, whitening linens, and by dyers and rosive subim a . t ^ icklime, that is,
fullers. Soap may be made by several methods, which precisely a^ itJV* , . . .. ,• wine at first sufficiently
however all depend upon the same principle. The soap empyreumatic, ‘d An alkaline residuous coal
which is used in medicine is made without heat. subtle and afterwards thicker. An alkaline ^
In manufactures where large quantities of it are prepared, remains in t ic re or > con i ‘ » disengaged from
soap is made with heat. A lixivium of quicklime and soda contained in the a"d obtained in its
is made, but is less concentrated than that above referred the coal by calcination map - ,
to, and only so much that it can sustain a fresh egg. A pure state. monv arts and trades,
part of this lixivium is to be even diluted and mixed with Alkaline soaps are ve^ u , Their principal utility
an equal weight of oil of olives. The mixture is to be put and dl,en;ist7 ' fLi their
on a gentle tire, and agitated, that the union may be acce- consists m a detersive qua y saturated with
lerated. When this mixture begins to unite well, the rest alkali, which, althoug 0;iv matters and often-
of the lixivium is to be added to it; and the whole is to be oil, is yet capable of acting upon ody "latter^ and ^
divested with a very gentle heat, till the soap be complete- denng them saponaceous and , from all fat
K made. 4 trial is to be made of it, to examine whether soap is very use u to cleanse
L“ st proportion of oil and alkali has been observed, matters with
Good soap of this kind ought to be firm, and very white fore daily used tor the washing ana wmten D
S O A
the cleansing of woollen cloths from oil, and for whitening
silk and freeing it from the resinous varnish with which it
is naturally covered. Pure alkaline lixiviums being capa¬
ble of dissolving oils more effectually than soap, might be
employed for the same purposes; but when this activity is
not mitigated by oil, as it is in soap, they are capable of al¬
tering, and even of destroying entirely, by their causticity,
most substances, especially animal matters, as silk, wool, and
S O A 433
others; whereas suap cleanses from oil almost as effectually Society,
as pure alkali, without danger of altering or destroying; y *
a circumstance which renders it very useful.
Soap was imperfectly known to the ancients. It is men¬
tioned by Pliny as made of fat and ashes, and as an inven¬
tion of the Gauls. Aretaeus and others inform us, that the
Greeks obtained their knowledge of its medical use from
the Romans.
m following TabU shows the quantity of Soap charged with the duties of Excise in the United Kingdom during; the y
18d5, J8db, and 1837, and the number of Soap-makers during the same period, with the duties paid by them.
ears
Hard Soap, lbs.
Soft Soap 
Soao-makers....
Quantities Charged.
1835.
148,806,207
12,103,109
450
1836.
146,539,210
13,358,894
432
1837.
140,822,611
11,794,834
402
Amount of Duty.
1835.
£930,038 15 8
50,429 12 5
1,800 0 0
1836.
1837.
£915,860 18 4|
55,662 1 2
1,728 0 0
£880,141 6
49,145 2
1,608 0
3
10
0
The direct duty charged on hard soap is l^d. per lb., and
on soft soap Id. per lb. Previously to June 1833, the duty
on hard soap was 3d. per lb. The exorbitant amount of the
tax, which was fully 100 per cent, on the cost, gave occa¬
sion to a great deal of smuggling, which is still carried on to
some extent, and is facilitated by the injudicious regulation
of taxing this commodity in one part of the kingdom, and
leaving it untaxed in another; no duty being charged on
soap manufactured in Ireland, and the duty being drawn
back from such quantities as are imported into Ireland from
Britain.
efinit
SOCAGE, in its most general and extensive significa¬
tion, seems to denote a tenure by any certain and determi¬
nate service. And in this sense it is by our ancient writers
constantly put in opposition to chivalry or knight-service,
where the tenure was precarious and uncertain. The ser¬
vice must therefore be certain, in order to denominate it
socage; as to hold by fealty and twenty shillings rent; or,
by homage, fealty, and twenty shillings rent; or, by homage
and fealty without rent; or, by fealty and certain corporal
service, as ploughing the lord’s land for three days; or, by
fealty only without any other service; for all these are te¬
nures in socage.
Socage is of two sorts: /rce-socage, where the services
are not only certain but honourable; and villein socage,
where the services, though certain, are of a baser nature.
Such as hold by the former tenure are called, in Glanville
and other subsequent authors, by the name of liberi soke-
manm, or tenants in free-socage. The word is derived from
the Saxon appellation soc, which signifies liberty or privi-
ege, and, being joined to an usual termination, it forms
m Latin socagium, signifying a free or privileged
It seems probable that the socage-tenures were the relics
of Saxon liberty; retained by such persons as had neither
orteited them to the king, nor been obliged to exchange
t teir tenure for the more honourable, as it was called, but
at the same time more bunhensome, tenure of knight-ser-
vice. This is peculiarly remarkable in the tenure which
pievails m Kent, called gavelkind, which is generally ac-
nowedged to be a species of socage-tenure; and its pre-
• Vat‘on trom the innovations of the Norman conqueror
, a , ^ universally known. And those who thus pre-
„ 6 tleir liberties w ere said to hold in free and common
socage.
ed a num^er °f rational and moral beings, unit-
,r c,ommon preservation and happiness. There
oals of fishes, herds of quadrupeds, and flocks of birds.
vol. xx.
We call crows and beavers, and several other species of
animals, gregarious; but it is hardly good English to say
that they are social. It is only human society that can be
regarded in this light, and the phenomena which it presents
are highly worthy of our notice.
Such are the advantages which each individual evidently Mankind
derives from living in a social state; and so helpless does the only
anv human being appear in a solitary state, that we are na- social be-
turally led to conclude, that if there ever wras a period at'"g® subject
which mankind were solitary beings, that period could nott0 our.ob'
be of long duration; for their aversion to solitude and love servat‘on*
of society would soon induce them to enter into social union.
Such is the opinion which we are led to conceive when we
compare our own condition as members of civilised and en¬
lightened society with that of the brutes around us, or with
that of savages in the earlier and ruder periods of social life.
When we hear of Indians wandering naked through the »
woods, destitute of arts, unskilled in agriculture, scarcely ca- and Tsa
pable of moral distinctions, void of all religious sentiments, Vage state,
or possessed with the most absurd notions concerning su¬
perior powers, and procuring means of subsistence in a man¬
ner equally precarious with that of the beasts of prey, w e
look down with pity on their condition, or turn from it with
horror. When we view the order of cultivated society, and
consider our institutions, arts, and manners, wre rejoice over
our superior wisdom and happiness. Man in a civilized state
appears a being of a superior order to man in a savage state;
yet some philosophers tell us, that it is only he who, having-
been educated in society, has been taught to depend upon
others, that can be helpless or miserable when placed in a
solitary state. I hey view the savage w ho exerts himself
with intrepidity to supply his wants, or bears them with
fortitude, as the greatest hero, and possessing the greatest
happiness.
Whatever be the supposed advantages of a solitary state,
certain it is that mankind, at the earliest periods, were unit¬
ed in society. Various theories have been formed concern-
ing the circumstances and principles which gave rise to this
union ; but it has been sufficiently proved, that the greater
part of them are founded in error; that they suppose the ori¬
ginal state of man to have been that of savages; and that such
a supposition is contradicted by the most authentic records
of antiquity. For though the records of the earlier ages are
generally obscure, fabulous, and imperfect, yet happily there
is one free from the imperfections of the rest, and of un¬
doubted authenticity, tow'hichwe may safely have recourse.
I his record is the Pentateuch of Moses, wdiich presents us
with a genuine account of the origin of man and of society.
3 i
434
s o c
Societies.
SOCIETIES, associations voluntarily formed by a num-
'ber of individuals for promoting knowledge, industry, or
virtue. They may therefore be divided into three classes,
societies for promoting science and literature, societies 01
encouraging and promoting arts and manutactures, and so¬
cieties for diffusing religion and morality and relieving dis-
tress. These, however, are so numerous and fluctuating,
that it would be difficult to offer any thing like an accurate
account of them. The reader is referred tor information on
the subject to the articles, London, Dublin, Edinburgh,
and the other towns and countries where these institute
have been established. We shall only notice the Royal bo-
cieties of London and Edinburgh. , , c
The Royal Society of London is an academy or body of
persons of eminent learning, instituted by Charles H
the promoting of all the different branches of physical know¬
ledge. The origin of this society is traced by Dr. Sprat, its
earliest historian, no farther back than to « some space after
the end of the civil wars” in the seventeenth century. 1 e
scene of the first meetings of the learned men who laid the
foundation of it, is by him fixed in the university of OxM,
at the lodgings of Dr. Wilkins, warden of W adnam College.
But Dr. Birch, on the authority of Dr. Wallis, one of its ear¬
liest and most considerable members, assigns it an earlier
origin. According to him, certain worthy persons, residing
in London about the year 1645, being “inquisitive into na¬
tural and the new and experimental philosophy, agreed to
meet weekly on a certain day, to discourse upon such su -
iects, and were known by the title of ihe Invisible ox Phi-
\osophical Colleger In the years 1648 and 1649, the com¬
pany who formed these meetings was divided, pait retiring
to Oxford and part remaining in London; but they conti¬
nued the same pursuits as when united, corresponding with
each other, and giving a mutual account of their respective
discoveries. About the year 1659 the greater part of the
Oxford society returned to London, and again uniting wi i
their fellow-labourers, met once, if not twice a-week at
Gresham College, during term-time, till they were scattered
bv the public distractions of that year, and the place ot
their meeting made quarters for soldiers. On the restora¬
tion in 1660 their meetings were revived, and attended by a
greater concourse of men eminent for their rank and learn-
hpr They were at last taken notice of by the king, who
having himself a considerable taste for physical science, was
pleased to grant them an ample charter, dated the 15t i o
July 1662, and afterwards a second dated loth April 1663,
bv Which they were erected into a corporation, consisting
of a president, council, and fellows, for promoting natural
knowledge; and to give their investigations, against which
strange prejudices were entertained, every possible support,
he sometimes honoured their meetings with his presence.
Their manner of electing fellows is by balloting. I heir
council consists of twenty-one, including the president,
vice-president, treasurer, and two secretaries, eleven o
which are continued for the next year, and ten more added
to them; all being chosen on St. Andrew’s day.
The services which this illustrious society has rendeie
to the public are very great. They have improved naval,
civil, and military architecture ; advanced the security and
perfection of navigation ; improved agriculture; and put
not only this kingdom, but also Ireland, the plantations, fxc.,
upon planting. They have registered experiments, histones,
relations, observations, &c., and reduced them into one com¬
mon stock; and have, from time to time, published those
which they reckoned most useful, under the title ot Philo¬
sophical Transactions, &c. They have a library adapted to
their institution ; towards which Mr. Henry Howard, after¬
wards duke of Norfolk, contributed the Norfolcian library,
and which has been vastly increased by a continual series
of benefactions. , , ,
The Royal Society of Edinburgh was incorporated by
s o C
royal charter on the 29th of March l / 83,. and has for its Sock
object the cultivation of every branch of science, erudition, 1
and taste. Its rise and progress towards its present state ^
was as follows. In the year 1718 a literary society was es- -
tablished in Edinburgh by the learned Ruddiman and others,
which in 1731 was succeeded by a society instituted for the
improvement of medical knowledge. In the year 1739 the
celebrated Maclaurin conceived the idea of enlarging the
plan of this society, by extending it to subjects of philosophy
and literature. The institution was accordingly new-mo¬
delled by a printed set of laws and regulations, the number
of members was increased, and they were distinguished
from that time by the title of The Society for Improving
Arts and Sciences, or more generally by the title of i/ie
Philosophical Society of Edinburgh. Its meetings, how¬
ever, were soon interrupted by the disorders of the country
during the rebellion in 1745 ; and they were not renewed
till the year 1752. Soon after this period the first volume
of the Transactions of the Philosophical Society of Ldin-
bur<rh was published, under the title of Essays and Obser¬
vations, Physical and Literary, and was followed by other
volumes of acknowledged merit. About the end of the year
1782, in a meeting of the professors of the university of
Edinburgh, many of whom were likewise members of the
Philosophical Society, and warmly attached to its interests,
a scheme was proposed by the late Dr. Robertson, principal
of the university, for the establishment of a new society on
a more extended plan, and after the model of some of the
foreign academies. It appeared an expedient measure to
solicit the royal patronage to an institution of this nature,
which promised to be of national importance, and to request
an establishment by charter from the crown. The plan was
approved and adopted ; and the Philosophical Society, join¬
ing its influence as a body in seconding the application from
the university, his majesty, as we have already observed,
was graciously pleased to incorporate The Royal Society ot
Edinburgh by charter. . f
Members are elected by ballot. The general business ot
the society is managed by a president, two vice-presidents,
with a council of twelve, a general secretary, and a trea¬
surer. These officers are chosen by ballot annual y on the
last Monday of November. All public deeds, whether of
a civil or of a literary nature, are transacted by this board,
and proceed in the name of the president or vice-president.
As it was thought that the members would have a greater
inducement to punctual attendance on the meetings of the
society, if they had some general intimation of the nature o
the subjects which were to be considered, and made
pics of conversation, it was therefore resolved to divide th
society into two classes, which should meet ^d deliberate
separately. One of these classes is denominated the
sical Class, and has for its department the sciences of ma
thematics, natural philosophy, chemistry, med.cme, natma
history, and whatever relates to the
and manufactures. The other is denominated the
Class, and has for its department literature, Phll°| are
tory, antiquities, and speculative philosophy,
many valuable papers in the volumes that have bee p
lished of the Transactions of this society. Captain
Society Isles, a cluster of isles, so named by Captem
Cook in 1769- They are situated between the latitude ^
16. 10. and 16. 55. south, and between the longitude
150. 57. and 152. west. See Polynesia. he.
SOCINIANS, in church history, a sect of Cj nsUan
reties, so called from their founder Faustus Socmus. 4 >
maintain, “ that Jesus Christ was ^ ^e man who bad _
existence before he was conceived by the V irg ^
that the Holy Ghost is no distinct person, but that^ ^
ther is truly and properly God. Ihey ow » . but
of God is given in the Holy Scriptures to Jesus Chm .
contend, that it is only a deputed title, which however
is-
s o c
vests him with an absolute authority over all created bern°-s,
and renders him an object of worship to men and angels!
They deny the doctrines of satisfaction and imputed righte¬
ousness ; and say that Christ only preached the truth to
mankind, set before them in himself an example of heroic
virtue, and sealed his doctrines with his blood. Original
sin and absolute predestination they esteem scholastic chi-
They likewise maintain the sleep of the soul, which
s o c
435
meras.
«/ yji tllC 0CHII5 W111CI1
they say becomes insensible at death, and is raised a«-ain
with the body at the resurrection, when the good shalf be
established in the possession of eternal felicity, while the
wicked shall be consigned to a fire that will not torment
them eternally, but for a certain duration in proportion to
their demerits.”
This sect has long been indignant at being styled Soci-
mans. They disclaim every human leader ; and professing
to be guided solely by the word of God and the deductions
of reason, they call themselves Unitarians, and affect to
consides all other Christians, even their friends the Arians,
as Polytheists. Modern Unitarianism, as taught by Dr.
Priestley, is, however, a very different thing from Socinian-
ism, as we find it in the Racovian Catechism and other
standard works of the sect.
SOCINUS, L^lius, the first author of the sect of the
Socinians, was born at Sienna in Tuscany in 1525. Bein0-
designed by his father for the law, he began very early to
search for the foundation of that science in the word of
God; and by that study discovered that the Romish reli¬
gion taught many things contrary to revelation. Beino-
desirous of penetrating farther into the true sense of the
scriptures, he studied Greek, Hebrew, and even Arabic. In
1547 he left Italy, to go and converse with the Protestants ;
and spent four years in travelling through France, England,
the Netherlands, Germany, and Poland, and at length set¬
tled at Zurich. He by this means became acquainted with
the most learned men of his time, who testified by their let¬
ters the esteem which they had for him ; but as he discovered
to them his doubts, he was greatly suspected of heresy. He
however conducted himself with such address, that he lived
among the capital enemies of his opinions, without receiv¬
ing the least injury. He met with some disciples, who heard
his instructions with respect; these w'ere Italians who had left
their native country on account of religion, and wandered
about in Germany and Poland. He communicated likewise
his sentiments to his relations by his writings, which he
caused to be conveyed to them at Sienna. He died at Zu¬
rich m 1562. Those who were of sentiments opposite to
ns, and were personally acquainted with him, confess that
ms outward behaviour was blameless. He w rote a para¬
phrase on the first chapter of St. John ; and other works
are ascribed to him.
Socmus, Faustus, nephew of the preceding, and princi-
mQ0UTer ?f the Socinian sect, was born at Sienna in
1 . ' j letters which his uncle Lselius wrote to his re-
ations, and which infused into them many seeds of heresy,
natie an impression upon him; so that, knowing himself
tinn1inn0Cent’ he fled aS wel1 as the rest when the inquisi-
non began to persecute that family. He was at Lyon when
e neard of his uncle’s death, and he departed immediate-
take possession of his writings. He returned to Tus-
thauhp) made u?nuSelf 80 aSreeable t0 the grand duke,
iiourahln1 T1181^1,10!1 *!?, found in that court’ and the ho-
veaiN f P0!:,tS W11C1 filled there, hindered him for twelve
the nersnn1 r^membenng that he had been considered as
divinity nf ^-TV-° pUt the laSt hand to the system of
draught’ AMhU?VhlS Unde Laellus had made a rough
110 regard to rb 16 ^to Germany in 1547, and paid
threelearfat R g?nd S adviceS t0 retl,rn* He stayed
adonted lo! r-’ and there stu<lied divinity; and having
Protestants^ prin1c,Ples very different from the system of
’ le resolved to maintain and propagate them ;
for which purpose he wrote a treatise Fe lesu Christo SW ,
retired int° andtsSd iSS
to be admitted into the communion of the Unitarians ; but
as he differed from them in some points, on which he refused
to be silent, he met with a repulse. He did not however
cease to write in defence of their churches against those
who attacked them At length his book against James
Paleologus furnished his enemies with a pretence to exas¬
perate the king of Poland against him; but thouirh the
mere reading of it was sufficient to refute his accusers, So-
cinus thought proper to leave Cracow, after having resided
there four years. He then lived under the protection of se¬
veral Polish lords, and married a lady of a good family ; but
her death, which happened in 1587, so deeply afflicted him
as to injure his health; and to complete his sorrow, he was
deprived of his patrimony by the death of Francis de’ Me¬
dici, great duke of Florence. The consolation which he found
in seeing his sentiments at last approved by several minis¬
ters, was greatly interrupted in 1598; for he met with a
thousand insults at Cracow, and was with great difficulty
saved from the hands of the rabble. His house was plun¬
dered, and he lost his goods ; but this loss was not so un¬
easy to him as that of some manuscripts, which he extreme¬
ly regretted. To deliver himself from such dangers, he re¬
tired to a village about nine miles distant from Cracow
vvhere he spent the remainder of his days at the house of
Abiaham Bbnsk!, a Polish gentleman, and died there in
lbU4. All baustus Socinus’s works are contained in the
hrst two volumes of the great collection entitled Bibliotheca
Jrratrum Polonorum.
SOCOTAR A, an bland of the Indian Ocean, about forty
eagues to the eastward of Cape Guardafui. It is moun-
tainous, with a bold shore and excellent harbours, and the
inhabitants are m general civil to strangers. The urincinai
produce is aloes. The town has a handsome appearance,
tie houses being built of stone, and some with several
Latqi2S’39 ^ reSidenCe of the kin& is in long- 53. 33. E.
SOCRATES. The name of Socrates is familiar to every
one among his earliest classical recollections. Who has not
heard of toe Athenian sage, the great moralist of heathenism
and his persecution and constancy even to death ? There is
no name indeed which stands forth more conspicuously in
the history of the philosophy, or of the religion, or of the ge¬
neral civilization of the ancient wmrld. It marks a distinct
era in the progress of the human race. The character of a
great period in the history of man is concentrated, in fact,
in the life and teaching of this extraordinary individual;
and his name accordingly has descended to us with all the
importance of the crisis itself at which he flourished; recom¬
mended as it is to our affection and admiration, not so much
ofCseinte~“lStyPrrSO,,ality’1,8 by ^ traditi“1
For when we come to consider his particular biography,
we find our attention arrested by little that belongs merely
to the individual. We read of a long life passed for the
most part m uniform tenour within the walls of his native
Athens; and until we come to its tragical close, scarcely
distinguished m point of incident from that of the mass of
his contemporary. When, again, we ask for writings from
which, as from the proper mirror of the philosopher’s mind,
'Vne,r.nay ™llect exPress lineaments of his character
and teaching, we hud nothing even on this ground on which
our curiosity can fasten ; so little have we derived that in-
terest, which the mention of Socrates now awakens, from
himself immediately; and so much, on the other hand, are
we indebted for our acquaintance with this philosopher to a
popular feeling preserving and handing down to ns the
name which represents the thought and character of an
The conjuncture of events at the time of Socrates was
436
SOCRATES
v i c uu f,i tl.t. H^vplnnmpnt of such a charac- other illustrious professors of the day, also familiarly known SoJs,
Socrates, pecuharly favourable to the develop tf 1 namc of sophists, then a complimentary designs.— *
“ew tp rs ix sfnaL?or ra
There
reign state and seat of empire. In the couise of the hit}
years which intervened between her triumphant resistance
to the Persian invasion and the commencement ot the Pe¬
loponnesian war, Athens, like Rome in her struggle with
her Italian neighbours, had gradually converted her allies
in the islands and on the coasts of Asia Minor and I hnice
into dependent subjects and tributaries. But Athens had
IIlcI wi VV l •/
also were now collected, as in a school of all arts, the great
masters of the drama, of sculpture, and painting, and music,
and the gymnastic exercises. So that Athens, at this time,
contained within her own bosom abundant xesources for
the enlargement of the mind, whether in the eminent men
who formed her society, in the lectures and conversation
of the professors of science, or in noble works, the sped-
in\° trfuTeftrmu’denceto combine these scattered mens and examples of what genius could effect. Athens
not, like Rome, “ 0f jiscor(, and trouble as contained, also, doubtless, much to enervate and corrupt
members of her empire, elements or free the moral judgment, whilst she presented every thing to
much as of strength to the soyerei0 > Y , , n t}ie imagination and refine the taste. Her political
communication of the rights of citizenship. Nor indeed ^ as they had been left by Mo,,,
could this wise have avaiyd^n the^ case^ ^)t holent, disturbed. l„ the course of these year,
^^"Iherf AfheL exuded Ire eite independent of imperial greatness and prosperity, they received a large
the empire of f the“, ■„ ,,, her okeFor the infusion of that licentious spirit, which the naval successes
governments leluctantly S iklisposed to of the Athenians had engendered in the lower order of the
SrefanadXed^SgMh~eofdSrN“
''ToSn X t SmoXes^ There X XtX tlL the ties of fami.y and kindred, and
0 . • a a • - C ww A 4-
thus in the very constitution of the Athenian empiie,
materials of jealousy and disunion, which no line of con¬
duct but the impolitic one of surrendering an arbitrary
rule into the hands of the people who had groaned un¬
der it, could long have kept from explosion. And, ”
formed associations of the people for every lawless pm-
pose of private ambition and cupidity. Their highest and
purest court,—one principal anchor of the state, according
to the intention of their great legislator,0—the Areopagus,
was mutilated in its powers. And whilst numerous courts
der it, could long have kept trom expmsion. -a u, - — their hundreds of judges, chosen by lot
thet, i, was *^XSs of hXXd rVwhth ftom the wS bod'y of citizens, we, JonSantly open,< and
the inertness of her great nval, Laeedemon and the diffi “ att'“ rive and deliberative bodies were virtu-
culty of bringing the several griev“c“ *ef X suspended? The peremptory power of these judicial
states to bear on some decisive point, capab c • v: u t}ie Deonle at large felt and exercised
phancy,—a system, under which the life and property ot the
wealthy were at the mercy of every needy adventurer who
could speak to the passions of the people, and earn a liveli¬
hood for himself by a career of successful prosecutions.
Nor was public corruption unattended by its usual evils
of private luxury and debauchery. At this time too, there
of it in the complicated diplomacy by which that great
movement was preceded, and in the reluctance of Lace-
demon to bring home to herself the necessity of exertion.
But, whilst Athens was thus aggrandizing herself against
a day of retribution from the insulted states of Greece, she
enjoyed the sunshine of her day of empire, in the brilliant ''^PrvodTn the heart of a city which prided itself
ting'foot on ev«yX7l™rher atoctWenei6aTa home cism with regard ^XonSfaXprlumption
of genius and civilization, was evidenced in the number of and morality. A Asians, had now
thirty years of this period of glory, the philosopher Anaxa- dogmatist or sceptic,—accor hng , insrenuity in
SXnXJbTtXX of" at qtsttoui—XceWed principle, or disputing some opi-
nmviy^aoquired^mste fo^phihfso^iic^in^uiryi^Durin^ ““f «o ^s/ct—nces the
also, a considerable portion of thi same period, the sophist population, “'i’ cftizens and of a number of
Prodicus was domesticated within her walls, surrounded wealth of an insolent b y ^ nn thp manufactures
by crowds of admiring pupils from the highest ranks of her resident foreigners engage in carrj i g protecti0n, and
citizens, eagerly catching the inspiration of that rheton- and trade of the city, paying a tax fm t P h h
S ability fbrkhich he was famed. Occasionally, too, contributing to 4e military stren^
amongst the distinguished visitors of the city, might be seen excluded from its franc.n»e.  . .
1 Isocrat. Panegyr. Kal ro wXijAf rwv dcpucvovu'wcov d>s 17/id? roa-ovrov ecrriv, k.t.X. p. 59.
8 Aristot. Polit. ii. 9, rqs vavapxias yap iv tois MjjSikois 6 brjpos ainos yevopevos f^pov^paria . Tom, i. p.
* Plutarch. Solon, 19, ol6ptvoS eVl 8v<r\ QovXacs Jairtp dyKvpais oppdvaau, r,rrov tv rrjv wo\tv ter tail at, k.t.a
:J5?’ AnsSpRNub. 208, atbt ptv h6r,vat. 2r. rl ai, \tyetS ; oi iradopat, net btKatxras oi>X 6pS> Ka6Wt*ovs.
s Snnh (Ed Col. 1006, el rtf yrj deovs eirl(TTarai rtpats <refil(eiv, rjbe rov6 vneptyepet. ii„;on but even
« Xenophon, in his Memorabilia, Fc. A gives an instance in Aristodemus of one who not only had a contempt for all rehg.on,
derided those who concerned themselves with it.
SOCRATES.
437
rates, foreigner, lived more happily at Athens than at Lacede- seclusion of eastern despotism. Still it was even at Athens con- Socrates
.^/mon, or perhaps any other city of Greece, especially during sidered the rule of propriety, that the wives and daughters
a time of war, when their services were needful to the of citizens should live in the strict privacy of their homes
state. Slavery, therefore, acted probably less injuriously and be known and noticed as little as possible among the
on the character of the Athenian master, than it did else- other sex, even for their virtues.3 But whilst the%ir-
where in Greece. It was tempered by the social humour tuous matron was excluded from the social circles the nlare
of the people. But the facility to afforded to the citi- which she should have held in AthS ”c!e,™P ffl!
i indolence and ease, and abandon,all do. ecj by other fema]eS) strangers to family tieS) an5d attract_
ed to Athens by the licentiousness and wealth of an im¬
perial city. The union of high intellectual endowments,
and a masculine dignity of understanding, in some distin
crnichcsrl iVirliTrirliinlr* s\-(* 4-K!o, ~^_  al . r* s* -m
Cfl CUV. WCU. LU lUC U1U
zens of living in indolence and ease, and abandoning all do
mestic employment for the excitement of the public assem¬
blies, and the courts, and the spectacles, naturally induced
a neglect of the private and domestic duties. There is
face of the world the most light-hearted of men, they were
secretly unhappy in their homes; living in listlessness from
day to day on the alms of their public pay; many of them
reduced from affluence to poverty through the loss of lands
and property by the ravages and pressure of war, and yet
unable or unwilling to use the necessary exertions to relieve
themselves from their distress. It is evidently no singular in
loveliness, appealed with a powerful interest to the sensual
elegance of Grecian taste. We find, accordingly, at Athens,
at this time, forming, as it were, the female court of the
sovereign people, the Milesian Aspasia, and others of less
name, living in the profession of a scandalous course of
life, not only without shame, but even in the enjoyment of
public respect. It was not the general of the common-
Athens, when he tells us of Aristarchus complaining
to Socrates of the number of poor female relatives who,
from losses in the course of the Peloponnesian war, were
thrown on him for support. The difficulty which Aristar¬
chus felt, was, that he could not expect persons who were
free-born and his own kindred, to undertake any manual la¬
bour, so as to assist in maintaining themselves. Happily,
however, he adopts the friendly suggestion of Socrates, and
makes the experiment of setting them actively to work.
The experiment succeeds; and thus contentment and cheer¬
fulness are introduced to a home where before all was gloom
and mutual suspicion.2
In the meantime, a great number of mechanics and trades-
grave philosophers resorted to her house; and even the
ladies of private families, in violation of the restrictions of
custom, were taken there by their friends; all eager to hear
those interesting conversations, and lectures in political
and rhetorical science for which she was famed.4 We may
judge how deeply corrupted must have been the standard
of public opinion in Greece, when female profligacy could
thus veil itself from the eye of moral observation, under
the graces of splendid accomplishments of mind and per¬
son. So thoroughly had refinement of intellectual taste
and of manners, together with the grossest impurity of
morals, pervaded the whole society of Athens, that even
those who were elevated above the world around them in
men had risen wealth and importance, in consequence of talents, alld st^
the demand for every species of labour and tradn. rnsnltmo- „„ e ’ mess ot aibPosl-
the demand for every species of labour and trade, resulting
from the multiplied population of the city and its numerous
foreign dependencies and connexions, and, in particular,
from the magnificent public works carried on during the ad¬
ministration of Pericles. All this while, Athens was be¬
coming more and more a mercantile community, in the
tion, as bocrates was, imbibed in some measure the poison
of the infected atmosphere which they breathed.
Such, then, was that state of things in which Socrates
was trained, and which will greatly account to us for that
peculiar form which the character of his philosophical teach¬
ing exhibits. For he was ever an Athenian instructing
the state or the extravagance of individual expenditure; pect, therefore, to see in him some leading traits^f the
:l;!lW!!Uh::ai]d e"cr,0achins. °" the privileged ground hi- some marks of that corrupt slte^rs^iely whichTalled ii
therto occupied only by right of birth. It “may be easily
conceived, therefore, that the mass of the society of the city
would be now all fermentation and restlessness ; the one
class pushing their interests and their claims to equality
founded on their personal title, whilst the other obstinate-
forth, and to which it was immediately addressed.
.fhe son of Sophroniscus a sculptor, and Phaenarete a
midwife, and himself brought up in his father’s art, he yet
enjoyed those advantages of mental culture and social re¬
finement which were common to every citizen of the de-
1,. ..I 1 . ’ uuouiid,i,e- nnemenc wmcn \
right. ® hC exclus,veness and th<> °f hereditary mocratic Athens. The meanness of his birth and his po-
But we shall best judge of the'distempered state of the would noUttxdude MmlhrmilS .wfreesteemed there.
Nortz
"i'S" «
SO essentially social as Greece and esneciallv at Athene u- v ’ thG gf e relaxation of discipline at Athens, the
^practicallyimpossiMetoimposeoiuhewolnentheabsolute ^IT
i see.,so Mem. ih S.
m X,,p0n ^ i sol Sr ,V adorer nipt 5
^....Mener-Xenop1,. Mem. ii. e.-Plutarcb. Pericles. 24. K„1 yip lepdw,, i„„ Sr, ^ ^
/ oKpoaoropevas ot (rvpr]6ets fyov dvrrjv, k.t.\. Tom. i. p. 638, Reiske.
4SS
SOCRATES.
Socrates, left to each person to avail himself, or not, ot the sources < f
instruction presented in the intellectual society of the city,
Socrates was not a person to neglect the advantages placed
in his way. Money he had not, to pay to the Sophists, the
great masters of his day. But he had from childhood an
mquisitive mind. He felt that he was thrown on his own
resources of thought, and that he must be his own master
in the art of education. And to this great object he ap¬
pears to have bent, from the earliest time, all the powers ot
his energetic mind, making it his constant employment to
inquire from every one,1 and collect on every occasion, some
hint towards the right prosecution of it. We may picture
to ourselves the young Socrates, resembling the Socrates o
mature life, freely entering into conversation with all to
whom he had access; feeling and acknowledging his own
ignorance; listening attentively to all that he heard; weigh¬
ing and discussing it in his own mind with patience and
acuteness; and not resting until he had traced it out in all
its bearings to the utmost of his power. Thus would he
gradually form and strengthen that faculty of observation,
and that analytical acumen for which he was afterwards so
eminently distinguished. r r _
Nor has Plato improbably put a prophecy of his future
eminence in the mouth of one of the great masters of t ie
day, when he makes Protagoras say of him, with the self-
complacency of the man of established reputation: “ tor
my part, Socrates, I commend your spirit, and the method
of your reasoning; for whilst in other points I am no bad
sort of person, as I think, I am the farthest from being an
envious one. For concerning you in particular, 1 have al¬
ready observed to many, that of all I meet, I admire you by
far the most; of those of your own age, even to the extreme;
and I say too, I should not be astonished if you were to
turn out a man of celebrity for philosophy. To the same
effect is the story, that his father, being at a loss how to
educate him, consulted the Delphic oracle, and was ad¬
vised to leave him entirely to his own bent, inasmuch as
he had a director in himself superior to a thousand teachers.
The simple interpretation of what is here thrown into the
form of marvel probably is, that he gave, even when a child,
striking indications of a devotedness to those studies which
became the business of his manhood.
The notice of a wealthy individual of Athens, the ex¬
cellent Crito. appears to have been early attracted to So¬
crates. Crito was of about the same age as Socrates; and
an attachment to the pursuit of philosophy, and an ad¬
miration of the character of Socrates, naturally led to
that intimacy which he now commenced with the young
philosopher, and steadily maintained through his subse¬
quent life. Through him Socrates was relieved from the
necessity of earning his livelihood by the profession of a
sculptor; or, as Laertius expresses it, “was raised from
the workshop.”5 Sculpture, indeed, was in high honour
at Athens, especially at this time. For Phidias, enjoy¬
ing the protection of Pericles, was now adorning the city
■with the immortal productions ot his own chisel, as well as
other noble works of art executed under his taste and di¬
rection. But to follow up the profession with success, re¬
quired a devotion of mind and hand that must preclude the
opportunities indispensable for the moral student. And
though, for a time, Socrates worked at the art,—and with
success, it a statue of the Graces in the citadel of Athens,
attributed to him, were really his workmanship ;6—we may
imagine how distasteful the occupation, however intellec¬
tual in itself, must have been to a mind, so eager for ob¬
servation on living man, so intent on mental and moral phe¬
nomena, as that of Socrates; and how gladly he would ex¬
change the labour of his paternal art for that philosophic Socras
leisure which the friendship of Crito held out to him. ^
The world of that day reproached the philosophers
with servility, taunting them with being ever seen at the
“ gates of the rich.” In some instances, the reproach may
have been just. But in general, the fact was the reverse.
Their society rather was courted by the great and wealthy,
who were proud of the reputation of being patrons of phi¬
losophy. To Socrates, indeed, the patronage of a man
of wealth would be peculiarly acceptable, not so much for
the means of subsistence, about which he was absolutely
thoughtless and indifferent, as for the society itself to which
he would thus be introduced, and the opportunity of carry¬
ing on his researches into philosophy, both by books and
by the oral instructions of its living professors. To him it
would be the very means by which he would enlarge his
field of moral observation. The social evenings of Athens
were the natural sequences of the mornings of the agora,
and the courts, and the council, and the assembly. They
prolonged in festive conversation that strife ot words and
competition of argument, which had been begun in the busy
and serious discussions of the morning, and of which the
last murmurs had scarcely died away on the ear of the as¬
sembled guests. For Athenian life was a life of constant
excitement. What Demosthenes observed an hundred
vears afterwards, and an apostle four hundred years later still,
—that the Athenians did nothing but go about and ask the
news of the day,—was a characteristic of the people already
strongly developed at this period ot their history. Sociates,
who, in his own person, gave a philosophical cast to this inqui¬
sitive spirit, would be peculiarly interested by such opportu¬
nities of exercising it as were presented in the animated
encounters of the symposium. There he would see human
nature displayed in some of its most striking forms. There he
would meet the citizen full of years and honours, experienced
in the arts of government and diplomacy, and in the service
of the state by land and sea; the poet flushed with his vic¬
tories in the dramatic contest; the sophist *rmed at all
points for the display; the philosopher expounding his theo¬
ries ; the orator, the idol of the people in his day; the courtly
patron of literature ; and a circle ot young men, the flower
of the highest rank in the state; each bearing his part in
the free and lively interchange of thought, emulously pro¬
voking one another to discussion, and contending for the
mastery in the conflict of debate.
By such society Socrates would be effectually prepared tor
that active enterprize of philosophy, which formed the whole
engagement of his life. In the meagre information handed
down to us respecting the details of his history, we are not
able to ascertain at what precise period of life he began
his career of public teaching, or at least attracted notice as
the philosopher of Athens. The transition would probably be
gradual, from the youthful inquirer, to the mature and expert
teacher of others. This transition would be the less percep¬
tible in the case of Socrates, from the circumstance, that he
never professed to teach, even when he was most actively em¬
ployed in teaching; but still, at the last, as he had done from
the first, merely to inquire.1 For his part, he disdained the
profession of philosophy. He was disgusted with the vam
pretension advanced by the Sophists, of being masters o
every science, and capable of imparting instruction on any
given subiect. He accordingly set out with the antagonist posi¬
tion, that he knew nothing: thathisonly wisdom,ifhepossesse
any beyond other men, consisted inhisbeing awarem his re
ignorance, whilst others ignorantly presumed on the P0®?6®'
sion of a knowledge which they had not. His teacmng,
therefore, was only a continuation of the process ot e u
P- >76, Bip. ed. . Plato, Ptotag. Op. 111. p. 193. » PW™*- ->« ^
Plato, Apol. p. 78, <>or ^XtKtcorjjr. ‘ Dl0S; Laertl in vlt' 5’ . T . ■. - Pausanias, i. 22; ix S5-
Xenoph. Mem. i. 2, ovfif ndonore vneo-xrro StSaaKaXos eivai rovrov. Diog. La ...
SOCRATES.
rates
tion of his own mind, by extending it to the minds of
" others. He was fond of describing it as an examination or
scrutiny of the mind; a method of finding out the real con¬
dition of each mind, and so of preparing it for the due exer¬
cise of its powers in the practical emergencies of human life.
Hesawthat. the evilsoflifearose,in great part, from the wrong
judgments of men,—from their mistaking their own powers,
presuming on their knowledge, and ability, and the truth of
opinions adopted without inquiry. He endeavoured then
to effect the cure of human error and unhappiness by a re¬
formation of the intellect. The first step towards this would
be taken, if men could be only divested of this vain self-con¬
fidence ; if they could be brought to suspect that they might be
mistaken in their judgments, and so to question themselves.
This preliminary labourwas employment enough for any one
man’s life, especially in a society such as that of Athens, so
entirely infected with the sophistical leaven. Socrates wisely
confined his exertions to this simple object. He is content
to excite inquiry,—to provoke discussion,—and thus to sug¬
gest the necessity of self-discipline in order to right judgment.
He does not, like other philosophers, quit the seclusion of a
study, or the field of foreign travel, to come forth to the
world the accomplished teacher of the accumulated wisdom
of years of solitary thought and reflection. Whilst philoso¬
phizing in the agora and the streets of Athens, in the work¬
shops of the artizan, or at the banquets of the rich, he is still
employed in the work of disciplining the mind. Thus he
passes on insensibly from the education of himself to the
education of others, and it is difficult consequently, or rather
impossible, to say in his case, where the character of the
learner ends, or where that of the philosopher and teacher
begins.
Yet, entirely as Socrates disregarded all positive know¬
ledge, and threw himself on the resources of a shrewd and
extensive observation of human nature, we must not sup¬
pose that he neglected to inform himself in the existing
systems of philosophy, and the particular sciences as they
were then Understood and taught. There is reason to be¬
lieve, that he had accurately studied the systems of the
early physical philosophers of the Ionic school, as well as
the moral and mathematical theories of the Pythagoreans,
and the dialectics of the school of Elea. Without suppos¬
ing him so deeply versed in the doctrines of the several
schools, as would be inferred from his exact discussions in
the dialogues of Plato, there is still ample evidence, from
the more direct account of Xenophon, that he was by no
means ignorant of them. He had doubtless read much,1 as
well as observed much, when he commenced his philosophic
mission. Xenophon indeed tells us that Socrates consider¬
ed the physical and dialectical theories of his predecessors
as unprofitable. But he takes care to add, that Socrates
was not unacquainted wfith these theories. And in particu¬
lar, as to the sciences of astronomy and geometry, he thought
the attention of the student wasted in investigating their
more abstruse theorems. But he was able (as Xenophon
further observes), to speak on the Objects of these sciences
also from his own knowledge of them.2
Nor are we to suppose that, whilst he had properly no
master in that line of philosophical study which he had
niatked out for himself,3 he had no aid in the cultivation of
439
his mind, from the living masters of philosophy in his day. The Socrates,
long residence of Anaxagoras at Athens, probably coincides
in time with part of the early life of Socrates.4' To him,
therefore, Socrates would naturally have access, as well as
to Archelaus,5 his disciple, and the inheritor of his doctrines.
If he had no personal intercourse with Anaxagoras, it is at
least highly probable, from the testimony of Plato, that he
was acquainted with the famous treatise of Anaxagoras,
which contained his theory of the universe.6 And perhaps
we may distinctly trace the early and abiding influence of
the lessons of this great philosopher throughout the teach¬
ing of Socrates, in his uniform maintenance of the principle
of an all-disposing mind, the glory of the system of Anaxa¬
goras.
To the writings of Heraclitus, his attention appears to
have been drawn by the poet Euripides ; if the anecdote
be true, as related by Laertius, that on being asked by Eu¬
ripides, who had put them into his hand, what he thought
of them, he replied, alluding to the studied obscurity
of that philosopher; “ WTiat I understand is excellent; so
also, I suppose, is what I do net understand ; only there is
need of some Delian diver to reach the sense.”7 He had
also opportunities of conversing with Zeno the Eleatic, and
rI heodorus of Cyrene ; the former eminent for his dialectical
skill, the latter the most distinguished geometrician of the
time. And though his scantymeans precluded his attendance
on the professional lecturesof Prodicus, the fashionable teach¬
er of rhetoric at that day at Athens, it cannot be doubted
that he w'ould on several occasions have been among the
company assembled at the house of some wealthy citizen,
and there heard from the lips of that accomplished master
of language those elaborate oratorical displays which made
his name proverbial for wisdom.8 With the poet Euripides,
indeed, the disciple of Anaxagoras and Prodicus, and who
was his senior only by a few years, he appears to have lived
in habits of intimacy. With Euripides he Would probably
often have discussed those ethical topics uEich the poet so
greatly delighted to transfuse into his tragic scenes, and as¬
sociate with the interest of dramatic incident. They w ere
in fact brother-labourers in the same cause, though in dif¬
ferent ways. For whilst Euripides endeavoured to w ork a
reformation of his countrymen, by didactic addresses insi¬
nuated through their feelings, amidst the interest of tragic-
story, Socrates appealed at once to their understandings,
and amidst the business or pastime of real life. The envy
of contemporaries was prone to attribute the excellence of
the poet in some of his dramatic efforts, to the aid of his
philosopher-friend.9 The truth probably is, that the benefit
of their intercourse w^as mutual; that, whilst the poet’s ima¬
gination was informed and chastened by the shrewd and
severe wisdom of the philosopher, the philosopher also, ever
intent on his calling, w ould enlarge his mind with riches
drawn from the genius, and taste, and learning of the poet.
The co-existence of literary and philosophic elegance
with the most disgusting coarseness of moral feeling and
conduct, in the character of the Athenian courtesan,
has been already noticed. To Aspasia, the heroine of
her class, as we may call her, when w^e refer to her in¬
fluence over Pericles, and the encomiums of her by Plato
and others, Socrates is expressly stated to have been indebt-
^ enop . Mem. i. 6. s Xenoph. Mem. iv. 7.
e reckons himself in Xenoph. Conviv. i. 5. among the avrovpyoi rrjs (biXoaocfuds^
s A T? however, that the chronology of the life of Anaxagoras is very doubtful,
found IThom118 t* Athe^ * ^^es'an an<^ an Athenian. The probability is that he was a Milesian, since philosophy had scarcely yet
to s^t r h8ed°» P' 9J‘ , writinf?s °f Anaxagoras appear to have been extensively circulated. Socrates is made in Plato’s Apology
^ o . elitus, oiei avrovs aneipovs ypappdrav eli/ai, coaTf 6vk eidevai on t ’Ava^ayopov ftifiXia too K\a£opcviov yepei rovnav tgjv
1 Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 7.
v , f*0’ ^eno‘ P" XrvSt’veoo/xfv, &) MeVtov, eyd) re teat (Tv, (pavXoi rivet eivai avftpes, koi ere re Topylas isavdis irenai8evKevcut
01 epe UpubiKos. P. 382. Bipont. o Aristoph. Nub. Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 3.
440
SOCRATES.
Socrates, ed for instruction in rhetoric, as also in other subjects.1
Whilst Xenophon also introduces him familiarly conversing
with Theodota, whom he describes as living in great splen¬
dour at Athens, the object of general admiration for her
personal charms, and inviting her to become his disciple,2-—
Plato leads us to believe that Socrates was himself the dis¬
ciple of another of the same class, the Mantinean Diotime,
who, among her other accomplishments, was distinguished
in particular for her skill in the art of divination.3
Instruction in music formed an important part of Athe¬
nian education. Socrates, it seems, did not neglect the op¬
portunities which the presence of the great masters of the
art in Athens afforded him of learning its principles. Con-
nus accordingly is claimed for him, as his master in music.
Damon, another celebrated musician, though not more emi¬
nent in the science which he professed, than as a politician
and sophist, was resident at Athens during part of the admi¬
nistration of Pericles, the intimate and counsellor of that
great statesman, as well as his instructor in music.5 From
him also, we are told, Socrates received instruction in the
art. By these accounts, however, we may probably under¬
stand, not that he became a proficient in the musical art,
but that he had listened to Damon as well as to Connus,
discoursing on the subject, and studied its theories under
them, so far, at least, as music entered into the general
pursuit of philosophy.6
It should be observed, indeed, that though Socrates
strongly discouraged the presumption of knowledge in all
with whom he conversed, he did not disapprove of the acqui¬
sition of particular kinds of knowledge. He communicated
whatever he knew to every one that came in his way ; and
where he was himself unacquainted with any subject, he re¬
ferred his hearers to those who possessed the information.7
He was not in fact opposed to knowledge in itself. He was
glad to embrace it wherever it could be found. But he was
an enemy to the substitution of mere intellectual acquisi¬
tions, and those often superficial and unreal,—for education
of the mind and character. Pie felt, and justly felt, that
knowledge by itself was vanity. The tendency of the age
was to ascribe value exclusively to mental acuteness and
dexterity. Ingenuity and cleverness obtained the merit and
the prize of wisdom. His labour was to draw his country¬
men from thinking too highly of their boasted knowledge. He
wished them to see how greatly they overrated intellectual ac¬
quirements,—how much they had yet to learn if they would
be real proficients in wisdom.
Socrates indeed appears to have regarded philosophy in
the light of a sacred mission, to which he was specially
called, rather than of a study and exercise of the mind.
This notion of philosophy had already been exemplified by
Pythagoras and his followers. But they had realized it by
forming themselves into distinct communities or colleges ;
separating themselves from the world around, by a solemn
initiation, and the practice of an ascetic discipline. Socrates,
however, had no thought of changing the outward form of
society. He did not propose, like Pythagoras, to institute
a refuge from the pollutions and misery of the world, or
to educate a peculiar brotherhood, who should afterwards
act on the social mass. Pie did not address himself to the
few. His school was all Athens, or rather indeed all Greece.
Leaving society as it was, he sought to infuse a new spirit
into it, by carrying his philosophy into every department of Socrav
it. He therefore went about among all classes of people,
preferring none, despising none, but adapting his instruc¬
tions to every variety of condition and character. Thus did
he in truth, according to the observation commonly applied
to him from the time of Cicero, bring down philosophy from
heaven to earth; but not so much by being the first to give
a moral tone to philosophy, as by the universality and phi¬
lanthropy of his teaching. Philosophy in his hands was no
longer an exclusive and privileged profession. It no longer
spoke as from an oracular shrine, and in the language of
mystery. It now conversed with every man at his own
home,—submitted to be familiarly approached and viewed
without reserve,—and, instead of waiting to be formally con¬
sulted bv its votaries only, volunteered to mingle in the bu¬
siness, and interests, and pleasures of every-day life.
His manner of life and of teaching is thus described by
Xenophon.8
“ He was constantly in public. For early in the morning
he would go to the walks and the gymnasia ; and when the
agora was full, he was to be seen there ; and constantly dui-
ing the remainder of the day, he would be wherever he
was likely to meet with the most persons ; and for the most
part he would talk, and all that would might hear him.
The nature of his conversations is thus further reported
by the same faithful authority :
“ No one ever saw Socrates doing, or heard him say¬
ing, any thing impious or profane. For not only did
he not discourse about the nature of all things, as most
others, inquiring how, what by the sophists is called the
universe, consists,*and by what laws each heavenly thing
is produced; but he would point out the folly of those
who studied such matters. And the first inquiry he
would make of them was, whether they proceeded to
such studies from thinking themselves already sufficiently
acquainted with human things; or whether they thought
they were acting becomingly in passing by human things,
and giving their attention to divine. He would wonder,
too, it was not evident to them, that it was not possible for
men to find out these matters; since even those who most
prided themselves on discoursing of them, did not agree
in opinion with each other, but were affected like madmen
in relation to one another. For of madmen, whilst some did
not fear even the fearful, others were terrified at things not
terrible; whilst some were not ashamed to say or do any
thing even before the multitude, others objected even to
going out into the world ; whilst some paid no honour to
sacred things, or altars, or any other religious object, others
worshipped even stones, and common stocks, and brutes.
So of those who speculated on the nature of the universe,
whilst some thought that Being was one only, others thought
it was infinite in number; whilst some thought that all things
were in perpetual motion, others thought it impossib e or
any thing to be moved ; whilst some thought that all things
wereinacourse of generation and destruction, others though
that nothing could possibly be generated or destroyec. e
would further consider respecting them thus: whether, as
the learners of human things think they shall be able to
make practical use of their knowledge for themselves and
any one else at pleasure, so also the searchers into ivme
things hold, that having ascertained by what laws each thing
1 Xenophon, Mem. ii. 6. Ma At", oJy, ah Trore iyio ’Acnraatas tjKovcra. e(pT] yap, ras ayaOas 7Tpop.vrj(TTpi8as, k-
Plato, Menexenus, p. 235. Kai tpol p.ev ye, a Meve&ve, ov8ev davpasov oy t tivai eiireiy oi Tvyxavfl ^ UepucXea
(pavXrj nep\ ppropiKps, a\\' pnep sal aXAovs noXXovs Kai dyaSoiis imupcrf ppropas, eva St kcu biafyepovra Tav ’ ^ <(V(
TOP Savdimrov. M. Tis avTt]; r) drfXovoTi ’AwnuaLav Xeyeis ; 2. Xiyco yap; icat Kovvov ye top MpTpoftiov. y P
fiMo-KaXof 6 pep pov<riKrjf, rj 8e ppropiKps. P. 277. Bipont. . . ,n n £27 Bipont.
* XenophonfMe™. iu. 12. V.,. His,, xui. 31. » op Ti. p. £ko
4 Plato, Menexenus. , Plutarcti in renc. p F Mem. iv. 7.
6 Diog. Laert. in vit. ii. 5, 15. Laertius says that Socrates learned to play on the lyre. Ae p . .
* Mem. i. 1. 10 ; also Plutarch, Utrum seni ger. Resp.
SOCRATES.
441
tales, is generated, they shall be able to produce at pleasure winds,
'—''and waters, and seasons, and whatever else of the kind they
may want; or whether they have no such expectation, but
it suffices them only to know how every thing of this
kind is generated. Such, then, was his manner of speaking
about those who busied themselves with these matters. But,
for his part, he was ever discoursing about human things,
inquiring what was pious, what impious, what honourable,
what base, what just, what unjust, what sobriety, what
madness, wffiat courage, what cowardice, what a state, what
a statesman, what a government of men, what the charac¬
ter of a governor ; and about other subjects, which, by be¬
ing known, would make men honourable and virtuous, whilst
those who were ignorant of them, would justly be called
slavish.”
Xenophon has thus fully touched the character of the teach¬
ing of Socrates in its leading points, and the nature of his con¬
stant occupation at Athens. The intermissions of military ser¬
vice appear to have been the only occasions of any variation
in this uniform course of life. No other country had any
charms for him, as no other afforded such rich opportunities
of conversing with men, and studying human nature.1 His
activity was essentially different from that either of his pre¬
decessors or successors in the path of philosophy. They
travelled from place to place searching for knowledge, stor¬
ing their minds with various observations, and making phi¬
losophy their formal business. Socrates, as he had no stated
school or place of audience, so he had no design of framing
any system of philosophy, or of enlarging the researches and
discoveries of former philosophers, or of pursuing knowledge
as an ultimate object. He regarded himself as called by
the voice of Deity, to undertake the reformation of men,
and especially of his fellow-citizens, as constituting his pro¬
per sphere of duty, from their corruptions of sentiment and
conduct. He stood, therefore, by the great stream of hu¬
man life which was ever flowing at Athens, and watched its
course. He is said once to have visited Samos in com¬
pany with Archelaus, the disciple of Anaxagoras, and
also to have gone to the Pythian and the Isthmian games.
With these exceptions, and those of the occasions of mili¬
tary service abroad, he appears to have constantly remained
at home, unattracted from the town, the seat of his philoso¬
phic mission, by invitations even to the courts of princes.
In vain did Scopas of Cranon, and Eurylochus of Larissa,
offer him money, and invite him to visit them.2 He could
refuse also the hospitality of Archelaus, king of Macedonia,
the same with whom the poet Euripides found a kind and
honourable refuge in his old age, from the envy of his coun¬
trymen, and domestic grievance. His refusal of the invita¬
tion ot Archelaus is said indeed to have been accompanied
with the declaration of his feeling, that he could not brook
the acceptance of a favour which it was entirely out of his
power to return.3 Nay, so entirely engrossed was he in the
work to which he had devoted himself that he was a stran¬
ger, as Plato represents him, even to the immediate neigh¬
bourhood ot the city. The banks of the Ilyssus, even then
classic ground, rich with legendary associations, could not Socrates,
seduce him from the agora and the crowd; so that he seem-'—
ed scarcely at home beyond the walls of Athens.4
No Athenian, however, could decline the military service
of the state. And this service, at the time of Socrates, of¬
ten engaged the citizen in hazardous enterprizes and long
absences far from his home. The first occasion on which
Socrates is related to have served, was in the Chersonese
at Potidaea, just before the opening of the Peloponnesian
war. The service in which the Athenian soldiers were en¬
gaged here was one of great hardship. It was in the winter
season, and the climate in those parts was most severe.
Amongst those who distinguished themselves by their reso¬
luteness and gallantry, none was so conspicuous as the phi¬
losopher. Whilst others were clothing themselves with
additional garments, and wrapping their feet in wool, he
was observed in his usual dress, and walking barefoot on
the ice, with more ease than others with their shoes. Nor
even amidst these circumstances, did he merge the charac¬
ter of the philosopher in that of the soldier. He was seen
one morning at sun-rise fixed in contemplation. At noon
he was in the same position, and still in the evening, and so
continued through the night, until the sun-rise of the fol¬
lowing day. Such, too, was his bravery in the engagements
at Potidaea, that he earned for himself the prize of distinc¬
tion, but readily sacrificed his claim to the wishes of the ge¬
nerals, in favour of a more illustrious candidate in the per¬
son of Alcibiades. Alcibiades himself would have refused
the honour as due rather to Socrates ; for to the unwilling¬
ness of Socrates to leave him wounded on the field, he had
been even indebted for his own life, and the preservation of
his arms, after the battle. But the philosopher, with a true
magnanimity, insisted on the award of the generals.5
The next occasion of military service, in which he was
scarcely less distinguished than at Potidaea, was in the eighth
year of the Peloponnesian war, at the battle of Delium in
Boeotia. The battle was an unsuccessful one to the Athe¬
nians, and they were forced to retreat in disorder. Alci¬
biades was also present on this occasion, and overtook So¬
crates in company with Laches, one of the generals, on the
way. He was on horseback, and comparatively therefore
out of danger, whilst they were on foot. He had opportu¬
nity, therefore, of admiring the presence of mind which So¬
crates displayed on the occasion, even beyond Laches, and
the steadiness and vigilance with which he kept the enemy
from pressing upon them, and so secured their retreat.6
These incidents seem to rest on indisputable evidence,
The account of them is put into the mouth of Alcibiades by
Plato, in that most ingenious of his dialogues, the Banquet*
The very form in which they are introduced, related as they
are by an eye-witness, and that witness Alcibiades, the per¬
son, next to Socrates himself, most interested in them,
may justly be regarded as giving a sanction to their his¬
tory, independent of the fictitious circumstances of the
dialogue.
The third occasion on which Socrates served as a soldier
1 piato, Laches, 187, e. ^ “Ov /xot tlUvai on os dv eyyvrd™ SuKpdrovs jj Xoya, cocrTrep yeWt, koi nXrpTiafr (haXeyoucvos.
* ' ™Play0lxtV0V TC? X°y<?’ M Travaacrdai ind tovtov irpiv l put err, ns to bibdvai nepl avrdv Xoyov, dvnva rpdnov
3 re Q], kul ovnva rov napeXrjXvBdra ftiov /Se/3iawcev, k. t. P 180.
* pi? pav,ert; ^ Vit - 3 Aristot- Rhet. ii. 23.
mm,/’0’ - ” 23°v Se7ec“ dav>td™’ droTTwrards ns (paivrp dnXvmydp 6 Xeyeis, ^vayovptvop nv\ Ka\ ovk inivoaplco touais'
■’ alTTf°S °,VT V™P°PM dnodrjpns, ovr raXovs epoiye 8okUs ronapdivav tgelvai. 212. 2i>yytWKe dr, uoi, J
p. l^lXoPa rls yaP slPr Ta P(V oiv XwP*a ra fcvbpa oiSe* pe 6iXn diddcrKnv, ot 8’ ev tv armr dv6pa>nou P. 287 ; also Crito,
6 Plato rYm,,;,. ■ ■ 5 Plato, Conviv. 220, a. p. 266; also Charmides.
Hen,. of\ ! P'? rhe St0ry 18 a^a,n alluded t0 by Plat0’ in the dialW d.acXes. Laches is made to say that he had had exp'e-
LaertiiK e. 6 uc bot,rates’ a,ld reminds Socrates of the day of their common danger, per' epdv <rvv8ieKiir86irfv<ras, *. r. A. P. 182.
cannot he t? that bocrates sa'’ed Xenophon, who had fallen from his horse in the battle of Delium, (in vit. Soc. ii. 5-7.) But this
is thrown on?8* XenoPhon ^ould be much t0° y°ung at time for military service. In the Deipnosophists of Athenseus, (v. 55), doubt
tions howe theSe ?CC0Unts 01 the ml,ltary service of Socrates, and instances are given of the historical inaccuracy of Plato. The objec-
thought themof weight glVen’ are evident,y tbl'own out i" the wav of discussion, and not with perfect seriousness , as if the speaker really
VOL. XX. - „
-i K
442
SOCRATES.
Socrates, was again in Thrace, at Amphipolis,1 in the same year as
that of the unfortunate expedition to Delium. No particu¬
lars are mentioned of this adventure. But the fact itself is
sufficiently attested. Nor, though it follows immediately
on the affair of Delium, is it improbable on that account.
For at this busy period of the war, when the Athenians
were making demonstrations of their power, by the presence
of their forces in different places at once, and when Brasidas
was pushing his successes against them in 1 brace, no indi¬
vidual of the military age, (and Socrates was not more than
forty-six or forty-seven years ot age at this time), would en¬
joy any long interval of relaxation from foreign service.
With these exceptions, Socrates appears then to have
constantly resided at Athens. All this time, throughout his
whole life indeed, he lived in great poverty, content with
the least that might suffice for mere sustenance and cloth¬
ing from day to day. , „ i. ,
Yet it was no artificial, and melancholy, and fanatica
life that he led. He accustomed himself to a strict mode¬
ration, not with any view to the mortification of the body, or
as thinking that abstinence was in itselt a virtue, but in or¬
der to self-command ; by rendering himself as independent
as possible of the circumstances of the body, to disencum¬
ber the soul of every burthen and obstruction to its tree
operation. There was nothing, indeed, of austerity m his
life or manner. He might be seen walking baretoot, but it
was not for the pain that it might inflict. It was only that
he might bear cold and privations of every kind the better,
and suffer the less inconvenience when exposed to neces¬
sary hardships, and require the less for his ordinary subsist¬
ence. So far was he from studying a discipline of bodily
severity for its own sake, that he was observed at times
mingling in the social festivities of his fellow-citizens with
the full freedom of Athenian conviviality, and shewing that
he could bear excesses which mastered others, without los¬
ing his self-command.2
One account, indeed, but not a very credible one, as it
rests on the authority of Aristoxenus, an invidious writer,
states that he was supported by the alms of friends, contri¬
buted from time to time for his relief. With his very li¬
mited wants, and his ready access to the house of Onto
and other liberal patrons of philosophy at Athens, he
would not have to depend on this precarious charity. Ihe
pittance which sufficed for the humblest citizen would
suffice for him. He is said to have inherited a patri¬
mony of seventy or eighty minse.3 But this sum, it is
added, he lost (though the time is not stated when the loss
occurred) bv the failure of the person with whom it had
been placed at interest. He possessed also a house in
Athens; and he was able, however scantily, to support a
family. So that we cannot suppose he was absolutely des¬
titute of all resources of subsistence. He appears then ra¬
ther to have voluntarily renounced every kind of worldly
possession, so far as his own personal comfort was concern¬
ed, than to have been absolutely reduced to want by the
pressure of circumstances. Poverty, in fact, was his pro¬
fession, and not the mere necessity of his case. If he prided
himself in any thing, it was in his avowal of his contempt
for riches, and disregard of domestic interests and comforts,
in contrast with the general habits ot an age of selfish acti¬
vity and profusion. The means of enriching himself, at least
of extricating himself from want, were often placed in his Sow
power, and he as often rejected them. Alcibiades offered Ws, ,
him land on which he might build a house, but he refused
it pointedly, observing, “ Had I wanted shoes, would you
have offered me leather to make shoes for myself ?—and ri¬
diculous should I have been in taking it.” Charmides
would have given him slaves, as a source of revenue by
their labour. This offer also he refused.4 In the same
spirit, he would often cast a look at the number of things
that were sold, and say to himself, “ Of how many things
I have no need l”5 Thus was his whole plan of life studi¬
ously opposed to the acceptance of any provision for his
comfort or ease. It was a service of the Deity in which he
felt himself engaged, and in the prosecution of that, so¬
lemnly devoted to a course of hardy poverty.6
In the domestic relations of life, he lived an Athenian
among Athenians. He differed from other heads ol families
at Athens in this respect, that in his dedication of him¬
self to his philosophic mission, he took no thought about
the management of his private affairs. His home was
abroad ; his household the people of Athens. Still he
discharged the duties of a husband, and the father of a
family ; and that under trying circumstances, unless the pro¬
verbial severity of temper of his wife Xanthippe be es¬
teemed an idle scandal of the day. No Athenian, indeed,
was truly domestic, in the sense of making his home the
scene of his highest interest and enjoyment. Nor was So¬
crates domestic in this sense. Still less was he so than
other Athenians; inasmuch as his very profession of life
was a call from the bosom of his family. But in the midst
of these avocations from his immediate home, and the vexa¬
tions to which he was subjected there, he was not estranged
from the ties of domestic affection. Xenophon has recorded
a simple and touching trait of the character of Socrates un¬
der this particular point of view—a trait the more interest¬
ing, as almost every thing else that we know of the philoso¬
pher is drawn from his life in public. It occurs in the course
of a conversation between Socrates and his son Lamprocles,
who had complained of the insufferable temper of his mo¬
ther Xanthippe. “ What,” said he to the youth, “ do you
think it more annoying to you to hear what she says, than
it is to the actors, when in the tragedies they say every
thing bad of one another ?” “ But they, I conceive, re¬
plied the son, “ bear it easily, because they do not suppose
that the speaker, in contradicting them, intends to hurt
them, or that, in threatening, he intends to do them any
ill.” “ Then are you,” resumed Socrates, “ vexed, when you
well know that what your mother says to you, she says, not
only intending no evil, but even wishing more good to you
than to any one else ; or do you regard your mother as un¬
kindly affected towards you ?” Lamprocles disclaiming this
latter supposition ; “ Do you, then,” he added, “ say of her,
who is both kind to you, and takes every possible care ot
you when you are sick, that you may recover, and want no¬
thing proper for you, and who, moreover, prays to the gocs
in your behalf for many a good, and pays vows,—that she is
vexatious ? For my part, I think, if you cannot bear such
a mother, you cannot bear what is good for you.
From the description given by Plato of the family ot co-
crates in the prison-scene, it would appear, that bocrate*
had other three children besides Lamprocles,—for Lampro-
1 Plato Anoloe. 28. c. op. i. p. 67. Diog. Laert. in vit. iElian, Var. Hist. iii. 17. 2 Plato, Conviv. Alban, Var. ^ist. iv. U-
3- About L.400 of our money. Plutarch (in his life of Aristides) finds fault with Demetrius Phalereus for ha^in^n e^°Uref by Crito.
the imputation of poverty from Socrates, by stating that Socrates had land of his own and seventy mmae put out t0 d r0.
DemTtrius,^however, seems only to have stated what he bel.eved to be the truth. The idea of bis Awards, it
bablv with the caricatures of his profession of poverty by the comic poets; and true as it was substantia y, - voridiy pou-
seems, maintained by his friends and admirers, as the evidence of the consistency of his life with his avowed contempt 7
sessions. s
« Plato, Apolog. ’AAX’ ev nevia pypta dpi Sid ti)v tov 8eov Xarpeiav. Op. i. p. 5. ’ X<5n0Ph- ^em‘ 2
SOCRATES.
ates. cles died at an early age, before his father,1—who were yet
^"children, one of them a boy, another a child in the arms,
at the time of their father’s death.2 We learn from other
authorities,3 that two of his children were named Sophronis-
cus and Menexenus; but they are said to have been the chil¬
dren, not of Xanthippe, but of another wife, Myrto, the
grand-daughter of Aristides the just.4 To account for this, it
has been stated, that after their disasters in Sicily, the Athe¬
nians made a decree authorizing double marriages, with the
view of recruiting their exhausted population. But this
statement does not appear to be borne out by the earlier
authorities on the subject of Athenian legislation. Nor is
it probable that a law should have been enacted, directly
sanctioning a form of polygamy. It appears, that during
the pressure and confusion of the Peloponnesian war, per¬
sons obtained the freedom of the city of Athens, whose
title was objectionable on the constitutional ground of their
not being born of citizen-parents on both sides. Thus had
Pericles, after the death of his two legitimate sons, obtained
the admission of his son, Pericles, by Aspasia, to the privi¬
lege of citizenship ;5 though he had himself carried, some
time before, a law of strict limitation, under which, nearly
four thousand were deprived of the franchise.6 Such ex¬
tension of the privilege to the offspring of illegal unions,
possibly gave a pretext to the supposition, that a decree
passed at Athens sanctioning bigamy.
Some difficulty, however, arises on the subject of the mar¬
riage of Socrates, from the conflict of authorities. Whilst it
is asserted on the one hand, that he was married to Myrto
and Xanthippe at the same time; on the other hand, others
assign them both as his wives, but in succession, and also
differ as to the order of succession. But the silence of Plato
and Xenophon respecting any other wife of Socrates but Xan¬
thippe, and their coincidence in speaking of her only as the
mother of his children, may be regarded as sufficiently de¬
cisive of the point against every subsequent authority. In¬
deed, the reference to Aristotle, given by Laertius, which
is the chief ground for believing that Socrates was married
also to Myrto, is very questionable. Plutarch doubts whether
the treatise to which Laertius appeals for the fact, is the
genuine work of Aristotle. From the manner, too, in which
the name of Myrto appears to have been introduced in the
account, nothing more may have been intended, than that
Socrates found her in a state of widowhood and distress from
poverty, and took care of her at his own home.7 Aristides
belonged to the same tribe and the same demus or borough,
as Socrates; and a reverence for the virtues of the grand¬
father, may have combined with these almost domestic ties,
to call forth such an act of friendliness to the disconsolate
Myrto. And, if this be the case, as is probable, it would
only add an interesting instance of that liberal benevo¬
lence which characterized the whole conduct of Socrates.8
It is a confirmation of this conclusion, that all the anec¬
dotes of the private life of Socrates,'with one exception,
and that evidently a fabricated instance,9 bring Xanthippe
on the scene. On his inviting some wealthy persons to sup¬
per, it is Xanthippe who is distressed by their deficient means
ot hospitality, and to whom he replies, “ Take courage; if they
are worthy people, they will be satisfied; if they are worth-
443
less, we shall care nothing about them.’,lf* It is Xanthippe Socrates,
whom he reproves for her particularity about her dress on'
the occasion of some public spectacle, as more desirous of
“ being seen than to see.”11 It is of her again that Alcibiades
expressed his wonder how he could bear with her, when he
simply, but pointedly referred him to her just claims on his
affection as the mother of his children.12 On another occa¬
sion, his disciple, Antisthenes, is said to have asked him,
with reference to Xanthippe, why he did not study to im-
piove the disposition of his wife, whose violence of temper
(he observed) was unexampled in the history of domestic
life. Instead of confirming the censorious remark, he turned
it> according to his usual method, to a practical illustration
of his philosophy. “ If Xanthippe was hard to be controlled,”
was the tenour of his answer, “ it was only a proper discip¬
line to him for the management of men; as those who would
be masters in horsemanship, began with managing the most
spirited horse, after which, every other would be tractable.”13
These stories, and the like, handed down or invented by the
humour of the times, may be merely exaggerations of the
tact of the inconvenience and dissatisfaction occasionally felt
at the philosopher’s home, by his habitual neglect of his do¬
mestic concerns, and the duty of exertion consequently im¬
posed on Xanthippe beyond Athenian women in general. She
appears indeed to have tenderly loved her husband, if Plato
has faithfully traced the picture of her visit to his prison,
and her extreme anguish at that trying hour. And he also
knew her value, if his affection may be judged of, as surely
it may, by the kind and gentle considerateness of his man¬
ner in committing her to the care of his friends at parting,
and his absolute reserve of his feelings on that occasion.14
The picture indeed is drawn by the hand of a consummate
master; and Plato, it is true, was not present on the occa¬
sion. But we must believe, that in painting a scene that
must have been impressed on the mind of the disciples of
the philosopher, above every other incident of his life, and
of which persons then living must have retained a lively
recollection, he took his outlines at least of these interest¬
ing particulars from the real state of the case.
But the allusion to these circumstances brings us prema¬
turely to the solemn tragedy which closed his intrepid and
energetic career. We have yet to contemplate him pursu¬
ing for many a year his unwearied labour of awakening his
countrymen from their dreams of knowledge and happiness
to the realities of their condition in the world. Great in¬
deed must have been the address, which could recommend
the severe and wholesome truths inculcated by him, to the
hearing of the vain and volatile Athenians. To none is
the practical application of a principle, so condemnatory of
human folly and impertinence, as the maxim, “ know thy¬
self,” truly welcome. And yet this was the burthen of the
teaching of Socrates for a series of years, among a people,
whom it was far easier to please by praising to excess, than
not to displease by censuring ever so slightly. They would
listen, indeed, patiently to general invectives on their public
conduct, conveyed in the impassioned eloquence of their
orators; as persons will even now sympathize with general
descriptions of the depravity of human nature, or of whole
classes of men. But all refuse the pain of direct self-appli-
' Plutarch- den. Socr. p. 331.
3 Aristotle, cited by Laertius in vit. Socr.
5 JThe *
Plato, Phaedo, pp. 135, 262.
Diog. Laert. in vit.
after their great'victory.8 am°ng ^ generals at the battle of Arginusee, and who were cruelly and iniqu'itously sacrificed to party spirit
6 Plutarch in Pericl. Op. i. p. 667.
6 P]11! P°);my A°f the family °f Aristides appears from AElian, Var. Hist. x. 15.
observations on" Sorrate^8’ Th^rJ42' 1 Plutarch a,d(Js’ ^ Panaeti‘«s had sufficiently refuted the story of the double marriage in his
9 Pornh " Tif j lh y 8 50 <luest,onecl by Athenaeus. Deipnosoph. xiii. 2.
«*" '» NO"*. Xanthippe and Myrto, whilst Socrates stands
n biog. Laert. in vit
ASlian, Var. Hist. vii. 10. i» tv:„ t - . ? -.r..  
12 Diog. Laert. in Vit.
13 Xenoph. Conviv. ii.
14 Plato, Pheedo p. 135.
444
SOCRATES.
!
Socrates, cation of the truth; and Athenians, especially, regarded
_ ' with invidiousness every attempt to impart to them moral in¬
struction. Every Athenian, they thought, was capable ot
communicating this kind of knowledge, at least every edu¬
cated Athenian, every individual of the higher order ot citi¬
zens.1 They wanted no one to teach them virtue. Hence
the allusion made on so many occasions by Socrates to the
question, whether virtue could be taught or not. It was, in¬
deed, part of the profession of the Sophists to teach virtue,
but it was as an accomplishment or art, and not as & discipline
of life, that it entered into the system of the Sophists, bo-
crates uprooted this vain notion. He laboured to impress
on the Athenians, that so far from their being able to teach
virtue, there were none who knew what virtue was. I hey
had yet to learn themselves in order to that purpose. I his,
then, was his great difficulty. It was not the difficuhy o
communicating new knowledge, but that ot leading me
unlearn their presumptions and conceits, and Vo feel the -
cessity of moral instruction.3 That he should have succeed¬
ed then in any degree in such an attempt,—that he shoul
have been able to carry on the effort for so many years, in
the very centre of Greek civilization,—that, proceeding on so
broad and fundamental a principle of reformation, presenting
no definite systemon which a sect might fasten, no specific lure
to the zeal of party, he should have drawn around him so many
followers and admirers,—this is the extraordinary effec
in the case of Socrates, which shows the powerful charm ot
his address. To persons offering any particular instruction,
or professing to qualify them for the office ot statesmen
and orators, the Athenians were most ready to attend ; and
many doubtless did attend to the conversations o Socrates
with this view. They could not but admire the skill which
he displayed in arguing with every one that came in ms
way ; not with the vulgar only, but with those who had the
highest reputation for talent in reasoning, and tor the extent
of their knowledge. They saw his superiority to the bo-
nhists on the verv ground on which the Sophists setup their
pretensions. Ma^v, accordingly, flocked to Mm as the
best master in political science and dialectical skill, par-
ticularly as he was always accessible, and his instructions
were perfectly gratuitous. Some, too, of a better nature
than the rest, were won by the honest and manly pui pose
which shone through his teaching and manner on all occa¬
sions ; whatever disguise of irony, or humour, or sophistry,
he might assume. There were even some of the young men,
whose habits of life were reproved, and principles con¬
demned, by his searching interrogatories, but who yet were
won to attention by the charm of his instruction, and pa¬
tiently heard from him truths which they would not have
listened to from any other lips. For who else could stay,
even for a moment, the wild impetuosity of Alcibiades, or
the ferocious arrogance of Critias ? Their motives in resort¬
ing to Socrates were chiefly selfish and political. It was in
pursuit of their schemes of ambition that they sought his
society. Still he was able to retain them for a time at least,
though they found his instructions very different from what
they calculated on receiving; and so long as they continued
to associate with him, they exercised a degree of self-re¬
straint which strikingly contrasted with the habitual profli-
cracy of their lives.4 Alcibiades is represented by Plato, as
confessing that he, to whom the feeling of shame was scarcely
known, yet felt abashed before Socrates ; that he was en¬
chanted by him as by the flute of Marsyas, and constrained
to acknowledge his own deficiences and neglect of private
duty in the midst of his officious zeal for the public service.
And this feeling, Alcibiades says, was general; for that
there was no one, woman, or man, or boy, that could hear
him, or even his words repeated by the most indifferent
speaker, but felt taken by surprize, and riveted in attention.3
This attention, too, it should be observed, was excited by
the address of Socrates, amidst much in his outward form
and mien, that, by exciting ridicule, might have repelled the
sentiment of respect. The comparison of him to the satyr
Marsyas, with all allowance made for comic exaggera¬
tion, was true in more respects than that of the en¬
chantment of his conversation. His countenance, strongly
marked by that arch intelligence, which half-concealed, half-
betrayed, the earnest deep thought, under the light veil o
irony and humour, presented features resembling those of
the grotesque images of the Sileni. There were the promi¬
nent dilated eyes, scarcely parted by the low ridge of
the nose, the broad expanded nostrils, the wide mouth with
its thick lips, such as the sculptors delighted to represent
in those rude but poetic forms.6 Then his manner of look¬
ing about him, his head fixed, whilst his eyes traversed the
space around, glancing from side to side, excited the sm.le
of wonder in the spectator, as to what this strange solem¬
nity of aspect might portend. Add to this, the clumsy pro¬
tuberance of his figure, so repugnant to Grecian notions of
the symmetry of form, and the awkwardness of his move¬
ment7 before the eyes of a people who had a lively percep¬
tion of elegance in every gesture and motion. These were
circumstances which, to the fastidious taste of the Greeks,
would appear more important than we, m these times, can
well conceive. They judged of intellectual character more
from physiognomy9 (physiognomy, that is, considered as a
science,of mental indications from bodily forms in general)
than we are apt to do. Thus in regard to ^crates the
physiognomist, Zopyrus, who, as Cicero informs us, pro¬
fessed to discern the manners and natures of men hom thei
body and features, pronounced that Socrates was stupid
and heavy, because the outline of his throat was not con-
Socri:
■ Xcoph. Mem. h. 2. 24. f ™ ^^^
3' -V* Eutbjfp**ro. 3. c. Afojvaijw; * W ^ "
8, o «» *«; »'»«■>■«' ”'s» "“»“">«> ft'*""”™' "y . ft, ’ , b(5 opinion, that virtue cannot be taught!
See the same indicated at the opening of Yi,c on Jluical affairs in the Assembly, whilst on ‘J/
le indirated at the opening of the ^ t
foundine it on the fact of the indiscriminate admission of all persons . V. - E r, rf$ KohiUS hoiWMS Ssl
Ltt a" in a question of building, those only were consulted who were proficient, m ^
vrems, '■/ma/oi, aymni. ^Plato, Op. iii. p- 10o; also Meno. Op. iv ^ Qp x p 237>
e Xenoph. Conviv. v. Plato, Theaitet. 143 e- h , in Xenophon’s Banquet. Xenopb. Sympos. He says there that he
i The idea of his attempting to dance excites a laugh in the gues.s P
practised dancing for the sake of exercise. •. ration to the
8 Xenoph. Conviv. ii. 19. ... ... :: ~ \ „ nsttioo nf the subiect, as affording matter o c
8 Xenoph. Conviv. >9 .. uit \ a notjce 0f the subject, as affording matt
9 Aristotle introduces in his Analytics ^Anal. ... (0 Qjcer0) j)e Fato, c. 5.
dialectician.
SOCR
lutes, cave, but full and obtuse. Prejudices accordingly drawn
/'Wfrom the personal appearance of Socrates may reasonably be
believed to have tended to render his teaching unwelcome
in its first impressions. But soon this fastidiousness would
give way as he proceeded; and those who began to listen
with a smile at the uncouthness of his form, and the quaint¬
ness of his manner, would be attracted to admiration of the
intelligent and kindly expression which lighted up those
rude features, and would find themselves lingering in his
presence in spite of themselves.
The story of Euthydemus “ the handsome,” as he was
called, may be taken as a specimen of such an effect.
Euthydemus, proud of his personal accomplishments, and
not wishing to be thought indebted to any one for his learn¬
ing and eloquence, had studiously avoided the society of
Socrates. Socrates, however, with his usual dexterity, con¬
trives to excite his attention, and gradually interests him
in conversation. Euthydemus shrinks back at first on his
self-conceit, but at length is so won upon by the persuasive
reason of the philosopher, as freely to acknowledge his own
ignorance and need of instruction; and, ever afterwards, he
is found by the side of Socrates, his devoted admirer and
follower.1
Some, indeed, took offence at the plain truths which So¬
crates brought home to them, and no longer frequented his
society.2 But these were the inferior sluggish minds, which
no arts of address could rouse to a sense of their intellec¬
tual poverty. Generous, susceptible minds overcame their
first reluctance, and yielded themselves fully to his guid¬
ance. The faithful attachment of many was evidenced, to the
last moment of the philosoper’s life. He might have com¬
manded the use of Crito’s wealth, had he desired it. Such, in¬
deed, was the confidence which Crito reposed in his sinceri¬
ty of purpose, and so highly did he value his instructions, that
to no other would he commit the education of his sons, but
made them fellow disciples with himself of his own revered
master and friend. And this friendship was warmly requitted
by Socrates. For it was by his counsel that Crito was
saved from the malicious arts of the sycophants. These
pests of Athenian society were not to be encountered by
the simple testimony of a life contradicting their merce¬
nary calumnies; and Crito was one of those who would ra¬
ther pay their money, and compromise the attack, than take
the trouble of defending themselves. They were only to be
foiled by turning their own weapons against themselves.
By the suggestion of Socrates, accordingly, Crito enlisted
in his service a clever individual of this class, Archedemus,
who effectually checked the iniquities of which his patron
was the object, by counter-prosecutions of the sycophants,
and exposure of their conduct; acting as a watch-dog, ac¬
cording to Xenophon’s description, against those rapacious
wolves.3
The devotedness of Plato and Xenophon to their master,
speaks from every line of their writings. These writings
are, in fact, as much monuments of the influence of So¬
crates over their minds, as of their own genius. And what
human teacher has ever had such glorious trophies erected
or the conquests of his philosophy as the extant works of
these master minds? Entirely different as they are in cha¬
racter,—the one flowing with the full stream of impassioned
eeling, and lively elegant imagination, and the abundant
reasures of literary and traditionary wisdom,—the other sen-
81 e and acute and practical, forcible by his very simpli-
oi y and the terseness of his unaffected eloquence,—they
hear distinct yet conspiring evidence of the ascendancy of
iat mind which could impart its own tone and character
o such disciples. Both of them, indeed, lead us to think
a they felt his society as a kind of spell on them. For,
AXES.
when Plato speaks of the charm of the discourses of the
Sophists, he seems to speak in irony of them what he
thought in truth of Socrates himself. So too, when Xeno¬
phon introduces Socrates describing himself as skilled in
“ philters and incantations,” he is evidently presenting that
idea which the conversations of Socrates impressed on his
own mind. He seems almost to confess this of himself when
he informs us, how Socrates triumphantly appealed to the
marked devotedness of his followers, in saying, “ Why-
think you that this Apollodorus and Antisthenes never quit
me ? Why too, that Cebes and Simmias come here from
Thebes? Be assured, that this is not without many phil¬
ters, and incantations, and spells.”4
To the same honourable band of attached disciples might
be added many other names afterwards renowned in the
annals of Grecian history and literature. Isocrates, Aristip¬
pus, Antisthenes, each of whom became afterwards mas¬
ters themselves, were content to follow in his train. An¬
tisthenes especially, who, by perverting the Socratic sim¬
plicity of life into a profession of austerity, became the
founder of the Cynic school, was never from his side. He
would walk from the Piraeus to Athens, a distance of about
four miles, every day, in order to be with Socrates. And
whilst Cebes and Simmias came from Thebes, Euclid, the
founder of the Megaric sect, was not deterred by the bitter
hostility between Athens and his own city of Megara, from
seeking the society of Socrates at the hazard of his life.
Even during the war, when the Megareans were excluded
by a rigid decree, he continued his visits to Athens, adopt-
ing, it is said, the disguise of female attire, and so passing
unobserved into the city at nightfall, and returning at day¬
break.5 The same individual gave still more conclusive
evidence of his zealous attachment to Socrates afterwards ;
when he opened his house and his heart to receive, at Me¬
gara, his brother disciples, in their panic on the death of
their master. So strong was the tie of reverence and af¬
fection which subsisted between the philosopher and those
whom he drew around him. They formed, indeed, a sort
of select family, each of whom was engaged in the pur¬
suit of his own peculiar employments and tastes in the world,
whilst all looked up to Socrates as their father and head,
and ever recurred to his society as to their common home.
This domestic intercourse subsisted in the midst of a city
harassed with jealousies and dissensions, and with severe af¬
flictions of war and pestilence. Socrates remained unmoved
through all these convulsions of the city, preserving a con¬
stant evenness of temper, so that Xanthippe could testify
of him, that she never saw him returning at evening with a
countenance changed from that with which he left home in
the morning.6 Nor could even the merriment of which he
was sometimes the object, discompose his settled gravity
and good humour. On one occasion, returning from sup¬
per late in the evening, he was assaulted by a riotous party
of young men, personating the Furies, in masks, and with
lighted torches.7 The philosopher, however, w ithout being
irritated by the interruption, suffered them to indulge their
mirth ; only he required them to pay that tribute which he
exacted from every one that came in his way, to stop and
answer his questions, as if he had met them in the Lyceum,
or any other accustomed place of his daily conversations.
Himself sound in mind and body, (for his habitual temper¬
ance saved him from the infection of the plague which so
obstinately ravaged Athens,) he wras enabled to give advice
and assistance to all of his country in the midst of the phy¬
sical and moral desolation, in which every one else seems,
more or less, to have participated.
1 hus were the years of a long life quietly and usefully
spent; and he had nearly reached that limit at wduch
445
Socrates.
4 Ibid. iii. 2.
7 Ibid. c. 29,
1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 2.
Aul. Gell. yi. IQ.
2 Ibid. 40.
6 iElian, Var. Hist. ix. 7.
3 Ibid. ii. 9.
446
SOCRATES.
Socrates, nature herself would have gently closed the scene of his
'philanthropic exertions, when the hand of human violence
interposed to hasten the approaching end.
The annals of party spirit at Athens had already re¬
corded many a deed of dark and wanton cruelty. But
they were yet to be stained with the iniquity of a persecu¬
tion even to death, of him, who had been the greatest be¬
nefactor and ornament, not only of Athens, but of the whole
community of the Grecian name.
The banishment by ostracism had this redeeming merit,
that it was an avowal in the face of Greece, of the envious
him by Plato, where he represents him the inexorable SocrJ
foe of every thing in the shape of a philosopher, and'^v|
as parting from a conversation with Socrates in anger.2
Merely personal offence, however, could not have given
sufficient pretext or weight to so grave an accusation. Nor
can we suppose that it was even the combined interest of
the three classes represented by the three accusers—the
poets, the tradesmen, and the orators—which carried the
condemnation of so respected a person. The ground of
the attack must lie deeper; and the men whose names ap¬
pear so prominently in this fatal conspiracy against the
mi factiOTiS sSrwhteh drove from the state the indivi- life of the^ veoerab e'old philosopher, could only have been
d^l whosrtalent or virtues too greatly distinguished him the puppets moved by some secret and more commandmg
iVOTn among his fellow-citizens. The enmity to which So- force. The trial would seem to have been only a solemn
crates fell a sacrifice, exhibits a deeper character of mahg- pageant, exhibited before the public, as a prelude and jus-
• cmnrVi it masked itself under a hypocritical tification of a deed of murder already resolved on by its
"SiorTchgTon r„d vtae atdXs cmtrted pSlic sym- real though invisible perpetrators. Whilst the charges
nathv for moceedings, against which every voice in Athens themselves, as set forth by the nommal accusers, were but
and in all Greece shoildShave indignantly protested. Os- feebly sustained, it is evident that no defence, however
tracism "vain was content to remove the obnoxious great just and able, could have availed to avert the sentence of
man from° the eyes of his fellow-citizens. The attack on condemnation. The body of jurors before whom the cause
Socrates was satisfied with nothing short of the destruc- was heard, appear to have been disposed to acquit the ac-
socrates was sausm. & cused, if we may judge from the number of votes which were
^Ttwafinlhe * midst of the tranquil, but busy course of given in his favour ; and yet the majority were overruled,
his daily engagement, that Socrates was suddenly arrested, This in itself would lead us to think that some secret m-
md without h sterns, any previous intimation of the in- fluence had been exercised, to obviate the chance of failure
and w t , ’ > [ nortico of the king-Ar- of the ordinary ostensible means of judicial assault. And so
^V^n^^tn^r^wer^a^charge of impiety.Socrateshimself appears to have felt; if Plato and Xenophon
The accration was Fn Ihis form : “ Socrates is guilty of have faithfully reported the substance of Ins reply to the
the crime of not acknowledging the gods whom the state accusation in their Apologies. His defence, as there re-
Lilt   o o «-» ...... r *
acknowledges, but introducing other new divinities: he is
guilty also of the crime of corrupting the young.” 1 he
penalty proposed was death. It has been commonly sup¬
posed that the charge was laid before the court of Areo¬
pagus. But it would appear rather, from the course of
the trial, to have been before one of the popular courts,
presented, is that of one who retires, on his own conscious¬
ness of right, from a bootless conflict with adversaiies who
are not to be appeased by argument and persuasion. It
does not set forth the strength of his cause as against an
opponent, but simply asserts the truth and merit of the
course of life which he had been pursuing.3 The sentence
thp tr al to have been nerore one oi me pupium ^   r ° rr •
•ind probably, from the great number of dicasts or jurors accordingly excites no surprize in him. He yields hi -
and prooaoiy, ironi u g g   j sweeping of a tempest, with which it is
till LA KJkJCLUl J 5 xxvy***     • • 1 U
who voted on the cause, before the principal court, the
Heliaea.
The circumstances connected with the accusation re¬
main, after the utmost inquiry now possible, involved in
considerable mystery. We are told that Melitus was the
accuser, and that he was supported in the prosecution by
Anytus and Lycon. These three individuals are also said
to have represented distinct classes of persons interested in
the proceedings; Melitus, who was himselt a poet, appear¬
ing in behalf of the offended poets ; Anytus, a wealthy
tradesman and demagogue, resenting the affronts of his
brother-tradesmen ; Lycon, an orator, or politician by pro¬
fession, standing up as the assertor of the pretensions of his
factious order. But these particulars, though they may account
to us in a great measure for the success of the prosecution,
do not exhibit the secret agency by which it was effected.
The accusers themselves were men of no note or import¬
ance in the state. Melitus was a young man ; a vain and
weak person, it seems, of whom nothing more is known
than that the accusation was made in his name. Nor of
Anytus and Lycon have we anything to mark the import¬
ance, beyond the fact, that the former was included,
together with Alcibiades and Thrasybulus, among the
self up as to the sweeping of a tempest, with which it is
vain to parley. Wbuldwethen explore the circumstances
of the trial and condemnation of Socrates, we must obtain
a deeper insight into the moving power of Grecian politics,
 the spirit of the heathen religion, and the mode of its
action on the conduct of states and individuals. Ihis ap¬
pears to be the proper solution of the case of Socrates.
The circumstances of the case evidently point to this.
And though, from the want of information, we cannot very
distinctly trace the working of the religion of the times in
the particular instance before us, we may, from a closer
consideration of the facts, not unreasonably suspect its ac¬
tive operation and instrumentality.
Speculators have sometimes spoken of the mild and
tolerant spirit of paganism. The observation, however, is
superficial and untrue. The facility with which the polyt e-
istic worshipper transferred his offerings and prayers to every
new idol, has been mistaken for a readiness to admit any
variation from the established worship, or any freedom o.
opinion respecting divine things, without offence. e
contrary is the fact. The heathen, resting his reigion on
ancient tradition4 and the authority of the priests, and not
on any intrinsic evidences of its truth, could not but leel a
together with Alcibiades and Ihrasybulus, among tne onany inuinMucv.uc.^y- - - » received,
persons exiled by the Thirty, and the notice taken ol jealousy of any departure from what he had thus rece;
i Plato, Thsetet. ad tin. Euthyphro. et alib. The king-Archon was a sort of minister of state ^370.
presentative, under the democracy, of the priestly office of the king during the monarchy at Athens, bee Demosthene , .
ed. Reiske.
* Xen. Hell. ii. 3. 42, 44.—Plato, Meno. . _ ~ 'VT0I oloa
3 See the same exemplitied in what Socrates is made to reply to Callicles in the Gorgias of Plato, p. 16_,
cti naQos ‘xadoitii uv iia&Mv s/g diKCMrfyov, x.r.X. > ~ hew rou
* Demosthenes, in his Oration against Neiera, p. 1370, speaks of a column erected m the tempie at Lunmc,, |/t ‘ ^
Aiovvffou xai cty/ururu, and standing in his time, which stated, among other things, xara ra rru.g i „ 5 . , £/’^T2>
ToXgwg, xui r« vo^asva yr/^rou roTg kor, sv^3S>g, ml xaraXiVa/, xamro^rca : and he sums up the account w
uf (SitMva y.ai ayia, xai de^aux, rd teriv.
SOCRATES.
rates, or any attempt to bring the subject into discussion. It
was not only the primitive Christians that were stigmatized
by heathens as atheists, because they renounced the divini¬
ties of the heathen creed, but the same reproach was long
before cast upon those among the heathens themselves, who,
with however pious disposition, ventured to speculate on
religion. A traditionary religion will tolerate any laxity of
thought or conduct which professedly admits its authority,
whilst it peremptorily puts down every thing which impugns
the principle of absolute deference to its authority. Thus
we shall find, that, where that principle is carried to the ut¬
most, there co-exists with it a scarcely concealed infidelity,
and an unrestrained licentiousness of conduct; and, at the
same time, also an extreme sensitiveness in regard to devi¬
ation from the orthodox profession and language. We have
unhappily seen this in those Christian countries, where the
true faith, the principle of devout submission to the word
of God, has been transformed and perverted into a doctrine
of implicit deference to the authority of the ministers them¬
selves of that word. There,—as, for example, in Spain and
Italy,—where the authority of the church is bowed to most
submissively, practical infidelity and immorality shew their
front with impunity, whilst the expression of opinion or argu¬
ment on questions of theology is discouraged and silenced, if
no longer now, as once, crushed at its outbreak by the dark
terrors of an Inquisition. The same fact was intensely
exemplified in heathen Athens. At no place was piety,
as piety was understood by heathens, more in honour.
No state boasted such a tradition of sacred associations as
Athens. In none were there so many festivals and solem¬
nities of religious observance, as in Athens.1 In none did
the priests of religion hold such sway. Witness their
power over Alcibiades, at the moment of his political tri¬
umph, and amidst the caresses and admiration of his fel¬
low-citizens, when he felt himself obliged to relinquish his
command in Sicily, and desert his conntry, rather than en¬
counter at home the threatened prosecution for his profana¬
tion of sacred things. Witness their power again in the
instance of the same Alcibiades, at his restoration to the
command of the army, when, to conciliate their favour, he
delays the urgent expedition, and keeps the soldiers under
arms along the road by which the sacred procession passed
from Athens to Eleusis. Witness further, the frequent
prosecutions at Athens on charges of impiety of which
we read, and of which we have monuments in extant
orations. But, amidst this strictness of external pro¬
fession, in no place was there a more entire license
as to practical irreligion. Their festivals abounded with
rude and obscene mirth. Their drama, whilst it inculcated
in direct precept the belief and worslhip of the gods, in¬
dulged in the most profane ribaldry and ludicrous repre¬
sentation of sacred things. Yet were these follies and ex¬
cesses tolerated, because under them a regard was still
maintained to the authority which upheld the religion, as
m the “mysteries” and “moralities” enacted with the
connivance of the papal power in modern times; and the
P60?*6 at large were satisfied with a religious system,
w ich was exhibited to them as so good-humoured and
humane. They were tolerated, indeed, but not without
tne hke injury to the religious feelings, as in the parallel
447
cases, where a corrupted secular Christianity has ventured Socrates,
on the like palliations of its despotism. For all the while'
the people were losing their hold of the popular religion.
Those who thought at all on the subject, either rejected it
altogether, or accounted it a mere matter of opinion and
external ordinance; whilst those, on the other hand, who were
content to receive every thing traditionary as divine on the
mere principle of deference to the priests, readily engrafted
every new superstition on the received religion. Thus,
whilst infidelity and superstition grew up at Athens, and
flourished together, and often perhaps in the same mind,
the connexion between religion and morality was altogether
lost sight of and dissolved. Men began to regard them¬
selves as devout, and friends of the gods, whilst they were
committing deeds of violence and lust, and blindly and
wickedly endeavoured to support the cause of religion
by forcible suppression of the truth, and persecution of
those who subjected their tenets or their rites to the test
of inquiry. Thus, whilst Aristophanes was amusing the
people, not of Athens only, but from all parts of Greece, at
the public festivals, with ludicrous representations of the
popular theology, and loosening more and more any exist¬
ing associations of reverence towards the objects of their
worship, severe prosecutions were carried on from time to
time against all who in any way made religion a matter
of debate, or seriously brought it into question with the
people. The same persons can take part in the vulgar low
jest, and shew their real contempt of religion by their care¬
lessness about oaths and the practical duties of religion,
and yet join zealously in the prosecution of offenders against
established notions of religion. It is the same habit of
mind in both cases; a habit of looking at religion as a ge¬
neral rule of orthodox profession,—as a rule binding on a
community, and a test of its soundness of doctrine, rather
than as a personal concern, and a trial of the spirit of a man.
“ He has brought Gentiles into the temple, he has abolished
circumcision, he has profaned our religion,” was the outcry
against St. Paul; and yet these same persons thus clamo¬
rous against the apostle, were minding earthly things all
the while, sticklers for externals, yet idolaters in their per¬
sonal religion, as men of covetousness, and slaves to the
appetites of the body.
At Athens, accordingly, though there M as no freedom of
religious opinion, the religion might be employed to excite
festive mirth, and gratify the levity and licentiousness of a
dissolute yet intellectual populace, amidst the charms of
poetry and music and the solemn graceful dance. For then
the associations of deference to the mysterious agency
M'hich held together the traditions of the popular creed were
not violently broken asunder. There still remained in the
minds of the people an awe at the indefinite mystic truth,
hidden under the embroidered veil held before their eyes.
They knew that the splendid drama of religion, which at
once gratified their refined intellectual taste and their sen¬
sibility, was not the whole of their religion. They had al¬
so the Eleusinian mysteries; rites of religion performed in
secrecy, and fenced round with the terror of death to him
that should divulge them ; delegated to a few, the initiated
only, and incommunicable to the vulgar; of which the po¬
pular rites were but the rude symbols.2 The popular wor-
1 Aristoph. Nub. 298. asj3a; dwriruv iieZv, hot,
fujenboxog bofjjog
sv rikircug uyiuig dvadihwrui,
ovgaviolg re tho/g dugri/taroc,
vaoi 6' v^pspspe/g xai dydXfJMra,
ivGrstpvm rs tnuiv duslai daKitxi rs
'mt/rodaira/'g Iv deaig, x.r.},.
j I „ , Als« Tbucyd-ik 38; and De Repub. Atben. attributed to Xenophon.
610:, -A c. a^e^P'' P" t Ag ov% oiovr a/J.oig n roTg fis/iuri/zmig axousiv . . . xal rriv rsXsrjjv, r,g oi /Mrsywrig #spi rt r5;s
■ .surjjj, xcu 7qu GufiKavrog alojvog, qdiovg rug ekrribctg syouan.
448
SOCRATES.
Socrates, ship might wear the form of caricature, the grotesque, the
'farcical, and even the profane, as being merely the pan¬
tomime in which some recondite interior religion was
dimly and wildly shadowed. The people laughed at what
they saw and heard at their festivals. But amidst their
laugh there was evidently a feeling of awe, which sub¬
dued the luxury of their mirth ; a consciousness that,
whilst they sportively shook the chain of their superstition,
its iron entered into their soul. We see, on the other hand,
Aspasia, the favourite of Pericles, at the time of the great¬
est popularity of that most popular leader, summoned before
the courts, to answer a charge of impiety, and scarcely de¬
fended by the eloquence and the tears of Pericles himself,
from the inexorable power, whose vengeance she had pro¬
voked by her philosophical speculations. Protagoras, ad¬
mired as he was and courted at Athens for his talents in his
profession of a Sophist, was expelled from the city and bor¬
ders of Attica by the Athenians, and his books were collect¬
ed by proclamation and burnt in their agora, for his avowed
scepticism as to the existence of the gods. vEschylus,
whose very poetry is instinctive with religion, was accused
before the Areopagus of divulging the mysteries in one o
his tragedies.2 The philosopher Anaxagoras, like Ciahleo
under his papal inquisitors, suffered imprisonment at the
hands of Athenian persecutors, for having asserted the ma¬
terial nature of the heavenly bodies, and only escaped death
by the intervention of Pericles, and by exile from his adopt¬
ed home. The extent again, to which prosecutions for of¬
fences against the popular religion could be carried at
Athens, is shewn in the number of persons who were im¬
prisoned on suspicion of being implicated in the impieties
charged on Alcibiades, and the execution of so many, on
that occasion of panic, on the unsupported evidence of se¬
cret informers. Lastly, not many years before the accusa¬
tion of Socrates, Diagoras the Melian, and Theodorus of
Cyrene, were branded with the epithets of atheists ; and the
former was forced to fly from Athens on a charge of profa¬
nation of the rites, with the price of a talent set on his head
for any one who should kill him. And long after the time
of Socrates, the same spirit subsisted to drive Aristotle from
the Lyceum, and later still, to intimidate the speculations
of Epicurus. So strictly was the authority of the establish¬
ed worship guarded by a jealous and watchful inquisitonal
power, in a state which boasted of its perfect liberty o
speech, its Trap^uia, above all others.
In fact, there was no liberty of speech on this subject in
Greece. Every thing relating to religion was to be receiv¬
ed as handed down from former ages ; as the wisdom of an
immemorial antiquity, borne along on the lips of the priest
and the prophet, or impressed on mystic rituals, the heredi¬
tary trust of sacred families, or symbolized in the pomp and
pageant of festivals and games, in the graceful majesty of
temples, and the solemn shadows of sacred groves. The
inward devotion of such a religion naturally took the form
of silence, and reserve, and awe. It was concentrated in
the simple dread of profanation. 1 he more supei stitious
indeed a people is, the more necessary is it that the rites
of their religion should be strictly shut up from all inquiry,
and a feeling of reserve should be inculcated as essential
to the religious character. It is the indefiniteness of super¬
stition that holds together the system. Let any one part Socl
of the vaguely-floating system be touched too palpably, *
and the whole crumbles. Thus it has been found, that su¬
perstition and infidelity have always gone hand in hand.
Diagoras was made an atheist from being at first supersti¬
tious. The Athenian people, in like manner, from their su¬
perstitious character, were peculiarly exposed to a reac¬
tion of impiety. And it was but a wise policy, therefore,
that the religion of Athens should be jealously guarded
with an awe forbidding all inquiry into its truth.
The colloquial and lively spirit of the Athenians miti-
o-ated the intensity of this feeling in the minds of the people
at large; and the managers of the system were fain to re¬
lieve it, bv blending recreation, and mirth, and interesting
spectacles, with its public celebration. Grecian supersti¬
tion accordingly, whilst it bore the essential marks of its
oriental origin, in the submissiveness exacted of its votaries,
and its mystic reserve, assumed also the mask of cheerful
expression characteristic of the genius of the people. Still
we see that submissiveness and that reserve strongly mark¬
ed in the stern denial of the right, not only of private judg¬
ment on questions of religion, but even of bringing such
questions at all into discussion.
Now, though, as we have already observed, we cannot
distinctly trace the steps by which this spiritual despotism
was brought to bear on Socrates, we cannot doubt that his
was a case which must have attracted its notice. During
more than forty years, Socrates had been seen at Athens,
going about among all classes of the people, exciting
among them a spirit of moral inquiry, urging on them the
importance and the duty of self-knowledge, of taking no
opinion on mere hearsay, or indolent and self-satisfied
trust, but of bringing every thing to the test of discussion
and learning, of acquainting themselves, as their first step
to knowledge, with the depth and extent of then igno¬
rance. Observers saw in this extraordinary teacher, one ot
their own citizens, educated in their own institutions, fami¬
liar with the habits of Athenian life, ever at home among
themselves, recommending himself alike to the young
and the old, by the honest though quaint dignity of his
manner, and the interest and charm of his conversation. |
He was not, like Anaxagoras, or Protagoras, or Prodicus,
a stranger sojourning among them; a philosopher or
rhetorician by profession, or one pursuing philosophy as a
trade and a source of subsistence, waiting to be resort¬
ed to and courted by the affluent and noble, and reserv¬
ing himself for occasions of display or profit; but he was
found, an Athenian among Athenians, in the market p ace,
in the streets, in the work-shops, at the tables of the wealthy,
himself seeking out persons to instruct, asking questions oi
all around him, and engaging them, even in spite ot them¬
selves, in conversation with him.3 In other teachers, phil
sophy had spoken, according to the observation already
made, as from an oracular shrine, to those only 'V1
to inquire of it as votaries and disciples. With ^crate-
philosophy walked abroad, insinuating itself into he scene
‘and business of daily life, and drawing forth the seer
treasures of men’s minds with its own hands. According
that homely but apt illustration of his mode °f teac g>
which he was so fond of employing, from midwi y>
i Diog Laer. ix. c. 8. Cic. De Nat. Deor. i. 23. See the story of the daughter of Neaera, as ^ldA^ ^“^"eryedthe^offici of
against Neaera, p. 1369. She had been married under the pretence of being an Athenian citizen, to an A j d ted into the mystic
As the wife of this officer of the stole, she was t°. tj’® enter In'to'th^templeTorho'w'itiiess the rites; and
the1kiLNaerchon.P‘ A^the wife of this officer of the state, she was admitted ro rne rues 01 .eug," witness the rites
temple of Bacchus at Limna, But it was unlawful for any but a true-born cimen ^,nt^dte™Pth’ lea of his ignorance of the
her husband consequently was tried before the court of Areopagus for the impiety, and only escaped oi p
fact, and on the condition of his dismissing her from his house.
/Mm,
’/.aroLTSTglpOoci dicc6ovXXov/JjSvo'j( uto ffov
P. 21.
ties, his method freely offered its services in assisting at the
birth of the thought with which the pregnant mind was
labouring. He busied himself, he used to say, with the
officiousness of his maternal art, in exploring the genuine¬
ness of the fruit of the intellectual womb, which his dex¬
terous questions had brought to light.1 Such a person
then could not but fix on himself the eyes of every at¬
tentive observer of the state of society in Athens. Such
teaching evidently could not but have a very conside¬
rable influence on public opinion. Particularly when he
was seen to be acceptable to men of all parties in the
state, to the leaders of the aristocratic faction as well as
the humblest citizen, it could not but be inferred that his
influence was not a transitory one, dependent on the predo¬
minance of any party, but that it would reach to the funda¬
mental constitution of the society at large of the city, and
be a leaven of fermentation to the whole mass. What, then,
it would naturally be asked, must be the effect of such a
teacher on existing opinions in religion ? He taught, indeed,
that men should acquiesce in what was established in reli¬
gion ; that they should inquire no further here than what
simply was the law of the state. He treated, too, the po¬
pular imagery of religion with respect. For he would often
clothe his instructions in the language of the legends and
traditions of their mythology. Nor did he attempt to
explain them away, though he waived all discussion of
them. He was seen, too, on all stated occasions, sacri¬
ficing at the altars of the gods, and joining in the rites/*
But, it would be asked, if the citizens were taught to exa¬
mine into received opinions generally, would they abstain
from carrying this principle into the subject of religion ?
Would they continue still blindly and submissively to fol-
low the voice of authority ? Would they not rather, so far
as they were disciples of Socrates, begin to speculate on di¬
vine things, abandoning that reverence which they had
hitherto maintained for the objects of public worship, dis-
puting and discussing without reserve, and exposing to the
vulgar gaze what had been all along venerated in mystic
silence, and under the veil of symbol ? The mercurial tem¬
perament of the Athenian was just the soil in which the
seeds now scattered by the hand of Socrates might be ex¬
pected to vegetate. The excessive prosperity, too, of
Athens, during the fifty years immediately following the
rersian war, and then its condition of struggle against inter¬
nal faction and the confederate arms of Peloponnesus, were
circumstances calculated to foster the profane irreligious
spirit in a light-hearted people. Then, instances were not
wanting of young men, the intimates of Socrates, and whose
minds had been especially cultivated by conversation with
nm, who proved in the end traitors to the religion, as
"ell as to the civil liberties of their country. Critias,3 after-
vvards one of the thirty tyrants, and Alcibiades, at once the
1 ide and the pest of his fellow-citizens, whom they loved
and hated, and banished and longed for by turns, were
sinking evidences to the superficial observation of the evil
apprehended from the teaching of Socrates. For here were
young men of genius, susceptible by nature of the fullest
1 fluence of the lessons of the philosopher. And yet these
exnppi1 dd “nd.er,hlsJlands- What, therefore, might not be
S?d a Tlds °f inferior order ? How not the
■dmT TA the instltutl0ns of the city fall into profane ne-
' t contempt, should the Socratic spirit of inquiry be
SOCRATES.
449
f nerat,on of Cltizens ? The obser- Socrates.
\a ion, indeed, was only a very superficial one, which would
infer from such instances the evil of the teaching which these
individuals misapplied. Still it is plain, that such cases were
pointed at with invidious reference to Socrates and philo-
sophy m general. We find the orator iEschines attributing
the death of Socrates to the circumstance of his having
educated Critias ; not that he must be supposed to have
believed this to have been the whole account of the trial
and condemnation of Socrates ; but as an orator, he states
for the purposes of his argument, what he conceives would
be readily believed as part of the account of that event,
i Jatoalso studiously addresses himself to the defence of
philosophy from objection on this ground, with evident al¬
lusion to Alcibiades and the like cases; arguing that the
same individuals who M ere most susceptible of the good of
philosophy were also such as would be the most apt to
abuse it. And probably he had the same design, and re¬
fers to the degenerate sons of Pericles himself, as an instance
in point to those who cherished the memory of that great
man, and of the times in which he flourished, to show that
the philosopher was not to be held responsible for the ex¬
travagances and vices of the disciple.5
The exhibition of the comedy of “ The Clouds,” appears
to have been designed to bring before the people the sup-
posed evd tendency of the teaching of Socrates, as exem¬
pli hed in such distinguished instances. It was produced in
the year b.c. 423, when the philosopher had attained his
forty-seventh year, and was at the height of his reputation
throughout Greece, and about twenty-three years before
his death. There we have Socrates introduced by name
under broad caricature, as the representative of the class of
sophists, and a consummate master of the arrogant preten¬
sion, and sordid cunning, and impiety of the class. The
clouds are his only divinities. A profligate spendthrift
youth, and a dotard father, are his dupes. The inquisitive
method which Socrates practised, is also held up to ridi¬
cule and contempt, by identifying it with the frivolous
questionings of the grammarians, and dialecticians, and rhe¬
toricians of the day, and with the perverse sophistry which
held truth a matter of indifference, or, which amounted to
the same thing, called every man’s opinion truth, and boast¬
ed of its skill to make the worse appear the better cause.
It was but too evident to Athenian spectators at least, that
the Socrates of Aristophanes was not the Socrates whom
they had been accustomed to see and converse Mdth in real
lde; nd PIay accordingly failed at the first exhibition.
Not all its charms of poetry, and humour, and skilful com¬
position, could obtain for it a favourable reception. Thou°-h
Aristophanes was aware that the portrait which he had
drawn, was not a portrait of the individual, but of the class,
there can be little doubt, that he calculated on the sympathy
of the peop e, m giving the name of Socrates to his personi¬
fication of the sophistical spirit; and that he felt it necessary
to depreciate the influence of Socrates as the commanding
influence of the day, by attributing to his method all the
vices of the schools of the sophists. Socrates is honoured
and complimented in the very attempt to weaken the re¬
spect 01 ns instructions, and to awaken a clamour against
him. The failure of “ The Clouds,” at the first representa¬
tion, and one account adds, even at the second, (for the
play is said to have been retouched for the third time), has
1 ^ato s TheffiCetus in illustration of this. t pi . i? .u L
Crilnid' "dve,t! lik'’ "T? t0 fe C',aree of as supported by the instances of
fZ P' S «• tteTfce feHng, T* T*” S“™'“ »"<* HippL Isocraras!
VoJ“hxSocrates t0 be benefited by the instructions of the philosophe/ 7 S°LrateS J meanin&> 11 seems, that Alcibiades was too short
3 I.
450
SOCRATES.
been attributed to the influence of Aieibiades Alcibiade,
indeed has been supposed by some commentators to have ^ Pf P‘e' have bee„ in them the like
been no less the object of attack in the play t mn ocra - ,,, j take as it would be to confound the philosopher
himself, and to have been designated under the name of points of resemblance, with the
Phidippides, the youthful and accomplished ^ ° fu.be’ist and eZiric of the preceding ages,
sophist. There are certainly some traits in the c iai ac mi^ht seem matter of reproach against Aristophanes,
oi Phidippides, which would seen, to that, ”ntlec“ng 7e name oflocra.es^o represent',he so-
whom perhaps the poet, bold as he was, cou. c Y , . • t SDirit which had then so largely corrupted the
tore ,o bring on the stage by name or closer de cnp„„ P^^ sP‘m wmc f AtliSn >he inted the
at this particular time. And we may perhaps justly allow education anu g • . ^ —
some weight to party influence m neutralizing the ettect o
“ The Clouds” at its first exhibition. Still, when we ob¬
serve in other instances the great power which the comic
muse could wield against a political opponent, as m the at¬
tack on Cleon in “ The Knights,” we cannot but think that
there was some strong countervailing feeling in the estima¬
tion of Socrates himself. If the account of /Elian be true,
Socrates could join in the laugh raised against him ; tor he
was present in the theatre during the acting of the pla),aml
i „ . k:^^4- ,-vT *• fr»firm. nmPP(i IlirnSGit
shafts of the comic muse against the very person who was
in truth its most successful antagonist. In such a view of
the case, however, sufficient justice would not be done to
the discernment of the poet. He shrewdly observed in
Socrates the master genius which would ultimately cast
into the shade all those busy professors of the art of edu¬
cation, who, under the name of sophists, or professors of all
knowledge, were then attracting the notice of the world to
themselves and their doctines. Socrates, in himself, Ans-
was present in the theatre during the acting o ie p t han6s could not but admire and recommend to the imi-
finding that he was the object of attract,on, *ced “ tophanes couU not ^ ^ Socrateg tQ ^
where all could command a view of him. He , t • t no less than himself,—to be steadily aiming
every one in Athens knew, that he was a very differe p , . , , ti^ Athenians to the purity of their institu-
:0n Lm the sophists with whom the PW tdem.hed hnn. “otd^de'generated, by his
They indeed w^ere corrupters of the >oun^ , Y instructive conversations, as he was by the satirical strokes
settled every established principle - ^Znia SoZ
young, and gave n° drifted ait by sonal friend; for Plato introduces them in his Banquet as
swept away. They leu the ycung to be y Qn tprms of intimacy, about the very time of the
the tide of their passions, with no criterion ot tni hibitfon of “ The Clouds.” But with that freedom which
right beyond the present opinion or the present interest, exhibit o under an absolute democracy, sane-
But Socrates, whilst he taught the young to -1^ ^'and ”„c„u7gel Aristophanes did not scruple to
the truth of their opinions, lessened then presump revered name of Socrates on the stage, to
self-confidence, by shewing them how apt hey were to mis- ^ nS even the reverea ^ overlooked the indi.
take mere assumptions for knowledge, and to be concci ^ , the Socrates with whom he familiarly conversed,
of their ignorance. His object was truth, and accurate
knowledge. He stated difficulties and objections, bu not ^ P^Zking iZersonation of the influence of edu-
in the spirit of a sceptic, but in order to awaken curiosity, the living ^ eakingimpe s^ ^ ^ ^ for eyil
to clear away confusion of thought, and inci! ^ ^-^then Anaxagoras, or Protagoras, or Prodicus, or any other of the
principles of judgment and conduct. He could < k nown nhilosonhers or sophists of the day, might have
laugh at the jest which glanced from him to its proper ob- weH-known ph losophers or sop ^ of (< ^he 50uds;”
jects, the sophists themselves, the very persons against occupi ght t0 give niereiy a fugitive sketch of the
whom his whole teaching was directed. Pie ^!t doubtiess P . . & f hi u or t0 singie out for ridicule
that he had a hold on the people at large, which the so- f Ph;s^a . features. This is what
phists had not. They were1 for the most part nown on y soi ^ ^ done on many occasions, and especially in that
to the great and wealthy; those who c“ulf r^eJ j )U„h most animated picture in the dialogue entitled Protagoras,
into their houses, as they went bom ci > ^ " where he Groups together the figures of the leading so-
Greece ; who sought their society as patrons of hteratuie, o » , ;ldm;rable relief with each other, and such
aspirants after political distinction, and who could pay or p ns s . . j unpretending but dignified form ot
their instructions.* He on the contrary was accessible to happy contrast a vgiew, however,
all. He would receive no money from any one. t w , baVe answered the design of Aristophanes in his
the frequent guest of the rich ; but he was no less t ic as- a Th Ciouc[s” His object was to seize the deep,
sociate of the artizan and the poor. And too many mus p Y ci cte f tl systcm of education which was
have been present in the theatre when the Socrates of Greece, and especially as
“ The Clouds” was amusing the audience by his sleight-of- then exte § Athens the Great school of all Greece,
hand philosophy, who would remember the real Socrates as it was mmi ^ ^iselyf he fixed his eye on an
a man of honesty, and truth, and disinterested benevolence, ISaturally, the > , Socrates,—not only as the
from whom they had received much useful counsel from Athemm^n^^^^ - loso.
me to time, and whom they had ever found affable, and at first Athenian who 1 ad appeared in the o V t0 his
leisure to enter into their feelings and views with patience Phica* and fitly ex-
and kindness. If we compare the Socrates of the Memoia- lessons philosophical education in the
bilia of Xenophon with the Socrates of “ I he Clouds, we emph.fied the mfluence nt P^ P Athenians,
may judge how great was the contrast to those who com- hands ot an Athenian, ana as opera^ g ^ ^ f- -f
pared the well-known philosopher of the agora with his por¬
trait as drawn bv Aristophanes. If we can smile at the ca
ricature of “ The Clouds,” and yet love the excellent mo¬
ralist of the Memorabilia, we may also conceive how harm¬
less the satire of Aristophanes would really be against the
object of it; whilst the jokes of the poet, true as to the per-
nds of an Athenian, and as operating on f
The poet, indeed, as addressing the eye and the
the ordinary observer, and not Athenians only, bu ,•
o-ers of the Grecian name from all parts, mingles
colouring some playful lights borrowed from the
the well-known professional sophists of the day. 1 ^
ther are these representations, nor the allusions
1 ALliati, Var. Hist. f 0 . , . ^ him as dvbpbs dTV(h;a ml ty\ela MdXu« ^
s Plutarch well characterises the teaching of Socrates, m speaking of him, as p V .
fljav()p(6TTT)<TavToS' Ue Socr. Gen. p. 301.
g utes
SOCRATES
makes to the real eccentricities of manner and uncouthness
of person in Socrates, the points on which he desires to fix
the attention of the theatre. It is the important modifica¬
tion of the Athenian character, under a system of education
which had now reached its maturity. Under the adminis¬
tration of 1 ericles, that system had already infected the
policy of the state, and perverted its courts of justice into
sinks of corruption and oppression. Now, at length, it
was found domesticated at Athens in the sanctuary of pri¬
vate life. An Athenian had appeared in the character of
a professor of philosophy; and around him were gathered
citizens of all ranks, from the noble youth who aspired to
the helm of the state, and the wealthy patron of literature,
to the mean artizan who worked at the forge, and the drudge
of the market. What was further to be observed now,
was, that the system came recommended by the eloquence
of lively and exciting conversation. And how powerful
must have been such conversation, as it came forth from
the lips of the speaker in the elegant and terse Attic idiom !
It was no wonder, therefore, that the comic poet should
have seized this moment for portraying the danger which
he anticipated to his country from the fashionable educa¬
tion of the day, and thrown all the force of his ridicule on
the most attractive form in which it then presented itself
as displayed in the personal teaching and example of So¬
crates.
The testimony of Plato is to the same effect. Plato has
not given us an exact portrait of Socrates any more than
Aristophanes has; for he has evidently transferred to the
Socrates of his Dialogues, not less of his own cast of mind
and manner, than Aristophanes did to the Socrates of his
comedy, of the general tone of the sophists. And this is
to be accounted for, as in the case of Aristophanes, from
the fact, that Plato regarded Socrates as the impersonation
of the philosophy of the times. He felt that, to give his
own doctrines a proper authority and weight, he could not
employ a more effectual organ than the tongue of him who
tad first given to philosophy an Attic expression, and from
whom it would henceforth derive its proper Grecian cha¬
racter.
But though the drama of “ I he Clouds” was unsuccessful
as an attack on Socrates, if it w ere intended as such, or as an
attack on the sophists under the name of Socrates, which is
the more probable view of its design, it must not be supposed
that the play produced no effect unfavourable to Socrates.
1 uV/3!• °n’ t^at Aristophanes was employed by Anytus
and Mehtus to write down Socrates, does not seem altogether
without reason ; though it can hardly be literally true, when
we look to the distance of time which intervened between
the production of the play and the accusation. In the Apo-
°9y of 1 lato there is an allusion to the prejudice excited
m the young men by the representation given of the philo¬
sopher in this play. Nor had “ The Clouds” been the only
tack on Socrates by Aristophanes; not to mention other
comic writers who had made him the object of their
humour. In the year 405, not more than five years be-
i ipr?secution> ^e play of “ The Frogs” had been
exhibited, m which a pointed allusion is made to the
uence of Socrates in terms of reprobation.1 In the
lilavnnf™Tia ST,’ t}'e„ same note had been struck; for the
i y The Birds was produced in the middle of this
451
“ I;he Cl,mds" and “T1»! Frogs,” in the Scm*.
year 414; ami in that again the Athenians are warned—~
against the corruptions and enchantments of the philoso-
pher.2 And it is very possible that many who lived to
witness the formal accusation of Socrates, might have re¬
ceived their earliest prejudices against the philosopher bv
what they heard in the theatre then,—prejudices, too, which
the course of events, the miseries of the Peloponnesian war
and the anarchy consequent upon it, may have ripened
into exasperation.3 For they saw their country fallen from
its proud station in Greece, to the condition of a depend¬
ent state; and they were led to ascribe their misfortunes
to a change of habits since the days of .Marathon and Sa-
larms,—to their having deserted the palaestra and the field,
and become, from a body of devoted patriots and soldiers
students of rhetoric and masters in debate.4 Durino- aU
this time Socrates continued the unrivalled teacher of5the
youth of Athens; increasing, indeed, in renown and popula¬
rity; and surrounded by a number of students of philosophy
and political science from all parts of Greece. He had,in fact
converted Athens into a university ofGreece. For though he
iai no professed school,—no ^povria-TTipiov, as Aristophanes
jocosely represents the scene of Socrates amongst his dis¬
ciples,—no regular place of meeting, such as Plato had in
t ie Academia, and Aristotle in the Lyceum ;—there miMit
be seen around him in familiar conversation, in every
part of the city, day after day, the statesmen, and orators,
and generals of the republic,—philosophers of established re¬
pute from other cities,—the sons of the noblest families of
Athens as wel as of the humblest citizens,—and the resident
foreigners and occasional visitors of the city ; some seeking
instruction in the art of government, some investigating bv
his guidance the chief good of man, some studying the theo-
ry of eloquence and criticism, some exploring, bv the light
of his searching questions, the depth of metaphysics, and
the subtile speculations of the earlier philosophers; all ac¬
cording to their different pursuits, and in their different de¬
grees, receiving information and general mental culture from
the great Athenian sage. Those who clung to the thought of
Athens in its days of military glory and empire, would pain-
. y 0bserve how great a change had taken place in the
internal habits of the city. Formerly it was enough for
the intellectual improvement of the youth, that in childhood
he had the grammarian for his instructor, and as he grew up
to manhood, was consigned to the poets;5 ^
7'0/s /ib yap ‘xaidagioieiv
sari bibadKaXog bang (ppa^tt, toTiSiv firfiuai To/ijra/6
Now even the slaves were becoming literary. The dis¬
tresses of war had occasioned the addition to the roll of ci¬
tizens, of many even from that class. And these might be
seen, as the comic poet represents them, “ each with his
book, learning clever things;”
fi/fiXiov 7 lyjjiv huaros fiavSavn rci dsg/do. 7
formerly, their wise men were obliged to leave the ig¬
norance and rudeness of their own city, and learn philosophy
by foreign travel. Solon had brought back with him from hi's
travels the wisdom of Crete and of Asia to enrich their code
of laws, but had not given philosophy a domicile at Athens;
had not affected domestic life there with its refinements.
t fri^0pb’ Raiiae’ 1487- 2 Aristoph. Aves, 1-282, J554. 3 See Thucvd iii 82 ’ " ~ ~ "
In Xenoph. Mem. iii. 5, the younger Pericles a«ks Wmi-pc ’ iV 7a§ *a/ ccyaSoXi mayfiudiv, x.r.X.
-ncient virtue, glory, and happiness; and afterwards he expresses his wnnH \eman® are to bought again to become enamoured of their
"'gleet of the in.,ltuti‘r„? ,h„r “SS m” , , “T "7 '**" “ dedine- ™l>"t“ -Mr
■V exercises> even to the ridicule of them, insubordination m AntWin i rne.nt,?ne^ are> vva,|t of respect to elders, neglect of
^incompetence of their generals. es’ il)u ua Jrritatlon, envy, quarrelsomeness, litigation, covetous-
Sfly r*wardedPof alf SlmTaf AthensOPHatto.''iflc/^t IsVb^lT faV°Ur’ skil! in the composition of tragedy was the most
e P°Pularity of philosophers and sophists. ' » • P- • ie poets of Athens, therefore, were naturally jealous of
austophan. Ran. 1052 _ , .
' Anstophan. Ran. 1111.
452
SOCRATES.
Socrates. From that time, however, a change, introduced by the hte-
' rary taste of Pisistratus, had gradually prepared the way tor
establishing a school of philosophy at Athens.1 Pericles,
too, had given a great stimulus to the literary spirit by Ins
own fondness for intellectual pursuits, and the society ot
intellectual men. In the midst of his active political lite,
he could find time and thought for the elaborate disqui¬
sitions of the ingenious persons whom he invited to him.
He could spend a whole day in disputing with Protagoras
on so subtile a question as the theory of causation; such
was the intense interest which he displayed in every thing
tending to the development of mental energy, and such the
encouragement he gave to the change of tastc ^ in p™‘
gress by his own example. In the person of Socrates was
found the genius formed to preside over the growing taste
for literary and philosophical refinement, and to give it the
form of an established institution. What, therefore,^were
merely indefinite fears at the time of the exhibition of The
Clouds,” assumed a more distinct character ot alarm to an¬
cient prejudices within a quarter of a century afterwards.
The rapidity and violence of several successive revolutions
of the government during the latter part of that intei va,
further prepared the minds of the people for any sudden
outbreaks of party spirit, and made every man an object
of suspicion to his neighbour. A democracy of an humi c
years’ existence3 had been overthrown, and first an oh-
Lrchy of four hundred, then a tyranny of thirty, establish¬
ed by foreign arms, in its place. Nor, as it had not been
without fraud and bloodshed that the people had been spoil¬
ed of their “ ancient liberty,”4 were they disposed to sur¬
render it in quiet; or were those who seized on the govern¬
ment able to retain it long on the same footing. A struggle
ensued ; in which the individuals of contending parties only
sought to provide, each for his own aggrandizement and in¬
terest, or at least his own safety, under the constant expec¬
tation of some counter-revolution.5 The people had found
that some of those very persons who would never have been
suspected of oligarchical views, had in the late change
taken part against the popular government, so that they
knew not, at last, whom to trust even of themselve.. We
are not to wonder that an accusation of Socrates should
have succeeded before an Athenian jury at this period ot
morbid sensitiveness of the public mind.
An accusation of impiety was, we must remember, too, an
accusation of a political offence. A change of the popubr re¬
ligion was a change of the fundamental constitution ot a Greek
state. And as in the absolute rule of a single despot, so in
the tyranny of a multitude, the reputation ot zeal for religion
is studiously maintained from policy, if from no higher mo¬
tive, to throw around its arbitrary acts the reverence and
fear due to the religious character. T he teaching of bo-
crates was indeed eminently religious, but it differed from
what the state regarded as such. He proved the existence
of an invisible divine power, wisely designing and govern-
in»- all things, and inculcated the duties ot piety and mo-
rafity as flowing from the belief ot such an agency, buch
clearly was not the state-religion.7 This was no system ot
truth or morality. It was tradition and legend, and imme¬
morial usage, and ritual observance.8 And it was enough for a
charge of impiety that Socrates rested religion on otner
grounds. A pious Athenian, and yet not pious after the man- Socr*
ner of the Athenians, was, in their view, an introducer of newv-*v
gods. He might well be believed to be a worshipper of the
clouds and the air, when he pointed out to them, that the gods
would not receive the sacrifice offered by wicked men,0
that even their silent counsels were not concealed from the
divine cognizance, and that justice was an indispensable
duty of the worshipper of the gods.10
That the accusation further should be credible, as brought
in this form, is not strange, when it is known that, during the
Peloponnesian war, the worship of new gods had been intro¬
duced into the city; as at Rome during the depression of its
fortunes in the first years of the second Punic war. So great¬
ly had the vicissitudes of fortune influenced the minds ot men,
observes Livy, describing this effect,—so great was the influx
of religion, and that chiefly foreign, into the state, that ei¬
ther the men or the gods appeared to have suddenly become
different.11 So at Athens, it appears, the forms of super¬
stition had been multiplied, under the pressure of civil and
domestic calamity acting on the fears and credulity ot the
people. The strong reproof which Euripides puts into the
mouth of Theseus, of the austere life of Hippolytus, would
seem to point at some ascetic devotees among the Athe- ■
nians themselves, practising a more refined and scrupulous
religion, distinct from that of the vulgar ;
"HSjj vuv otuyji, xat hi /3ogdj
2/ro/f xawjjkeu, Ogp=a r dvaxr’ ( ^
Bdfc/sos, toXXvi yoaijjtMaTuv rviZii xaTvovi-
In Aristophanes15 we find still more evident allusion to
the introduction of new objects of worship, new tanatical
rites, in which the women chiefly officiated, and in which a
gross licentiousness mingled with the gloom and solemnities
of barbaric superstition.
Aa-ain, education was intimately connected with politics
in a Grecian state. The state took in hand its youthful
citizens, and trained them according to its peculiar institu¬
tions, and in its own spirit. At least, in all the early con¬
stitutions, great attention was paid to education. Lycurgus
made Sparta a constant school of war to his citizens, bo
too Solon, though he had, with greater knowledge of human
nature than Lycurgus, adapted his institutions to the people
for whom he legislated, provided that the people should be
trained to the system of laws prescribed to them. But this
care of the early legislators had begun to be lost sight ot in
practice.14 In Aristotle’s day it had disappeared every where.
In Sparta it was still nominally reverenced. In Athens, an
entire relaxation of the educational discipline had taken
place already in the time of Socrates. Pencles, flattering
the democratic spirit of the Athenians of his day, coult
boast of their ease from labours and the obligation ot exe
cises, and congratulate them on the courage which the)
could display at the time of action, withoutj being mwed
beforehand by a course ot hardy discipline. ’
whilst the state was remiss in not enforcing education ac
cording to its ancient system, a new system had grown up,
the offspring of the luxury and refinement of its dayj
perial greatness. This new and unauthorized education
was diffused throughout the mass of the inhabitants bey P
the pale of the citizens. Solon’s law imposed the duties
i Aul. Gell. vi. 17. Libros Athenis discipUnarum liberalium publice ad legendum praebendos primus posuisse dicitur Pisistratus tyran
' Tht^ vi‘iP6BCl' °P' " Thucyd. nil. 71,72, .. 3 Thucyd. ill “ XeStf^
m£!v »v fV^iuMos trahebatur^be'llum et^variabanc* secundae adve^.,. ,e, non for.anam mg q„,m an.mos ,
.eligio, et ea tnagaa ex parte externa, civitatem ineessit, tit aut homines ant Du repente |'n 4|ft ^ Lysist. 389.
StSle Laches, complains of their fathers having neglected their ednc.ttoo, Si. ** /» ^ “
dialogue of Plato throughout, on the subject of Athenian education. j6 Thucydi U> 39.
'5 Aristot. Pol. v. 7.
SOCRATES.
es. the exercises on the citizens, but excluded the slaves from
<wthe gymnasium. Now all classes were hearers of the philo¬
sopher ; the smith, the carpenter, the fuller, the dresser of
leather, were engaged in discussing problems of ethics and
politics, no less than the high-born and wealthy citizen, and
the orator, and the statesman, and the general. This was
an evident indication of a corresponding change in the go¬
vernment itself; a change, which really came to matu¬
rity not long after the time of Socrates, when the machi¬
nery of the government passed from the hands of the gene¬
rals and the men of practical ability, into those of the ora¬
tors of the republic, and when rhetoric, or oratory, became
the master science, and only another name for politics.1
Those, then, whose attention had been drawn to the per¬
son of Socrates many years before, and had then only laugh¬
ed at the exaggerations of the comic muse, might naturally
begin to suspect, in the progressof events at Athens, that there
was a real danger to the institutions of the country couched
under the humorous mien and conversation of the real Socra¬
tes. They would now, as they watched his increasing influ¬
ence and reputation, recal their early associations of the lu¬
dicrous with the name of Socrates, not with the good humour
. with which they were originally received, but with the unde¬
fined fears since acquired, in the course of their daily obser¬
vation, of one in whose hands the destinies of their country
seemed to be placed. They would probably then think that
they had judged his case too leniently before as spectators,
and that they were now called upon to pronounce authori¬
tatively as judges, not so much from the representations and
arguments of the accusers, as from their own experience of
the great change which their country had evidently under¬
gone, and was still undergoing. Even indeed at the time
of trial, nearly half of the great body of jurors were in fa¬
vour of his acquittal; and Melitus would have failed alto¬
gether, but for the speeches of Anytus and Lycon, men of
popular and rhetorical powers, who addressed the court in
support of the charge ; so strongly did the weight of his
personal character, and the interest which he had excited
by his friendly and instructive intercourse with every class
of citizens, prevail in his favour.
We should take into account, further, the general neu¬
trality of Socrates on questions of politics, and his decisive
energy on particular political occasions, in which he was
called upon by the circumstances of his position to take
part. Both lines of conduct would create enemies. Neu-
1 trality in a state distracted with parties is the most unpo¬
pular course which can be adopted; however candid and
reasonable the principle of such conduct may be, all parties
look with jealousy at one who will not be associated with
them in the guilt and the danger of party-struggles. They
envy him his exemption from their violence, his reputation
of candour, his safety under every vicissitude of party-as¬
cendancy. Corcyra, as a state, was obnoxious to the other
states of Greece for its neutral policy. So was the indivi¬
dual at Athens who kept aloof from public business, amidst
that restless pragmatical spirit which actuated the state and
its citizens. Athenians could not understand and appreciate
the motives of one who abstained from the public assemblies,
and the courts, and the theatres,—who shrank from all public
offices,—was a member of no faction or club,—engaged in no
trade,—disregarded even his own domestic concerns, and
lived a private man, where every one else was the servant of
the public, busy with the affairs of the state, and incessant¬
ly pushing his own interests by his political activity.2 The
laws of Solon indeed inculcated the principle, that every
one should take his side in the contention of parties.3 So¬
lon wished to interest the people in the maintenance of the
constitution which he had given them; and accordingly,
obliged them by penalties to attend to public affairs. This
was evidently his reason for compelling their attendance in
the assemblies and courts, as also for this singular provision.
The increased action of the democratic spirit in the time of
Socrates must have greatly fostered the opinion thus de¬
clared in their ancient laws. And thus we find philosophers
in general held in disrepute at Athens, on account of their
inactivity and unconcern in public affairs. The busy so¬
phist, the orator, and the man of the world, censured them
as pusillanimous, and indolent, and incapable of the duties
of a citizen. Some of the early philosophers, indeed, had
been distinguished as statesmen, and legislators, and gene¬
rals. The Pythagoreans in Magna Graecia appear still to
have sustained this character in some measure. But now
philosophers were observed, for the most part, to lead a con¬
templative life of leisure, and to present a striking contrast
to the general society of Grecian states. Plato takes every
opportunity in his writings of defending philosophy from this
calumny directed against the persons of its votaries, evident¬
ly treating it as a grievance which he had felt in his own case.
Aristotle a.lso indicates the prevalence of the same objection
against philosophers at his day, when he studiously maintains
that exertions of the mind in mere speculation are to be re¬
garded as even more really practical than those which are di¬
rected to external results.4 Socrates accordingly was a puzzle
to many of his contemporaries. They wondered that he should
freely dispense the treasures of his wisdom, and not convert
it into a marketable commodity. Whilst they gave him
credit for integrity, they regarded such a proceeding as
mere folly.5 They asked how he could think to qualify others
for public life, without taking part in it himself, if he really
knew what it was to be a statesman. But he was content,
in reply, to point to the number whom he had laboured to
lender capable of public duties, as a more effectual service
on his part to the state, than a mere personal activity.
But though the general conduct of Socrates was to
avoid all interference in affairs of state, he had shewn on
one or two very important occasions his patriotic feeling,
and the energy with which he could carry it into effect. He
had served with distinguished courage at Potidma, Amphi-
polis, and Delium, as we have seen; and proved himself,
on those hard-fought days, one who, as Pericles character¬
izes the Athenians, could philosophize without effeminacy,
and, without being inured to the dangers of the field, could
brave them at the moment of trial with no diminished spi¬
rit. But still greater occasions of trial were those of civil
exertion at home, to which he was called not long before
the accusation of impiety. Perhaps one of the most memo¬
rable instances of resolute firmness which history presents
is to be observed in the fact, that when the uproar of fac¬
tion was demanding the iniquitous condemnation of the ge¬
nerals who commanded at Arginusae, Socrates stood alone
among his colleagues in office, and refused to put the ques¬
tion to the vote, as the epistates, or superintendent of the
453
Socrates.
** ^
4 1 lutdrcll> Solon, 20, tom. i. p. 354, ed. Reiske. S
Dtiirist°h Po1- vi- 3- ™ ffgaxTncbv ovz dvayTtaTov, x. r.X. Also Ethic Nic y 7 ti r t ■ ,
™ 18 Messed to the same popular calumny against philosophy. N Th °rat,0n °f l30crates agalnst the so-
^ a M  Kal mri nD A,-
454
SOCRATES.
Socrates.
day, in the form proposed.1 Each of the ten Athenian tribes
had its turn of presidency in the council of Five Hundred
for thirty-six days of the year; fifty out of the whole tribe
being chosen by lot as its representatives during this pe¬
riod. These fifty were further subdivided into tens; and
each of these tens, under the name of proedri, served a
week in succession, as it was allotted, until the official
term of the tribe was completed. Again, of these ten
presidents, seven were appointed by lot, to occupy the chair
in succession during their week ot office ; each one ol the
seven becoming in his turn epistates, or superintendent for
a day. The tribe Antiochis, to which Socrates belonged,
happened to be the presiding tribe on the occasion of the im¬
peachment of the generals; and it came to the lot of So¬
crates to be in the chair of office on the day when the ques¬
tion of their condemnation was so passionately debated.
The generals had nobly done their duty to their country,
and gained the most brilliant victory which had been achiev¬
ed at sea in the course of the war by the Athenian arms.
But the crisis was an unfortunate one for them. Athens
was then on the verge of ruin. The jealousy ot parties was
at its height. The hopelessness of recovering the lost
ground by military strength at this time, gave an opening
and encouragement to personal intrigue, and the arts of an
unscrupulous diplomacy; and a victory, however honour¬
able to their arms, and hopeful as to the future, seems only
to have been hailed with very doubtful congratulations by
the struggling factions ot the city; each looking at it rather
as it might act for or against his party,—as it might tend to
the strength of his rivals or their depression,—than as a great
public triumph. However this may be, for the event remains
a matter of perplexity to the historian, the successful gene¬
rals were brought to trial through the treachery of their own
officers, on the specious charge of having neglected the col¬
lecting of the dead bodies of their men alter the action.2 The
charge was specious, because it was partly true, and was at¬
tested indeed by the very officers who were sent by them on
that service, and who were now brought as witnesses against
their commanders. It was true, so far as the endeavour to col¬
lect the dead bodies had been frustrated by a violent storm
which followed the engagement. Still the endeavour had
been made. The charge was further specious, because it
appealed to religious prejudices, as well as to the democra¬
tic spirit. The generals seemed to have been regardless of
the solemn rites due to the dead, and of the persons and
feelings of the lower orders of the people. The occasion
therefore furnished abundant topic of invective to the de¬
magogues ; and their addresses too fatally succeeded in ob¬
taining an ungrateful and factious vote of death against the
generals. Socrates was threatened with criminal informa¬
tion by the orators of the people; and the people themselves
were urging on his assailants, and clamouring against him.
Still he remained unmoved, and woidd not put the unjust
question to the vote; preferring the hazard of bonds and
death to himself, on the side of the law and right, to a com¬
pliance with the popular will in an illegal act.3 The ini¬
quity was perpetrated ultimately in spite of his resistance ;
but he at least did his utmost to prevent it.
Such was his conduct under the ascendancy of the de¬
mocratic power. Afterwards, when the oligarchy was es¬
tablished, and the Thirty w ere exercising their acts of cruel¬
ty and extortion without restraint, he was the first to give a
check to their tyranny. In their career of confiscation and
blood, they marked out Leon of Salamis for destruction. Sock
They conceived that the terror of their power would com-
pel even Socrates to be a ready instrument to their ra¬
pacity ; and they were desirous also doubtless to implicate
him in the criminality of the act. Accordingly, they ap¬
pointed him with four others to go to Salamis, and bring
Leon to Athens, that he might be put to death. They were
disappointed, however, in their expectation, so far as they
depended on Socrates as an instrument in the dark deed.
The order was executed, and the unhappy Leon was sa¬
crificed to their cruel avarice and fears. But Socrates
had no hand in it, and resisted it as far as he could.
Unawed by their stern command, he said nothing, but as
soon as he had left the Tholus, the place where the Thirty
were assembled, he left his four colleagues to proceed on
their bloody errand and went home. He would not, in¬
deed, have dared thus to disobey the order with impunity;
he would surely have felt their vengeance ;—for there is no¬
thing that tyrants resent more than a clemency volunteered
by the ministers of their cruelties,4—but that happily that
reign of terror was soon after put down.
By these intrepid acts, Socrates had shewn that the phi¬
losopher, in declining the contentions of political life, did
not incapacitate himself for his duties w hen the exigencies
of his situation should require him to perform them.5 As
Thales had proved that the philosopher could, if he pleased,
make money, by applying to that purpose his observations
on the seasons, and his prognostics of an abundant crop of
olives ;6 so did Socrates defend philosophy in his own per¬
son, and by his conduct on these great occasions, against
the imputation of inactivity and selfish ease. It is quite
evident, too, that such a spirit as that displayed in these
remarkable instances, had he entered into political life,
would have subjected him to violent collisions with the
successive leaders of party at Athens. “ You well know,
Athenians,” are the words which Plato’s “ Apology” puts
into his mouth, “ that had I long ago attempted to take
part in political affairs, I should long ago have perished,
and I should neither have done you any service nor my¬
self. And be not aggrieved with me for saying the truth.
For there is no one of men that can be safe, in giving a
spirited opposition either to you or to any other popular
government, and in preventing the occurrence of man)
unjust and iniquitous things in the state ; but he that would
in reality fight for the right, must, if he would be safe but
a little while, lead a private life and not engage in public
business.”7 “ Think you, indeed,” he further asks, “ that
I should have lived for so many years, had I engaged in
public business; and had I, engaging in it in a manner be¬
coming a good man, succoured the cause of right, and, as
behoved me, made that the thing of greatest consequence^
Far from it; for neither could any one individual ot men.
The time, then, appears to have arrived, when the accu¬
sation was brought by Melitus, for his exemplification of the
truth of this observation in his own person. He had hither¬
to avoided the impending storm by the quiet tenour of his
private life. But he had done enough to offend the parti-
zans of either extreme in the state. Both extremes would
be united against him in their enmity to all moderation;
for the ascendancy of such counsels as his, would have
been a death-blow to their own reckless lust of power.
Hence, they were readily disposed to concur in sacrificing
him to their mutual resentments. And we thus beho
1 Xenophon, whose own reputation for courage gives a strong sanction to his opinion, says of this act of Socrates, W 0 Z4®
ct>Aov oOtSsva avdpuvov vvofiiTvai, Mem. iv. 4, p. 208. He alludes in the same place to the story of Leon.
2 Th d ii Plat Apol. 28. 3 PI*110’ G°rg,as- a t, h
* Herodot. Thalia, 3.V Cambyses was glad that his order, given in a moment of passion, to kill Crcesus, was not obeyed; but ,e
could not forgive those who had ventured to reckon upon his return to better feelings ; and he accordingly comman s a y
executed for their disobedience. _. . . , tji . a i qi «*> » Ibid.
4 Plato, Apol. 32. ‘ Cicero, De Dmn. i. 49. ' Plato, Apol. 31,32.
SOCRATES.
455
warded off ,he blow inflic,ed by the other. The genin, of indicating S"est i„d“rqt^~dP^^
Intolerance was indeed behmd the scene mixing the poi- “Work there is none that is a scanL, “action £^2’
soned cup for i s destined victim But the actors on the dal,” the captious absurdly but malicious" v imernrlted Wn,'
public stage of the tnal were, at the same time, wreaking as applying the words of the nnet tn ennwC t1 a ■ ’
their own vengeance on a political opponent; and the more every*thinf, whether right or Lng for the sake of S
exasperated agamst htm in proportion as, by his imper- When he quoted from Homer the Account of ulyssef ?'
tnrbable demeanour and real inoffensiveness, he seemed lencing the uproar of the people, aSinst the nrac ice oi
,o defy their assaults, and to throw them back on the employing worthless persons i„P the puhl c s7r4e t w”
consciousness of their injustice and ingratitude towards
him.
Nor can there be any doubt, that there were many indi¬
viduals, whose pride he had hurt, whose ignorance he had
exposed, whose ill-humour he had irritated, and who, such
is the infirmity of human nature, would rejoice in the op¬
portunity of revenge by the verdict of a public condemna¬
tion of his doctrine. In affron ing the sophists by his free
discussions of their pretensions, he had excited, doubtless,
represented, that he approved the coercing the common
people and the poor by harshness and violence.3 Again,
in urging the necessity of looking to the qualification of
those who should be appointed to office, and illustrating
t ns by the fact, that no one would choose, by lot, a pilot^
or carpenter, or flute-player, or any one, indeed, in mat¬
ters where error was far less mischievous than in poli-
tlCS,un^e WaS chal’Sed with encouraging contempt of the
established laws, and exciting the young to acts of violence.4
the hostility of many of the higher order of citizens their And fwb,Vh ic tl!T ex™.in£ y.16 y°™gto acts of violence,
patrons and disciples. Many fathers of families too’ must tion), a general charge°of con-ntffie- dm f miSrepr^enta'
thenhave been suffering from that corruption of public morals out against him un/n * ’‘P^ng the young was thrown
tchrd,er of ,he * 4 ^ -r teP&hy beyerPf±ds,atiTT„ts,hef
against their fathers, and adding bitterness to their unnatu- finite grounds of imnntmim Tl! ? m u , ,,
Ss; wSztfs a"“made r-—
py^TSr1 tris which shrS
& whom c ban r \e fr* z ^
would haS,i,y conclude, that, all such instnictj of the "£
corruption of the young. The second of these charges re¬
quires to be more particularly noticed, because it has re¬
ference to a peculiarity in the conduct of Socrates which
gave it a colour of truth.
The mind of Socrates appears to have been deeply im-
Pfi With r^hrrimio 'T'U f J
young was pernicious, and their offence at the mischiev¬
ous doctrine of the sophists would become a disgust to phi¬
losophy and philosophers.
Some, indeed, would distinctly trace to Socrates the an¬
noyance which they had experienced from particular indi
viduals. There were many who had frequented the society bued withreliniou'sfeebmr1 ' Tim
sionsto wlsfl'5’ “IK[cxl’"slno and ridiculing their preten- mechanical causes into the study of nature" onlv perplexed
S to the eZ„‘r ofTcrZt ^
5c,^ rPealdmefhod “f
persons would be pointed at as his disciples. These w ould the master nrincin 1 off Hm ^ ’ ™assiS™ng ™
J.JPpearMhrther, as might have been expected, that
•fc'S,7r!.l0f Pm"°” "7 "’f eortected by Socrato, M mm 177
” 5!pS«Si!f54.“t,ine (Acts xvii! ll)kf “ U
456
Socrates.
SOCRATES.
He saw, indeed, how futile, as to any real knowledge of the
universe, had been the inquiries of the early philosophers.
As an Athenian, he participated in that general prejudice
against physical science, which Athenians had ignorantly
imbibed against all philosophy, when they characterized it
as idle talk and drivelling dotage. But as a genuine philo¬
sopher, in spite of his Athenian prejudices, he saw and felt
that there was a real moral agency pervading the world;
and he judged that, by observation of this, principles of real
use for the right direction of human life might be discover¬
ed. Tinctured too, as an Athenian, with the superstition of
his countrymen, and at the same time correcting it by his
superior judgment and feeling, he was disposed to draw every
phenomenon into his moral and religious theory of the uni"
verse. To stop to inquire into any thing whether it might
be explained on simple natural causes, or to doubt its mo¬
ral design, would appear to his mind as sceptical and pro¬
fane. Hence, we see at once displayed in him the common
character of the Athenian, in his dislike of physical science,
and his susceptibility of superstitious influences from the
most trivial things; and, on the other hand, the wisdom and
religiousness of the true philosopher, in his constant devout
disposition to refer all things to a providential design and
moral agency. , . ,
It is well known how anxiously the heathens watched
the most minute circumstances, not only in their reli¬
gious rites, but in the actions of daily life, as intimations
of the will of the gods. Not only dreams and visions, but
flights of birds, the meeting any particular object, sneezing,
a voice, or any sound, and the like trivial things, were re¬
garded with seriousness and awe. Socrates felt the mystic
influence of such incidents; only he thought more deeply
on them than the generality, and that,—not with the vulgar
emotions of fear or of hope, according as the omen mig t
be interpreted,—but with calm and pious reference to the
benevolent design which he attributed to them as divine
intimations. Further, not only did he apply this sentiment
to the outward circumstances of daily life ; but he also took
into his view the state of his own mind. He conceived
that he received at times mysterious signs distinctly percep¬
tible to himself, not indeed of any positive good to be ex¬
pected from a particular course of conduct, but of precau¬
tion,—warnings against evil concerning others as well as
himself. These presages he interpreted,—or others perhaps,
taking his account of his impressions in too literal a manner,
have so represented it,—as a voice addressed to him on each
occasion. Instances too, are alleged in which this divine
voice was the means of saving him and those who obeyed
its direction, from danger. In the retreat of the Athenians
after the unfortunate battle at Delium, it is said to have
prevented his taking a particular road, and thus saved him,
together with Alcibiades and Laches, from being pursued
and overtaken by the enemy; whilst others taking another
v/ay were overtaken and slain.1 This circumstance, ac¬
cording to Plutarch, was a great occasion of the fame at
Athens of the “ demonion,5’—or “ genius,” as it was call¬
ed by Latin writers,—of Socrates.2 To this voice is attri¬
buted his active devotion of his life to the moral reform of
his countrymen by private and personal addresses to them,
and his refraining at the same time from all political exer¬
tion.
The name of a particular deemonion, or genius, was evi¬
dently not assigned by Socrates himself to these extraordi¬
nary presages, while he confidently declared their reality.
It was rather the misconstruction of the vulgar, and of his
assailants, interpreting what he affirmed generally of divine Sock ,
intimations, as assertions of the presence of some particularly,
divinity ascertained by his own convictions, and distinct from
the gods worshipped at Athens. Heathens were incapable
of forming a notion of the Deity, but as a local and tutelary
god. They could not rise to the sublime conception of the
one universal Being, to Saifiomov, the God in all the world,
than whom there is none else. In the view of Socrates, this
belief in a presaging voice addressed to his private ear, was
nothing more than an extension of the prophetic science,
or divination of the heathen world, to practical purposes,
and to the cultivation of religious feelings.
It must be remembered, that the Athenians had their
augurs or prophets among the regular officers of the re¬
public, without whose presence no matter of public coun¬
sel or of war was ever transacted. These were the recog¬
nized interpreters of the divine will. But Socrates claimed
a special authority for the presages with which he was
peculiarly favoured, and thus seemed to innovate on the
science, and encroach on the established forms, of divination.
He enjoined, indeed, a devout reference to the Delphic
oracle, in all questions of hazardous conduct, teaching that,
whilst human reason was the guide in all matters of human
power, in those, on the contrary, which were out of human
power, as the future event of actions, resort should be had
to every means offered for exploring the will of the gods.
He professed to have adopted his own course of life on the
evidence of such communications. He advised Xenophon
to consult the Delphic oracle, as to whether he should do
well in accepting the invitation of Proxenus to join the ex¬
pedition of Cyrus.3 But with this reverence for the re¬
cognized sources of divine information, he combined a sus¬
picion of the pretenders to prophecy, who were counte¬
nanced by the popular superstition,—the tfeo/xdvrets and xpw
ncoftoi,—who abounded at Athens.4 He relied rather on the
sagacious auguries of his own mind, drawn from observa¬
tion of some passing incident, or some rapid conclusion re¬
specting the consequences of actions—a kind of intuitive
judgment and forecaste, mingling and confounding itselfwith
his religious impressions,—a second hearing, as it were,—a
perception of a voice unperceived by the common ear, mys¬
teriously telling of danger to come from some particular
course of conduct. Thus was a pretext given to his enemies
to say, that he introduced “ new divinities ;” whilst public
opinion tolerated the grossest pretensions to divine revela¬
tions, and a system of mercenary imposture founded on
them. Public opinion upheld the system of divination as it
existed, with its external array of augurs, and prophets, and
ceremonial. Socrates, on the contrary, led every man to
consult the will of the Deity, not without devout preparation
in the inward recesses of his own mind, nor without refer¬
ence to his own obedience and moral improvement.5 Super¬
stition, doubtless, strongly tinctured his notions of religious
duty. This made him construe many things into divine in¬
timations, which were frivolous and irrelevant. Still he rose
above the superstition of the popular divination, m the per¬
sonal piety which laid hold of each occasion for its exercise
and cultivation, and taught men to regard the Divinity as in¬
terested in the protection of the good, and ever present to
the words, and actions, and even the silent thoughts of men.
Xenophon appears to have faithfully stated the dmerenc
between the popular divination and that professed by -
crates, in the following account: “ He introduced no mg
new beyond others who, acknowledging the reality 0
vination, make use of omens, and voices, and objects p
1 Plutarch, de Socr. Gen. 298. Cicer. de Divin. i. 54.
3 Xenopb. Anab. iii. 1, 4. ^ .
3 Plato, Alcib. ii. 150, p. 99. Kcu yap beivbv (“r], ei vpos vd 8upa nai
TIS oaios Kai diKaios, /c. t. X. , • , ,
4 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 19. Koi yap inipcXflo-Qai 6(ovs ivopi&v uvSpunwv, ovx
2 Ibid. p. 299.
4 Plato, Apol. 22. c. p. 51. ? ^ ( ,
6v(Tias anofi'ktTTOvaiv rjpcov 61 6eoi, aXXa pr] irpoi 7
OV TpOTTOV 01 TToXXdl VOp.l£oV(TlV} K.T,X»
SOCRATES.
ites. sented on the way, and sacrifices. For these do not con-
'-^ceive, that the birds, and the persons that meet them, know
what is expedient to those who divine by them, but that
the gods, by means of them, signify this. And so he held.
But the generality say, that they are dissuaded and persuad
45'
Thejealousy of the sophists in particular, the very class Socrates
with whom the accusation of Melilus identified him, would'
also swell the popular envy against him on this head. For
the sophists, among their pretensions, claimed to be regard¬
ed as endued with a predictive sagacity, so as to be expert
practical ffuides resnertino- thp futnrp 4 S',.
  ° u- J J 1 u- ,  1   vv 1LH a yicuicuve sagaci
ed by the birds, and the objects that meet them ; whereas practical guides respecting the future.4 Socrates would of-
Socrates spoke of it as he thought. I1 or he said that it fend them in this point in two ways,—both as directing-per
was the Divinity, t6 bm^viov, that gave signs to him. And sons to have recourse to their own judgment, and the regular
to many of his intimates he prescribed to do some things,1 means of information on all ordinary questions to which
to forbear other things, on the ground, that the Divinity human reason was competent; and as teaching a reference
had presignihed it to him; and it was to the advantage of to a secret divine intimation on all other matters bevond
those who took his advice, whilst those who rejected his the compass of man’s understanding. For in both respects
advice had to repent it
But how great was the change from the practical devo¬
tion of the mind here taught by Socrates, from that popu¬
larly entertained at Athens ! The history of divination, as
it was regarded, not at Athens only, but throughout Greece,
is but a picture of the invidiousness and malignity of the
human heart transformed into attributes of the Divine Be¬
ing. Let us only hear Solon, as he is described by Hero¬
dotus, speaking of the Deity as a principle of envy and tur¬
bulence, and as guided by no fixed course in the disposition
of human affairs; and we may judge what a task he had en-
terprized, who entered into conflict with this inward and
subtile idolatry of human passions, established by the heathen
system of divination. It was indeed teaching divinities new
to Athenian ears, when Socrates inculcated an inward re¬
formation of the character of those who would look for the
favour of the gods, or expect a special interposition and di¬
rection from the benevolent principle which guided the
course of the moral world.
Whereas, too, the popular divination was employed on the
most trivial occasions, and made the substitute tor the proper
exertion of men’s faculties on matters cognizable by them,
Socrates differed from this prevalent notion of the subject.
He contended, that, w^here the line of conduct was plain,
men should use the best of their judgment in acting,—that
they should use their experience and reason in learning
what the gods had given them to learn by such means, and
only have resort to consultation of the Divine will by the
extraordinary means of divination, w^here the results of con¬
duct were uncertain. Thus might he be construed as dis¬
suading men from the use of divination, when he only dis¬
suaded from an improper use of it, and exhorted to a ra¬
tional activity.
We may see from the story of Aristodicus of Cyme, how
the practice existed among the Greeks, of endeavouring to
obtain from the oracles sanctions even to iniquities and im¬
pieties. Aristodicus consults the oracle whether he may sur¬
render an unhappy fugitive ; and the oracle permits him, dex¬
terously reproving, by the very permission, the attempt to
would the sophists find their course interfered with. The
use of men’s own judgment, or the appeal to the signs of
the Divine will, would equally lessen the value for those
counsels which they pretended to impart.
What added still further to this invidious feeling was,
that the reputation of Socrates now eclipsed theirs through¬
out Greece. And Socrates appears himself confidently to
have appealed to this public estimation of his character
against the partial censures of his countrymen at the time
of his trial. He vindicated his assertion of divine intimations
specially granted to him, by referring to the oracle of Delphi
as having honoured him with its distinct approbation. Chm-
rephon, in the devoutness of his admiration of his master,
had, on some occasion, consulted the oracle respecting him,
and obtained an answer that Socrates was the wisest of men.
The authenticity of the anecdote has been questioned. But
the introduction of it in the two “Apologies,”5 maybe taken
as a voucher of its substantial truth. It at any rate shews
the favourable opinion which had been conceived of him
out of Athens itself; that, as Lycurgus had been compli¬
mented by the verdict of' an oracle, so the same tribute of
public applause might, with equal probability, be assigned to
Socrates.
According to Laertius, the sentence of condemnation
was carried by a majority consisting of 281 votes. The
number was little more than sufficient to decide the ques¬
tion on that side; for it only exceeded the number of votes
of acquittal by three. “Had but three votes only fallen
differently,” says Socrates himself, in the “ Apology” of
Plato, “ I should have been acquitted.” Nor, indeed,
would Melitus alone, without the aid of Anytus and Lycon,
(he is made there confidently to declare) have obtained even
a fifth part of the votes to save him the penalty of a thou¬
sand drachmas, affixed by the law to an unsustained pro¬
secution. But when the penalty of death was further put
to the vote, and he was found unwilling to propose the sub¬
stitution of any other penalty, such as a fine or exile, but
evinced his indignant contempt of their unjust sentence,
by asking rather, in his ironical way, instead of even a slight
S ‘ uyasKing rarner, in ms ironical way, instead of even a slight
cast the burthen of persona responsibility on the oracle itself, punishment, the highest honour of the state, that of a pub-
jutv 3° nivtn T immoral act Wit5 the veil,of religious lic maintenance in the Prytaneum, the multitude of the
thp\p vination, in fact, was indolently resorted to in jurors was so exasperated by the unbending spirit thus dis-
anxielv ofThmS Uh™ t the.labour an<j P%ed, that eighty additional votes were given on the hos-
Snrrp L ud thf searchings °f conscience. And tile side, determining the sentence of death. So evidently
So rates addressed himself to the correction of this prac- was the whole case mled bv passion and the arts of de^
judgment aiTrh!™ v ^ ^ exertl°n of the mag°gues exciting the people to treat it as a slight on their
within the snhere ^CJU1Sltl0n of informatl°n on all matters majesty, rather than as a cause in a court of justice. Other-
vX the hosfe^ ^ «ewouldtbus P1?- wise it could not have happened, that when the previous
a trade of h s art VfT A' 7T’ 7 u- T qUeSti°n °f gUilt had been Carried witb nearly an equal
ready to loin Tn the f d ^ 1"dl!,duals ° this class "umber of dissentients, the severest penalty should have
eaay to jom in the outcry raised against him, of innovation obtained such an accession of voices in its favour.
^popular theology.  We have a]ready remarked the little solicitude shewn by
Hsto^expressly s^theSction™ ^ S°Crate8 imimations of what was to be done; where7S
s Jeno.ph- Mem: i- 1, 3, p. 3. Xenoph. Apol. 13, eycb be tovto baifioviov Ka\a>.
hivolous°matters,^such^s’the pett'y thefts of-'Amasi^'Euterpe!^ 17E ^ ^ Era'0’ C* ^ The °radeS consulted’ also’ 0,1
6 I)0cr' c’ S°ph. 2, 4, Trepi to)v peWovrcov pev elbevai npocnroiovuevovs-
Xenoph. Apol. p. 249. Plato, Apol. p. 48.
V°L. XX. ^ ^ .
3 M
t
45S
SOCRATES.
, „ r it, Ao qnd iniouitv of which they had been guilty; some Socra;
Socrates. Socrates in regard to his defence from the accusa i • I - . instigated others to bear false witness against
-^he strongly disapproved the affected arttSetalrhetor^of taha.ng ms.,^ borne this false „LS, ^
“^^eteSTsol^er wLd he. The disgrace ^ cot—n^e^not ^
hSid.6 Twic“^he ehi;e0d1heSirveset„0Hearm„ge- consoled himself with the thought, that i, .was the will of
nes) to consider what he should say in his defence, and
as often had he been prevented by those secret divine in¬
timations to which he habitually referred his conduct. No
again would he receive the proferred services of friends in
pleading his cause. The celebrated orator Lysias com¬
posed an oration for this purpose. On reading it, he ex¬
pressed his admiration of it, but declined it as unsuitable
to him. When Lysias wondered that he could admire it,
serteu, out on muse «     -- —
consoled himself with the thought, that it was the will of
the Deity, and it was best for him now to die; that, though
condemned by his present judges, like another Palamedes,
he should receive from posterity that verdict of approbation
which was withheld from Ulysses, to whose successful plot
the life of that chief was sacrificed.7 Availing himself also ol
the prophetic power which the popular belief atti ibutedtothe
words of a dying man, he warned his countrymen, as he left
the court, that they were embarked in a course which must
to him. When ^sias w™TeTbWrve71n his" usual involve them in bitter repentance.® He concluded his ad-
and yet say it was unsuitable, he observed, ^ dress with the following striking admonition: “ I have only
manner of illustration, by an apposite » , tu:s reauest to make. As for my sons, when they shall
fine coats and shoes be unsuitable to mer” Plato, however, Request to make^ A y ^ ^
it is ^d, could not be framed - a g be- ^ve grown up, P^yy beJ^ ^ of
half, and made an effort to address the court. But the up
roar was so great, that on his uttering the words, ‘ ascend
the bema,” lie was met with the cry, “ descend, and forced
to abandon the attempt.2 .
So neither, again, would he resort to those appliances to
the feelings which were usual in the Athenian courts. I e
Athenian juryman expected that the defendant should come
before him in the character of a suppliant, and entieat hi
clemency rather than claim his justice. He was to be as¬
sailed with prayers and tears, no less than with arguments
addressed to his understanding. But Socrates would not
condescend to these methods of persuasion. He would not
produce his wife and children in the court, to excite com¬
passion, or bring forward his connexions and friends to in¬
tercede in his behalf. He felt it unbecoming m him at
his age, and with his reputation as a philosopher, to suppli¬
cate for his life. It would have given to his whole previous
demeanour the appearance of insincerity and hypocrisy, t
would have shewn that dread of death, against which all his
teaching had been directed.3 It would have been an evi¬
dence thathe disregarded the sanctity of religion, m trying to
influence his furors to decide by favour against their oaths,
and so far would have substantiated the charge of Mehtus
For the same reason, he had refused to offer
111 LUC OO-lllV, —   
troubling you, if they appear to you to concern themselves
either with money or any thing else in preference to vir¬
tue. And if they would seem to be something when they
are nothing, reproach them as I do you, that they take no
concern about what they ought, and think themselves to be
something when they are nothing. And if you do this, 1
shall have suffered justice at your hands, both myself and
mv sons. But it is now time to depart; for me to die, for
you to live; but which of us is going to a better thing is
uncertain to every one except only the Deity.
In his way from the court to the prison to which he
was now consigned, he was observed with eye and mien
and step composed, in perfect unison with his previous
address. On perceiving some of those who accompanied
him, weeping, “ Why is this,” he said; “ is it now that you
weep ? did you not long ago know, that, from the moment
of my birth, the sentence of death had been decreed against
me by nature? If, indeed, I were perishing beforehand
in the midst of blessings flowing in upon me, it would be
plain that I and my kind friends would have to grieve; but
if I terminate my life at a time when troubles are expected,
for my part I think you ought all to be in good heart, as tee¬
ing that I am happy.”10 Apollodorus, whose admiration of his
master amounted to an amiable weakness, complained to
tcMSubmit to a mitigated penalty, when challenged, accord- r;”7e t lianlship of his suffering by an unjust sen-
ing to the practice in the Athenian courts, to propose his him of Affectionate feeling thus shewn to
own estimate of the offence. Afterwards tndeed he sof- his hanLver the herf
tened this bold vindication of his merits, Y at( ‘T'»’ j • attached disciple, he, at the same time, gently reprov-
same ironical manner, that he could per laps pay ' j savin<r « Would you then, my dear Apollodorus,
a mina of silver, and would therefore fix that amount of da- dying Sy than unjustly?” andAmiled at
mages; or that as Plato, Crito, Cntobulus, and Apollodo- ^ fueXm On seeing Anytus pass by, he could not for¬
ms, suggested the sum of thirty mmoc, and wou ie g (1. \ •, .1 eXpreSsion of a strong censure on the
sureties for the payment, he would fix the latter amount.3 ^ ’ mt owA son. He fore-
To have seriously proposed any such estimate would, in his cond bj J . proved t00 true, that the
opinion, have been an admission of his gui t. > Anvtus would one day be embittered by the evil
He displayed throughout the trial, the same calm a Gf that low and unworthy education to which, with
cup, -
^ahf=CthecUorenWce„.entoftlleDe.iauS;
It was alter me coiiiniein.cii«tu«- ^
complished. He was sustained by the consciousness that val; an annual commemoration, of the sa e r^um ^ fatal
no cLe had been proved against him; whilst his assailants « h^f ^ °f ^
must feel the reproaches of conscience for the real im- labyrinth of Crete, ana the acquit
. Xenoph. Mem iv. 8. 7<V M.X.Voc yeypapiuvov airi. ypa^v, uvro, avr5u w.era p«XXo. V ”<f "
8.aX^.Wv X.W airS,, S,r xpn o ” “^Zr Op.’i''o!'79 P ^ TIbid. p. 82. . .
StKfJS   , ,
2 Diog. Laert. in vit. Socr.
s Plato, Apol. 38 b. Op. i- P- 88.
* Plato, Apol.
3 Plato, Apol. Op- i. p. . -
6 Xenoph. Apol. p. 23, K^evopevos woripao-Dat.
9 Plato Apol. ad fin.
• Xenopb. Apol. 24.
10 Xenopb. Apol.
SOCRATES.
459
rates, bloody tribute exacted by Minos, by the mission of a vessel to of heroic self-devotion nml ™ ^ ,
Delos with sacrifices to Apollo, and other religious rites taimht hv thp ownt patient martyrdom to the truth, Socrates.
When the pnest of Apollo had once crowned the stern of S the P himse'f’but as a splendid episode
.ho sacred vessel with' the festive garland, It was not law DuritZ ta'ri-lTf v** ^
ful to pc I lute the city by a public execution, until the so- solace of?eceiving hi* friends and™? ^ ?e?ed
lemn pomp should have been performed, and the vessel had after dav Farlv^P rR • cl co^lve*'sing mth them day
assembled at the hall of justice, where the trial had taken
before the trial of Socrates. Thus he obtained the respite
of thirty days between his trial and execution.
These were days of high interest and importance not on¬
ly to his sorrowing friends, but to the cause of that admir¬
able practical philosophy which all his previous life had in¬
culcated. During this time he employed himself in literary
exercises which he had never practised before. He com¬
posed a poem in honour of the god Apollo, whose festival
was then in course of celebration. And feeling a relio-ious
scruple as to whether by the general pursuit of philosophy,
he had fully complied with the suggestions of dreams re¬
peatedly urging him, as he said, to “ cultivate music,” he
nowapplied himself to the fulfilmentof this supposed charge,
by turning the fables of jEsop into verse.1 * But these were
only pastimes illustrative of the serenity of his mind. Now,
too, in his prison, with the chains on his body, and the near
prospect of a violent death, he could discourse with an unan¬
swerable cogency and eloquence of argument, of the vanity
of human things, and the real happiness of man, as consist¬
ing in the cultivation of the spiritual and immortal princi¬
ples of his nature. He had professed his whole life to be a
meditation or discipline of death. He now had the oppor¬
tunity,—-which, as a philosopher, (could the voice of natural
instinct have been silenced,) he would most have desired,—
of realizing, by his own example, that death to which his
thoughts and pursuits had been studiously directed. Un-
hke his successors in the schools of the Stoics, he did not
auvocate a doctrine of suicide, however he depreciated the
importance of human life. With that good sense which re¬
strained his religion and his philosophy from running into
fanaticism, he held it to be impious in any one to release
lumself, by his own hand, from that post of duty in which the
courmd^eath^or rashly placed'idmself^n the way ofTt ^e f^ pnfn’.an(? beirf well-known to the jailor from'his
idt Hat, in the circumstances in which he was now olaced jZcZ I'«tS tKTe’obtaine<i “Emission at a very early hour,
he was called to go through this last act of his nhilnsn 1 • ’ e t:jund Socrates asleep, and sat by him in silence, won-
profession. He sterns, i„teT«rha“e rltodtn theP„Z tllTI 1°, 7 T 7 S° S°Un7 ™ - ™ch trouble,
iwrtumty thus afforded him of summing up his nhilosouhv In TO', I awoke to receive the fatal intelligence.
one great principle, from which every observation andZ it T™*' W“h ‘he Same “mP“ure as if it had been
gunient, in the course of previous teaching,^Zbee^dmwn" ZTlwiZ7 comn;un,Ca,ion- His only answer Crito
by demonstrating, so far as reason could avail to demonstrate It ’ ' ' h ,was resigned to the will of the gods, if
die fact, the absolute and eternal existent ofX nrZt whTl ^ 5“' that»fS I>ersua<led by a dream, from
principles of moral truth. The occasion was one which th? 1 he baf J!Jst H aked’ that the vessel would not come
the genius of Plato would not foil to seize as most felicitous ^ ^ he one. His reliance on dreams
lor the development of its own enthusiastic and transcen Crf?1"6 bas.befn already mentioned. He told
jlental view of the philosophy of Socrates. Plato according of nnhl f01^ wr0 .! ?8 bavin^ dreamed that a woman
I'M’ in that most exquisite of his D7alogu"s%he Phtdo hL .Id d’ ^ ^ Thite’ Cfme t0 hira and called
‘ovited us to the couch of Socrates on tRpl ia/cod • ’ T™’, tnC Sai,( t0 bira in tbe words °f Homer,5 “ On the
of his imprisonment, to listen to the nhilosonR third day to tleep-soiled Pthia thou shall come.” The event
« Of death almost up™ hU d^^^ O *7 ^ "ith, his -P“‘a«on from the dream
‘*y of the soul. The affectionate and eZnent So I and 7 Z™"’ 7 v“sel reached the harbour of Piraeus,
doubtless shed natural tears over his dying mailer But he rIIr 0I°Wing/ty T aPPointed the execution.
Joshed also to elevate his own philosophy to the dimiitv of at the I™ d?Wn ° ^ day’i t le sorrowinS Party again met
being the dying confession of the greal sage of AthLs fLp, °?;ed Pace,andwere in[ormed b>T the jailor, that
An hewished, further, that his own^£011?shouW Imion ' ha7 ^7 wh° 8Upfrintended tbe public exe-
> were, the funeral oration over him to whom it was fn- 0rduerS, !hat the chains sh°nld be taken
ilebted for its earliest inspirations and nour its nun RRnf 1 ’ — at ®ocrates should die on that day. After being
°» his tomb. Thus he has especially elaborated the last 7 w“,ltl"!> s°me tu"e> ‘buy “'™t in and (bund the philo-
srene of his master’s life, and made ,,s con emltejfth ^Pb^re^y'oosed fromhischams.andsittingontheeonch,
^wrepest interest the death of Socrates, no, only asan act sTde. By lIS tlr’eyCdS ht'hie^kfnd^
place, and which was close to the prison, watching for the
jailor to open the gate and admit them. Being admitted
they would commonly remain with him in the prison un¬
til evening, engaged in earnest and instructive conversa¬
tion. His wife and children, too, appear to have been
constantly with him.3 He was importuned by these affec¬
tionate followers to suffer them to effect his escape. Crito
earnestly entreated him to be allowed to execute a plan
whmh he had concerted for rescuing him. Simmias, the
Iheban, also brought a sum of money with him to Athens
for that purpose. Cebes and others were equally ready with
their resources. They argued, that, so far from being at a
loss what to do with himself out of Athens, as he had said
on his trial, they could ensure him friends in Thessaly, and
many other places, who would most gladly welcome him, and
protect him. But to none of these importunities would he
yield. He answered, that, while he highly estimated their
kindness, he was pledged to obey reason only, and that he
saw no ground in his present circumstancesfortakinff a dif¬
ferent view of his case. As for the duty of providing for
his children, by preserving his own life,—a consideration
which Cnto appears to have strongly pressed on him,—this
was not now a matter for him to consider;—it was for those
to consider, who, as his Athenian judges, treated life and
death as such light concerns; for his part, he must look
simply to what was right or wrong to be done.4 Thus stea¬
dily and calmly did he persevere in his resolution of await¬
ing the utmost extremity.
At length it was announced that the Theoric galley had
been seen off Sunium, and might very shortly be expected
to arrive at Athens. Crito proceeded in anxious halite to
the prison, and being well-known to the jailor from his
, p,lat0> Phaedo. p. 60 d. e( sqq.
5 ij10’ Phaedo- P- 60 a. Op. i. p. 135.
1X1171 Kfv Tpirdrai Ikoio.
i Plato, Phaedo, p. 61, c. ’Ov pen tow /Stdcrerat dvrdv. oi ydp (f)a<rt depirov hvau
4 Plato Cnto, p. 48, c. Op. i. p. 111.
4-60
SOCRATES.
Socrates, entrusting her to the care of his attendants, amidst cries of
' passionate grief, which had broken forth from her afresh at
the sight of them now come to bid their last farewell. Ine
occasion naturally leads to the conversation which follows
a discussion, according to Plato, on the immortality of the
soul,—Socrates interrogating and arguing with all his wont¬
ed vivacity ; whilst the party around him answer and listen
with eager interest, and, as may naturally be conceived,
with undescribable sensations of mingled delight and pain.
Crito would have dissuaded him from this exertion, tor he
feared, from what he had been told by the executioner,
that the heat of the body thus produced, wou d add to his
discomfort in his last moments, by rendering the effects of
the poison more lingering. He only observed, that it
mattered not; the executioner should only be ready to do
his duty, and mix the draught twice, or even thrice over,
if it should be found necessary. 1
The discourse being brought to a close, he rose to pro¬
ceed to the bath, as an immediate preparation for his death;
when Crito detained him tor a while, to ask his last com¬
mands about his children, or any other matter in which their
services might gratify him. He replied, “ that he had no¬
thing new to say beyond what he had ever been saying,—
that by attending to themselves, they would most gratify
him and his, as well as themselves, in all they might do,
though they might even make no promise now; but that it
thev neglected themselves, and were unwilling to follow in
the track pointed out in all that he had said to them up to
this last occasion, all that they could do would be of no
avail, however much, and however earnestly, they might
promise at the present moment.”2 Crito assented to this
advice, but in his eagerness still to do some act of kindness
to his revered friend, subjoined, “ But in what way are we
to bury you?” This mode of speaking of his burial, gives
occasion to a very characteristic reproof from him, of this
solicitude on the part of Crito. “ As you please,” was his
answer, “ if at least you can take me, and I do not escape
from vou.” Then gently smiling, and looking off to the
surrounding company, he added, “ I cannot, my friends,
persuade Crito, that I am the Socrates that is now convers¬
ing, and ordering every thing that has been said; but he
thinks that I am that man whom he will shortly see a corpse,
and asks how you should bury me. But what I have all
along been talking so much about,—that when I shall have
drunk the poison, I shall no longer stay with you, but shall,
forsooth, go awray to certain felicities of the blest,—this Iseem
to myseli to have been saying in vain, whilst comforting at
the same time you and myself. Bail me therefore, to
Crito the opposite bail to that which he bailed me to the
judges; for he was bail for my staying; but do you be bail
for my not staying when dead, but going away ; that Crito
may bear it more easily, and may not feel aggrieved for
me, as if I were suffering something dreadful, when he sees
my body either burning, or being interred ; nor may say at
the burial, that he lays out, or carries out, or inters Socrates.
For,” he continued, turning himself again to Crito, “ be as¬
sured, excellent Crito, that the speaking improperly is not
only wrong in itself, but also produces some evil in the soul.
However, take courage, and say that you are burying my
body; and bury it as may be agreeable to you, and in the
manner you may hold most lawful. ^ _
He then went into another apartment to bathe, Crito fol¬
lowing him, whilst the rest of the party awaited his return.
After bathing, he received his children,—two of whom were
vet little ones, the third a youth,—and the females of his
family. Having conversed s m > time with these in the
presence of Crito, and given them his final commands, he
dismissed them, and came out again to the assembled
friends. This affecting interview had occupied a con¬
siderable time, and when he returned, it was near sunset. Socra;
He had not long sat down, when the officer of the Eleven
presented himself, and respectfully intimated to him that
the fatal moment was at hand. 1 he noble and gentle de¬
meanour of the philosopher during his imprisonment had
won upon this man ; and used as he had been to the scenes
of execration and horror within those walls, he was struck
by the contrast in the case of Socrates, and bursting into
tears as he gave his message, turned himself away, and re¬
tired. Socrates himself was touched by this demonstration
of considerate feeling. He cordially returned the saluta¬
tion, promising a ready compliance with the Older. Then
addressing the company, he observed, “ How courteous the
man is I through all the time he would come to me, and
would converse with me sometimes, and was the best of
men ; and now how generously does he weep for me ! He
then called for the poisoned cup. Crito's affection would
still have delayed it, for he urged that the sun was not yet
gone down, and that others on the like occasions had not
used such despatch, but had supped and drunk beforehand
as they pleased. Socrates answered that this might be rea¬
sonable for others; for him it was reasonable not to do so;
and persisted in requiring the cup to be brought. The pro¬
cess of bruising the hemlock took some time ; but at length
the man who was to administer the poison came w ith it now
ready for the draught. He calmly inquired what he was to
do ; and, being told that he was only to walk about after
drinking it, until he found a heaviness in the legs, and then
to lie down, he took the cup into his hand w ithout the slight¬
est change of colour or of countenance. But before he put
it to his lips, partly, it seems, from religious feeling, and
partly in humour, he further asked whether he might make
a libation to any one from the cup. Nor did even his usual
quaint manner of putting a question, which he knew woul
somewhat surprise the hearer, forsake him on this occasion;
for he looked at the man, at the same time, with that pecu¬
liar glance usual to him, which his contemporaries jocosely
designated by a word denoting its resemblance to the man¬
ner in which the bull glares around him with the head down-
w'ard. Learning that the whole draught was not more than
sufficient for the fatal purpose, he said, “ At any rate one
may, and ought to pray to the gods, that the migration hence
to those regions mav be prosperous; which indeed 1 do pray,
and so may it be P With these words, he drank off the poi¬
son with the most perfect composure and readiness.
At the sight of this, the bystanders could no longer
command their emotions. Their tears flowed profusely.
Some rose up from their seats,—Crito set the example,
and covered their faces, to give vent to thei[ sor[ow;,
lodorus sobbed aloud. He gently expostulated with them
for this outbreak of grief, saying, “What are you doing, my
friends, so strangely? I indeed sent away the women not
least on this account, that they might not offend in such
way ; for I have heard that one ought to die amidstffP
cious sounds: I pray you, therefore, be tranqud, and bear
up.” This rebuke had the effect of repressing their tears.
The heaviness which he had been led to expect from he
working of the poison now began to come on, and he ie
off walking, and reclined, with his face uPward> and °
over. The torpor gradually spread towards the uppe
gions of the body,—the lower parts becommg, one atte t
other, congealed, and insensible,—until it reached t ^
In this interval, he uncovered himself, and said, t
owe a cock to Esculapius; pay it, I PraY Y0"’ and iife
it not;” intimating probably that now all the diseases of hte
were healed, and that he was restored to real and Pu
istence by the death of the body. These were his last words.
Crito asked whether he had any thing more o say,
™ anawpr. There was no further indication of
Plato, Phsedo, p. 63, d. et sqq.
2 Ibil. p. 115, a. et sqq.
Ibid.
C "
SOCRATES.
Tes. but a motion of the body. The executioner uncovered
-^him, and they observed his eyes fixed; upon which Crito,
taithful in the last respectful attentions to his beloved friend,
the now departed philosopher, closed the mouth and the
461
by closing the public Socrates.
eyes.
Thus died Socrates, when he had now completed his se¬
ventieth year, b.c. 400, or 399, in the full Vigour of a
healthy old age ; happy in his own estimation, and in that
of his admiring disciples, in having terminated his life in so
glorious a manner, with unimpaired faculties of mind and
body, and after a defence sustained with so much truth, and
justice, and fortitude.1
His death spread dismay at the moment among those
who had been most conspicuous in their attachment to the
philosopher, as they naturally dreaded the overflowings of
that malignant spirit which had swept down their master.
The chief of these appear to have fled to Megara, where they
could reckon on finding a refuge from Athenian hostility,
and a home with their fellow-disciple, the friendly Euclid.
It is remarkable, however, that Isocrates, timid as he was
by nature, should not have scrupled to remain at Athens,
and to testify his affectionate regret for his master, by ap¬
pearing the next day in public, clothed in mourning.2 But
with the fall of its great victim, the spirit of persecution
was sated for a time. An act had been perpetrated, to which
the eyes of all Greece would be intently turned ; and the
greatness of the sacrifice seems at the moment to have absorb¬
ed the attention of its agents and instruments, in the contem¬
plation of it and its possible effects. If we may believe the
representation of subsequent writers, shame and repentance
soon followed the cruel act; and those who were most osten¬
sibly involved in its guilt, were either banished or sentenced
to death, or laid violent hands on themselves. Of the banish¬
ment of Anytus, and the death of Melitus, we are told by
Laertius, that Antisthenes was the immediate cause. In
what way he was instrumental to the death of Melitus, is
not stated. But with regard to Anytus, Antisthenes is said
to have occasioned his banishment, apparently without the
intention of doing so, by a stroke of practical humour. For
meeting with some young men from Pontus, inquiring for
Socrates, whose fame had induced them to visit Athens, he
conducted them to Anytus, who, as he observed to them,
was “ wiser than Socratesupon which, the indignation of
the bystanders was excited, and they drove Anytus forth
from the city.3 He fled to Heraclea ; but there found no
peace, being forced by public proclamation to leave the city
forthwith.4 Though, however, these individuals soon after
received the retribution due to their offence, it would not
follow that they suffered from their countrymen on ac¬
count of the part they had taken against Socrates. The
ascendancy of another political faction, (and Athens was
ever fluctuating between contending parties), would be
quite sufficient to account for their overthrow and despera¬
tion. On the other hand, the testimony of Plutarch is ex¬
plicit to the point, though he mentions no individuals by
name, that the sycophants who had assailed Socrates be¬
came the objects of popular hatred to such a degree, that
none would associate with them in any way, not even to
return them an answer when addressed by them, and that
at last they hanged themselves, being no longer able to
endure the public execration.5 His friends, indeed, per-
ormed the last obsequies to his remains; but his fellow-
citizens afterwards concurred in honouring him, by erecting
a brazen statue of him, the work of Lysippus, in the Pom-
peium, and expressing their sorrow,
gymnasia for a while.
This at any rate is certain, that persecution, as it ever
does, overwTought its part in the case of Socrates. It op¬
pressed, indeed, the individual, but it gave the seal of mar¬
tyrdom to the cause in which he had been engaged. It
produced a temporary intimidation, under which men would
hear less of the name and teaching of Socrates openly
avowed, but throughout which the admiration and love of the
heroic philosopher would be cherished in secret, and his
doctrine would be fostered in the shade, to appear in the
sunshine of a future day. If the Athenians had desired to
plant the root of philosophy in their city, they could not
more effectually have done so, than by their violence against
Socrates. Such, in fact, was the result. Philosophy hence¬
forth obtained an Athenian naturalization and name; and
the schools of Athens may date their period of nearly a
thousand years from this memorable act, which, in its in¬
tent and spirit, fiercely but blindly endeavoured to extin¬
guish there the very profession of philosophy.0
The cause, however, in which Socrates had been en¬
gaged, was too true, for any opposition to it, though con¬
ducted with the greatest prudence, to have been long suc¬
cessful. It had also already advanced too far, and interest¬
ed too many persons in the maintenance of it, to be put
down by a sudden blow. The burning of a book, or a for¬
mal condemnation of the opinions of a writer, are but fu¬
tile means, as experience shews, of suppressing obnoxious
doctrines. How' much less could opposition avail, where,
as in the case of Socrates, the offending doctrines had been
scattered over, not the pages of a book, but the strenuous
exertions of a long life,—already engraved in characters
which no obliterating hand could reach, and doubtless so
worked into many a mind, as not to be distinguishable from
its own proper convictions,—doctrines too, so confirmed by
the noble example of their teacher, in carrying them out to
their full consequences by his death ? For the death of So¬
crates, it should be observed, was not simply a test of his
sincerity in his teaching. It was this, and still more. It was
the ultimate and decisive opposition to those false principles,
against which every action and discourse of his life had been
directed. He had been all along exposing the presump¬
tuousness and vanity of the principles on which men ordi¬
narily judged and acted. He was now further to shew, that
this opposition on his part was not to be daunted by those
principles, when set in formidable array against his own life ;
and that, professing a low estimate of the present life, he
would not disown or shrink from that profession at the
moment of greatest trial.
If we inquire, accordingly, what was the substance of the
positive teaching of Socrates, we must address ourselves to
the contemplation of his active life, and his resigned patient
death. He had no design of establishing philosophy as a
literary pursuit or intellectual pastime ; though he probably
foresaw, that that taste for inquiry into truth which he was
ever awakening, must soon lead to the formation of a philo¬
sophical literature at Athens. He already witnessed, in¬
deed, the commencement of such a literature, the result of
this excitement, if it be true that he had read the Lysis of
Plato, and observed respecting it, “ How much the young
man makes me say that I never said !”7 He wished rather
to divert men from the vanity of setting themselves up as
philosophers, and make them employ their thoughts in learn¬
ing and investigating, instead of prematurely commencing
: £?? t “3">p'at0' p“0’ “ i zt*.Vit-
38; also 1^ 128—Dlodorus Siculus says, ,3 /aer^eX^ . . . . *ai reXos d^rovs dneKTuvt.
Plutarch. Op. ix. p. 336.
X'\ j8h; a,so Augustin, de Civ. Dei, viii. 3.
ie schools of Athens were closed in the reign of Justinian, A. C. 529.
7 Diog. Laert. in vit. Plat. xxiv.
462
SOCRATES.
Socrates, at once as well-informed persons and teachers of others, with
1 crude and superficial notions and principles.
If we look, then, to the course of his practical teaching,
 to the general tenor of his conversations and actions, and
the example throughout of his life and death,—we shall find
that his whole labour was directed to the establishment of
true moral and religious principles, in opposition to the false
and mischievous principles which, he observed, were com¬
monly acted upon and avowed in the world. The excellence
and supremacy of self-knowledge was what he was ever in¬
culcating; and of self-knowledge, not as a matter of intellec¬
tual curiosity, or for its value as a science, but in order to
self-government and to happiness. He found that this was
the last kindof knowledge which men ever thought of acquir¬
ing ; that they had, in fact, no concern about it; or that it
they were reminded of its necessity, they presumed on their
possession of it already. His first effort, then, was to open the
minds of men to a perception of the value of this knowledge,
and of their own need of it. The questions which he would
put—the refutations which he addressed to the various pro¬
positions or conclusions elicited from others in the course of
his conversations—the perplexities to which he would re¬
duce them—and the unsatisfied state in which he would com¬
monly leave them, after exciting their doubts—all had a
direct tendency to convince men of the insufficiency of their
intellectual acquirements, and of their want of some more
adequate and availing information.1 To the same purport
was his disparagement of physical science, and of all mere¬
ly speculative knowledge, in comparison with that which
was useful for human life. For he was far from an utilita¬
rian, in the modern sense of that term. He did not value
particular studies, because they ministered to the necessi¬
ties or conveniences of human life, or undervalue them be¬
cause they had no such bearing. But he saw that his clever
and ingenious countrvmen were studious of intellectual re¬
finement—that they delighted in the specious, and the ad¬
mirable, and the subtile, more than in the solid and the un¬
ostentatious qualifications of the good member of a private
family and the useful citizen. He was aware, too, from
his own acquaintance with the existing physical philosophy,
how imperfect that knowledge was, how entirely hypothe¬
tical, and incapable of practical application. We must ma e
allowance, therefore, in estimating his objection to specu a-
tive science, for the polemical spirit in which he assailed a
branch of knowledge then, at once, so barren, and so en¬
croaching in its claims on public attention. We nmst re-
o-ard him as preparing the way for the due cultivation of
the other, the higher as well as more important knowledge,
that of man’s own nature, then so little thought of, and so
neglected. This seems to be invariably his design on every
occasion, whatever may be the immediate purport of his
discourse •
When he came to direct the minds of men, once awaken¬
ed to the importance of moral study, to the subject it¬
self of human nature, he had to encounter on the very
threshold the most perverse notions. All their maxims of
life were based on the absolute importance of the present
life. The body, and its present appetites and desires, were
regarded as the whole of man. The tyrant, in the enjoy¬
ment of absolute power to gratify every passion without re¬
striction or penalty, was considered as the apt representa¬
tion of the highest human felicity. All men’s plans of life
accordingly were directed to the acquisition of power for
themselves. They studied to improve their external cir¬
cumstances, and not themselves. Then their religion was
merely the fear of mysterious powers influencing the pros¬
perous or adverse events of the present world, and which
were therefore to be conciliated or appeased by offerings and Socr;
vows. Socrates set himself strenuously to refute these vain
presumptions. He argued the folly of supposing, that men
really accomplished their own wishes in gratifying each
prevailing inclination. He showed, that whilst they did what
they pleased at the moment, they did not in fact attain
that pleasure which they sought; and led them therefore to
surmise, that there must be some end of human pursuit be¬
yond the gratification of the passions, and further, some ulti¬
mate end to the whole sum of the active energies of the soul,
beyond the present life, and distinct from all bodily as¬
sociations. But he not only suggested such a thought by
shewing the reasonings on the opposite view of human life
to be inconsequential and absurd; he further practically
refuted the prevailing fallacies on the subject, by his
own example on the other side. He proved to the world,
by divesting himself of all the worldly accessaries of hap-
piness, and depending exclusively on the internal resour¬
ces of his mind and character, and by his perpetual cheer¬
fulness under those privations, that happiness did not re¬
sult from externals, or from the body, but from the in¬
ternal nature of man, nor from any thing positive and ab¬
solute in that nature, so much as from its state of discipline
and command over the appetites of the body. Theories of
morals were yet to be formed. It remained for Plato to
erect the true and sublime standard of human conduct in
the perfections of the Divinity, and for Aristotle afterwards
to shew the application of the law of habits to the subject.
Socrates has the merit of having prepared the way for these
developments of the subject, by demonstrating the folly of
seeking the ideal of happiness in any enjoyment of the body,
or in any thing present.
So also as to religion, though he could not advance, in
his conceptions of the retributive justice of the Divine Be-
in<r, beyond the circle of darkness which limits the natu¬
ral observation of man, he proved the absurdity of suppos¬
ing that mere external punishment was the only suffering un¬
dergone for offences committed. Secret faults, as he pointed
out, did not escape with impunity. He appealed to the re¬
morses of conscience, to shewr how surely, however in¬
visibly, wrong doing was visited with its punishment; and
whilst in his own mind he concluded that there would be
a future state, in which each man would receive the merited
consequences of his actions, he must also have excited, in
the minds of his hearers, a strong though undefined appre¬
hension of a period of general retribution after death in an¬
other world. At least they must have seen that it was not so
certain, as they may have once supposed, that thong a
present punishment may have been evaded, punishment
would not follow at a future day- In well-disposed minds,
there would thus be a foundation laid of a doctrine of the im¬
mortality of the soul. Under the teaching of Socrates him¬
self, this truth, perhaps, would scarcely assume the foi™0*
doctrine, so distinctly as it is stated by Plato. It would b
simply a practical conviction. And thus Socrates
probably scarcely propounded it in formal terms, nor withou
those qualifying doubts which both his memorialists describ^
him as joining with its enunciation. But Plato, foil g
him, took up the doctrine as a formal truth, and w-o ked t
up into a perfect theory, with the formal array of argume
and didactic exposition. . „rtnf'the
There was nothing, indeed, of system m any part
teaching of Socrates. In the “ Memorabilia” of Xenophon,
we have probably a very complete specimen ot 1 .
stance of what he taught, and, in the desu ory * .en
which the subjects of the several conversations the g
are introduced, of the actual way in which he would
i Xenoph. Mem. iv. 3. 36. ’AAXa raCra fiiv, fyr, 6 urof 8ta to mareveiv eidevai ooS5 £<W
lb. 39. (j>povTL&, pfj KpaTLVTov ij pot <riy*v Kivbvvtim yap an\us ovdev eiStvai.
SOCRATES.
:es. out his questions and reflections on different points, as they
■whappened to suggest themselves on each occasion. There
we find the various duties of the good man and the good
citizen summarily sketched, without the formality of state¬
ment or systematic connexion. He inquires what is just,
or pious, or temperate,—and he leads his hearers to con¬
sider the true definitions of the several virtues ;l but it is
chiefly with the view of laying open their mistakes and
confusion of thought on the subject, and to divert them
from sophistical disquisitions on virtue, to the discharge of
virtue in all its parts, rather than to give any precise idea
of it himself.2
Certainly there are grave objections to the morality
not only obeyed what they commanded, but strictly rever¬
enced their authority.1 We must not, however, suppose
that he thus intended to place positive and moral laws on
the same tooting. The reference which he gives to the
written law of the state, as the directory on questions of
religion and morals, is the substitute in his teaching for a
systematic development of the moral and religious duties.
1 he law of the state presented, to one who had no thought
of systematizing the subject for himself, the best expres¬
sion of those great truths which he was drawing forth from
the higher source of man’s eternal nature. He is content
to point out to his hearers, in a general w'ay, the wisest
and leadiest collection of rules for those cases which came
which he tauwht. It did not enjoin that perfect pnrit, o'f under the great 0^4^ d~ refy Ind nS™
” “ . ?“d“fe”’_whec1’’ i&S"* «- Evidently he is not treating the subject whh the exactnS
cellence, we might perhaps have expected. ~It forbade
excesses of licentiousness as evil, but it did not also for¬
bid licentious indulgence as altogether vicious, or fix its
stigma on those monstrous forms of vice which polluted
Giecian society. Nor, again, did it give a right tone to
the resentful feelings. It enjoined the requiting of ill to
enemies, placing retaliation as a duty on a par with the
return of kindness to friends.3 With these exceptions, the
morality inculcated by Socrates, founded as it was on the
indications in man s nature of a destiny beyond the pre¬
sent world, bears strongly the marks of the law written by
the finger of God, and proves that the Creator has not
left Himself without witness, where the light of his re¬
velation has not shone. Supposing even that those great
truths, thus taught, were the broken planks from the wreck
of a primitive Faith, floated down on the stream of ages,
we must yet believe a providential disposition, in the fact
of that ready acceptance which they could obtain with one,
brought up, as Socrates was, amidst the grossest corrup¬
tions of heathenism. His was an instance, how the unso¬
phisticated heart responds to the notices of divine truth,
w hen once they are duly presented to it; and how, where-
ever theie is a sincere pursuit of right, the moral eye will
be enabled to pierce the surrounding gloom, and to dis¬
cern, foi the most part, the true outline and form of right
It is observable, however, that, whilst y' H mself an acc™;7„Srver h " ‘'Tr fr0"!
rceivedthatthe laws of religion and accurate observer of human life, and
perceived that the laws of religion and morality possessed a
sacie importance, independently of all positive enactments
of men, he yet appeals to the laws of the state for the par¬
ticular rules of religious and moral duty. When instruct-
ing Luthydemus on the worship of the gods, he cites the
Uelphic oracle, which enjoined the law of the state as the
rule of acceptable worship.^ When asked by the sophist
Hippias what is just, he answers, that it is what the laws
prescribe. Such reference was perfectly natural in a Greek,
accustomed as Greeks were to view every thing in su¬
bordination to politics, and to regard the dutv of the citi-
zen £us paramount to every other duty. This feeling had
ts influence with Socrates, and induced him to regard
aut;.10r‘? of.the state as possessing in itself a moral
Ej'^rr- respect which he throughout
_ ed t0 the laws of his own state, was that of one who
with a disposition to follow the path of duty wherever it
might lead him, he had in his own case felt the importance
of intellectual cultivation, in order to right conduct. From
his own circumstances, accordingly, and a natural predilec¬
tion for those exercises of the mind which were his habi¬
tual pursuit, he overrated this importance; and, instead of
simply regarding the information of the mind as a neces¬
sary ingredient in moral improvement, he made it all in all.
Ihus, according to him, wisdom or philosophy was virtue,
and ignorance and folly, vice. He carried this view of
morals so far, as to place the knowledge of duty on a foot¬
ing with the knowledge of arts. Nor was he even startled
with the paradox, that if such were the case—if the know¬
ledge of right were the whole of morality—there would be
less immorality in intentional wrong conduct, than in un-
intentional done through ignorance*^
' S”opb’. Me”.' h. i, 9.1' Kai i.op.Wa, „ mivra, „.r.A.
Toil;
"Uf, K T.\.
' laws
XenothIiee? °f.moral '"formation for the performance of dut^refers^to thTsa^e*must^tforf ofT, ypy^Ta3V’ *•r*X* Seneca, arguing
di ft"!. ° SheTW there is ""1 analogy between the L> subj^tT ^ as given by
Z « hujUS ? Ia ^i3 excusatius es . voluntate peccare 0^^ u J fo "iiac xnaximr’ I ^ SayS’ “ qUam dissimiIis sit a*-tium coni
G ammancus non erubescit solecismum, si scien?^?^^ delinquere. Quod dico, tale est.
> magis peccat, quam si se intelligere dissimulat. At in hac arte vivendi tnrninr 1 V de^cere ffi8riim non intelligit, quantum ad
^ve had the argument of Socrates, as given by xltphon rl£m iv 2 2oTfo hi P Vfn ,umA culPa est-” EP- 95. S." He seems to
463
Socrates.
ot tne theorist, in assigning this importance to the law of
the state; but he is enforcing the use of the law of the
state as an authoritative practical guide to right conduct.
His internal view of religion, for example, was founded
on observation of the signs of benevolent design through¬
out the material and intellectual world ; and he was thus
led to the acknowledgment of a pure Theism. But in
his conduct, he knew not how to realize the obligations
which the perception of this truth imposed on him. With
his reverence, accordingly, for the laws of his country, as
well as under the influence of that superstition to which
ins piety habitually verged, he sought a direction to his
religious sentiments from the authority of the state, and
• thus in practice was a polytheist—His object was further
to prevent men from trusting to the conceits of their own
judgment in matters of conduct, and to recommend a pro¬
per deference to the wisdom and authority of their ancient
laws, then so presumptuously slighted by each vain pre¬
tender to superior prudence and political sagacity.
In assailing, as Socrates did, the follies of his countrymen
by the dexterity of an acute reason, he was ever exposing
their ignorance. The impression on his own mind appears
to have been, that men erred rather from the want of due
information respecting their moral condition, than from the
perverseness of their will,—from folly, rather than from
SOCRATES.
Thus vice was in no case, in the view of Socrates, an
act of the will, but of the mistaken judgment. He did not
mean by this to assert, that men did not act wrong wilful¬
ly in the particular instances of misconduct, so as not to
deserve blame for their misconduct; but that the seat or
moral inquiries. But it sought to rouse the understanding to Socra?
a perception of its condition of weakness, and defects, and'^y
ignorance, previous to its interrogation of itself, and its acqui¬
sition of knowledge, and its strengthening by exercise and
discipline. Like the great reformer of modern science,^ he
that tne seat oi uiscipnuc. ^&     -
—    — t c™. tw thp will found nothinsr duly ascertained in the field ot philosophy;
vice was in the perverse understanding, hyp0theses assumed without examination, truth obscuredand
was invariably towards good. ^ ^oj-dmgly^ce^maj^e ^ the plausible cover of general terms and
vague analogies. Yet every one w'as fully satisfied with
the state of knowledge; every one presumed that he was
in possession of the truth. So, too, at this pei iod, as at
the time when Bacon proposed his new method, there was
a dialectical science in use, available only for disputation
and victory, and not reaching the truth of things, or im¬
parting any real knowledge. And, in like manner, in the
time of Socrates, as in that of Bacon, this impel feet dia¬
lectical science was regarded as the key to every kind of
regarded as seated in the understanding, and not m the
heart, it would follow, that that man is less vicious mpnnciple,
who knows what is right and acts wrong, than one who acts
wrong without knowing what is right. The former alter¬
native, however, was impossible, according to his theory.
For knowledge, by its intrinsic excellence, must prevail
over every other principle. So far was Socrates led by the
working of his method, and his observation of the ignorance
and folly of men, to overlook facts, at least, as evident on
the other side,—the plain instances of men acting iTnowfedo-e'- and he who could discourse fluently on any
spite of their better knowledge, ^ isSfur- given subject, was esteemed the accomplished philosopher,
to wrong thus done in spite ot knowledge. nothimr ” as Bacon himself pointedly observes, “ were
it is far from true, if we include the notion of rig in a 1 cieare(i through a mass of outworks thrown out
good. Men, when they take even perverted views of their had to be cleared tnrougn a n a i ^ ^ ^ ^ u
happiness, may be regarded as unconsciously desiring the
 rFVȣ* will tl'ip-rpfnrp. in this
real1 happiness'of their nature. The will, therefore, m this
sense, may be said to be always towards good. But in the
latter sense of the term “good,”—that in which it includes
right, the contrary rather is true. Men see the light, but
love darkness rather than light; and the seatof vice is, ac¬
cordingly, not in the understanding, but in the heart. But
there is this justification of the language ot Socrates on
moral subjects, that the ignorance which he attacked, was,
in truth, a vicious and blameable ignorance. Men did not
take pains to inform themselves on moral subjects. They
neglected themselves, pursuing and professing every other
kind of knowledge but that which was most at hand for
their acquisition, and most concerned them. Seeing, then,
the moral errors into which men ran from this neglect,
Socrates not unreasonably set his mark of reprobation no
ignorance, as the source of immorality. Immediately, in¬
deed, and ostensibly, he attacked the general ignorance
of men, holding out philosophy as the remedy of vice and
unhappiness. But the ultimate and real object of his at¬
tack all the while was, the immoral disposition, the self¬
neglect, and the irregular habits of life, from which the in¬
capacity and ignorance of men on moral subjects common¬
ly result. Then, further, it was the ignorance of self,
chiefly, that he laboured to remove. He found conceit as
to themselves, the prevailing fault of the men of his age
and country. And he hoped, by exposing their ignorance
on various subjects, to make them question their presump¬
tions relating to their own nature, and character, and duties.
Thus would he, in effect, be correcting moral error,—the
folly of men persuading themselves and others that they
knew what they had never cared to examine, much less to
know.1
As the peculiar aspect under which he presented the sub¬
ject of morals arose, in a great measure, from his manner
of interrogating in conversation, so the general character
of his philosophy is to be sought in its intimate connexion
with the peculiar method which he pursued. His philoso¬
phy, being essentially colloquial, laid down no positive prin¬
ciples in any particular science, or even any general princi¬
ples for the conduct of the understanding in scientific or
by the intellect. It only remained, then, for him who would
be the moral reformer of his countrymen, to work by means
of that very dialectical science which opposed its ramparts
and its arms to his progress. , ,.
But to have simply used the same method which his
contemporaries employed, would have been to revo*v^ ^
the same perpetual circle. Socrates, indeed, might, by a
more skilful use of the same dialectical artifices, have con¬
futed the sophists and others with whom he reasoned. He
might have gained the victory in argument, by demonstrat¬
ing the fallacy of their deductions, or proving the contra¬
dictory of their conclusions. But no advance would have
been made by such a proceeding towards a detection of the
source of the popular errors, the wrong principles them¬
selves, on which men argued and acted. To accomplish
this object, then,—to expose the fallacy of wrong principles,
—he had to exalt the art of the dialectician to a higher
function than that of merely eliciting consequences from
S This attempt accordingly he made. Without instituting
any formal method, or teaching any art ol discourse,—with¬
out, it seems, having any such design in his thoughts,
yet so far gave a new direction and impulse to dialectica
science, as to render it in some measure at least subser¬
vient to the investigation of truth. In his hands, serve ,
if it did nothing more, to raise doubts as to the truth ol er¬
roneous principles which before had passed ^hout ques¬
tion, and which the very practice ot reasoning from them a
axioms, had tended to confirm as fixed and indisputable
standards of all other truths.
We must not suppose, that definition and inductio
unknown as parts of dialectics before Socrates; or that b -
crates was absolutely the first to discover and propound
their nature and use. The expressions ot Aristotle rr ght
suggest this supposition. For he says P^10’1 J’
there were two things which one mi§ht^.cribLi totle pro’
Definition, and Inductive Reasoning.3 W hat A P _
bably intends to say, is, that_ Socrates was the fi ^
prove the existing method of dialectics, by ^L^ulion,
finition and induction as the principal engin been
and illustrating their nature and use more than eve .  
* Xenophon speaks of the refutations employed by Socrates, serving as chastisements of presumptuous folly, KoXa^plov w«a. Mem.U.l-
* 4. * w 3 *** ^ ^
Ibid. i. 6. vtpi opurpcov tTTLaTrja-avTOS irparov ttjv didvoiav.
SOCRATES.
465
Socrates, done before him. He gave them, in fact, a body and a vi-
tality, by applying them to the realities with which men
had to do in their daily life.1 Instead of employing them
for the purpose of verbal distinction, or for the expression
of some abstract and barren generality, he applied them to
limit the vague notions entertained about matters of prac¬
tical concern, and to bring opinions into harmony with or¬
dinary experience. To the dialecticians before him, Defi¬
nition and Induction were the commencement of their dis¬
cussions. They unsuspectingly presumed on the logical
processes involved in these instruments of discourse, as al¬
ready sufficiently accomplished. They attempted, indeed,
to define; but they took such definitions as they found at
hand,— of course the most superficial.2 General princi¬
ples they scarcely though of establishing; but they assum¬
ed such as were the current maxims of the day. And the
rest of their discourse proceeded from these crude and un¬
scientific elements. But Socrates did not profess to give
definitions, or to have arrived at any positive certain prin¬
ciples, from which, as data, other truths might be demon¬
strated.
He disclaimed, as has been already pointed out, the de¬
sign or the ability to teach. He was only an inquirer, him¬
self knowing nothing. When pressed, as by the sophist
Hippias, to give his own account of the particular subject
about which he is importunately questioning, he evades the
point, and recurs to his established way of proceeding by
interrogatories.3 He is constantly, that is, endeavouring
to rise to a correct definition of the subject under discus¬
sion. He presents it as the end to be attained by the whole
discussion; leading the person questioned from point to
point, until he brings him close to the true and exact idea
of the subject. So also does he employ Induction. He cites
some instance,—commonly some coarse and very familiar
one, from the workshop of the smith or the shoemaker,
or from the culinary art, and the like,—as apposite to the
point under debate; and thus brings the principle itself, on
which the dispute turns, to the test of actual experience.
This was so much his manner, that it was made a standing
jest by those against whom he so triumphantly employed
it. They complained of his ever repeating the same thing;
ever talking of “ carpenters, and smiths, and fullers, and cooks,
and such like nonsense.4” But he was not deterred by the
scoff, which in reality proved the point and force of his rea¬
sonings. He replied, that about the same things, he must
persist in saying the same things; unless it could be shewn,
that a person being asked, whether twice five were ten,
should answer differently at different times.5 Thus, he would
continually recur to his well-known illustrations from com¬
mon life, hackneyed as they were in his own use, and low
and trifling as they might seem.
From this his constant practice of bringing men to the
test of definition and familiar instance, on every subject dis¬
cussed, he had been regarded by the Thirty as the teacher
of an “ art of discourse,” and as therefore obnoxious to a
law which they had made (chiefly with a view to him), for¬
bidding the teaching of such an art.6 Such a restriction,
however, could not apply to Socrates; since, as we h;T/e
seen, he professed no art; he imparted no method of argu¬
ment ; and, to have silenced him, they must, as he shewed
them, have absolutely prevented his asking the most sim¬
ple and familiar question. Here it was the point of an apt
illustration that had provoked this sally of resentment from
Critias and Charicles, two of the Thirty. It had been re¬
ported to them that he had drawn attention to their acts of
Xenoph. Mem. iii. 3. 11. Asyety, %$t], crv top innap^ou irpbs
. Aristot. Metaph. i. 5. Kai rrept tov rt ecrriv rjp^avro pev Aey<
fKitroXalcos, k. t. A.
violence, by asking, what would be thought of the herds- Socrates,
man under whose care an herd should be diminished. On
this occasion, Charicles, after vainly remonstrating with
him against the practice of his daily conversations, shewed
the point of the illustration, by bidding him beware lest
he also should make the number of the herd still less.7
So far, indeed, was Socrates from instituting any method
either of argument or of investigation, that the very defini¬
tions and instances which he employed were of a popular
character, adapted for refutation of error rather than for
conviction of the truth,—such as to place difficulties in the
way of a dogmatic opponent, rather than didactic illustra¬
tions of any particular subject. He was engaged in repel¬
ling dogmatism. And nothing is of more avail for this
purpose than analogies ; such instances, that is, as test the
truth of an assumption in one case, by its application to an¬
other of the same kind. Direct instances, shewing experi¬
mentally the truth or falsehood of an assumption, may be
difficult to be found; and, in their use, they require a parti¬
cular acquaintance with the subject itself, in order that
their application may be seen. For example, if it were de¬
sired to expose a false theory of government, some fact of
history must be adduced, and its bearing on the theory in
question must be distinctly pointed out. But an analogous
instance does not require this intimate acquaintance with
the subject itself, in illustration of which it is brought. It
shews at once that a given hypothesis is either tenable, or
not tenable,—that it is verified or not verified in some pa¬
rallel case, and therefore may be granted or not, in the sub¬
ject about which the argument is. Only it is necessary,
for this purpose, that the analogous instance should be a fa¬
miliar one,—that the exhibition of the principle in question
should be clear and striking in the instances adduced. For
example, to set forth the evil of tyranny, it would be quite
enough to point out, as Socrates did, the case of a herdsman
under whose keeping an herd should be deteriorated; and the
inference would be immediate, that a career of confiscation
and blood was no evidence of a good government. Again,
whether it were wise to choose magistrates by lot, would
be a difficult question to be decided by the direct evidence
of facts bearing on the point. But when Socrates referred
to the absurdity of appointing a steersman by lot, it was at
once evident, that there were cases in which this mode of
appointing important officers of the state would be mis¬
chievous. Such then was the kind of evidence which So¬
crates was constantly adducing from analogous instances to
the point in question ;—an evidence, not conveying any po¬
sitive instruction in the theories of the subjects to which it
was applied; but removing false impressions respecting
them, and opening the mind to the reception of the truth.
It was an admirable method of unteaching prejudices or
vain assumptions,and of silencing the dogmatist,—a method,
powerful at once for the refutation of error, and the con¬
viction of ordinary minds incapable of being instructed
by a more direct and positive evidence. Such, accordingly,
was the method practised by Socrates. In pursuing any ar¬
gument, “ he would proceed,” as Xenophon observes, “ by
the most admitted principles; considering this to be the
sound basis of discussion. And therefore,” adds Xenophon,
“ he, far beyond all I ever knew, when he spoke, carried
conviction to his hearers ;” and he would say, “ that Ho¬
mer had ascribed to Ulysses the merit of being a sound
orator, on account of his ability to conduct a discussion, by
reasoning from such principles as men acknowledged.”8
It was seldom, however, if ever, that Socrates avowedly
tols aWois fTripf\(ia8aL ddv ko.1 tou \eyeiv bvvacrSai', k. t. A.
nv kcu opi^eadaL, Xiav S’ uttAws eTTpayparevd-rjcrav. api^ovro re yap
3 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4, 9.
Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4, 7- dia twu 8okovvtg>v tois ’avQpomcus.
6 Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 31. 3 Aristid. t. ii. p. 248.
VOL. XX.
4 Ibid. i. 2, 37. Plato, Gorgias, p. 491, a. t. iv. p. 96.
Xenoph. Mem. i, 2. 37. 8 Ibid. iv. 6. 15.
3 N
466
SOCRATES.
Socrates, argued a point. Professing to know nothing himself, he
v--' constantly challenged others as to what they professed to
know. He put his questions to each person with whom he
conversed, very much as the skilful experimenter in these days
does to nature, so as to lead to the affirmative or negative
of a particular hypothesis whose truth he would investigate.
Having obtained an answer, he proceeds analytically, to
found on that another question, studiously directed, in like
manner, to elicit the answer which might serve for fur¬
ther inquiry, and so on, until he has reduced the first
proposition to some simple elements, clearly shewing the
truth or falsehood of the original assumption. It was as
truly an experimental process on men’s minds, as that which
the modern investigator performs on the subject which he
examines. Those analogical instances in which he so much
delighted, served the purpose of this analysis, no less than
direct and proper instances, such as belong to him who in¬
vestigates experimentally the nature of a particular subject.
For analogies detect the state of the mind to which they are
addressed. They at once call forth and illustrate its principles
and habits of thought, and enable the experimenter to avail
himselfofthe existing resources in that mind for eftectingthe
desired conviction. They furnish him with a clue to the
course which he should follow in carrying on-his analysis.
This was that midwifery of the mind which Socrates used
sportively to describe as his peculiar occupation.
In his conversation, for example, with Euthydemus, who
prided himself in having cultivated his mind by his own in¬
dependent study of books, of which he had formed a large
collection,—he first drew attention to the singularity of the
young man’s conceit, by representing him as coming before
the public, with high professions of being self-taught, and
putting the parallel case of a candidate for some medical
office, who should announce that he had studiously avoided
even the appearance of having learned the art of medicine,
and ask for the office on the promise of endeavouring to
learn the art by his future practice. Interest being ex¬
cited by this illustration of the absurdity, he next led his
hearers to see the absurdity of entering on political affairs
without preparation, by referring to the fact of the severe
application and discipline undergone by persons who seek
reputation in such accomplishments as flute-playing or rid¬
ing. Then, having gained over Euthydemus as a more
willing listener, he proceeds to question him as to the use
for which he had collected so many books. He throws out
the presumption that they have been collected with a view
to enrich the mind with virtue. Supposing this to be
granted, he goes on to interrogate Euthydemus as to the
particular excellence of which he is in quest. He enume¬
rates several particulars; and these being rejected, he comes
at last to excellence in the art of government, which the
young man concedes to be the object of his desire. This
gives an opening to inquire into the qualifications necessary
for such excellence. He discovers, by the answers of
Euthydemus, that he conceives himself master of those mo¬
ral virtues which he is induced to admit are indispensable
to the good citizen. By a series of questions, however, re¬
lating to particular actions, he forces Euthydemus to admit,
that what is just in one case, is unjust in another, and
to contradict himself in his successive statements as to the
comparative criminality of voluntary and involuntary acts of
injustice. What, then, triumphantly asks the philosopher,
think you of a person who is so inconsistent with himself ?
The conclusion is inevitable; and Euthydemus is constrain¬
ed to owm, that “ he knew not what he thought he knew.”
But Socrates, not yet satisfied, presses him further to ex¬
plain his notion of that ignorance which he had thus dis¬
played ; and finds, that notwithstanding his confession of
his want of right instruction, he yet presumes on his pos¬
session of self-knowledge. Another question forces him to Socra
abandon this position. The young man then asks to be only
put in the w ay of self-examination. Here at once his false
presumptions are exposed to the searching analysis of So¬
crates. The inquiry turns on a knowledge of the goods and
evil of life. Euthydemus enumerates one thing after an¬
other as good; and Socrates immediately subjoins some
counter evil as attending it; until Euthydemus at last gives
up his confidence in his own opinion, and declares that he
knows not now what he ought to pray for to the gods.
Again, Socrates presents before him pointedly the evidence
he had thus given of having been diverted from consideration
of the subject by the strong presumption of his knowledge
of it. But that he may leave no room for escape, he calls
on him, in conclusion, to state his opinion as to the nature
of democracy, which at least, he conceived, Enthydemus,
as a candidate for public office in a popular state, must have
studied. And in like manner, he extorts from his succes¬
sive answers a further proof of his ignorance and incompe¬
tence to the duties for which he had designed himself.
The effect thus produced is what Plato compares to the
numbing touch of the torpedo.1 The mental powers of the
individual thus tried were for the moment paralyzed. He
found that he only committed himself further by renewed
efforts ; and “ began to think,” as Euthydemus says of him¬
self at the close of the conversation to which w'e have just
referred, “ whether it were not best for him to be silent, as
he ran the hazard of appearing absolutely to know nothing.”
From the instance just given, it will appear that a cur¬
rent of irony pervaded these experimental argumentations
of Socrates. There was irony mingled with earnest con¬
viction, in that very disclaimer of all knowledge with which
he set out. It was a mask, behind which he could hurl
his weapons of assault on the boasted knowledge of others,
whilst at the same time he expressed his serious view
of the real ignorance of man, and the necessity of com¬
ing with a simple unprejudiced mind to the acquisition
of truth. In the prosecution, however, of his method
of analysis by interrogation, irony was indispensable for
the success of his inquiry. For his object was to obtain
the truth from the mouth of the person interrogated, not to
state it himself; and where he did state it accordingly, it
was necessary to put it in such a form as to try whethei it
was the opinion or not of that person,—whether he really
thought so, or adopted it on the judgment of his questioner.
An ironical statement answers this purpose. It conceals
the teacher, and enables him to judge, according as the
hearer applies it, wffiat the state of the hearer’s mind is, ana
to argue the point in question, not on premises laid dow n by
himself, but the admissions of the other. The hearer, too, is
taken by surprise. The air of seriousness which the iromca
manner sets out with, and the absurdity involved, on second
thought, in carrying out the supposition of a serious intent, in
their united effect, provoke the smile of surprise, and win at¬
tention. As Socrates was engaged, too, in presenting unac¬
ceptable conclusions,—bringing home to the self-conceite
evidences of their real ignorance,—it was necessary r°r b"11
to disguise, as much as possible, the conclusion to whic e
was tending. He had to assume, therefore, the pnncip e
on which those with whom he conversed were reasoning
and acting, and reduce these to an absurdity, by applying
them as true to some evident case of ordinary expenence-
The skilful use made by Socrates of this irony was a powe
ful enforcement, in itself, of the convictions which he ^S1 ,
to leave on the minds of his hearers. He brought e
of a delicate ridicule to the support of an argumen ,
thus exhibited the desired conclusion under a form, w >
whilst it pleased the hearers, shamed them into an ac
ledgment of its truth.
Plato, Meno., 80 a. t. iv. p. 348.
SOCRATES.
467
But this irony, and the analogical instances over which it would allow no proper and adequate power of causation but Socrates,
was thrown, were but approaches to that end which Socra- moral design. Material or mechanical causes were in his'
tes appears always to have had in view in his conversations, view but of instrumental efficacy.3 It was moral sentiment
—the ascent to accurate general notions of each object of only, the love and pursuit of good, that possessed real
thought. He was always working his way towards an ex- power. This alone, he observed, subsisted unchanged and
act definition of the idea on which the discussion turned
Each instance which he adduced was a step in this progress,
diminishing by its light some portion of that obscurity and
confusion of thought with which he found the subject in¬
vested. He did not, indeed, reach the point which he had
in view. Dialectical science was in too rude a state at pre¬
sent for the attainment of its perfect end. Socrates rather
set an admirable example of the perseverance and energy
with which the end should be pursued, than a perfect model
of the method of pursuing it. His very method, indeed,
confesses its own imperfection, in stopping just at the point
where the way seems to be opened, and leaving the sub¬
ject negatively, rather than positively defined.
This constant pursuit of exact definition is an indication
of the antisceptical bent of the mind of Socrates. The
foundations of morals and of all science were shaken by the
speculations of his sophistical predecessors. Opinion was
exalted to the prerogative of knowledge. Socrates accord-
ingly put opinion to the test. He explored it experimen¬
tally, as it existed in different minds ; and he proved it de¬
ficient from the standard to which it had been vainly ex¬
alted. He found that it vanished before the light of inves¬
tigation ; and, in fact, that in proportion as the fancies and
errors of opinion were cleared away, advances were made
towards more stable and certain knowledge. This know¬
ledge, accordingly, he continually sought after. He had
probably but an indistinct conception of the realities to¬
wards which he directed his pursuit. Still he appears con¬
stantly to have assumed and fully believed their existence,
by steadily proceeding, as we find him to have done, through
the various opinions which he encounters in discussion, un¬
til he arrives at some more definite form of thought. What
Socrates only indistinctly apprehended, Plato afterwards
realized in his philosophical system, and endued with ex¬
istence in his celebrated theory of Ideas. But in the view
of his master that theory was but dimly seen in shadow.
Socrates shaped his course towards it, as he more and more
limited the extravagancies of popular opinion on the various
subjects which he discussed, and excluded whatever was ir¬
relevant and foreign to the real nature of the thing. He
threw doubts on what was doubtful, that there might be the
less doubt and uncertainty about what remained when the
doubtful was removed from a subject.
What appears to have led Socrates into this sound method
of proceeding, was, as Aristotle very justly intimates, the
firm moral convictions which were the great elements of
his mind and character.1 He felt that there was a reality in
the principles of piety, justice, benevolence, and other mo¬
ral sentiments, which no sophistry could impugn. He not
only felt their reality within himself, but he had observed,
that however invisible to the outward eye, they produced
real effects in the world ; that they were not only evidenced
in the constitution of nature, but also recognized in those
unwritten laws which were found everywhere the same,
independently of positive institution, as well as in the
enactments of particular states.2 He looked for the origi¬
nal of these sentiments to the perfect nature of the Di-
vmity; and he held them accordingly to be invariable and
true, as the Divinity is invariable and true. Hence he
fixed, whilst every thing else was moved by it, and derived
its existence from it. It was the neglect of this primary
principle in the detail of the physical theory of Anaxago¬
ras, which had offended him in the system of that philoso¬
pher. And agreeably to this, Plato tells us of his account¬
ing for his remaining in his prison, from the simple cause of
the moral feeling by which he was actuated.
Fixing his eye accordingly on these stable eternal prin¬
ciples, Socrates pressed forward in every discussion towards
their attainment. He would never rest in vague general
classifications, which involving also much that belonged not
to the subject, in question, left its nature as undefined as
ever. But he proceeded to a further limitation of the ge¬
neralities on each subject, obliging his hearer to distinguish
the subordinate genera included in the more general idea
first thrown out, and thus gradually to circumscribe the sub¬
ject within its proper boundaries. This was the intimate
connexion of his logic and ethics. He was engaged through¬
out in an endeavour to remove the vain presumptions of
mere opinion, and to substitute for these a real knowledge,
as far as it was attainable, of the subjects themselves. He
conceived that if men went astray in their conduct, acting
on what they mistakenly thought right, and good, and true,
it was only necessary to make them know the truth, and
they would then act on their knowledge, as before they act¬
ed on mere opinion, and by thus acting attain their happi¬
ness. This was but a short-sighted view of the origin of
human misconduct and unhappiness, as it did not go beyond
the fact of the erroneous judgment of men, to the moral
perversion which was the primary cause of their failure in
action. As the practical error of men arises from this
perversion, it is evidently vain to think to improve their
conduct, by merely substituting more correct notions of
truth and duty; since this remedy does not reach the source
of the malady. Such, however, was the view of Socrates.
And hence he laboured, whatever might be the subject of
his conversations, to lead men to contemplate the nature
of the thing discussed, and to seek to define it to them¬
selves; thus blending the perception of the right and the
good in the intellectual apprehension of the truth. Xeno¬
phon accordingly remarks the importance attributed by So¬
crates to the ability of distributing things into genera, on
the ground, that by means of this talent “ men would be¬
come most virtuous, most formed for command, and most
able in discourse.”4
Though Socrates thus endeavoured to render his hearers
accomplished in the art of discussion, by directing their at¬
tention to Definition, he, as might be expected, in that early
state of logical science, did little more than point out the
great importance of Definition, and mark the direction in
which it should proceed. Were we to take our estimate
of what Socrates accomplished in this way from the “ Dia¬
logues” of Plato, we must suppose Socrates to have been
much more methodical in his discussions, than we should
infer from the specimens given by Xenophon. Something
perhaps should be allowed for the practical turn of Xeno¬
phon’s mind, and his comparative inattention to the more
abstract part of the discussions of his master, whilst his fel¬
low-pupil, on the other hand, who had an eagle-eye for
3 .nst:ot'’ Mctaph. i. 6. ScoKpdrovs §e fj.ev rd rjdiKa npayfxarevofievov, k.t.X. * Xenoph. Mem. iv. 4.
Austotle gives an instance of the manner in which Anaxagoras lost sight of his theory of mind in working out his system. Anaxa-
>'0ra?’ teffs us» said “ that man was the most intelligent of animals, because he had hands ; whereas he should have stated, that man had
an s because he was the most intelligent of animals ; for that hands were an instrument for taking hold." Aristot. de Part. Anim. iv. 10,
P‘, _ Xva^ayopas fiev oiiv <pr)<ri, 8id to )(eipas (f>povip.d>Ta.Tov elvai rav (oxov rdv di/8pocnrov' evXoyou 8e, did to (ppovipiinaTov
own twv faaiv, xdpas tov Xapftdveiv yap XfVes epyavou elaiv. Ed. Duval.
Xenoph. Mem. iv. 5. 12. Ek tovtov yap yiyvevBai avopas dpicrrovs re kck fiycpoviKiDTaTovs <di StaXeKrixcordrovs.
468
Socrates.
SOCRATES.
theory however remote and dazzling, would seize every hint throughout the field of man’s moral natuie, how every mo- Sum.
’ t at dronned from the lips of Socmtes for the indulgence of ral sentiment .s stnctly hunted by its reference to s„ch^
that uroppea irom uie ups u , , & d. a standard. The former is the chief business of Plato’s
ed KvtavpresmtedThe most natural, as wed as most ethical philosophy; the latter, that of Aristotle’s ;-the first
^ p of In tho sim* tending to a contemplative moralityj to a love of the tran-
tlbllnl pSVeSllSirof scemlent beauty andPexcellence o(virtue,-the latter, to a
phcity ot ms nonesi au g ^mpritlv records theory of active virtue,—to a regulated state of the affec-
what'll i^Mmpfessed^u'own’mindfboth^ as to^th^sub- 'fmns'In al. the offices of fife ;-bo\h natural conseqnences in
stance and^h^manne^of the conversations of Socrates, with- their order, of that awakemng of he rea on of men, of whtch
out any "ett-Pt a*^dm^c or ttor^c rfect From J^been ‘ which he pur.
SXjidroutanyth.mrmg^y.p^ed
S that^givtm by Xenophon,) studied^o give effect,^t the
his o°p?nds: “isr tir'thTs?
”Y““5<:.s«h^“et^tanghl S hetd'yS 2“a= LtiftiHetc^f
inquiry^He^traiile^men^to think for themselves^to accent
“iXS^i^^n^to^inno
^Z:rl^rarae^sP^woSdi;,ime
"Tglving^couTt rthem“of0,hrOpinions', men learning of th^Pi"
wouldgbe fid to examine into the connexions and depend bps SoStes, «?eeTom«L man-
i»£"£t;Sr=rr£
HSrSSB^S
engage'attentio^Tand^ a metaphysical logic,—a logic having
^££SSZl£SiVS^£ SSv3^SsM5»*-
siasssristsarp’? ^^issssxss'ssgi
the Dialectic of Plato,-a science of discourse or discussion, cf off the yoke of sloth
as its name imports; not a particular science, like the logic o ? ' d at’length roused to self-exertion,
which grew out of it, but as general in its comprehension and indifference and now at ^ ^ ^ a
as the method itself of Socrates, of which it was the formal would, powers, and strike out
development, and equivalent, therefore, to philosophy in the leader, be empte not ^ wonder5 then, that
highest sense of that term, as being a search after the na- a path ^rUernse . 0f pleasure, and Antisthenes, the
time of things, or, according to him, a theory of Ideas. A^P" ^^^hl^h^rarong the hearers of So-
Again, in giving account to themselves ot their opinions, austere } , , ,d h founded a contemplative
men would be led to trace the connexion of their moral sen- crates, or that I lato sho 1 , hv of his master,
timents and actions with an internal standard of right, inde- mysticism on the sober h d P propose any
pendent of the variations of opinion. The examination of Socr^es, as we ^ g ^ fol]owers> His mission
this relation would suggest, in process of time, a system of preci e , • tu m exert themselves. He
rules for bringing the variable—the sentiments and actions was accomplished in ma g ^ all
of the individlalmoral agent-into accordance with the in- did not de.re wonder,
variable principles of his moral nature. The first ethics, should think and judg ^ int0 extravagancies,
identical, like the first logic, with philosophy in general, therefore, t||iat so™^ , resi|]ted from the excitement,
would be employed in carrying the views of men to those and that, win st gene g nied An Aristip-
great principles themselves,—discussing and removing oh- partial evil aisoshould notPhaVe issued from the
structions to the pure contemplation of the nature of virtue, pus, or an Antisthene , generally may
But the more mature study of ethics, taking up the subject school of Pythagoras B»t how much eV1I g
as a separate branch of philosophy, would develop the ap- have resulted from the abJ^anS’ of Self-examina-
plicatfon of the doctrine of the fixed standard, by shewing five opinions of Pythagoras, m the neglectot_sei  
1 Xenoph. Mem. i- 6. 14. Ka'1 T°vs fyvavpovs to>v naXai aotySiv avbpav, ovs tKfivoi Karc'knrov tv fiifiXiois yp 'l'
Koivrj <rvv rois (friXois 8i(px°liai> K'T'
^ Xenoph. Mem. iv. 7. / 3 Ibld- i- 1- 1*16.
SOCRATES.
469
rates, tion and self-knowledge, and disregard of personal respon-
^^sibility, by those who implicitly received them ?
But whilst we ascribe to Socrates the merit of having
given at once the impulse and the character to Grecian phi¬
losophy, we must yet single out for special commendation,
his admirable services in reviving the forgotten theory of
natural religion among his countrymen. Of religion, indeed,
as an external system of positive laws enforced by the state,
they had, as we have before observed, more than enough. But
religion, as a system of truth, was scarcely thought of. When
Aristophanesi brings on the stage Demosthenes asking Ni-
cias, well-known as Nicias was for his superstitious feeling;
ereov fjyfl yap deovs; “ really, then, do you think there
are gods ?”1 2 the allusion is evidently to the real irreligion,
which the most rigid and scrupulous worship of the hea¬
then but ill concealed. Resting their belief of a Divine
agency in the world on tradition and authority, men omit¬
ted to explore the witness of God in their own nature,
and in the world around them. Consequently, they were
exposed to every objection which the ingenuity of theory,
or the folly and wickedness of the world, might suggest
to their uninformed credulity, against the positive truth
of their religious system. As infidelity in these days finds
its refuge in the belief of an infallible church, and is itself in
its turn the miserable refuge from the despotism of the very
infallibility before which it crouches in silence ; so among
the votaries of heathen superstition, the doubts and misgiv¬
ings of the thoughtful intellect, and the troubled heart, were
left to prey on themselves, shut up in abject submission to
an external authority, and unprepared for their own defence
and support. Socrates addressed a great portion of that
practical information, wdiich, in spite of his disclaimer of the
office of a teacher, he was ever imparting to all around him,
to the remedy of this distempered state of the religious feel¬
ings. He saw plainly enough that the vulgar theology
could not be defended on the ground of rational evidence.3 *
This, therefore, in his respect for the ancient lawrs and cus¬
toms of his country, he was content to lean on the sanction
of positive institution. A great reverence, he justly thought,
was due to the wisdom embodied in ancient laws ; and he
would not encourage persons wantonly to abandon the pre¬
sumptions of truth and right naturally belonging to establish¬
ed institutions. At least, he would not have men rashly set
up their own notions against the presumptions in favour of the
wisdom of other men and other days, recommended as these
werebysome experience oftheir stability and use, whilst each
man’s private opinions had no such sanction, or no equiva¬
lent sanction. But he felt also, that the internal sense of re¬
ligion wanted other support,—that presumptions of human
vanity and corruption were, and ever would be, brought to
bear against this ; and that such assaults could only be re¬
pelled by a well-informed reason prepared for the encoun¬
ter. He therefore provided his hearer with a solid and im¬
pregnable argument in favour of the being and providence
and moral government of the Deity. The argument was
what is now familiarly known as the argument from final
causes, or the evidences of almighty design in the fabric
and course of nature. For this purpose, he gave an induc¬
tion of instances from the world without, and from the
intellectual and moral constitution of man himself, of ad- Socrates,
mirable design in the adaptation of means to ends. He
called upon men, with such evidences of divine benevolence
around them, not to wait for any more palpable proof, such
as judging from the analogy of nature they had no ground
to expect, but to believe in the existence of invisible things
from their effects, and from the good received to reverence
the Deity its author. The language, indeed, attributed to
him by Xenophon, is in remarkable correspondence wdth that
of St. Paul, declaring, that “ the invisible things of God are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made,
even his eternal power and Godhead ;’M and the tenor of his
argument throughout illustrates the inspired observation of
the apostle. More particularly we may advert to his striking
inculcation of the doctrine of the moral government of God.
He refers to the sense of responsibility as in itselfan evidence
of the existence of a Divine Power to reward and punish ;5
and he points to the pleasure and pain, advantage and dis¬
advantage, respectively consequent on virtuous and vicious
conduct, in the course of things, as instances of a perfection
of government beyond the power of human laws.6 The
stock of instances has been enlarged by the researches of
modern science, and strength has been added to them by
their arrangement and combination. But Socrates, after
all, has the distinguished merit of having given the argu ¬
ment from final causes an explicit statement and due im¬
portance in the proof of natural religion.
\\ hen we think that truths of such high import and in¬
terest were sedulously propagated for so many years in the
place of concourse of the civilized world, we naturally turn
from the contemplation of the living philosopher, to ask,
what was the result—what was the amount of beneficial in¬
fluence on the people to whom his mission was addressed.
We cannot doubt, that on the whole the influence was
great,—that the serious errors of many in regard to the
conduct of life wrere corrected,—their minds opened to con¬
sider the great purposes for which they had been born into
the world, and to look for happiness, not from transitory
sensual enjoyments, but from the sober and vigorous exer¬
tion of their powers of thought and action. In some con¬
spicuous instances, indeed, his endeavours strikingly failed.
Critias and Alcibiades were known wherever the name of
Athens was heard. And their wild and guilty career pre¬
sented to the public eye a splendid mirror, from which the
most unjust censure was reflected on the philosopher him¬
self. But the many instances which must have occurred in
humbler life, of his success in the work of moral reforma¬
tion, are passed over in silence. That there were such in¬
stances Xenophon has given us to understand, when he ob¬
serves, in his simple manner, that Socrates dismissed those
who resorted to him, improved by their intercourse with
him.7 To expect, however, any decisive and permanent
public improvement from the teaching of the philosopher,
would be to overlook the extent and the malignity of hea¬
then corruption. The men of that day, as of the present,
had the voice of God distinctly speaking within them,
“ their conscience bearing witness, and their thoughts ac¬
cusing or excusing them,” according to that just descrip¬
tion of them which Scripture has set before us. But if they
1 Anstoph. Eq. 32. 2 Thucyd. ii. 53, v. 105. ’Ey to delov vaplcreas,—and pyovpeda to Belov 8d£v,—are expressions of
I hucydides, which shew the low ground on which religion was rested in Greece. ‘ ^
Plato, Euthyphro, p. 6. a. AXXa poi erne rrpos (fiiXiov, av a>s akr/BSts pyp ravra yeyovevai ovras ; k. r.A. Op. i. 12.
4 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 3. 14. "A xprj KaTavoovvra pp Karacfipovelv ruv dopdrcov, dXK' eVc ra>v yiyvouevca
uavovra npdv to 8aip6vwv.
1 yiyvopevcov rrjv bvvapiv dvruv Karapav-
5 Ibid. i. 4. 16. Oiei 8 av tovs 0eovs rots dvdpdnrois 86£av epcfivcrai, i>s heavoi elaiv ev Kai mucbi noieiv, e’l prj Svvaroi rjcraV,
, ^7? rdv Aia, co 'ScoKpares, ravra navra eome’ to yap tovs vopovs avrovs Toty TrapajSalvovcri ray Tipco-
*ay eXuv, [deXuovos rj mr avOpconov vopoBeToy 8o<ei poi etvai. So Bishop Butler, in his Analogy, part i. ch. 2, observes, “ For if
and t^af1Stratr8-COu1^ make tk? sanc.tions of tbeh laws take place, without interposing at all, after they had passed them, without a trial,
..ir e 0™a™ 9^ aniexecufl°n ; if they were able to make the laws execute themselves, or every offender to execute them upon him-
; we should be just in the same sense under their government then, as we are now ; but in a much higher degree, and more perfect
manner.” P. 51. 7 Xenoph. Mem. i. 2. 61. fieAriovs yap iroiav tovs crvyyiyvopevovs dnenepnev. Also ib. 4. 19; iv. 5. 24.
470 S O C
Socrates shut their ears, and hardened their hearts against this divine
II instruction, how would they listen to one who was ever up-
Sodor. braiding them with their dulness and inattention to its les-
sons and admonitions ? Rather, they would feel towards
him, according to that apposite illustration of Plato, as per¬
sons dozing towards one that should wake them up, and,
after ridding themselves of his disturbance, think quietly to
compose themselves to sleep again.1 For he did not dis¬
guise that his mission to them was one of reproof and ex¬
postulation,—a mission, in fact, from the Deity ; and that
his real concern, accordingly, was not for himself, but for
the success of his mission, lest they should incur the guilt
of rejecting a divine gift.2
And truly we may regard that energetic call which he was
ever sounding in the ears of his countrymen, as a provi¬
dential warning to the heathen world of the sin and misery
of the natural man, trusting to his own imaginations,—how,
“ changing the truth of God into a lie,” he “ gives himself
over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with
greediness.” As God sent his prophets to his chosen peo¬
ple, to tell them of their transgressions, and bid them
“ remember the law of Moses his servantso in his
dealings with the nations of the world, He appears to
have raised up, from time to time, individuals from among
themselves, heathens still, yet gifted with a purity of mo¬
ral vision beyond their contemporaries, to retrace the di¬
vine outline of their fallen nature, amidst its ruins, and
to declare almost authoritatively the indelible but forgotten
law of right. Israel rejected its prophets; but through
all the perverseness of the people, those prophets pre¬
pared the way of the Lord. The heathen world, in like
SOD
manner, refused to listen to its monitors, its legislators, Sodoi
and philosophers; but in spite of their general obduracy and
indifference, we cannot but believe that the call was not ut¬
terly fruitless. To the original influence of Socrates espe¬
cially, brought as this was to bear on the great centre of
heathen civilization, it may have been in great measure
owing, that the light of religious and moral truth was kept
alive, however faintly burning, for successive generations, in
many a dark abode of superstition ; and that in a later day,
the doctrine of grace and truth appealed not without effect
to the Areopagite of Athens, the jailor of Philippi, and the
Roman proconsul at Paphos. He certainly excited a spirit
of eager curiosity on moral subjects ; as was evidenced in
the rise of the schools of philosophy to meet the demands
of that spirit, and in the moral character of the disquisitions
pursued in them. But this spirit could not have exhausted
itself in mere literary discussion. There were doubtless the
waverings of anxious minds beyond the precincts of the
schools, to be settled ; cravings after more safe direction of
personal conduct than such as the world around them pre¬
sented, to be satisfied. Such a state of things would keep
men looking for gospel-truth. Some would feel, as Alci-
biades is represented by Plato, after a conversation with
Socrates, and Euthydemus by Xenophon, at a loss how to
pray. And to such the answer of Socrates, as given by Plato,
would very indistinctly pei'haps, yet not without earnest
hope, suggest the high thought, that they must wait until
they could be informed by God himself, as to the proper
disposition towards God and men; or until one should
come to discipline them,—to remove the darkness from
their eyes, and enable them to discern both good and evil.3
Socrates was also the name of an ecclesiastical histo¬
rian of the fifth century, born at Constantinople in the be¬
ginning of the reign of Theodosius : he professed the law
and pleaded at the bar, whence he obtained the name of
Scholasticus. He wrote an ecclesiastical history from the
year 309, when Eusebius ended, down to the year 440;
and wrote with great exactness and judgment. His work
is to be found in different editions of Eusebius, Sozomenus,
and the other Greek writers on .the history of the church.
SODA, the name given by the French chemists to the
mineral alkali, which is found native in many parts of the
world. .
SODERAH, a town of the province of Lahore, in the
Seik territories, situated on the east side of the Chinaub,
forty-eight miles N.N.W. from the city of Lahore. Long.
73. 30. E. Lat. 32. 27. N.
SODOM, formerly a town of Palestine in Asia, famous
in Scripture for the wickedness of its inhabitants, and their
destruction by fire from heaven on account of that wicked¬
ness. The place where it stood is now covered by the
waters of the Dead Sea, or the lake Asphaltites.
SODOR, a name always conjoined with Man, in men¬
tioning the bishop of Man’s diocese. Concerning the ori¬
gin and application of this word, very different opinions
have been formed by the learned. Buchanan (lib. i. cap.
34.) says, that before his time the name of Sodor was given
to a town in the isle of Man. In Gough’s edition of Cam¬
den’s Britannia (vol. iii.p. 701.) it is said, that after the isle
of Man was annexed to the crown of England, this appella¬
tion was given to a small island within musket-shot of Man,
in which the cathedral stands, called by the Norwegians
the Holm, and by the inhabitants the Peel. In support of
this opinion, a charter is quoted a.d. 1505, in which Tho-
mas earl of Derby and lord of Man, confirms to Huan
Hesketh, bishop of Sodor, all the lands, &c. anciently be¬
longing to the bishops of Man. “ Ecclesiam cathedralem
sancti Germani in Holm Sodor vel Pele vocatam, ecclesiam
Sancti Patricii ibidem, et locum praefatum in quo ecclesise
praefatae sitae sunt.” The truth of either, or perhaps of
both, these accounts might be allowed; but neither of them
is sufficient to account for the constant conjunction of
Sodor and Man, in charters, registers, and histories. It
Sodor was a small town or island belonging to Man, it can¬
not be conceived why it is always mentioned before it, or
rather why it should be mentioned at all in speaking of a
bishop’s diocese. To speak of the bishopric of Sodoi and
Man in this case, would be as improper as it would be to
call the bishopric of Durham the bishopric of Holy Island
and Durham, or the bishopric of Darlington and Durham;
the former being a small island, and the latter a town be¬
longing to the county and diocese of Durham. Neither
of these accounts, therefore, gives a satisfactory explanation
of the original conjunction of Sodor and Man.
The island of Iona was the place where the bishop of
the Isles resided, the cathedral church of which, it is sai ,
was dedicated to our Saviour, in Greek Soter, hence Soto-
renses, which might be corrupted into Sodorenses, a name
frequently given by Danish writers to the western isles o
Scotland. That we may be the more disposed to accede
to this Grecian etymology, the advocates for this opinion
tell us, that the name Icolumkill, wdiich is often applied to
this island, is also of Greek extraction, being derived from
columba, “ a pigeon,” a meaning that exactly corresponds
to the Celtic word colum, and the Hebrew word iona.
We must confess, however, that we have very little taitn
in the conjectures of etymologists, and think, that upon no
1 Plato, Apol. Socr. 31. a. Op. i. 72. ^
2 Ibid. IIoXXoO deco e'yio vnep epavroii aTroKoyelcrdcu, cos ns av
oioito, dXX’ iinep hpcov, fxq e^apdpTrjTe if epi ry v rod 6eov doaiv iipcv,
tpov KaTa\j/ri(j)i<rdp(voi. P. 71- *'«*'*
3 Alcib. ii. p. 150, d. IIoTf ovv naplcmu 6 Xpdvos ovtos, « 2io«pares; mi ns 6 vcudevcrw; ydcara yap av poi
TOP ClvbpcOTTOV tIs CCTTIV' 2. OVTOS SUTIV Cp pe\(l TTCpl CXOV, K.T.\. Op. V. p. 100.
Sokw Idclv rovrov
S O F
>st. occasion they alone can establish any fact, though, when
concurring with facts, they certainly tend to confirm and
ifia. explain them. It is only from historical facts that we can
know to what the name of Sodor was applied.
It appears from the history of the Orkneys compiled by
an old Islandic writer, translated and enlarged by Torfseus,
that the jEbudae, or Western isles of Scotland, were divid¬
ed into two clusters, Nordureys and Sudereys. The Nor-
dureys, which were separated from the Sudereys by the
point of Ardnamurchan, a promontory in Argyleshire, con¬
sisted of Muck, Egg, Rum, Canna, Skye, Rasay, Barra,
South Uist, North Uist, Benbecula, and Lewis, including
Harris, with a great number of small isles. The Sudereys
were, Man, Arran, Bute, Cumra, Avon, Gid, Isla, Colon-
say, Jura, Scarba, Mull, Iona, Tiree, Coll, Ulva, and other
small islands. All these, when joined together, and sub¬
ject to the same prince, made up the kingdom of Man and
the Isles. In the Norwegian language, Suder and Norder
signify southern and northern, and ey or ay an island.
When the Hebrides were under one monarch, the seat of
empire was fixed in the Sudereys, and the Nordureys were
governed by deputies: hence the former are much oftener
mentioned in history than the latter; hence, too, the Su¬
dereys often comprehend the Nordureys, as in our days
Scotland is sometimes comprehended under England. Su¬
dereys, or Suder, when Anglicised, became Sodor; and all
the Western isles of Scotland being included in one dio¬
cese under the Norwegian princes, the bishop appointed to
superintend them was called the bishop of Man and the
Isles, or the bishop of Sodor and Man. Since Man was
conquered by Edward III. it has been separated from the
other isles, and its bishops have exercised no jurisdiction
over them. Should it now be asked, why then is the
bishop of Man still called the bishop of Sodor and Man ?
we reply, that we have been able to discover no reason ;
but suppose the appellation to be continued in the same
way, as the title king of France was retained by the kings
of Great Britain, for several centuries after the English
were entirely expelled from France.
SOEST, a city of Prussian Westphalia, in the government
of Minden, the capital of a circle of the same name, which
extends over 240 square miles, and has a population of33,400
persons. It is situated on the Tosterbache, and is sur¬
rounded with old and lofty walls. In 1834 it had 1200
houses in narrow and crooked streets, and 7854 inhabitants,
chiefly occupied in manufactures of various kinds. Lat.
51. 34. 5. Long. 8. 0. 1. E.
SOFALA, or Sephala, a kingdom of Africa, lying on
the east coast near Zanguebar. The name Sofala denotes,
in the Hebrew and Arabic languages, low country. It has
been celebrated by the Arabian geographers for its golden
treasures, but it is from the interior that this precious metal
is brought. The soil is fertile, and the climate tolerable.
Numberless reefs and banks of sand render the approach
dangerous. Long. 35. 40. E. Lat. 20. 20. S.
SOFFITA, or Soffit, in Architecture, any timber
ceiling formed of cross beams of flying cornices, the square
compartments or pannels of which are enriched with sculp¬
ture, painting, or gilding; such are those in the palaces of
Italy, and in the apartments of Luxembourg at Paris.
Soffit a, or Soffit, is also used for the underside or face
of an architrave; and more particularly for that of the
corona or larmier, which the ancients called lacunar, the
French plafond, and we usually the drip. It is enriched
with compartments of roses; and in the Doric order has
eighteen drops, disposed in three ranks, six in each, placed
vince of its own name. It is on an extensive plain,
etween the two rivers Iscar and Rissava. It is surrounded
SOL 471
with walls flanked by towers, and defended by a citadel. Sohagepoor
It is the seat of a Greek and of a Catholic bishop ; has II
twenty-three mosques, several Greek, Catholic, and Ar- Solder,
menian churches, some Jewish synagogues, 8000 houses,' v
with about 48,000 inhabitants. It is one of the most flou¬
rishing cities of the empire, depending chiefly on its manu¬
factures. They consist of silk, woollen and linen goods,
and various smaller articles. The general appearance of
the town is somewhat imposing ; but many of the houses
are of wood, and look meanly, as there are few glass win¬
dows, and generally iron grating in their stead. Sofia was
built by the emperor Justinian out of the ruins of the an¬
cient Sardica, and fell under the power of the Turks in
1382.
SOHAGEPOOR, a town and small district of Hindus¬
tan, in the province of Gundwana. The province is situ¬
ated between the 23° and 24° of N. lat. It is a barren,
mountainous, and unproductive country, possessed by va¬
rious savage chiefs. The town is situated eighty miles S.
by E. from Rewah. Long. 81. 45. E. Lat. 23. 29- N.
SOHAM, a town of the hundred of Staplac, in the coun¬
ty of Cambridge, seventy-one miles from London. It is
usually called Monks-Soham, to distinguish it from some
villages of the same name near it, and from having been for¬
merly the seat of a large Benedictine monastery. It has a
charity school and a market on Saturday. The inhabitants
were, in 1801, 2004; in 1811, 2386; in 1821, 2856; and
in 1831, 3667.
SOHAUL, a town of Hindustan, province of Allahabad,
thirty-five miles S.E. from Callinger. Long. 80. 52. E.
Lat. 24. 40. N.
SOHNPOOR, a town of the province of Gundwana, in
Hindustan, possessed by independent chiefs, situated on the
Mahanuddv river, 127 miles S.E. from Ruttunpoor. Long.
83. 45. E. ‘ Lat. 20. 47. N.
SOIGNES, a city of the Netherlands, in the province
of Hennegan, and arrondisement of Mons. It stands on
the river Senne, which rises at the distance of about six
miles. The population amounts to 4800 persons, who are
chiefly employed in obtaining stone from some valuable
quarries. Lat. 50. 32. Long. 3 59. E.
SOIL, the mould covering the surface of the earth, in
which vegetables grow. It serves as a support for vegeta¬
bles, and as a reservoir for receiving and communicating
nourishment. See Agriculture.
SOISSONS, an arrondisement of the department of the
Aisne in France, which extends over 456 square miles, and
is divided into six cantons and 167 communes, containing
68,761 inhabitants. The capital, a city of the same
name, is situated in a fine valley on the river Aisne. It
has a cathedral with twm towers, only one of which has
been completed. The town, in 1836, contained 8124 in¬
habitants, employed chiefly in making linens and leather,
and in spinning cotton by machinery.
SOKOR ZOK, a town of Armenia, situated about mid¬
way between Beilis and Diarbekir, and governed by a
powerful prince, who rules over many different tribes of
Kurds and Turcomans. Population, 6000.
SOLANDER’S Island, in the South Pacific, near the
south coast of New Zealand, discovered by Captain Cook
in 1770. It is of a craggy surface, of great height. Long.
192. 49. W. Lat. 46. 31. S.
SOLDER, Sodder, or Soder, a metallic or mineral
composition used in soldering or joining together other
metals. Solders are made of gold, silver, copper, tin,
bismuth, and lead. In the composition there must com¬
monly be some of the metal that is to be soldered mixed
with some higher and finer metals. Goldsmiths usually
make four kinds of solder, viz. solder of eight, where to
seven parts of silver there is one of brass or copper; solder
of six, where only a sixth part is copper; solder of four,
472
SOL
SOL
and solder of three. It is the mixture of copper in the
solder that makes raised plate come always cheaper than flat.
SOLDIER, a military man enlisted to serve a prince or
state in consideration of a certain daily pay. See Army.
SOLDIN, a town of the government of Frankfurt on the
Oder in Prussia. It is the capital of a circle of the same
name, which extends over 404 square miles, and contains
26,600 inhabitants. The town, which is near the Soldin
lake, is surrounded with walls, and contains 434 houses, with
2860 inhabitants.
SOLECISM in Grammar, a false manner of speak¬
ing, contrary to the rules of grammar, either in respect of
declension, conjugation, or syntax. The word is Greek,
croXouaa-fxbs, derived from the Soli, a people of Attica, who
being transplanted to Cilicia, lost the purity of their an¬
cient tongue, and became ridiculous to the Athenians for
the improprieties into which they fell.
SOLEURE. See Solothurn.
SOLFA, {Ital.) a musical exercise for the voice when
learning to sing, in which the syllables do, re, mi, fa, sol, la,
si, are applied to their respective notes in the exercise.
SOLFAING, (Fr. Solfier, Ital. Solfeggiare,) means the
performance of such an exercise; and also the singing of
a piece of music at sight with these syllables. On this
subject consult the large work on singing, published for the
use of the French Conservatory of Music.
SOLFATARA, a lake in the Campagna of Rome, near to
Tivoli. It is of small extent, but is remarkable for containing
several floating islets formed of matted sedge andherbage,with
a soil of dust and sand blown from the adjacent country, and
cemented by the bitumen and sulphur with which the water
of the lake is impregnated. Some of these islands are more
than forty feet long, and will bear five or six persons, who,
by means of a pole, may move to different parts of the lake.
From this lake there issues a whitish stream, emitting a sul¬
phureous vapour, until it reaches the small river Teverone,
which discharges itself into the Tiber. The water of tbat
rivulet is of a petrifying quality, which increases in strength
the farther it flows from the lake. Fish are only to be found
in the Teverone before it receives this impure stream.
SOLFATERRA, a mountain of Italy in the kingdom of
Naples and Terra di Lavorro. This mountain appears evi¬
dently to have been a volcano in ancient times; and the
soil is yet so hot, that the workmen employed there in
making alum need nothing else besides the heat of the
ground for evaporating their liquids.
SOLICITOR, a person employed to take care of and man¬
age suits depending in the courts of law or equity. There
is also a great officer of the law, next to the attorney-gene¬
ral, who is styled the king or queen’s solicitor-general; who
holds his office by patent during the sovereign’s pleasure,
assists the attorney in managing the law business of the
crown, and has fees for pleading, besides other fees arising
by patents, &c. He attends on the privy-council; and the
attorney-general and he were anciently reckoned among
the officers of the Exchequer. They have their audience,
and come within the bar in all the courts.
SOLID, in Philosophy, a body whose parts are so firmly
connected together, as not easily to give way or slip from
each other; in which sense solid stands opposed to fluid.
Geometricians define a solid to be the third species of mag¬
nitude, or that which has three dimensions, viz. length,
breadth, and thickness or depth. Solids are commonly di¬
vided into regular and irregular. The regular solids are
those terminated by regular and equal planes, and are only
five in number, viz. the tetrahedron, which consists of four
equal triangles; the cube or hexahedron, of six equal squares;
the octahedron, of eight equal triangles; the dodecahedron,
of twelve; and the icosahedron, of twenty equal triangles.
The irregular solids are almost infinite, comprehending all
such as do not come under the definition of regular solids;
as the sphere, cylinder, cone, parallelogram, prism, paral- Solidity
lelopiped, &c.
SOLIDITY, that property of matter, or body, by which Sol>S'
it excludes all other bodies from the place which itself pos-s^V^/
sesses ; and as it would be absurd to suppose that two bo¬
dies could possess one and the same place at the same time,
it follows, that the softest bodies are equally solid with the
hardest.
Among geometricians, the solidity of a body denotes the
quantity or space contained in it, and is called also its solid
content. The solidity of a cube, prism, cylinder, or paral¬
lelepiped is had by multiplying its basis into its height. The
solidity of a pyramid or cone is had by multiplying either
the whole base into a third part of the height, or the whole
height into a third part of the base.
SOLILOQUY, a reasoning or discourse which a man
holds with himself; or, more properly, according to one ac¬
count, it is a discourse by way of answer to a question which
a man proposes to himself.
SOLIMAN II. emperor of the Turks, surnamed the
Magnificent, was the only son of Selim I., whom he suc¬
ceeded in 1520. He was educated in a manner very differ¬
ent from the Ottoman princes in general; for he was in¬
structed in the maxims of politics and the secrets of go¬
vernment. He began his reign by restoring those persons
their possessions whom his father had unjustly plundered.
He re-established the authority of the tribunals, which was
almost annihilated, and bestowed the government of pro¬
vinces upon none but persons of wealth and probity. “ I
would have my viceroys,” he used to say, “ resemble those
rivers that fertilize the field through which they pass, not
those torrents which sweep every thing before them.” Af¬
ter concluding a truce with Ishmael Sophy of Persia, and
subduing Gozeli Bey, who had raised a rebellion in Syria,
he turned his arms against Europe. Belgrade was taken in
1522, and Rhodes fell into his hands the year following, af¬
ter an obstinate and enthusiastic defence. In 1526 he de¬
feated and slew the king of Hungary in the famous battle
of Mohatz. Three years afterwards he conquered Buda,
and immediately laid siege to Vienna ; but after continuing
twenty days before that city, and assaulting it twenty times,
he was obliged to retreat with the loss of 80,000 men.
Some time after he was defeated by the Persians, and dis¬
appointed in his hopes of taking Malta. He succeeded,
however, in dispossessing the Genoese of Chio, an island
which had belonged to that republic for more than two
hundred years. He died at the age of seventy-six, while
he was besieging Sigeth, a town in Hungary, on the 30th
August 1566.
SOLINGEN, a town of the Prussian government of
Cleves, the capital of a circle of the same name. It has
been long celebrated for the excellent temper of the sword
blades and other cutting instruments fabricated in the town
and district. The circle is small, including only forty-two
square miles, but it contains 28,500 inhabitants, of whom
about four thousand reside within the town. Lat. 51.12.31.
Long. 7. 2. 20. E.
SOLIS, Antonio de, a Spanish writer, of an ancient
and illustrious family, was born at Placentia, in Old Castile,
on the 18th of July 1610. He was intended for the law;
but his inclination toward poetry prevailed, and he culti¬
vated it with great success. Philip IV. of Spain ma e
him one of his secretaries; and after the king’s death, the
queen-regent appointed him historiographer of the Indies,
a place of great profit and honour. His history of the
conquest of Mexico, shows that she could not have name ^
a fitter person. “ Historia de la Conquista de Mexico.
Madrid, 1684, fob He is better known by this history,
than bv his poetry and dramatic writings, though in t ese
he was also distinguished. At the age of fifty-six e t0°
orders. He died at Madrid on the 19th of April lb«b.
SOL
es. SOLITARIES, a denomination of nuns of St. Peter of
Alcantara, instituted in 1676. The design of the institu-
• tion was to imitate the severe penitent life of that saint.
Thus they were to keep a continual silence ; never to open
their mouths to a stranger; to employ their time wholly in
spiritual exercises, and leave their temporal concerns to a
number of maids, who had a particular superior in a sepa¬
rate part of the monastery. They were always to go
barefooted, without sandals; gird themselves with a thick
cord, and wear no linen.
SOLITARY Island, in the South Pacific ocean, disco¬
vered by Mendana in 1595. It is low, and surrounded
with rocks. Long. 178. 20. W. Lat. 10. 4. S.
Solitary Islands, a cluster of small islands near the
east coast of New Holland. Lat. 30. 8. S.
SOLO, or Saura-Corta, an inland town of Java, the
capital of a district, and the residence of an emperor. It
is large and populous, intersected with broad and shaded
avenues or streets, running at right angles. The emperor’s
palace is very spacious, and comprises several palaces in its
area. The European town and port are very neat. The
resident’s house is also a large and handsome building. A
fine river, which flows near the town, and falls into the
harbour of Grepie, affords in the rainy season a ready con¬
veyance for the various productions of a large tract of coun¬
try, in exchange for commodities which are sent up in
boats from the coast.
Solo, (Ital.) a term used in musical compositions of se¬
veral parts, to mark those voices or instruments that are to
perform alone or in a more prominent manner ; as, sofrano
solo, violino solo, Sec. The plural is used when two or
more voices or instruments of the same name are to per¬
form alone. Solo is also a name given to a composition
written for a single instrument, such as a violin, an oboe, a
flute, &c., which is accompanied by a bass for the violon¬
cello, or a thorough-bass for the pianoforte.
SOLOFRA, a city of Italy, in the Neapolitan province
Ulteriore. It contains three churches and 6050 inhabi¬
tants, who are manufacturers of gold and silver articles, of
leather and parchment, and are celebrated for their salted
hams and bacon.
SOLLER, a town in Majorca, one of the Balearic islands
in the Mediterranean, belonging to Spain. The valley in
which it stands is productive of olives and oranges. It is
situated in Lat. 39- 6l., and contains 5614 inhabitants.
SOLOMBO, Great, a small island in the Eastern seas,
of a moderate height. Long. 114. 45. E. Lat. 5. 36. S.
Little Solombo is near the north-east coast of Great So-
lombo.
• the son of David king of Israel, renowned
m Scripture for his wisdom, riches, and magnificent temple
and other buildings. Towards the end of his life he sul¬
lied his former glory by his apostacy from God; from
which cause vengeance was denounced against his house
and nation. He died about 977 b.c.
Solomon’s Islands. This group is in the South Pacific
ocean, situated chiefly between long. 155° and 160° E.
at. 5° and 12° S. Little is known of the precise situation
or number of these islands. The longest are Ysabel, Gua-
dalcanar, San Cristoval, and an island called New Georgia.
.. e^rsf two are affirmed by the Spaniards to be very large
islands; the latter nearly seventy miles in extent. Geor-
pa is still larger, and San Cristoval is not less than sixty,
iiese islands were discovered in 1567.
OLON, one of the seven wise men of Greece, was born
J ,alatIUS’°f Athenian parents, who were descended from
o rus. His father leaving little patrimony, he had re-
urse to merchandise for his subsistence. He had, how-
rich' a ^r*ja*'er ^*rst after knowledge and fame than after
inpr!f’ an“.n?a^e his mercantile voyages subservient to the
ase of his intellectual treasures. He very early culti-
vol. xx.
SOL
vated the art of poetry, and applied himself to the study of
moral and civil wisdom. When the Athenians, tired out'
with a long and troublesome war wfith the Megarensians,
for the recovery of the isle of Salamis, prohibited any one,
under pain of death, to propose the renewal of their claim
to that island, Solon thinking the prohibition dishonourable
to the state, and finding many of the younger citizens de¬
sirous to revive the war, feigned himself mad, and took care
to have the report of his insanity spread through the city.
In the mean time he composed an elegy adapted to the
state of public affairs, and committed it to memory.
Every thing being thus prepared, he sallied forth into the
market-place with the kind of cap on his head which was
commonly worn by sick persons, and ascending the herald’s
stand, he delivered, to a numerous crowd, his lamentation
for the desertion of Salamis. The verses were heard with
general applause; Pisistratus seconded his advice, and urged
the people to renew the war. The decree was immediate¬
ly repealed; the claim to Salamis was resumed; and the
conduct of the war was committed to Solon and Pisistratus,
who by means of a stratagem defeated the Megarensians
and recovered the island.
His popularity was extended through Greece in con¬
sequence of a successful alliance which he formed among
the states in defence of the temple at Delphi against the
Cirrhmans. When dissensions had arisen at Athens be¬
tween the rich creditors and their poor debtors, Solon was
created archon, with the united power of supreme legisla¬
tor and magistrate. He soon restored harmony between
the rich and poor. He cancelled the debts which had
proved the occasion of so much oppression; and ordained
that in future no creditor should be allowed to seize the body
of the debtor for his security. He made a new distribution
of the people, instituted new courts of judicature, and fram¬
ed a judicious code of laws, which afterwards became the
basis of the laws of the twelve Tables in Rome. Among his
criminal laws are many wise and excellent regulations; but
the code is necessarily defective with respect to those prin¬
ciples which must be derived from the knowledge of the
true God, and of pure morality, as the certain foundations
of national happiness. Two of them in particular were very
exceptionable ; the permission of a voluntary exile to per¬
sons that had been guilty of premeditated murder, and the
appointment of a less severe punishment for a rape than for
seduction. Those who wash to see accurately stated the
comparative excellence of the laws of Moses, of Lycurgus,
and Solon, may consult the prize Dissertations relative to
natural and revealed religion, published by the Teylerian
Society of Haarlem, vol. ix.
The interview which Solon is said to have had with
Croesus king of Lydia ; the solid remarks of the sage after
surveying the monarch’s wealth ; the recollection of those
remaiks by Croesus when doomed to die, and the noble con¬
duct of Cyrus on that occasion, are known to every school¬
boy. Solon died in the island of Cyprus at a very advan¬
ced age. Statues were erected to his memory both at
Athens and in Salamis. His thirst after knowledge con¬
tinued to the last: “ I grow old,” said he, “ learning many
things. Among the apophthegms and precepts which have
been ascribed to Solon, are the following: Laws are like
cobwebs, that entangle the weak, but are broken by the
strong. He who has learned to obey, will know howr to
command. In all things let reason be your guide. Dili¬
gently contemplate excellent things. In every thing that
you do, consider the end.
The chronology of his life is involved in no small ob¬
scurity. His legislation may, with some degree of con¬
fidence, be referred to the year 594 before Christ; but, as
a very learned and able chronologer has remarked, since
both his age and the time of his death are doubtful, no¬
thing can be with certainty affirmed of the year of his
3 o
473
Solon.
474
Soloon.
II
Solstice.
SOL
birth.1 According to Laertius, he died at the age of eighty ;
but Lucian extends his life to one hundred years. Of
the poems of Solon, an elaborate edition has recently been
' published by Bach, under the title of “ Solonis Atheniensis
Carminum quae supersunt.” Bonnae, 1825, 8vo.
SOLOON, a small island in the Eastern seas, twenty-
five miles from the island of Samar. Long. 125. 42. E.
Lat. 10. 55. N. ,
SOLOR Isle, an island in the Eastern seas, separated
from the island of Floris by the straits of Floris. It is
about thirty miles in length, by fifteen in average breadth.
SOLOTHURN, a canton of Switzerland. It is bound¬
ed on the north by France and by Basel, on the east by
Basel and Zurich, and on the south and west by Berne. It
extends over two hundred and fifty-eight square miles, com¬
prising two cities, one market-town, and one hundred and
thirty-seven villages, with 59,122 inhabitants, of wh®m
54,000 are catholics, and the remainder protestants. The
revenues amount to 180,000 francs, and the yearly expen¬
diture to 164,000. It is bound to contribute 904 men,
and 1365 francs to the general confederation. The moun¬
tains are a continuation of the Jura range, and none of them
exceeds 3900 feet in height. The river Aar receives the
smaller streams. There are no extensive lakes. The cli¬
mate is temperate, and the soil produces good corn, hemp,
flax, fruit, and wine. The chief employment is agriculture
and cutting the extensive woods, which supply some fuel
and building timber for exportation.
Solothurn, a city of Switzerland, the capital of the can¬
ton of that name. It stands at the foot of the Jura moun¬
tains, on both sides of the river Aar. It is surrounded
with walls and defended by bastions, is well, but irregular¬
ly built, and contains 560 houses, with 4470 inhabitants.
It has a college with five professors and a good public lib¬
rary. Solothurn contains several manufactories for making
and printing cotton, and some other goods. Lat. 47. 12.
Long. 7.26. E. . . . „
SOLOTONOSCHA, a town of Russia, the capital of a
circle of the same name, in the province of Pultowa, 947
miles from Petersburg. It stands at the point where the
Solontschia falls into theDneiper. It contains three churches,
two monasteries, eight hundred houses, and 5650 inhabi¬
tants, chiefly employed in agriculture. Lat. 49.58. Long.
31.58. E. ,
SOLSTICE, in Astronomy, the time when the sun is
in one of the solstitial points; that is, when he is at his
greatest distance from the equator; thus called beca.use he
then appears to stand still, and not to change his distance
from the equator for some time; an appearance owing to
the obliquity of our sphere, and to which those living un¬
der the equator are strangers.
The solstices are two in each year ; the festival or sum¬
mer solstice, and the hyemal or winter solstice. The sum¬
mer solstice is when the sun seems to describe the tropic
of cancer, which is on June 22, when he makes the longest
day: the winter solstice is when the sun enters the first
degree, or seems to describe the tropic of capricorn, which
is on December 22, when he makes the shortest day.
This is to be understood as in our northern hemisphere;
for in the southern, the sun’s entrance into capricorn makes
the summer solstice, and that into cancer the wintei sol¬
stice. The two points of the ecliptic, at which the sun’s
greatest ascent above the equator, and his descent below
it, are terminated, are called the solstitial points / and a
circle, supposed to pass through the poles of the world and
these points, is called the solstitial colurc* Fhe summer
solstitial point is in the beginning of the first degree of
cancer, and is called the (Estival or summer point; and
the winter solstitial point is in the beginning of the first
SOL
degree of capricorn, and is called the winter point. These Solym:
two points are diametrically opposite to each other.
SOLYMANIA, called also Shehr Zaur, a town of Kur- So™«f
distan, the residence of the Pacha. The town had fallen ^
into decay, but was rebuilt by Solyman the Pacha, who, ins^v
1810, having taken up arms against the Pacha of Bagdad,
defeated him and put him to death. Population, 6000;
fifty-four miles east of Kerkook.
SOMALPET, a town of Hindustan in the Nizam’s pro¬
vince of Nandere, fifty-two miles N.N.E. from the town of
Nandere.
SOMBOR,- or Zombor, a city of the kingdom of Hun¬
gary, in the province of the hither Danube, in the circle of
Kozep Jaras. It contains 2980 houses, with 14,860 in¬
habitants, whose chief trade is in corn and cattle. Lat. 48.
8. 32. Long. 21. 10. 33. E.
SOMERS, John Lord, high chancellor of England, was
born at Worcester in 1652. He was educated at Oxford,
and afterwards entered himself at the* Middle-Temple,
where he studied the law with great vigour. In 1688 he
was one of the counsel for the seven bishops at their trial,
and argued with great learning and eloquence against the
dispensing power. In the convention which met by the
prince of Orange’s summons, January 22, 1689, he repre¬
sented Worcester; and was one of the managers for the
House of Commons, at a conference with the House of
Lords upon the word abdicated. Soon after the accession
of William and Mary to the throne, he was appointed so¬
licitor-general, and received the honour of knighthood. In
1692 he was made attorney-general, and in 1693 advanced
to the post of lord-keeper of the great seal of England. In
1695 he proposed an expedient to prevent the practice of
clipping the coin. In 1697 he was created Lord Somers,
baron of Evesham, and made lord high chancellor of Eng¬
land. In the beginning of 1700 he was removed from his
post of lord chancellor, and the year after was impeached
of high crimes and misdemeanours by the House of Com¬
mons, of which he was acquitted upon trial by the House
of Lords. He then retired to a studious course of life, and
was chosen president of the Royal Society. In 1706 he
proposed a bill for the regulation of the law ; and the same
year was one of the principal managers for the union be¬
tween England and Scotland. In 1708 he was made lord
president of the council; from which post he was removed
in 1710, upon the change of the ministry. In the latter
end of Queen Anne’s reign his lordship grew very infirm
in his health; which is supposed to be the reason that he held
no other post than a seat at the council-table, after the ac¬
cession of King George I. He died of an apoplectic fit in
1716. Mr. Addison has drawn his character very beauti¬
fully in the Freeholder. ,
SOMERSETSHIRE, a maritime county of England,
lying in a crescent-like form on the Bristol Channel, to
which its north-western side is turned. It is bounded to
the north-east by Gloucestershire, on the east y 1
shire, on the south by Dorsetshire and part of Devonshir ,
and on the west by the latter county. Its greatest length,
from east to west, is sixty-five miles, and its grea
breadth, from north to south, forty-five miles. Its bound¬
ary line has several considerable indentations. 1 e w
area comprehends 1642 square statute miles, or IWWW
English acres; being in extent the seventh in the U >
the English counties. The acreable value of the land,
cording to the late returns under the property-tax, e
ed that of any other county except Leicestershire, g>
including the tithes, L.876 per square mile, or abou
1)0 The civil divisions of this county are denommatedthe
eastern and the western. The eastern division contains
1 Clinton’s Fasti Hellenici, vol. ii. p. 301.
1
SOM
SOM
475
>t- twenty hundreds and seven liberties, and the western
twenty-two hundreds; but these divisions have become of
ll'^less importance, since other divisions have been politically
framed by the Reform act, as will be hereafter noticed.
The whole county is in the diocese of Bath and Wells; and
is ecclesiastically divided into three archdeaconries, under
which are thirteen deans, who superintend 482 parishes.
There are within the county two cities (besides a part of
Bristol), seven boroughs sending members to Parliament,
and twenty-nine market towns.
The population of this county at the four decennial
periods of enumeration, has been found to be as follows:
In 1801, 273,750; in 1811, 303,180; in 1821, 355,314;
and in 1831, 402,500.
In 1831, the occupiers of land employing labourers
were  6,032
The occupiers of land not employing labourers... 3,731
Labourers employed in agriculture 28,107
Labourers in manufactures  4,350
Labourers employed in retail trade or handicraft, 26,672
Capitalists, bankers, &c  4,676
Labourers not agricultural 12,183
Other labourers under twenty years of age  7,074
Males at and above twenty years of age  95,556
Male servants  2,801
Female servants 18,333
In the same year the number of families chiefly employed
in agriculture was found to be 30,452 ; of those chiefly em¬
ployed in trade, manufactures, and handicraft, 20,230, and
of those not comprised in either of the preceding classes,
25,889. The number of inhabited houses was 71,325,
occupied by 84,571 families; the uninhabited houses, 3,632,
and those building, 939* The annual value of the real
property of the county, as assessed in 1813, was L.1,900,651.
The towns whose population in 1831 exceeded 2000,
were as follows:
Bath 38,063
Bedminster, a sub¬
urb of Bristol 13,130
Frome Selwood 12,240
Taunton 11,139
Bridgewater  7,807
Wells  6,649
Yeovil  5,921
Shepton-Mallet  5,330
Chard  5,141
Wellington  4,762
Bathwick, a sub¬
urb of Bath  4,033
Crewkerne  3,789
North Petherton 3,566
Wedmore .3,557
Wivelscombe   3,047
Uminster 2,957
Martoch 2,841
Glastonbury 2,500
Twerton, sub. of Bath..2,478
South Petherton 2,294
Milverton 2,233
Keynsham 2,142
Win can ton 2,123
Nailsea 2,114
Milborn Port 2,072
Bruton... 2,031
Few districts contain a greater variety of soil and situa¬
tion than the county of Somerset. In the north-east cor¬
ner, the range of the Mendip hills presents a lofty tract of
country, of late improved on the surface, but chiefly valua¬
ble for the coal and other mines beneath it. On the west¬
ern side are the Quantock hills, an extensive and sterile
range, and beyond them the elevated bleak plain called
the forest of Exmoor, the highest district in the western
counties. One spot in this forest, called Dunkeny, is
1668 feet above the level of the sea; and from it a prospect
over an extended and diversified country is displayed,
terminating on one side in the Bristol, and on the other in
the English Channel. These hilly, and somewhat barren
portions of the county, however, bear but a small propor¬
tion to the whole; and between them are to be seen the
richest meadows and arable lands, the value of which more
than counterbalances the sterility of the hills. In the bet¬
ter parts of the county, it may rather be described as rich
than beautiful. There is a deficiency of woods; the
streams that run in the valleys are sluggish, and in summer Somerset-
nearly stagnant; but the extent of orchards, especially shire,
when in full bloom, produces a pleasing effect, and ins^V-'w
some measure compensates for the want of woods.
The rivers of the county are the Avon, which enters it
from Wiltshire, and becomes navigable at Bath, which city
it nearly surrounds. It then passes, with many curvatures,
to Bristol, and soon after is lost in the Severn. The Axe
rises in the Mendip hills in two branches, one of which is¬
sues from a natural excavation, called Wookey Hole, re¬
sembling some of the Derbyshire caverns. Its course is
short, and it empties itself through some marshes, below
Axbridge, into the Bristol Channel. The Brue rises in
Wiltshire, and also enters the Bristol Channel, being navi¬
gable not more than two miles from its mouth. The Par-
ret rises at a village of the same name in Dorsetshire, be¬
comes navigable at Langport, and in rainy seasons a few
miles above that town. It is joined, at Boroughbridge, by
the Thone or Tone, which proceeds from Taunton, and
passing by Bridgewater, empties itself into the sea. The
only navigable canal that has been completed is the Kennet
and Avon, which unites together the two great rivers
Thames and Severn. It commences near Bath, and soon
enters Wiltshire. Other canals have been projected in dif¬
ferent directions, but none of them has been prosecuted to
completion; though on several of them large sums have
been expended.
As Somersetshire contains, on the banks of its rivers,
large tracts of the richest meadow lands, the most valuable
branch of its rural economy is the fattening of cattle and
the management of the numerous dairies. The oxen, bred
chiefly in the less fertile pastures of Devonshire, when
grazed in this county, afford the best beef, and furnish, in
great numbers, the markets of the metropolis, as well as
those of Bristol and Bath, in their immediate vicinity. The
produce of the dairy is of the best kind. The cheese of
Cheddar has obtained great celebrity, but that made in many
other parts, and frequently sold as Gloucester, is equal to
any in the world. The butter in the southern division of
the county is excellent, and much of it, collected in the
vicinity of Crewkerne, is sent to the London cheese¬
mongers, who supply it to their customers under the deno¬
mination of Dorsetshire butter.
The next agricultural product is cider, which forms al¬
most the universal beverage of the working classes. It is
a more pure and yet a stronger liquor than the cider either
of Herefordshire or Devonshire. The consumption of it
within the county is very large, and some is sent to distant
parts. Nature has been so bountiful in furnishing sponta¬
neous productions, that to those agricultural pursuits which
depend on skill and industry less attention is paid in this
than in many other districts. Such is the abundance of
natural grass, that the farmers do not find it necessary to
grow a crop of clover, or other artificial grass, so uniformly
between two corn crops as is necessary in other counties;
nor is the practice of fallowing, or of introducing a rotation
by commencing with turnips, much resorted to. Notwith¬
standing this, they grow good crops of corn, and in the hun¬
dred of Taunton Dean the wheat is of the very best qua¬
lity. Barley is not very extensively cultivated, as the ge¬
neral use of cider causes but little consumption of malt.
The barley crops are in general very good. Oats are ex¬
tensively cultivated, but scarcely equal the demands of the
county, and the easy intercourse with Ireland readily sup¬
plies any deficiency when it occurs. The soil is well cal¬
culated for the growth of flax, and it furnishes a large pro¬
portion of that used in the manufactures of the county. It
is not unusual to rent land for half a year while a crop of
flax is raised; after which it is taken again by the regular
occupant, who finds the flax to be an excellent preparative
for wheat, from the careful weeding necessary to its growth.
476
SOM
SOM
Somerset¬
shire.
The rich loamy soil brings to maturity the best elm timber.
Goose feathers were formerly produced in great abundance ;
but the draining and inclosing many of the richest marshy
plains has rendered these capable of yielding more profit
by other productions, and of late years the quantity ot
feathers is much diminished. The landed property of the
county is much divided, no one proprietor or great family
having such extensive possessions as to give a preponderant
political influence. There is a great number of yeomen
who share the lands, and many of them maintain the home¬
ly independence of the past generations.
The mineral products of this county are valuable. The
hills of Mendip supply with coals their vicinity, the cities
of Bath and Wells, and the towns of Frome and Shepton-
Mallet. The other parts of the county use the coals of
Newport, which are brought by sea to Bridgewater. Lead,
of a quality superior to that of Derbyshire, is found in Men¬
dip and on the Cheddar hills. Calamine is extensively pro¬
duced, and supplies the brass manufacturers of Bristol.
Copper is found near Stowey. Manganese, bole, and red
ochre, are among the other products of Mendip.
This is a manufacturing district for various productions.
The manufacture of fine woollen cloth is extensive, chiefly
at Frome, where it employs 730 males upwards of twenty
years of age; and at Road are employed 59, at Beckington
32, Charter Henton, 24, Twerton, near Bath, 284, Lyn-
combe and Wedcombe, 565, and at Freshford, 32 makers
of fine cloths. In another part of the county, at Welling¬
ton and Milverton, are nearly 300 makers of cloth of an in¬
ferior description. About 300 men are employed in mak¬
ing sail-cloth, sacking, and girth-web, at Crewkerne and the
parishes of East Coker, Merriot, West Hatch, and North
Perrot. At Chard 478 men, and at Ilminston 21, are occu¬
pied in making silk and lace, or the machinery for those
fabrics; and the same trades afford considerable occupation
at Bruton and Taunton. At Yeovil, and some of the towns
and villages near it, the chief trade is glove-making, which
gives employment to more than 600 men, and a great num¬
ber of females. Edge tools are made at Wells, employing
60 men, and also at Whately, Emborrow, and some other
places. At Nailsea, 100 men are employed in the manu¬
facture of glass ; paper-making and tanning occupy 59 men
at Cheddar; and at various places in the county are noticed
manufactures of iron, calamine, copper, brass, paper, and
snuff; and a variety of small articles is made at Bath.
The foreign commerce of Somersetshire passes chiefly
through Bristol, which is the mart for such goods as are
required in distant countries. Some of the woollen goods
which are manufactured at Taunton and Wellington are
shipped from Exeter. The far greater portion of the pro¬
ductions of the county are, however, destined to supply
the demand for internal consumption. The cattle, butter,
and cheese, are chiefly sent to London, and in time of war,
to Portsmouth and Plymouth. The linen and woollen goods
are distributed through the western and Welsh counties,
and, in general, are destined more for the home than for
foreign markets.
The titles derived from this county are those of the
dukes of Somerset and Wellington; the marquises of Lans-
downe, Bath, and Bristol; the earls of Bridgewater, Poulet,
and Ilchester; and the barons Mendip and Glastonbury.
By the reform bill the county has been politically formed
into two divisions, the eastern and the western, and each
division elects two members to the house of commons. The
election for the first is held at Wells; and the other polling
places are Bath, Shepton-Mallet, Bedminster, Axbridge,
and Wincanton. The election for the second is held at
Taunton ; and the other polling places are Bridgewater, Il¬
chester, Williton, and Langport.
The seats of the nobility and gentry, especially of the
latter, near Bath and Bristol, are numerous; and our limits
allow only of noticing the most distinguished of them, viz. Somer
Longleet, the seat of the Marquis of Bath; Hinton, the seat ||
of Earl Poulet; and the houses of the Earl of Carnarvon, Sornnij
Lord Hood, Mr. Miles, and Colonel Gore Langton. bulisif
Two members are chosen for each of the cities of
and Wells, and two for each of the boroughs, Taunton and
Bridgewater. The boroughs of Minehead, Ilchester, and
Milburn-Port, which chose two members each, have been
disfranchised, and the town of Frome has been made a par¬
liamentary borough, returning one member. Ilchester,
from the elections being held there, and from its contain¬
ing the gaol and county court, is usually considered the
county town, although the assizes in the spring are held at
Taunton, and in the summer at Wells and Bridgewater
alternately.
SOMERTON, a town in the hundred of that name in
the county of Somerset, 125 miles from London. It is
pleasantly situated in a fertile country. The inhabitants
were in 1801, 1145; in 1811, 1478; in 1821, 1643; and
in 1831, 1786.
SOMME ANY, a town of Persia, in the province of Mek-
ram, and the principal sea-port of Lus. It is situated on
an elevated bank, at the mouth of the river Pooralee, which
forms a bar about a mile from the town, with three fathoms
depth at low water, and boats can anchor close to the shore.
It is an inconsiderable place, and the inhabitants, with the
exception of a few Hindu merchants, subsist by fishing.
SOMMEE, a tow n of Hindustan, in the province of Guj-
rat. It is a large place, but has a wretched appearance,
and the wall by which it is surrounded is in many parts
falling to pieces. It stands in a swamp, and is surrounded
by numerous puddles, and in the rainy season is almost
under water. It is situated to the south-east of Rahdunpoor.
SOMME, a department of the north of France. It has
been formed out of those parts of the ancient Picardy known
as Amienois, Ponthieu, Vimieux, and Santerre, and ex¬
tends over 1,460,932 acres, or 2284 square miles. It is
bounded on the north by the Pas de Calais ; on the east by
the departments of the North and of the Aisne; on the
south by the Oise and the Lower Seine; and on the west
by the British channel. It contains five arrondisements,
with forty-one cantons, and 835 communes, and its popula¬
tion in 1836 amounted to 552,706. The surface is flat and
level, but gradually slopes towards the sea on the western
side. There are no mountains, but some hills of incon¬
siderable height rise on the eastern frontier. The Somme,
which has its source in the department of the Aisne, is the
chief river. The others are the Avre, the Noye, the Celle,
and the Brisle. The soil is chalky, and naturally fruitful.
The inhabitants cultivate to a great extent corn and hemp,
and considerable quantities of corn are exported. Cattle
and sheep are reared in large flocks. The country is al¬
most destitute of wood, but the valleys abound in peat.
The wine produced is small in quantity, and inferior in
quality. Oleaginous seeds are extensively cultivated for
the manufacture of oil. In this district are numerous and
extensive establishments for the manufacture of woollen
cloths and fine linen goods, such as cambrics, lenos, an
lawns, carpets, hats, hosiery, leather, soap, cutlery, an
other hardware. It is, on the whole, one of the most pros
perous divisions of the kingdom, and contains, besides man\
towns and villages densely inhabited, the large ci ies
Amiens (population, 46,129) and Abbeville, (popu ation,
18,247), in which most of the commerce of the departmen
is concentrated. ,.
SOMNAMBULISM, or Sleep-walking. According
to a report made to the Physical Society of Lausanne, }
a committee appointed to examine a young man w io wa
accustomed to walk in his sleep, the disposition o
singular habit seems to depend on a particular
the nerves, which both seizes and quits the patient un g
SOM
- sleep. Under the influence of this affection, the imagina¬
tion represents to him the objects which strike him while
•'awake, with as much force as if they really affected his
senses; but it does not make him perceive any of those
which are actually presented to his senses, except in so far
as they are connected with the dreams which engross him
at the time.
If during this state the imagination has no determined
purpose, he receives the impression of objects as if he were
awake; only, however, when the imagination is excited to
lend its attention towards them. The perceptions obtained
in this state are very accurate; and when once received,
the imagination renews them occasionally with as much
force as if they were again acquired by means of the senses.
But the impressions received during this state of the senses
disappear entirely when the person awakes, and do not return
till the return of the same disposition in the nervous system.
The remarks of this committee were made on a lad named
Devaud, who wTas thirteen years and a half old, and who
lived in the town of Vevey. He possessed a robust consti¬
tution ; but his nervous system appeared to be organized
with peculiar delicacy, and to discover marks of the greatest
sensibility and irritability. His senses of smell, taste, and
touch, were exquisite : he was subject to fits of immoderate
and involuntary laughter ; and he sometimes wept without
any apparent cause. His sleep was at all times unquiet,
but particularly when the fits were about to seize him.
During his sleep, motions were observable in every part of
his body, with starting and palpitations ; he uttered broken
words, sometimes sat up in his bed and lay down again. He
then began to pronounce words more distinctly, and rising
abruptly, acted as he was instigated by the dream which
then possessed him.
From the facts which were brought under the observation
of this committee, they inferred that the functions of the
somnambulist, while under the influence of this affection,
are not suspended, as to what he wishes to see, or the ob¬
jects about which his imagination is occupied; that he may
also be disposed to receive those impressions when his ima¬
gination has no other object at the time; that in order to
see, he is obliged to open his eyes as much as he can, but
when the impression is once made it remains; that objects
may strike his sight without striking his imagination, if it
is not interested in them ; and that he is sometimes inform¬
ed of the presence of objects without either seeing or touch¬
ing them.
A great number of similar instances might very easily be
accumulated. Such anomalous operations of the mind it is
perhaps beyond the power of philosophy to explain; but a
very small portion of philosophy, or even common sense,
will enable us to dispose of another class of vagaries imput¬
ed to animal magnetism. The magnetisers are a sort of
conjurers, who, according to their own account, are able to
superinduce a state of sleep, and, while their patients are
in that state, to exercise a marvellous influence over their
volitions. Deleuze, in his Histoire Critique du Magne-
tisme Animal, furnishes these very edifying details: “ When
magnetism produces somnambulism, the being who finds
nmself in this state acquires a prodigious extension in the
sense of feeling. Several of his exterior organs, usually
those of sight and hearing, are rendered torpid, and all the
'ensations which depend on them are internally performed.
ere is in this state an infinite number of shades and va¬
rieties ; but in order to form a correct judgment, it must be
examined in its greatest remoteness from the state of wak-
lng, passing over in silence every thing that experience has
not established. The somnambulist has his eyes closed, and
< oes not see by the eyes nor hear by the ears ; but he sees
n hears better than a waking man. He sees and hears
wh'V u e wh°m he is in relation. He sees only that
' 1C1 “e looks at, and he usually looks only at those objects
SOM 477
to which his attention is directed. He is subject to the will Somnam-
of his magnetiser for every thing that cannot harm him, and bulism.
for every thing that is not opposed to his ideas of justice
and truth. He feels the will of his magnetiser; he per¬
ceives the magnetic fluid; he sees, or rather he feels, the
interior of his own body, and those of others; but he usu¬
ally remarks only the parts which are not in the natural
state, and which disturb the harmony of the economy; he
retraces in his memory the remembrance of things which he
had forgotten while awake ; he has pre-visions and pre-sen¬
sations, which may be erroneous in several circumstances,
and which are limited in their extent; he expresses him¬
self with a surprising facility; he is not exempt from va¬
nity ; he improves of himself, for a certain length of time,
if he is wisely managed; he spoils if he is ill directed.
When he re-enters into the natural state, he absolutely loses
the recollection of all sensations, and of all ideas which he
has had in the state of somnambulism; so that these two
states are as unconnected with one another, as if the som¬
nambulist and the waking man were two different beings.”
The simple enunciation of such absurdities as these, seems
to preclude the necessity of all formal discussion.
In addition to their other attributes, some of the mag¬
netic somnambulists are endowed with a miraculous skill in
physic. “ Those patients in crisis,” says Cloquet, “ who are
named physicians, have a supernatural power, by which, on
touching a patient who is presented to them, on carrying
the hand even above the clothes, they feel what is the af¬
fected organ, the suffering part; they declare it, and men¬
tion nearly the suitable remedies. A singularity not less
remarkable than all those which I have enumerated is, that
those physicians who for several hours have touched pa¬
tients, and have reasoned with them, remember nothing, ab¬
solutely nothing, when the master pleases to disenchant
them, and to restore them to their natural state. The time
which has elapsed from their entrance into the crisis to their
coming out of it, is, so to speak, annihilated to such a de¬
gree, that if a covered table be presented to these sleeping
physicians, they will eat and drink; and if, the table being
uncovered, the master restores them to their natural stated
they will have no recollection of having done so. The mas¬
ter has the power not only, as I have already said, to make
himself be understood by these physicians in crisis, but I
have repeatedly seen him present from a distance his fin¬
ger to one of these physicians, always in crisis, and in a state
of spasmodic sleep, make him to follow him where he pleas¬
ed, or send him to a distance from himself, either to his
house or to different places, which he mentally indicated
without telling him.”
Another phenomenon, equally worthy of admiration, is
the power of reading without the aid of eyes. Pigeaire, a
physician of Montpellier, is answerable for the following
statement of his daughter’s performances in this new de¬
partment. “ We made her read with her eyes closed by mag¬
netic sleep, or covered with a handkerchief in the form of
a bandage; she read with the greatest facility characters
printed or written, not only in applying her fingers to the
paper, but also with a plate of glass interposed between the
book and her fingers. More than forty persons have been
witnesses of this experiment, which we took care to per¬
form before only a few persons at a time, in order not to
disturb the little somnambulist. This experiment has never
failed ; once only it has been incomplete. The little girl,
in the state of somnambulism, named certain objects en¬
closed in snuff-boxes; announced persons previously to
their entrance into the room in which she was; and seve¬
ral times mentioned the hour and the minute on a hunting
watch which she held in her hand.” Those who are ac¬
quainted with the waking performances of Miss Macavoy
of Liverpool, will experience no difficulty in understanding
the sleeping performances of Miss Pigeaire of Montpellier.
SOMNER, William, an eminent English antiquary, was
oorn at Canterbury in 1606. His first treatise was the
Antiquities of Canterbury, which he dedicated to Arch¬
bishop Laud. He then applied himself to the study ot
the Saxon language ; and having made himself master ot it,
he perceived that the old glossary prefixed to Sir Roger
Twisden’s edition of the laws of King Henry I. printed in
1644, was faulty in many places; he therefore added to that
edition notes and observations valuable for theirlearnmg,
with a very useful glossary. His Treatise °f Gavelkind
was finished about 1648, though not published till 1660.
Somner was zealously attached to King Charles 1.; and in
1648 he published a poem on his sufferings and. death, tiis
skill in the Saxon tongue led him to inquire into most ot
the European languages, ancient and modern. He assisted
Dugdale and Dodsworth in compiling the Monasticon An-
glicanum. His Saxon Dictionary was printed at Oxford
in 1659. He died in 1669.
SOMPRE, a town of Hindustan, in the province ol Cash-
mere, situated on the east side of the Jhylum river. Long.
73. 25. E. Lat. 34. 17. N. . . f .
SONATA (/to/.), a piece of music, consisting of various
movements for a single instrument, with or without accom¬
paniment. The name has sometimes been given to cer¬
tain vocal compositions, in which all the voices are equally
essential. Some of the most remarkable modern sonatas
are for the pianoforte, such as those of Haydn, Mozart,
Beethoven, Clementi, Dussek, &c. Formerly sonatas were
classed as senate di camera and senate di chiesa, i. e. cham¬
ber-sonatas and church-sonatas, on account of their differ¬
ence of style, and the place of performance.
SONATINA (/to/.), a short and easy sonata.
SONDERHAUSEN, the capital of the principality of
Schwartzburg-Sonderhausen, in Germany, stands on the
river Wipper, at the junction of the Bebra with that stream.
It is well built, and the castle on which the prince resides
is situated on a hill overlooking the city ; it is a venerable
object, with some pleasing promenades near to it. 1 he
city contains a gymnasium, two churches, and an oyPhan-
house, 460 dwellings, and 3600 inhabitants. Long. 10. 45.
1. E. Lat. 51. 22. 33. N. . , J . .
SONDRE Grund, or Bottomless, an island m the
South Pacific Ocean, discovered by La Maire and Schouten
in 1616. It is about twenty leagues in circumference.
Long. 148. W. Lat. 15. S. c
SONDRIO, a delegation of the Austrian kingdom ot
Lombardy, extending over 1139 square miles, is bounded
on the north by Switzerland, on the east by the 1 yrol, on
the south by Bergamo, on the south-west by Como, and on
the west by Switzerland. It comprehends an extensive
valley, with lofty mountains on both sides, sometimes called
the Valteline. It contains one city, six towns, and seventy-
eight villages, with 91,600 inhabitants. The capital is a
city of the same name, situated at the entrance of the valley,
on the river Moller. It contains 3480 inhabitants.
SONEHUT, a small town and mud-fort of Hindustan,
in the province of Gundwana. Long. 82. 33. E. Lat. 23.
33. N.
•SONEPOUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Orissa, situated on the west bank of the Mahanuddy, at
its confluence with the Taile river. Long. 83. 30. E. Lat.
20. 47. N.
SONG, in Music, in a general sense, applies to melody,
whether vocal or instrumental. It is usually applied to an
air adapted to the words of a short poem. Sometimes, with
an adjunct, it means a particular form of melody, as plain
song (Fr. plain chant; Ital. canto piano, or canto fermo).
Among songs, the most characteristic and interesting are
the national ones of various countries. To the influence of
national song may be traced those remarkable changes and
improvements in'the style of melody, with regard to free¬
dom and expression, that are so perceptible in the music of Son&;
professed composers within the last two centuries. II
Song of Birds. See Singing, and Philosophical Trans- ^
actions, vol. Ixiii. .
SONGHUR, a town of Hindustan, in the Gujerat pe¬
ninsula, situated in a wild country, twenty-five miles north¬
west from Wankaneer. Near it is a very ancient temple
dedicated to the sun, and adorned with a variety of sculp¬
tures, in a style greatly superior to any modern works by
the Hindus. In the interior of this temple is a male figure,
three feet high, writh uplifted hands, each holding an image
of the sun ; and on his two sides are two smaller idols of
the same kind. There are also two other temples, one of
which contains the figure of Bhavani standing on an ani
mal resembling a tortoise, and surrounded by female at¬
tendants. There is no record concerning the time when
these temples were built.
SONGI, a small river on the eastern coast of Malacca,
falls into the China Sea. Lat. 2. 10. N.
SONGKIANG, a city of China, of the first rank, in the
province of Kiangnan. It is situated on the great canal,
very conveniently for trade, which is carried on to a con¬
siderable extent in calicoes and other cotton cloths. It
has four large cities under its jurisdiction. It is 560 miles
south of Pekin. Long. 120. 44. E. Lat. 31. N.
SONG-MEN-CHAN, a small island near the coast of
the province Tchekiang, in China. Long. 121. 21. E.
Lat. 31. N. _ T .
SONGOA, an island in the Straits of Malacca. It is
about fifty miles in circumference. Long. 100. 30. E. Lat.
2. 18. N.
SOOLOO Isles. These isles, about sixty in number,
derive their name from Sooloo, the principal island in the
group. They form a chain which extends in a north-east
and south-west direction, from the north-eastern extremity
of Borneo to the western extremity of Magindanao, and
from the 4th to the 7th degrees of north latitude. The
island of Sooloo is about thirty miles in length by twelve
in average breadth, and contains 60,000 inhabitants. It
lies midway between the islands of Borneo and Magindanao,
is well cultivated, and affords a fine prospect from the sea;
nor has it any certain rainy seasons, like the other Malay
islands. This is owing to the moderate height of the hills
not intercepting the clouds in their passage ifom the sea.
Most rain falls, however, during the south-west monsoon,
and also at the change of the monsoon, especially the au¬
tumnal. But these changes are not followed by any storms,
and very seldom at any other time, so that the island en-
ioys almost a perpetual summer. There are severa goo
harbours among these islands, particularly at Bewabewa,
Tavitave, Tappool, Secassee, between Boobooan and .ap-
peantana, south of Basselan. The harbour of Bewan, the
capital of Sooloo, is not good, except during the south-west
monsoon. This place is situated on the sea-coast, on tne
north-west part of the island, and is of considerable size.
The houses are built after the manner of the Malays, ele¬
vated about four feet from the ground with bamboos, ot
which the floors also are made. The island of Sooloo
ing small in proportion to its population, habits ot indust y
prevail, and great attention is paid to agricultuie. ice ^
planted ; but it is a precarious crop, owing to the unce -
tainty of the rains. Many roots are in consequence culti¬
vated in its stead, namely, the Spanish or sweet potatoe
and yams of different species. They have abundance and
variety of every species of tropical fruit. The oranges
equal in quality to those in China: they have also a fruit
called jack or nanka, durians, a kind of large custar pf> >
called madang, mangoes, mangustines, rambustmes, a
fruit they call bolona, like a large plum or mangoe, wh
inside. The trees in the woods are loaded with fr ,
which ripen well, and are not injured by too much m
S O 0
mda. ture. The Sooloos, from the great number of the Chinese
V",/ that are among them, have learned from them the art of
gardening; and they ingraft and improve their fruits.
Wild elephants are to be found in the woods; which is a
remarkable circumstance, considering that the island is
small and populous. Spotted deer, goats, and black cattle,
are also abundant. Wild hogs abound, and do much mis¬
chief ; but the natives have few sheep. They have, how¬
ever, a good breed of horses, which are trained to trot, but
not to gallop. After harvest the inhabitants hunt both the
elephants and the wild hogs, with a view to destroy them.
The island of Sooloo was formerly the centre of an ex¬
tensive trade, and was frequented by ships from Japan,
which imported silver, amber, silks, chests, cabinets, and
other curiosities made of fragrant woods, besides great
quantities of silks and porcelain from China. It was also
visited by vessels from Java, Sumatra, Ceylon, and the coast
of Coromandel, with valuable cargoes. This trade has
greatly declined. The intercourse with China is now con¬
fined to two junks, which arrive annually from Amoy with
cargoes of brass salvers, iron, sugar-candy, raw silk, black
nankeen, white linen of a strong fabric, china ware, flowered
silks, besides tea, cutlery and other hard ware, brass wire,
gongs, beads of all colours, little swan-shot, fire-works, &c.
In return they export to China biche de mer, black and
white wax, pearl-oyster shells, bird-nests, and tortoise-shell;
also a sea-weed used as gum or glue, and other articles,
such as Carooang oil, clove-bark, black wood, ratans, sago,
various barks for dyeing, cassia, pepper, native camphire,
sandal-wood, curious shells for grottoes, pearls, and spices.
These islands are also occasionally visited by country ships,
which import articles of European manufacture, such as
brasiery, cutlery, cloth, gunpowder, fire-arms, manufactures
in glass, iron, opium, piece-goods, saltpetre, shot, swords,
tin ware, watches, sugar, tobacco, &c. From Borneo are
imported sago, biche de mer, cowries, and tortoise-shell.
Eice is imported from Magindanao, and is paid for with
Chinese goods. Cotton manufactures from Celebes com¬
plete the list of imports. There is a famous pearl-fishery
at Sooloo and the neighbouring islands.
These islands are governed by a hereditary prince or
sultan, whose power is, however, counterbalanced by the
nobles. The Sooloos seldom venture from home in their
own vessels, except for the purpose of predatory excursions
to make slaves among the Philippine Islands. They are
warlike in their habits, though they depend less on fire-arms
than on the lance, sword, and dagger, in the use of which
they are very dexterous. The inhabitants have reached a
higher stage of civilization than is generally attained in the
Asiatic islands. The women are not strictly confined, as in
many Mahommedan countries. In their houses are domes¬
ticated many Philippine and some Spanish slaves, who are
purchased from the Illanos and Magindanese cruisers. Not¬
withstanding their boasted civilization, murder is a crime
extremely common among them, and occurs on the least
provocation. In 1800 they treacherously assassinated the
captain of a country ship, and his boat’s crew ; and after¬
wards made an attack on the ship, but were repulsed.
Of the early history of these islanders little is known.
They assert, that they once formed a part of an ancient
Bornean empire, founded by the Chinese. But the Ma¬
gindanese assert that they were formerly subject to them.
From the period when the Spaniards obtained possession
of the Philippines, they have been engaged in a constant
warfare with the Sooloos, but with little advantage to them¬
selves, being always repelled in their attempts to obtain
possession of these islands.
SOONDa, a town and district of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of North Canara. The district, which is small, is si¬
tuated between the 14th and 15th degrees of north lati¬
tude, above the Western Ghauts. Formerly the country
s o o 479
was well cultivated, and produced fine timber and pepper, Soondia
betel nut, cardamoms, and plantains. Towards the eastern II
division of the country, the great object of agriculture is Noonan*
rice. Having been the seat of war between Hyder and ^ r y‘ 1
the Mahrattas, it was greatly wasted by the former in 1763,
and its rajah compelled to fly for protection to Goa; on
which occasion he surrendered the whole of his territory
below the Ghauts for a stipulated pension. In 1799 the
Soonda district became the property of the British, with whom
it remains. The capital, of the same name, was formerly an
extensive and populous town, and was defended by strong
fortifications, which were levelled by Hyder, who also near¬
ly destroyed the town. Long. 74. 58. E. Lat. 14. 34. N.
SOONDIA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Sinde, situated on the Indus, on the route from Tatta to
Hyderabad. Lat. 24. 58. N.
SOONEL, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Mal-
wah, belonging to the Mahrattas, 60 miles south by east
from Kotah. It is regularly built, with streets at right
angles, and is of considerable extent. Long. 76. 5. E. Lat.
24. 21. N.
SOONERGONG, or Sunergong, a town of Bengal, si¬
tuated on one of the branches of the Brahmapootra, It
was once a large city, the provincial capital of the eastern
division of Bengal, and famous for its manufactures of mus¬
lin and other fine cottons. It is now reduced to a mere vil¬
lage, principally inhabited by weavers, and the city of Dacca
has risen on its downfall. Long. 90. 43. E. Lat. 23. 39. N.
SOONGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gujerat, 39 miles east by south from Surat. Long. 73. 38.
E. Lat. 21. 8. N.
SOONPUT, a small town of Hindustan, in the province
of Delhi. To the north is a handsome mausoleum of Khizer
Khan, an Afghan nobleman of the family of Shere Shah.
The adjacent country was greatly benefited by the canal
dug by Aly Merdan Khan. Orders have been given by the
British government to repair the canal, which will aid the
country to recover from the desolate state in which it has
been for some years past. Long. 76. 53. E. Lat. 29. N.
SOONTABURDAR, in the East Indies, an attendant,
who carries a silver bludgeon in his hand, about two or three
feet long, and runs before the palanquin. He is inferior to
the chubdar ; the propriety of an Indian newaury requiring
two soontaburdars for every chubdar in the train. The
chubdar proclaims the approach of visitors, &c. He gene¬
rally carries a large silver staff about five feet long in his
hands; and among the nabobs he proclaims their praises
aloud as he runs before their palanquins.
SOOPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Rajpoot terri¬
tories, province of Ajmeer. It is the capital of a small prin¬
cipality, and is 65 miles north-east from Kotah. Long. 76.
45. E. Lat. 25. 43. N.
SOOROOTOO Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
situated off the western coast of Borneo, and separated from
the island of Carimatia by a narrow strait, through which a
ship might run if compelled by necessity. Long. 108. 40.
E. Lat. 1.45. S.
SOOROPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Bejapoor, situated on the Krishna river, nearly 130 miles
south-west from Hyderabad. Long. 77. E. Lat. 16.15. N.
SOOR1, a town of Bengal, district of Birbhoom, 50
miles south-west from Moorshedabad. Long. 87. 32. E.
Lat. 23. 54. N.
SOOSNEER, a considerable town of Hindustan, in the
province of Malwah, 57 miles north-north-east from Oojain.
Long. 76. 10. E. Lat. 23. 55. N.
SOOSOO, a small town on the west coast of Sumatra,
where pepper is sometimes exchanged for gold dust. Long.
97. 10. E. Lat. 3. 45. N.
SOOSOOHOONAN, a district in the island of Java, on
the south coast, formerly extending to the north coast, and
480
SOP
SOP
including the territories of Cheribon, and the greater part
of the island. It is now much fallen from its ancient gran¬
deur, and in the last century was divided into two parts.
The prince, embarrassed by the rebellion of a powerful no¬
bleman, made a cession of his territory to the Dutch, who
in return granted him half back again, under the title ot
Sultan. Prior to 1740 this sovereign was proprietor of all
the territory to the east of Cheribon ; but he lost part ot
his dominions in a new contest with the Dutch. The dynasty,
however, still continues; and in 1813 the capital was visited
by Sir Stamford Raffles, the British governor, who was gra¬
ciously received.
SOOT, a volatile matter arising from wood and other fuel
along wdth the smoke; or rather it is the smoke itself con¬
densed, and gathered to the sides of the chimney. 1 hough
once volatile, however, soot cannot be again resolved into
vapour, but, if distilled by a strong fire, yields a volatile al¬
kali and empyreumatic oil, a considerable quantity ot fixed
matter remaining at the bottom of the distilling vessel. If
burnt in an open fire, it flames with a thick smoke, whence
other soot is produced. It is used as a material for making
sal ammoniac, and as a manure.
SOOTY, a town of Bengal, in the province of Raujeshy,
where an action was fought in 1763, between the British
troops and those of Meer Cossim, in which the latter were
defeated. Long. 88. 2. E. Lat. 24. 36. N.
SOPHI, or Sofi, a title given to the emperor of Persia,
importing as much as wise, sage, or philosopher.
SOPHIS, or Sofees, a kind of religious order among
the Mahommedans in Persia, answering to what are otherwise
called dervises, and among the Arabs and Indians faquirs.
Some writers suppose them to be called sophis from a kind
of coarse camblet which they wear, called souf, from the
city Souf in Syria, where it is principally manufactured.
The more eminent of those sophis are complimented with
the title schiek, that is, reverend, much as, in Romish coun¬
tries, the religious are called reverendfathers. Schiek Sophi,
who laid the foundation of the grandeur of the royal house
of Persia, was the founder, or rather the restorer, of this
order. Ishmael, who conquered Persia, was himself a so¬
phi, and greatly valued himself on that character. He chose
all the guards of his person from among the religious of
this order, and would have all the great lords of his court
sophis. The king of Persia is still grandmaster of the or¬
der, and men of rank continue to enter into it, though it be
now fallen under some contempt.
SOPHISM, in Logic, a specious argument, haying the
appearance of truth, but leading to falsehood. Sophisms
are reduced by Aristotle into eight classes, an arrangement
so just and comprehensive, that it is equally proper in pre¬
sent as in former times. 1. Ignoratio elenchi, in which the
sophist seems to determine the question, while he does it
only in appearance. Thus the question, Whether the ex¬
cess of wine be hurtful ? seems to be determined by prov¬
ing, that wine revives the spirits and gives a man courage ;
but the principal point is here kept out of sight, for still it
may be hurtful to health, to fortune, and reputation. 2.
Petitio principii, a begging of the question, or taking for
granted that which remains to be proved; as if any one
should undertake to prove that the soul is extended through
all the parts of the body, because it resides in every mem¬
ber. This is affirming the same thing in different words.
3. Reasoning in a circle ; as when the Romanists prove the
Scriptures to be the word of God by the authority of the
church, and the authority of the church from the Scrip¬
tures. 4. Non causa pro causa, or the assigning of a false
cause to any effect. Thus the supposed principle, that na¬
ture abhors a vacuum, was applied to explain the rising of
water in a pump, before Galileo discovered that it was owing
to the pressure of the atmosphere. In this way the vulgar
ascribe accidents to divine vengeance ; and the heresies and
infidelity of modern times are said to be owing to learning. Sop,.
5. Fallacia accidentis, in which the sophist represents what II
is merely accidental as essential to the nature of the sub- SoPh s,
ject. 6. By deducing a universal assertion from what is true '
only in particular circumstances, and the reverse: thus,
some men argue, “ transcribers have committed many errors
in copying the Scriptures, therefore they are not to be de¬
pended on.” 7. By asserting any thing in a compound sense
which is only true in a divided sense. So, when the Scrip¬
tures assure us that the worst of sinners may be saved, it
does not mean that they shall be saved while they remain
sinners, but that if they repent they may be saved. 8. By
an abuse of the ambiguity of words. Hume reasons thus,
in his Essay on Miracles : “ Experience is our only guide
in reasoning concerning matters of fact; now we know from
experience, that the laws of nature are fixed and invariable.
On the other hand, testimony is variable, and often false;
therefore, since our evidence for the reality of miracles rests
solely on testimony which is variable, and our evidence for
the uniformity of the laws of nature is invariable, miracles
are not to be believed.” The sophistry of this reasoning
depends on the ambiguity of the word experience, which in
the first proposition signifies the maxims which we form
from our own observation and reflection; in the second it
is confounded with testimony ; for it is by the testimony of
others, as well as our own observation, that we learn whe¬
ther the laws of nature are variable or invariable. The
Essay on Miracles may be recommended to those who wish
to see more examples of sophistry ; as we believe most of
the eight species of sophisms which we have mentioned are
well illustrated by examples in that essay.
SOPHIST, an appellation assumed in the early periods
of Grecian history, by those who devoted their time to the
study of science. This appellation appearing too arrogant
to Pythagoras, he declined it, and wished to be called a
philosopher ; declaring that, though he could not consider
himself as a wise man, he was indeed a lover of wisdom.
True wisdom and modesty are generally united. The ex¬
ample of Pythagoras was followed by every man of emi¬
nence, while the name sophist was retained only by those
who with a pomp of words made a magnificent display of
wisdom upon a very slight foundation of knowledge. Those
men taught an artificial structure of language, and a false
method of reasoning, by which, in argument, the worse
might be made to appear the better reason. In Athens
they were long held in high repute, and were supported,
not only by contributions from their pupils, but by a regu¬
lar salary from the state. They were among the bitterest
enemies of the illustrious Socrates, because he embraced
every opportunity of exposing to contempt and ridicule their
vain pretensions to superior knowledge, and the pernicious
influence of their doctrines upon the taste and morals of
the Athenian youth.
SOPHOCLES, the famous tragic poet, was the son of
Sophilus, an Athenian, and was born in the year 495 before
Christ. Although the father was only a mechanic, the son
enjoyed the advantage of a good education. Superior vigour
and address in the exercises of the palaestra, and skill in
music, were the great accomplishments of young men in the
states of Greece. In these Sophocles excelled; nor was he
less distinguished by the beauty of his person. He was
also instructed in the noblest of all sciences, civil polity and
religion : from the first of these he derived an unshaken love
of his country, which he served in some embassies, and m
high military command with Pericles; from the latter he
was impressed with a pious reverence for the gods, mani¬
fested by the inviolable integrity of his life. But his studies
were early devoted to the tragic muse; the spirit of TEschy-
lus lent a fire to his genius, and excited that noble emula¬
tion which led him to contend with, and sometimes to bear
away the prize from, his great master. He wrote forty-three
i ling
! ra.
SOU
tragedies, of which seven only have escaped the ravages of
time. Having testified his love of his country by refusing
to leave it, though invited by many kings, and having en-
joyed the uninterrupted esteem and affection of his fellow-
citizens, which neither thegallant actions and sublime genius
of Jischylus, nor the tender spirit and philosophic virtue of
Euripides, could secure to them, he died in the beginning
of the year 405, at the very advanced age of ninety.1 The
burial-place of his ancestors was at Decelia, which the La¬
cedaemonians had at that time seized and fortified : but Ly-
sander, the Spartan chief, permitted the Athenians to inter
their deceased poet; and they paid him all the honours due
to his love of his country, integrity of life, and high poetic
excellence. ^Eschylus had at once seized the highest post
of honour in the field of poetry, the true sublime: to that
eminence his claim could not be disputed. Sophocles had
a noble elevation of mind, but tempered with so fine a taste,
and so chastened a judgment, that he never passed the
bounds of propriety. Under his conduct the tragic muse
appeared with the chaste dignity of some noble matron at
a religious solemnity; harmony is in her voice, and grace in
all her motions. From him the theatre received some addi¬
tional embellishments; but his distinguished excellence is
in the judicious disposition of the fable, and so nice a connec¬
tion and dependence of the parts on each other, that they
all conduce to make the event not only probable, but even
necessary. This is peculiarly admirable in his King (Edi-
pus; and in this important point he is far superior to every
other dramatic writer of antiquity.
The ingratitude of the children of Sophocles is well known.
They wished to become immediate masters of their father's
possessions, and therefore, tired of his long life, they accus¬
ed him before the Areopagus of insanity. The only defence
the poet made, was to read his tragedy of CEdipus at Colo-
nos, which he had lately finished; and he then asked his
judges, whether the author of such a performance could be
charged with insanity. The father upon this was acquitted,
and the children returned home covered with shame and
confusion.
The editions of Sophocles are very numerous, and some
0i them very elaborate, but wTe can only enumerate the
more conspicuous. The editio princeps was published by
Aldus, Venet. 1502, 8vo. Ihis was followed by an edition
published by the heirs of P. Junta, Florent. 1522, 4to;
and another published by B. Junta, Florent. 1547, 4to.
4 he text of Aldus was the basis of all the editions which
preceded that of Turnebus, Paris. 1553, 4to. This is among
the best of the early editions. We must not omit those of
H. Stephanus, Paris. 1568, 4to, and of Canter, Antverp.
1579, 12mo. The text of Turnebus was chiefly adopted
m all the succeeding editions till that of Brunck, Argent.
1786, 2 tom. 4to. This is a very elaborate as well as
splendid edition, and strikingly displays the editor’s acute¬
ness and learning. The same able critic published two
octavo editions, each in two volumes. We now' descend to
the edition of Erfurdt, Lips. 1802-11, 8 tom. 8vo. The
tragedies of Sophocles have been translated into many dif-
erent languages. An English version, which was favour-
f y received> was published by Dr Francklin, Greek pro-
-essor at Cambridge, Lond. 1759, 2 vols. 4to. Another
Va5nmxTq^ently Published by Mr Potter, Lond. 1788, 4to.
DUPING, a district or principality of the island of Cele-
TeS’ 0rsmerly one tbe most extensive in the country.
SOPn was.g°verned by its own king,
nf tu i a nver °f Hindustan, which rises in the province
Malwalv and joins the Gilly Sinde river, after which
e‘ran'ted streams fall into the Chumbul.
Tpvv. r t a city fkdy> in the Neapolitan province of
a i Lavoro, the capital of a district of its own name.
S O R
481
It stands on tlie banks of the river Garigliano, is the seat
of a bishop, and, besides the cathedral, has five churches,
and 7950 inhabitants.
SORAU, a circle of Prussia, in the government of'
Frankfurt, which extends over 513 square miles, with
46,400 inhabitants. The capital is the town of the same
name. It stands on a large plain, is well built, and contains
430 houses, with 4060 inhabitants, who manufacture large
quantities of cotton goods.
SORBONNE, or Sorbon, the house or college of the
faculty of theology established in the old university of Paris.
It was founded in 1252, by St Louis, or rather by Robert
de Sorbon his confessor and almoner, first canon of Cam-
bray, and afterwards of the cathedral of Paris; who gave
his own name to it, which he himself took from the village
of Sorbon or Serbon, near Sens, where he was born. The
foundation was laid in 1250; Queen Blanche, in the ab¬
sence of her husband, furnishing him with a house which
had formerly been the palace of Julian the apostate. The
king afterwards gave him all the houses he had in the same
place, in exchange for some others. The college was mag¬
nificently rebuilt by the Cardinal de Richelieu. The insti¬
tution was designed for the use of poor students in divinity.
Sorbonne was also used in general for the whole faculty
of theology at Paris, as the assemblies of the whole body
were held in the house of the Sorbonne, and the bachelors
of the other houses of the faculty came hither to hold their
sorbonnique, or act for being admitted doctor of divinity.
SORCERY, or Magic, the power wrhich some persons
were formerly supposed to possess, of commanding the devil
and the infernal spirits, by skill in charms and invocations,
and of soothing them by fumigations. See Magic and Ap¬
paritions.
SORIA, one of the four departments into which the pro¬
vince of Old Castille, in Spain, is divided. Its extent is 341
square leagues, and its population amounts to 257,537 souls.
It is in general a hilly district, and in some parts very
mountainous. The plains are fertile, especially that of Rioja,
and yield abundance of wheat and barley, and in some
years it has a surplus of both these productions. Its wine is
good, but not abundant; and it is deficient in a supply of
oil, which is procured from the more southern provinces.
Ihis province furnishes to commerce a great proportion of
the fine wool of the merinos. That of Soria is not equal
in fineness to what is produced in Segovia, but is however
of a good quality ; and the quantity annually sent away
amounts to about 2,250,000 pounds.
Soria, a city of Spain, in New Castille, the capital of the
department of that name. It is situated on the north bank
of the river Duero, but too near its source to derive any
benefit as to navigation. In the vicinity there are excellent
pastures for sheep, with houses of various kinds to shelter
them when the weather is more than usually inclement, or
when they are shorn. It is not a large city, nor are the
pubhc buildings of a nature to merit a detailed description ;
but the extensive ruins of the ancient Numantia invite the
notice of every lover of Roman antiquities. Soria contains
thirteen churches, eleven monasteries, four hospitals, and
60U0 inhabitants. The manufacture of silk stockings em¬
ploys eighty-two looms. Some of the inhabitants are em-
p oyed in soap-boiling, tanning, and in the manufacture of
cloth. Lat. 41. 48. N.
SORIANG, a river of Celebes, on the west coast, which
falls into the sea.
SORITES, in Logic, a species of reasoning, in which a
great number of propositions are so linked together, that
the predicate of the one becomes continually the subject
of the next following, till at last a conclusion is formed by
bringing together the subject of the first proposition and
Sorau
c II
Sorites.
v'OL. xx.
Clinton’s Fasti Hellenic!, vol. ii. p. 23, 57, 83.
3 p
482
S O R
Sorrento the predicate of the last. Such was that merry argument
II of Themistocles, to prove that his little son under ten years
. SovtinoV.nld governed the whole world: “ My son governs his mo-
'-'ut- Y ther; his mother me; I the Athenians; the Athenians the
Greeks; Greece commands Europe; Europe the whole
world: therefore my son commands the whole world.
SORRENTO, a city of Italy, in the province of Naples.
It is finely situated among olive, citron, and pomegranate
trees, and is the seat of an archbishop. It is on the sea-
coast, and has some foreign trade. The chief occupation
is collecting and spinning silk. It was the birth-place ot
the poet Tasso. The surrounding hills are chiefly compos¬
ed of tufa, which was originally lava ; and the doors and
window-seats are generally formed ol that substance. It
contains 4240 inhabitants.
SORTILEGE (Sortilegium), a species of divination per¬
formed by means of sortes or lots. The sortes Pranestina,
famous in antiquity, consisted in putting a number ol let¬
ters, or even whole words, into an urn ; and then, attei
shaking them together, they were thrown on the ground ;
and whatever sentences could be made out of them consti¬
tuted the answer of the oracle. To this method of divina¬
tion succeeded that which has been called the sortes Ho-
mericce and sortes Virgiliance; a mode ot inquiring into
futurity which undoubtedly took its rise from a geneial
custom of the oracular priests of delivering their answers in
verse. It subsisted a long time among the Greeks and Ro¬
mans, and being from them adopted by the Christians, it
was not till after a long succession of centuries that it be¬
came exploded. Among the Romans it consisted in open¬
ing- some celebrated poet at random, and among the Chris¬
tians the Scriptures, and drawing, from the first passage
which presented itself to the eye, a prognostic of what would
befall one’s self or others, or direction for conduct when
under any exigency. There is good evidence that this was
none of the vulgar errors; the greatest persons, philosophers
of the best repute, admitted this superstition. Sociates,
when in prison, hearing this line of Homer,
Within three days I Phthia’s shore shall see,
immediately said, within three days I shall be out of the
world ; gathering it from the double meaning of the word
Phthia, which in Greek is both the name of a counti y and
signifies corruption or death.
SORTING, a city of the island of Sicily, in the province
of Noto. It stands on a healthy spot on a gentle elevation,
the ancient Xuthinum, 130 miles from Palermo, and is wa¬
tered by a small stream. It contains / 300 inhabitants.
Sou
SOU
SORTINSKOI, a village of Tobolsk, in Asiatic Russia, Sort;
seventy-two miles south-south-west of Beresof.
SOSVA, the name of two considerable rivers in Asiatic^
Russia, in the government of Tobolsk. The first has a
course of 160 miles. It rises in the Oural Mountains, about
the sixty-fifth degree of north latitude, and running almost
due east, falls into the Obi near Beresof, after receiving a
smaller river of the same name, called the Little Sosva. The
other river rises somewhat farther to the north, in the same
chain of hills, and running southwards about 200 miles,
joins the Sosva, where their united streams take the name
of Tauda.
SOTERIA, in Antiquity, sacrifices offered to the gods
for delivering a person from danger ; as also poetical pieces
composed for the same purpose.
SOUDAN, a kingdom of Africa, situated between 11°
and 16° north latitude, and 26° and 30° east longitude.
See Africa. ,
SOUERICK, a town of Armenia, in the pachalic of
Ourfa, and on the road from Ourfa to Diarbekir. It con¬
tains about 500 inhabitants, with three mosques and a strong
castle. It is sixty miles north-east of Ourfa.
SOUGH, among miners, denotes a passage dug under
ground to convey off waters from mines.
SOUI-TCHEOU, a city of China, of the first rank, situ¬
ated at the confluence of the rivers Yan and Kincha, in a
fertile though mountainous country. Long. 104. 23. E.
Lat. 28.40. N. . . tl.
SOUL, the principle of perception, memory, intelligence,
and volition, in man ; which, since the earliest era of philo-
sophy, has furnished questions of difficult investigation, ana
materials of keen and important controversy.
SOUND. So many things relating to this subject have
been already treated at considerable length under the arti¬
cle Acoustics, that what we now propose shall be chiefly
confined to the propagation of sound in the atmosphere,
which, as Laplace observes, affords the most important ap¬
plication which has yet been made of the theory of elastic
fluids. In this we shall first give the results of the princi¬
pal attempts which have been made with the view of de¬
termining the velocity of sound experimentally ; and shall
notice more particularly some of them which are of a later
date, and were made with far greater precautions than any
of those mentioned under the article just cited. We shall
then advert to various important oversights and impel lec¬
tions which still attach to this department of science, and to
certain improvements of which it seems to be susceptible.
Results of Various Experiments on the Velocity of Sound.
Florentine Academicians..,
Cassini, Huygens, &c 
Flamsteed and Halley 
Derham 
French Academicians 
Cassini and Lacaille 
Bianconi 
La Condamine 
La Condamine 
T. F. Mayer 
G. E. Muller 
Espinoza and Bauza 
Benzenberg 
Goldingham 
Myrbach .....
Arago, Matthieu, &c 
Moll, Van Beek, &c  
Gregory 
Parry and Foster.
1660
1704
1738
1739
1740
1740
1744
1778
1791
1794
1809
1821
1822
1822
1823
1823
1825
Country.
Italy 
France 
England..
England..
France....
France....
Italy 
Quito 
Cayenne..
Germany.
Germany.
Chili 
Germany.
India 
Germany
France...,
Holland..
England.,
Polar Regions.
Distance in Feet.
Velocity.
Temperature.
5,906  
9,239  
15,840  
5,280 to 63,360
18,744 to 102,824
144,124  
78,740  
67,400 
129,360  
3,412 
8,530  
53,626 to 14,071
29,764  
13,932 to 29,547
32,615 
61,064  
57,971-2  
2,700 to 13,460
12,892-9   
1148
1151
1142
1142
1106
1110
1043
1112
1175
1105
1109
1222-3
1093
1086-7
1092 1
1086-1
1089-5
1088 1
1035-2
43° F.
740.7
32
32
32
32
32
32
— 17-7
Tentamina Acad, del Cimento.
Hist. Acad. Royale, lib. ii.
Phil. Trans. 1708, 1709.
IbH.
Mem. de I’Acad. 1738, 1739.
Ibid. , ..
Comment. Bononiensis, vol. 11.
La Condamine, Introd. Hist. 17al-
Mem. de I’Acad. 1745-
Mayer, Prakt. Geometric, 179
Muller,'Gelehrt Anzeige, 1791-
Ann. de Chimie, vii. 93.
Gilbert’s Annalen, N. I olge, b. v.
Phil. Trans. 1823, p. 96.
Mean of eighty-eight experiments.
Conn, des Terns, 1825.
Phil. Trans. 1824, p. 424.
Phil. Magazine, June 1824.
Phil. Trans. 1828, p. 97
The reduction of such results to 32° Fahrenheit is usually made conformably to the expansion of air Sjve" slightly
which is neariy at the rate of 114 foot for each degree. The expansion of Rudberg, about to be noticed, being rather sma
lessen the reduction.
SOUND.
From a close examination of the twenty-eight principal
^experiments made in Holland in 1823, Professor Miller
has, in the Philosophical Magazine for July 1839, deduced the
following as the correct means of the results. The mean
interval of the time in which sound travelled 17,669-28
metres is 51-9873 seconds. The mean temperature dur¬
ing these experiments was 11°-01 cent. The mean pres¬
sures of the atmosphere, and of the vapour in it, were -74618
and *00889 metres at 0° cent, respectively. Now, from
Rudberg’s experiments (Poggendorff’s Annalen, xli. 558
and xliv. 119), which perhaps require to be repeated by
others, it appears that on heating dry air from 0° cent, to
100°, under a constant pressure, its volume was increased
from I to 1-365; hencej at the temperature 6 cent., the pres¬
sure of the atmosphere and of the vapour in it being p and
/ respectively, the velocity of sound in English feet per
second will be
//I -f -003650v
W ( ' T )•
x 1 — *375- ^
483
1090-77*
P
Clint-
ueti
snip, f d.
This, owing to its depending on a smaller rate of expan¬
sion, exceeds 1089-5, the number in the table; but it is
chiefly to be regarded as a general expression for the ex¬
perimental results. The theoretical formula will be found
fhrther on.
With the exception of Benzenberg, who had long ago
used the species of clock described below with a conical
pendulum, the most of the experimenters were formerly
very ill provided with any adequate means of accurately
measuring the intervals of time which elapse between the
flash and report of the guns, as observed at the opposite
station. In 1822, the French academicians employed the
stop-watch of Breguet and the chronograph of Rieussec, a
species of watch, one of whose hands revolves in one se¬
cond, and can, without needing to stop, be made to touch
with its extremity the dial-plate at any instant, so as to
leave there a dot of ink, merely by suddenly pressing a
small lever. In the experiments made in Holland in 1823,
a clock was used with a conical pendulum which revolved
69-433 times in a minute, and was supposed capable of de¬
termining intervals to the 100th of a second, by suddenly-
arresting the index without stopping the clock. By means
ol these machines it was supposed quite practicable to de¬
termine the interval between the sight of the flash and the
arrival of the report of a gun, with such precision as to
obviate all material error which might arise from this
cause. The importance of this, if realized, is evident from
the circumstance that each tenth of a second corresponds
to 110 feet of distance.
But there is too good reason to suspect that all such
ideas of attaining great accuracy in any direct measure¬
ments of the intervals of time are perfectly illusory, and
that observations made with these machines can scarcely
be depended on within a tenth of a second. The machines
t uemselves may be possessed of all the perfection ascribed to
them; but it would seem that the man has yet to be made
who would be competent to use them. In Holland, only
one centrifugal clock being employed at each station, we
nave no means of judging of the correctness of the obser¬
vations made with it. But whoever examines the tables
oi results given in the Connaissance des Terns for 1825
(pages 364-367) will find that three and as often four
macnmes, with as many first-rate observers, were generally
employed simultaneously in determining the interval for
each shot : and that instead of their results agreeing within
an inconsiderable fraction, as the above ideas of great cor-
rectness would imply, they often differ by three, sometimes
oy tour, and in one case by five tenths of a second. Some-
nng arther illustrative of this will be found under the arti-
e UoCK and Watch Work (vol. vi. p. 783), where a ma¬
chine has been described for determining, by indirect means, Sound,
but to almost any degree of exactness, the interval in which ^-v^*
sound passes over a small distance. The principal part is a
strong clock, without compensation or other refinement, and
requiring no extraordinary sort of being to observe with it.
Although many eminent philosophers have laboured Influence
much to improve and perfect the various reductions which of the
it is considered necessary to make on the experimental re-wind-
suits, there is still a mistake regarding the exact influence
of the wind. It seems always to be supposed that the ef¬
fects of a steady wind are entirely obviated or compensated
by taking the mean of the velocities of such sounds as are
simultaneously produced at the two opposite stations, and
also reciprocally observed at these respectively. This is
in effect the view of the matter taken by Professor Moll.
(Philosophical Transactions for 1824, p. 426.) Many other
philosophers express the same opinion, and in particular
Sir John Flerschel, who recommends that all experiments
on the velocity of sound be made, if possible, either in
calm weather or in a direction at right angles to that of
the wind. But so far is the result under this last arrange¬
ment from being entirely unaffected by the wind, that the
error to which we now- allude is then a maximum; and indeed
in every case in which the direction of the wind is inclined
to the base line, there is still a small error, which cannot
be obviated by the reciprocal method.
i he earlier experimenters gave themselves no concern
about the influence of the wind; but its effect was in some
degree eliminated by the arrangements adopted by the
I rench academicians in 1738, though in so imperfect a man¬
ner as to leave considerable doubt regarding the accuracy
of their result. In order to clear up this point, the Mar¬
quis Laplace requested the board of longitude to repeat the
experiments, with the precaution of exciting sounds more
nearly at the same instant from both ends of the base, in
the expectation that the effects of the wind would be there¬
by completely obviated. The experiments were accord¬
ingly repeated in June 1822, though with no greater pre¬
cision in this respect than that the times of firing the oppo¬
site shots still differed about five minutes from being simul¬
taneous. In the experiments made in Holland in 1823,
matters were so much better arranged, that the difference
in the times scarcely ever amounted to a second. How ¬
ever, M. Arago has remarked, that when the wind is very
unsteady, or comes in sudden gusts, it may still affect the
mean result, especially since a sudden gust may interfere
with the one sound, and yet miss the other altogether. But
even when the wind is perfectly steady, the reciprocal me¬
thod cannot be quite correct, unless the wind also blows direct¬
ly from the one station to the other. In every other case it
is more or less inaccurate, owing to the circumstance that
sound is not propagated in parallel lines, but issues from its
source in lines which radiate or diverge to every side; so
that the same sonorous ray which, during a calm, would
pass directly from the one station to the other, will not
reach the latter at all when deflected by the wind into a
different direction. If ad our limits permitted, we should
have endeavoured to show that, by applying to this the well-
known principles of the composition of forces, the mean of
the velocities of the reciprocal sounds will, owing to the
action of the wind, come short of the true velocity, by a
quantity which will in all cases be nearly expressed by
-g- sin-'A; where W is the velocity of the wind, S that of
sound in still air, and A the angle which the direction of
the wind makes with the base line. This correction, though
generally very small, may often be several times greater
than some which are usually taken into account, especially
that arising from the effect of the difference of latitude and
of the height of the place above the sea, on the force of gra¬
vity. For such, we beg to refer to tire Philosophical Trans-
484
SOUND.
Sound, actions for 1824, 1828, and 1830. The pendulum, how-
 v'—" ever, seems a more certain means of determining the differ¬
ences in the force of gravity, than any merely theoretical
formula, which cannot be expected to provide for particular
local attractions. Besides, we suspect that during experi¬
ments on the velocity of sound, attention has not always
been paid to the velocity and direction of the wind ; and
still more rarely have these been registered and published,
so as to afford data for applying the requisite correction.
In the Reports of the British Association for 1833 and
1836, we find two able and interesting articles by Profes¬
sor Challis, on the mathematical theory of fluids. Among
other things, he treats at considerable length on the theory
of sound, giving an analysis and notices of various essays
on that subject. But these the learned professor seems,
after all, never to have thoroughly examined, otherwise he
could not have failed to discover that, in the mathematical
investigations employed in several of the papers on which
he has bestowed the largest share of commendation, there
are various fundamental errors and inconsistencies, which
naturally enough have led their authors into results which,
independently of every other consideration, are more or less
erroneous, because palpably incompatible with each other
and with the premises from which they are professedly de¬
duced. Fallacies of the sort in question have been pointed
out in the Edin. Phil. Journ. (for Oct. 1826, p. 335, and
July 1827, p. 153), as also in various numbers of the Quar¬
terly Journal of Science for 1829. Some of the same errors
have been likewise noticed, though not so early as in the
first-mentioned journal, by an eminent Italian philosopher,
Mr Avogadro, in the Memorie dell' Academia realle della
Scienze di Tovino (vol. xxxiii. p. 237), and also in a sepa¬
rate tract of his. Several notable instances of the like sort
have been discussed and exposed in the article Hygrome-
try ; but it is only one or two examples which we can
notice here.
Researches # With the view of accounting for the excess of the actual
of Laplace velocity of sound over that given by Newton’s formula, it
and Pois- was very ingeniously suggested, in a general way, by the
son' Marquis Laplace, about the beginning of the present cen¬
tury, that, in the propagation of sound, the minute rises and
falls of temperature occasioned by the alternate condensa¬
tions and dilatations of the air, should tend to augment the
disturbance in the equilibrium of the pressure, and conse¬
quently to accelerate the transmission of sound. He did
not, however, till long after, assign the form or amount of
the correction for such acceleration. The first attempt
toward this seems to be that of Biot in 1802 (Journal de
Physique, tome Iv. p. 173). But M. Poisson both claims
and gets the no small credit of having very considerably
anticipated Laplace in giving the precise form of the cor¬
rection. This he is alleged to have done in a formula for
the velocity of sound, communicated to the Institute as early
as the year 1807, and shortly after published in the Jour¬
nal de I'Ecole Polytechnique (cahier xiv.), and which is
meant to consist of Newton’s formula multiplied by a con¬
stant factor Vj -}- k. But whilst it must be admitted that
no one has written to better purpose on the theory of sound
than M. Poisson has done, there seems to be a very general
mistake regarding that factor. The formula is
mula and explanation of symbols in another memoir insert- Soi
ed in Annales de Chimie for May 1823, he proceeds 10 s—v
show that the factor 1 + which for greater bre-
(1+^)7
vity he there calls simply k, is equal to the ratio of the spe¬
cific heat of air under a constant pressure to its specific heat
under a constant volume ; which would identify Vk with the
above-mentioned correction given by Laplace himself, for
the first time only, in the same Annales iox November 1816,
and even then without demonstration. But it is worthy of
particular notice, that the reason why the factor k in this
case comes to be a correct expression for the ratio of the
specific heats, is entirely owing to M. Poisson’s there using
y as proportional, not to w, as above defined, but to
l+atf
This will be readily seen on examining the Annales for May
1823 (p. 8 and 14), where, having put y =~, and w = d6, he
deduces
= 1+;
add
    = (k—lfe; and hence A =1 + r
1+ ad K ' g (l-fad)dj
Indeed, otherwise, Vk could neither have
In this he defines g to represent the force of gravity; h the
height of the barometer ; D the ratio of the density of the
air to that of mercury; d the temperature of the air; w the
augmentation of that temperature occasioned by a conden¬
sation y, and so small as to be considered proportional to y;
also a — *00375 for the co-efficient of the dilatation of the
gases. But these evidently cannot make k constant, as the
sequel requires it to be. After introducing the same for-
(l-l-a^)y
been constant, nor coincided with the correction of Laplace.
The leading principle in these formulae therefore is, that
as long as the total heat in the air undergoes no change
(which may safely be supposed to be the fact, during a
much longer interval than the theory of sound requires),
it is not y and w, but the differentials of log. (1 -f at)) and
of log. j which are always held to be proportional; and,
consequently, any changes, whether great or small, in these
two logarithms themselves, must also be proportional; so
that the general expression for the ratio of the specific
heats, whether the simultaneous changes of g to S, and of d
to t)',be great or small, will be
1 . l°g- (1 + ad') — log-(l + ad) _ ^
+ log- S’ — log- s
The above inconsistency seems to have sadly misled M.
Poisson’s readers, particularly Professor Challis, as already
cited; but it is virtually included in a more serious over¬
sight, about to be noticed, which originated in the Meca-
nique Celeste, and has been generally more or less adopted,
with implicit confidence, into almost every subsequent essay
on the theories of heat and sound. In particular, it forms
a leading feature in the works of Poisson, in Professor Kel-
land’s Theory of Heat, and in Mr Lubbock’s recent essay
On the Heat of Vapours, which seems to have been hastily
compiled, or, at any rate, from very incongruous materials.
When reviewing the first four volumes of iheMecaniqu#
Celeste, Professor Playfair expressed great doubts if there
were then a dozen of persons in Britain qualified to peruse
them. But whatever may now be the number of those
who are content with merely reading the ordinary letter-
press of that celebrated work, it is certain that almost none
give themselves the trouble of thoroughly sifting the ma¬
thematical investigations, otherwise the serious oversights
and inconsistencies which occur in some of them would be
better known and appreciated, particularly the inaccuracies
which pervade the greater part of the long chapter devoted
to the velocity of sound. Of these, however, we shall here,
for brevity’s sake, take only one instance, which is selected,
not so much on its own account, but because it unfortunate¬
ly lies at the foundation of many of the formulae and re¬
sults with which the seventeen quarto pages following i
are chiefly occupied. In the passage referred to (tome v.
p. 127), there occurs an equation of the form
+
SOUND.
jnd. where p is the pressure, g the density, and q the difference
between the total quantity of heat which a given mass of
air may then contain, and that which it contains at a tem¬
perature and pressure chosen arbitrarily. Also k is still a
constant, expressing the ratio of the specific heats. We
here state the matter in something like the more simple
language and notation of M. Poisson, who, in the Annales
de Chimie for August 1823, has readily deduced that equa¬
tion from the two leading principles employed for it by La¬
place, and which alone are essential to it, viz. the law of Ma-
riotte, and the constancy in the ratio of the specific heats.1
From integrating the preceding equation on general prin¬
ciples only, and without having regard to the subject in
hand, it could only be inferred that q is some indetermi-
i
nate or arbitrary function of . But such eminent ma-
?
thematicians as Laplace and Poisson, instead of being con¬
tent with this general view of the matter, ought to have
perceived that the conditions of the question, particularly
the two principles just specified, and with which they had
set out for the purpose of finding q in terms of p and g, ne¬
cessarily required y to be of the form A + B ^ log./?—log. ^,
where A and B are constants; because this expression, in¬
dependently of its being the first to present itself in the in¬
tegration, is the only form or function of the above gene¬
ral integral which would be free from inconsistency or com¬
patible with those two leading principles. So far, how¬
ever, were they from attending to or being aware of this
circumstance, that supposing themselves oerfectly at liberty
i
to adopt any particular function of they made choice
0
d
of yzr A -f B (266-67 + 6) pk~x; where A and B are
arbitrary constants, and 6 is the temperature, because p has
been eliminated by the law of Mariotte. This form was
adopted by these philosophers, that it might agree, as they
supposed, with the hypothesis that the expansions of air
under a constant pressure are proportional to the corre¬
sponding increments of absolute heat. But it is easily shown
that such a hypothesis is quite incompatible, not only with
the two leading principles, but with that very form which
was on its account purposely given to q, as was first point-
l89°cUt inQfeEdinburgh Philos°phical Journal (for October
io~b, p. 33o), and afterwards more explicitly in article Hy-
grometry (vol. xii. p. 113), where a similar question has
een consistently solved by a far more simple process of rea¬
soning-. r r
485
K .fiTbe Pre.cise value of the above-mentioned ratio of the spe-
:a (:Clhcheatsis considered an important element in the theory
ot sound 1 he experiments of Desormes and Clement give
1 304; those of Gay Lussac and Welter, 1-3748; and those
aescribed under the article Hygrometry, 1-3333; all of
'v ic seem to be smaller than what would reconcile the
. eory with the actual velocity of sound. But we shall
erwards see reason for supposing that there is still an-
ier source of acceleration, which has hitherto been over-
looked. In the Annales de Chimie for June 1829, and Me- Sound.
moires de l’Academic (tome x. p. 147), M. Dulong treats at'v-'—
considerable length on the specific heat of elastic fluids ; and
with the view of obtaining the ratio in question for each of
them, he assumes as demonstrated, that the actual velocity
of sound, in any elastic fluid whatever, has to the velocity
computed by Newton’s formula the subduplicate ratio of
the specific heat of that fluid under a constant pressure to
its specific heat under a constant volume. But since it is
only in air that the velocity of sound can be obtained by
direct means, Dulong availed himself of a method previous¬
ly employed by others, though by no means with complete
success, as is evident from the discordance of their results.
It consists in determining the velocity of propagation from
the musical note rendered by a given cylindrical tube, and
from the measured distance between two consecutive nodal
sections or positions of minimum vibration. The pitch of
the note gives the number of vibrations in a given time,
and consequently the time of propagation over the measured
interval, and therefore the velocity of the sound. By fol¬
lowing a particular process, Dulong was enabled to give
great precision to this method, which he practised first on
atmospheric air, with the view of testing the soundness of
the scheme; and by many successive trials he obtained
a series of results, each of which, instead of exceeding
fell short of the velocity determined by direct observation!
On finding therefore that this method failed in affording
quite so great a ratio as he had expected or wished, Du¬
long abandoned it altogether, and finally adopted 1-421 as
the ratio for air. This he obtained merely from taking the
mean of a great number of the direct experiments which
have been made on the velocity of sound in the open at¬
mosphere, though it is usually quoted by others as the re¬
sult of Dulong’s own experiments with the musical notes
from tubes. The same empirical mode of determining the
ratio, which, however, does nothing for clearing up*3 the
theory, has been prosecuted still more closely by Dr Si¬
mons, in the Philosophical Transactions for 1830. When
the number thus obtained is substituted in the formula, it
certainly answers admirably; and no wonder, for it is just
obtained by reasoning in a circle, which is fit to reconcile
every sort of discordance.
There can be no question that great ingenuity and su- Probable
penor analytical skill have frequently been displayed in source of
theoretically investigating the velocity of sound; but andiscord'
important oversight, and which probably is the principalance be~
source of the remaining discrepancy between the observed £".3
and the theoretical velocities, seems to attach to all the re-observa-
searches of this kind with which we are acquainted, in that don*
they are conducted upon two assumptions which are so very
incompatible with each other that both cannot be true if
indeed any of them is strictly so. In the first place, it is
assumed that the particles of the air, at least during a calm,
vibrate accurately in the direction in which the sound is
propagated. Secondly, that the air, during these vibrations,
pieserves or acts strictly in its fluid character. That the
investigations involve the first of these assumptions, is what
no one will for a moment dispute; and that they also pro¬
ceed upon the second, is evident from the circumstance that
the pressure of the air in such researches is always taken as
gruouslyTOupled^th^thbT^but^ith whichare^witterfo hicompSibfe ^and^that Same "(luation from these principles, ineon-
SUre’ !he variations of absolute heat in air are proportional to^hose^Hno V ^ need]ess assumption, that, under a constant pres-
equation savour of the incongruity of the data that it has be!n ^comn»SP b?i ^ .C0m™0.n scale- Rut so much does the resulting
ot the variables, and therefore totally unit for intetation AH tM, S h ™ J °f itS bdn? on,y true Particular statf
pa ramg the same fatal defect upon the production of Laplace and Poisson whirh ^ 3 °We- t<r PaSS’ lad not heen done with the view of
quation which has been deduced from Te two leading £ciS alone hv the f61 !? °f ^ essentia,1y diff«ent character. For the
488. ' SOU
SOU
Sound.
strictly proportional to some particular power of the uensitj,
viz. either to the simple density, as was done by Newton,
or to some higher power of it, as was in effect done by^ La¬
place and his followers. Now, such proportionality ot the
fluid pressure to any uniform power of the density, would
obviously require the particles constantly to observe the
same uniform arrangement during their vibrations, so as to
have the like distances between the adjacent particles of any
small portion of the air everywhere to vary inversely as tne
cube root of the density, with, perhaps, the mere exception
of as much difference of arrangement as is unavoidably due
to the density being different in different parts of a wave of
air. But it is easy to see that the two assumptions are so
inconsistent that only the one of them could be strictly tiue ,
because vibrations performed accurately in the direction of
the sound necessarily imply that (abstracting from the very
insignificant change of distance due to the sound s being
propagated in lines which are slightly diverging, because ra¬
diating from the source of sound) the distances of the par¬
ticles of the air, estimated perpendicularly to the direction
of the sound, would not be altered by or during these vi¬
brations ; and consequently that the density of any minute
volume of the air, instead of varying alike in all its three
dimensions, would vary in only one 01 them, namelj, in the
direction alone in which the sound is propagated through
it.
But, independently of the incompatibility of the two as¬
sumptions, the extreme rapidity or short duration of the vi¬
brations, whilst it gives some probability to the first, throws
as much doubt on the second. Nay, any thing like a strict
fulfilment of the second assumption seems, on this and va¬
rious other accounts, to be extremely improbable, particu¬
larly because, in order to preserve a uniform arrangement,
it w’ould require the most of the particles, notwithstanding
the rapidity of their vibrations, to describe lines deviating
so much and in all manner of ways from the diiection in
which a clear sound is understood to be propagated, that,
granting such interwoven vibrations to be possible, they
could be expected to produce nothing but a very confused
noise. Nor is it easy to conceive how, on that supposition,
two different sounds could ever cross each other’s paths
without seriously interfering, which does not appear to be
the fact. On the other hand, if we may not strictly adhere
to the first assumption, yet, by taking a mean between the
two, it would follow that the increase of the repulsion due
to condensation, and the diminution of it due to dilatation,
being both of them principally if not entirely confined to
the direction of the sound, they would both be so much the
greater in that direction; and by thus constituting an in¬
creased disturbance in the equilibrium of the repulsion reck¬
oned in that same direction, they would have a precisely si¬
milar effect on the result, as if the pressure of the air in its
otherwise supposed strictly fluid character had followed the
ratio of a higher power of the density than it really does.
Now, such an effect would obviously tend to shorten the
duration of the vibrations, or to increase the theoretical
velocity of sound, which is just the thing required in order
to make it agree with observation.
The preceding remarks become far more striking with
respect to the attempt which Poisson has always been con¬
sidered to have made successfully {Journal Polytechnique,
tome vii. p. 364), to show that the velocity of sound would
still be the same, although the vibrations were consider¬
able, and confined to a single straight line.
Doubts have been started if the air really consists of par¬
ticles, and whether it may not rather have some undefinable
constitution ; but such vague considerations cannot mate¬
rially alter the case, whilst there can be no question that
the "air, like all other matter, has inertia when at rest, and
momentum when in motion ; and also that as long as it is
considered to preserve or act strictly in its fluid character,
the matter of which any minute volume of it consists must Sou
be uniformly distributed. For it is upon properties es- 11
sentially the same with these that the above remarks are Sou!lcl
founded. (e. e. e.)
Sound, in Geography, denotes in general any strait or
inlet of the sea between two headlands. The name is given
by way of eminence to the strait between Sweden and Den¬
mark, joining the German Ocean to the Baltic, being about
three miles over.
SouND-Board, the principal part of an organ, and that
which makes the whole machine play. It is a reservoir,
into which the wind, drawn in by the bellows, is conducted
by a port-vent, and thence distributed into the pipes placed
over the holes of its upper part. The wind enters them
by valves, which open by pressing on the keys, after the
registers are drawn, by which the air is prevented from
passing into any of the other pipes besides those in which
it is required.
SouND-Board also denotes a thin broad board placed
over the head of a public speaker, to enlarge or extend and
strengthen his voice. Sound-boards are found by experi¬
ence to be of no use in theatres, as their distance from the
speaker is too great to be impressed with sufficient force.
But sound-boards over a pulpit have frequently a good ef¬
fect, when the case is constructed of a proper thickness,
and according to particular principles.
SOUNDS, Musical. See Music.
SOUNDING, the operation of trying the depth of the
sea and the nature of the bottom, by means of a plummet
sunk from a ship to the bottom. There are two plummets
used for this purpose; one of which is called the hand-lead,
weighing about eight or nine pounds ; and the other the
deep-sea lead, which weighs from twenty-five to thirty
pounds ; and both are shaped like the frustum of a cone
or pyramid. The former is used in shallow waters, and
the latter at a great distance from the shore, particularly
on approaching the land after a sea-voyage. Accordingly
the lines employed for this purpose are called the deep-sea
lead line, and "the hand-lead line. The hand-lead line,
which is usually twenty fathoms in length, is marked at
every two or three fathoms; so that the depth of the
water may be ascertained either in the day or night. At
the depth of two or three fathoms there are marks of black
leather ; at five fathoms, there is a white rag; at seven, a
red rag ; at ten, black leather ; at thirteen, black leather;
at fifteen, a white rag; and at seventeen, a red rag.
Sounding with the hand-lead, which by seamen is called
heaving the lead, is generally performed by a man who
stands in the main chains to windward. Having the
line quite ready to run out without interruption, he holds
it nearly at the distance of a fathom from the plummet;
and having swung the latter backwards and forwards three
or four times, in'order to acquire the greater velocity, he
swings it round his head, and thence as far forward as is
necessary ; so that by the lead’s sinking while the ship ad¬
vances, the line may be almost perpendicular when it
reaches the bottom. The person sounding then proclaims
the depth of the water, in a kind of song resembling the
cries of hawkers in a city. Thus, if the mark of five fa¬
thoms is close to the surface of the water, he calls, “ fly
the mark fiveand as there is no mark at four, six, eight,
&c. he estimates those numbers, and calls, “ By the dip
four,” &c. If he judges it to be a quarter or an hah more
than any particular number, he calls, “ And a quarter
five, and a half four,” &c. If he conceives the depth to
be three more than a particular number, he calls it a quar¬
ter less than the next: thus, at four fathoms and tn-e
fourths he calls, “ A quarter less five.”
The deep-sea lead is marked with two knots at twen
fathoms, three at thirty, and four at forty, and so on o
the end. It is also marked wdth a single knot in tne mi
SOU SOU 487
g .bays, die of each interval, as at twenty-five, thirty-five, forty- populous that they appear to be a continuation of the town. Sourera
^ /--''five fathoms, &c. To use this lead more effectually at Long. 112. 55. E. Lat. 7. 141. S. [|
sea, or in deep water on the sea-coast, it is usual previously SOURERA, a town of Hindustan, province of the Cir- Souti3.
to bring to the ship, in order to retard her course: the cars, and district of Ganjam. Long. 84. 37. E. Lat. 19. Eotert*
lead is then thrown as far as possible from the ship on the 53. N. ° '
line of her drift, so that, as it sinks, the ship drives more SOURGOUTE, a small town of Asiatic Russia, situ-
perpendicularly over it. The pilot, feeling the lead strike ated on the Obi, in a climate so severe that no grain can
the bottom, readily discovers the depth of the water by the be raised in the neighbourhood. The town consists of
mark on the line nearest its surface. The bottom of the 168 houses, and contains two churches. It is the residence
lead being also well rubbed over with tallow, retains the of a commissary, who collects an annual tribute of furs
distinguishing marks of the bottom, as shells, ooze, gravel, from the Ostiaks, the inhabitants of the country.
&c. which naturally adhere to it. The depth of the Sourgoute, a river of Tobolsk, in Asiatic Russia, which
water, and the nature of the ground, which is called the falls into the Obi near the towm of the same name, after
soundings, are carefully marked in the log-book, as well to a course of 100 miles.
determine the distance of the place from the shore, as to SOUTCHEOUFOU, a large city of China, and capital
correct the observations of former pilots. of the province of Kiangnan, situated on the great canal,
SOU RABAT A, a large and flourishing town of Java, not far from its southern termination at Hangtcheoufou.
on the north-eastern coast, and capital of a government of It is one of the finest cities in China, noted for "the beauty
the same name, subordinate to that of Java. It is situated of its site, which is intersected by rivers and canals, and is
at the mouth of a river, navigable for vessels of 100 tons compared by Europeans to Venice. This city is celebrated
one mile and a half from the sea-shore. The harbour is as an emporium of pleasure, and supplies the country with
one of the most convenient in the island ; it is broad and the choicest rope-dancers, jugglers, and the best actors; is
spacious, secure against the violence of the sea and wind ; famed for the beauty of its females; and is, in consequence,
and it is mentioned by Sir Stamford Raffles, that it may the residence of great numbers of the rich and voluptuous
be rendered impregnable to any hostile attack.1 It is form- Chinese. The walls are more than four leagues in compass ;
ed by the approaching extremities of the islands of Java and the suburbs extend along the canal, which is everywhere
and Madura, which in some places are not above eighty- crowded with large barks, that afford a permanent residence
three fathoms distance for about ten or fifteen miles. This to many of the inhabitants. It has an extensive manufac-
strait is not of easy navigation, but it is marked all along ture of brocade and embroidery; and, from the continual
by buoys ; and is, besides, defended by strong batteries, bustle and crowds in the streets, it has the appearance of a
One of these, a circular battery, has a commanding sweep great centre of trade. Long. 120. E. Lat. 31. 22. N.
across the Strait of Madura, which is narrowest there, being SOUTH, one of the four cardinal points from which the
opposite to the south-west end of the island of that name, winds blow.
The eastern entrance being impassable for large ships, the South, Robert, an eminent divine, was the son of Wil-
batteries are still incomplete on that side; but the north- liam South, a merchant of London, and was born at
western entrance is defended by Fort Ludowyk, distant Hackney, near that city, in 1633. He was educated at
from Gressie about six, and from Point Panka about five Westminster school, and afterwards in Christ-Church Col-
miles. It presents, low on the water, a hundred pieces of lege, Oxford. In 1654, he wrote a copy of Latin verses
the finest ordnance, mounted on traversing carriages, be- to congratulate Cromwell upon the peace concluded with
sides some heavy mortars. The European part of the the Dutch; and the next year a Latin poem, entitled
town is separated from the Chinese part, and from the na- Musica Incantam. In 1660, he was elected public orator
live quarter, by the river ; but is connected with it by a of the university; and the following year became domestic
fine drawbridge. The houses are very good, some of them chaplain to Edward earl of Clarendon, lord high chancellor
elegant, particularly the newly erected country-seats of pri- of England. In 1663 he was installed prebendary of West-
vate individuals. The house of the British resident at Sim- minster, admitted to the degree of D. D., and had a sine-
pang is a fine large building, close to the river; and near it cure in Wales bestowed on him by his patron, the earl of
the general hospital is unequalled in elegance and commo- Clarendon; after whose retirement into France in 1667,
diousness. Sourabaya has been greatly improved within he became chaplain to the duke of York. In 1670 he was
these few years, in proportion as the neighbouring town of installed canon of Christ-Church ; and in 1676 attended
Gressie has fallen into decay. A fine arsenal, and other as chaplain to Laurence Hyde, Esq. ambassador extra-
extensive works, calculated for equipments on a very large ordinary to the king of Poland. In 1678 he was pre¬
scale, were formed by General Daendels at this place, sented to the rectory of Is! ip in Oxfordshire; and in 1680
vessels are built and equipped at Sourabaya. Abundance rebuilt the chancel of that church, as he, afterwards did the
of timber is procured from the adjoining forests, which is rectory-house belonging to it. After the revolution he
floated down the river that takes its rise from a large in- took the oath of allegiance to King William and Queen
land lake encircled with high mountains. Here is also a Mary, though he excused himself from accepting a great
mint, from which silver and copper coins are issued. A dignity in the church, vacated by the personal refusal of
new government-house was begun at Sourabaya, and was that oath. His health began to decline several years be-
designed to be a splendid edifice; but the foundation of fore his death, which happened in 1716. He was interred
the front range having sunk, and endangered the build- in Westminster Abbey, where a monument is erected to
mg, the plan was abandoned, and that part which conti- his memory. He published, 1. Animadversions on Dr
mied firm was converted into store-rooms. Ships from Sherlock’s Vindication of the Holy and ever Blessed
mtavia bound to China or the Philippines generally Trinity; 2. A Defence of his Animadversions; 3. Ser-
touch for refreshments at this place, especially during the mons, 8 vols. 8vo. And after his decease were published
north-west monsoon. The surrounding country is fertile, his Opera Posthuma Latina, and his posthumous English
and shaded by thickets of bamboos, bananas, and other Works. Dr South was remarkable for his wit, which
saru s. The adjacent country is remarkably populous; abounds in all his writings, and particularly in his sermons;
an t e villages of the Javanese, Malays, and Chinese are so but at the same time they equally abound in ill humour,
* RafHes’s History of Java, vo!. i. p. 12.
488
SOU
South spleen, and satire. He was remarkable for being a time-
Cape server. During the life of Cromwell he was a staunch
South Sea Presbyter’an) an(i ^ien railed against the Independents ;
v-^-~ at the Restoration he exerted his pulpit-eloquence against
the Presbyterians; and in the reign of Queen Anne was
a warm advocate for Sacheverel.
South Cape, at the southern extremity of New Holland.
Long. 146. 56. E. Lat. 43. 47. S.
South-east Islands, a group of islands, forming part of
Recherche Archipelago, on the south coast of New Holland.
Lat. 33. 53. S.
South Island, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near
the south-west coast of the island of Boutton. Long. 122.
50. E. Lat. 5. 42. S. This is also the name of a small island
in the Indian Sea, near the eastern coast of Madagascar.
Long. 50. 20. E. Lat. 17. S. There is another small island
of this name near the south coast of the island of Celebes.
Long. 120. 51. E. Lat. 5. 45. S.
South of India, a division of Hindustan, which is of a
triangular figure, and has the Krishna river for its base,
Cape Comorin the apex, while the sides are formed by the
coasts of Coromandel and Malabar. It is 600 miles in
length from Cape Comorin to the Krishna, and 500 miles
in breadth where broadest. The great feature of this ex¬
tensive region is the central table-land, from 3000 to 5000
feet above the level of the sea, separated by a wild, abrupt,
and mountainous country, from the low plains to the east
and west, which form a belt of small but unequal breadth
between the hills and the sea. In this division of India
may be seen the Hindu manners in their primitive simpli¬
city, especially in Tinnevelly and the adjacent districts.
The Mahommedans are few in comparison with the native
Hindus, over whom twenty centuries have passed without
making any change in their habits. Southern India has
suffered grievously from the devastations of war, and fully
as much from the cruel extortion of its rulers. The terri¬
tories comprehended in this division of the country are, a
small pprtion of the Bejapoor province, the Balaghaut ceded
districts; the Carnatic, Northern, Central, and Southern;
Mysore, Canara, Malabar, Barramahal, Coimbetoor, Din-
digul, Salem and Kistnagherry, Cochin and Travancore;
a detailed description of which will be found under their re¬
spective appellations.
South Sea, or Pacific Ocean, is that vast body of wafer
interposed between Asia and America. It does not, how¬
ever, strictly speaking, reach quite to the continent of Asia,
excepting to the northward of the peninsula of Malacca;
for the water interposed between the eastern coast of Africa
and the peninsula just mentioned has the name of the Indian
Ocean. The South Sea, then, is bounded on one side by
the western coast of America, through its whqle extent,
from the unknown regions in the north to the Straits of
Magellan and Terra del Fuego, where it communicates
with the southern part of the Atlantic. On the other side,
it is bounded by the coast of Asia, from the northern pro¬
montory of Tschukotskoi Noss, to the peninsula of Ma¬
lacca already mentioned. Thence it is bounded to the
southward by the northern coasts of Borneo, Celebes, Ma¬
cassar, New Guinea, New Holland, and the other islands
in that quarter, which divide it from the Indian Ocean.
Then, washing the eastern coast of the great island of New
Holland, it communicates with that vast body of water en¬
compassing the whole southern part of the globe, and which
has the general name of the Southern Ocean. Thus does
this vast ocean occupy almost the semicircumference of
the globe, reaching nearly from one pole to the other, and
about the equatorial parts extending almost 180° in longi¬
tude, or 12,500 of our miles. The northern parts of the
Pacific Ocean are entirely destitute of land, not a single
island having yet been discovered in it from the latitude
of 40° north and upwards, excepting such as are very near
SOU
the coast either of Asia or America; but in the southernSoutl
part the islands are very numerous. See Polynesia. C*
South-west Cape, on the south coast of New Hol¬
land, in the South Pacific Ocean, north-west of South Cape
Long. 146. 7. E. Lat. 43. 32. S. ^
South-west Isles, a group of islands, seven in number,
dependent on the Banda Islands. Kissier is the chief,
which lies to the south-west of them all. They are low,
and surrounded by shoals and rocks, and are inhabited by
a ferocious and perfidious race, resembling those of New
Guinea, who seem to have sprung from the Papuas or abo¬
rigines of that country, and the Caffres of Africa. They
produce sandal-wood. The Dutch had a commercial es¬
tablishment here. Population 36,266.
SOUTHAM, a small town of the hundred of Knightlow,
in the county of Warwick, eighty-three miles from London.
It has little or no trade. The inhabitants amounted in
1801 to 935, in 1811 to 1007, in 1821 to 1161, and in 1831
to 1256.
SOUTHAMPTON, a town of Hampshire, seventy-
seven miles from London. It is finely situated at the junc¬
tion of the river Test with the Itchen ; these form an ex¬
panse of water, by which vessels may approach the town.
It was anciently fortified, and the remains of its walls and
castle still exist. It is one of the best-built towns of Eng¬
land. The High Street is broad and well paved. South¬
ampton contains five parish churches, several alms-houses,
a grammar school, some convenient bathing-houses, public
rooms, and an elegant theatre. The borough was incor¬
porated by Charles I., and is governed by a mayor, re¬
corder, bailiffs, sheriff, and common-council men. It re¬
turns two members to parliament. It is ip fact a county
of itself, having its own magistrates, of whom the bishop of
Winchester is one. This town has long been a place of
great trade with Portugal, chiefly for the importation of
port-wdne and fruit. It has also some trade with France,
with the islands of Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, and espe¬
cially with the Isle of Wight, to which place packet-boats
are constantly sailing. The mildness of the air, the faci¬
lity of making excursions by water as well as by land, the
vicinity of the Isle of Wight and of New Forest, contribute
to render the town a desirable place for either a temporary
or a permanent residence, which is further recommended
by the excellent supplies of fish, fruit, meat, and other ne¬
cessaries. The railway which connects Southampton with
the metropolis will greatly tend to promote its prosperity.
The inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 7629, in 1811 to 9258,
in 1821 to 13,913, and in 1831 to 19,324.
SOUTHEND, a hamlet in the parish of Prittlewell, in
the hundred of Rochford and county of Essex, forty-two
miles from London. It stands at the mouth of the Thames,
opposite to Sheerness; and from its easy communication
with the metropolis, it has of late years been resorted to by
considerable numbers for sea-bathing.
SOUTHERNE, Thomas, an eminent dramatic writer,
was born at Dublin in 1660, and received his education
in Trinity College. He came young to London to study
law ; but instead of that, devoted himself to poetry and the
writing of plays. His Persian Prince, or Loyal Brother,
was introduced in 1682, when the Tory interest was tri¬
umphant in England ; and the character of the Loyal
Brother being intended to compliment James duke of
York, he rewarded the author when he came to the throne
with a commission in the army. On the Revolution taking
place, he retired to his studies, and wrote several plays,
from which he is supposed to have derived a very hand¬
some subsistence, being the first who raised the advantage
of play-writing to a second and third night. I he most
finished of all his plays are the Fatal Marriage, or the Inno¬
cent Adultery ; and Oroonoko, or the Royal Slave, which
is built on a true story related in one of Mrs Behn’s novels.
s o z
h- Mr Southerne died in 1746, in the eighty-sixth year of
ton his age; the latter part of which he spent in a peaceful
serenity, having, by his commission as a soldier, and the
,e‘ profits of his dramatic works, acquired a handsome fortune,
^ and being an exact economist, he improved what fortune
he gained to the best advantage. He enjoyed the longest
life of all our poets, and died the richest of them, a very
few excepted. His plays are printed in three volumes 12mo.
See the Biographia Dramatica, vol. i. p. 680.
SOUTH-MOULTON, a market-town, in the hundred
of the same name, in the north part of the county of Devon,
179 miles from London, and twelve miles from Barnstaple.
It stands on the river Moule, and contains many good houses,
a large and handsome church, a commodious guild-hall, and
a free grammar-school. The population amounted in 1821
to 3314, and in 1831 to 3826.
SOUTHWARK, a borough in the county of Surrey,
but one of the suburbs of London, being only separated
from it by the river Thames. The means of access have
been greatly increased by a new bridge, and by the re¬
building of London Bridge. It contains six parishes, and,
as to its police, is in a great degree under the control of
the magistracy of the city. As it in fact forms a district of
the capital, it is described under the head London.
SOUTHWELL, a town of the hundred of Thurgarton,
in the county of Nottingham, 139 miles from London.
It is situated on a pleasing elevation above the plain water¬
ed by the river Trent. The parish church is collegiate,
and well endowed, having sixteen prebendaries, besides
choristers and singing boys. The chapter has jurisdiction
over twenty-eight parishes. Its house was erected in 1377,
and its library rebuilt in 1784. There are remains of an
old palace belonging to the archbishops of York, with a
beautiful walk on the north side of the church. There is
a well-endowed and w’ell-conducted free grammar-school,
and a good market on Saturday. The inhabitants amount¬
ed in 1801 to 2305, in 1811 to 2674, in'1821 to 3051, and
in 1831 to 3834.
SO UTH WOLD, a seaport town of the hundred of
Blything, in the county of Suffolk, 105 miles from London.
It is situated on the river Blythe. It is connected with
the port of Yarmouth, but has a corporation of its own.
The herring-fishery is extensively carried on in it, and of
late years it has been resorted to for sea-bathing. The in¬
habitants amounted in 1821 to 1676, and in 1831 to 1875.
SOVEREIGN, in matters of government, is applied to
the supreme magistrate or magistrates of an independent
government or state; because their authority is only bound¬
ed by the laws of God and the laws of the state : such are
kings, princes, &c.
Sovereign Power, or Sovereignty, is the power of mak¬
ing or sanctioning laws ; for wherever that power resides,
all others must conform to it, and be directed by it, what¬
ever appearance the outward form and administration of the
government may assume. For it is at any time in the op¬
tion of the legislature to alter that form and administration
y a new edict or rule, and to put the execution of the laws
into whatever hands it pleases ; and all the other powers of
e state must obey the legislative power in the execution
ot their several functions, or else the constitution is at an
ena. In our constitution the law ascribes to the king the
nttribute of sovereignty ; but that is to be understood in a
qualified sense ; that is, he is supreme magistrate, not sole
egislator, as the legislative power is vested in the king,
80tyvuItmons’ not in any of the three estates alone,
thp ^B^NUS, Hermias, an ecclesiastical historian of
tint u century> was born at Gaza or Bethelia, in Pales-
6. e ^as educated for the law, and became a pleader
tin ,0”*fantlnoP^e> He wrote an abridgment of Ecclesias-
istory, in two books, from the ascension of our
VOL. XX.
SPA
Saviour to the year 323. This compendium is lost; but a
continuation of it in nine books, written at greater length,
down to the year 439, is still extant. He seems to have
copied Socrates, who wrote a history of the same period.
The style of Sozomenus is perhaps more elegant; but in
other respects he falls far short of that writer, displaying
throughout his whole book an amazing credulity, and a su¬
perstitious attachment to monks and the monastic life. His
work, with those of Eusebius and Socrates, was published
by R. Stephanus in 1544, by H. Valesius at Paris in 1668,
and by Reading at Cambridge in 1720. All these editions
are in folio. Several others have likewise appeared.
_ kPA, a town of the Netherlands, in the province of
Liege and arrondissement of Verviers. It is one of the
oldest, and was the most frequented, of the continental wa¬
tering places. Its name has become generic for similar
springs. It is situated in a narrow valley watered by a
rapid and clear brook. The town consists of detached houses
of all sizes, appropriate to the circumstances of the several
classes of visitors.
The most remarkable waters are, 1. The Pouhon, situat¬
ed in the middle of the town, which is more strongly im¬
pregnated with steel than the others; 2. The Sauveniere,
a mile and a hall east from it; 3. Groisbeck, near to the
Sauveniere; 4. Tonnelet, situated a little to the left of the
road which leads to the Sauveniere; 5. Geronstere, two
miles south from Spa; 6. Wartroz, near to the Tonnelet *
7. Sarts or Niveset, in the district of Sarts; 8. Chevron
or Bru, in the principality of Slavelot; 9. Couve; 10. Be-
verse ; 11. Sige; 12. Geremont. These four last are near
Malmedy.
Dr Brownrigg was the first person who discovered that
carbonic acid gas forms a principal ingredient in the com¬
position of the Spa waters, and actually separated a quan¬
tity of this elastic fluid, by exposing it to different degrees
of heat from 110° to 170° of Fahrenheit. From twenty
ounces seven drams and fourteen grains apothecaries’weight
of the Pouhon water, he obtained eight ounces two drams
and fifty grains.
The Spa waters are diuretic, and sometimes purgative.
They exhilarate the spirits; and are more cooling, and
allay thirst more effectually, than common water. They
are found beneficial in cases of weakness and relaxation,
either partial or universal; in nervous disorders; in ob¬
structions of the liver and spleen ; in cases where the blood
is too thin and putrescent; in cases of excessive discharges
proceeding from weakness; in the gravel and stone; and
in most cases where a strengthening remedy is wanted.
But they are hurtful in confirmed obstructions attended
with fever, where there is no free outlet to the matter, as
in ulcerations of the lungs. They are also injurious to bi¬
lious and plethoric constitutions, when used before the body
is cooled by proper evacuations.
Spa was more fashionable formerly than it is at present.
There ate in it manufactures of iron, wood, and gilt toys.
The resident inhabitants are about 3300.
SPACAf ORNO, a city of the island of Sicily, in the
province of Noto. It stands in a healthy situation on a hill,
near the seaports of La Marza, and Santa Maria. It con¬
tains 8100 inhabitants, employed in various trades. Near
to it is the 1 roglodyte town of Ispica, where the houses are
excavated in calcareous rocks on both sides of a narrow val¬
ley.
SPAGIRIC Art, a name given by old authors to that
species of chemistry which works on metals, and is employed
in the search of the philosopher’s stone.
SPAHIS, horsemen in the Ottoman army, chiefly raised
in Asia. I he great strength of the grand signior’s army
formerly consisted in the janisaries, who were the foot, and
the spahis, who were the cavalry.
489
Spa
II .
Spahis.
3 Q
490
SP AIN.
History. The kingdoms of Spain and Portugal together form what
is called the Pyrenean Peninsula, the most southerly, and
at the same time the most westerly, portion of Europe. Ex¬
cept on the north-east, where it is connected with the rest
of Europe by an isthmus about one hundred miles in breadth,
this peninsula is wholly surrounded by the ocean. Spain,
which occupies by far the greater part of it, has for its
boundaries on the south and south-east the Mediterranean^
Sea; on the west, partly the long and narrow territory of
Portugal, partly the Atlantic Ocean ; on the north, the
Bay of Biscay ; and on the north-east the Pyrenees, a chain
holding the second rank among the mountains of Europe,
and forming a well-defined line of separation between Fiance
and Spain.
That the Peninsula was peopled at a very early period
seems abundantly certain, but by whom it would be vain
to inquire. The traditions which ascribe its colonization
to Tubal, the grandson of Noah, may be allowed to repose
undisturbed in the obscurity of the chronicles in which
they are embodied. The earliest inhabitants whom his¬
tory makes known to us were the Iberians, a race proba¬
bly of Asiatic origin. At some period lost in the depths
of antiquity, the Celts, amid their wide-spread migrations,
penetrated into the Peninsula; but we are still ignorant
how they entered the country, and whence they came, al¬
though these subjects have been matter of keen disputation.
The two nations appear at first to have contended for the
sovereignty of the soil, but finally to have amalgamated, to
have shared the country between them, and, as a united
people, to have assumed the compound name of Celtibe-
rians. They were split into numerous tribes or clans, each
of which occupied its own particular territory.
The delightful climate which Spain enjoys, the fertility
of its soil, and the mines of gold, silver, and iron, by which
it is enriched, proved powerful attractions to the Rhodians
and Phoenicians, who established colonies in the country at
a very early period. But the Carthaginians were the people
who obtained the firmest footing in it. Availing themselves
of the pretext of commerce, they frequented the coast of
Cadiz, where they succeeded in erecting fortresses, dwell¬
ing-houses, temples, and buildings where business was trans¬
acted ; and pushing their conquests into the interior as well
as along the coast, they at length made themselves masters
of the whole of Bsetica or Andalusia, employing force when
artifice failed. The Spaniards were roused to make resist¬
ance, but it was too late. Hamilcar, father of Hannibal,
succeeded in overrunning a considerable part of the coun¬
try, and bringing it, at least nominally, under subjection to
Carthage, 238 years before the birth of Christ. He extend¬
ed his conquests towards Murcia, Valencia, and Catalonia,
in the latter of which provinces he founded the city of Bar¬
celona. This conqueror having perished in a battle fought
with some of the native tribes, was succeeded by his son-
in-law Asdrubal, who built the port of New Carthage, now
called Carthagena. The rapid strides which the Cartha¬
ginians had made towards the total subjugation of the
Peninsula, aroused the fears of the Greek colonies situated
on the coast of Catalonia and Valencia, and alarmed those
tribes in the interior who still stoutly maintained their in¬
dependence. Too weak to make head against Carthage
themselves, they applied to the Romans for assistance.
This great nation had long regarded with a jealous eye the
growing prosperity of its rival Carthage, and eagerly em¬
braced the cause of the discontented states. In the cha¬
racter of ally and protector, Rome sent a deputation to Car¬
thage, and obtained from its senate two important con¬
cessions ; that the Carthaginians should not extend their Hist*
conquests beyond the Ebro ; and that they should not dis-v
turb the Saguntines and the other Greek colonies. But
these conditions, although agreed to, did not correspond
with the gigantic designs which Asdrubal had formed.
The Romans, fully aware of the vast riches which the Car¬
thaginians drew from Spain, and of the immense value of
such a country to themselves in prosecuting their own am¬
bitious schemes of foreign conquest, had entered into close
alliance with some of the discontented tribes, no doubt
with the ulterior view of subjecting them to their own
domination. Saguntum, one of the most flourishing cities
of the Peninsula, was one of these allies of Rome; and
Asdrubal, in the prosecution of his design of subduing the
whole of Spain before Rome could send succours to the
confederates, collected a considerable force and marched
against this city. On his way, however, he was assassinated
by a slave ; but the chief command passed into still abler
hands, those of the renowned Hannibal. This famous Car¬
thaginian was then in his twenty-fifth year, and greatly es¬
teemed for his valour and his talents. After having con¬
quered the kingdom of Toledo, he besieged Saguntum with
his whole force, which is said to have amounted to 150,000
men. The Romans lost much time in fruitless attempts at
negociation, and failed to send prompt succour to its faith¬
ful ally. The consequence was, that after a vigorous de¬
fence, the Saguntines were so reduced by hunger and fa¬
tigue, that they retired from the walls into the centre of
the city, where they amassed all their valuable effects, and
every thing combustible, into one vast pile. Placing their
wives and children around it, they themselves issued from
the gates and plunged sword in hand into the midst of the
Carthaginians. The slaughter was prodigious on both sides,
but in the end the Saguntines were cut off almost to a man.
No sooner was their fate known in the city than their wives
set fire to the pile, and precipitated themselves and their
children into the devouring element. Thus perished Sa¬
guntum, one of the largest and most flourishing cities of
Spain ; and its destruction may be regarded as the opening
of the second Punic war. Of the contests carried on be¬
tween the Carthaginians and the Romans, till the final sub¬
jugation of the former, and the consequent incorporation of
its territories with the Roman empire, an account will be
found under the articles Carthage and Roman History.
We shall only in this place notice such leading events as
are necessary to give clearness and connection to our nar¬
rative. ' , ,
Two centuries were required by Rome to effect the total
subjugation of Spain, that is, from the first invasion of the
country by Cneus Cornelius Scipio in the year 218 b. c.,
till the last tribes, the Cantabrians and Asturians, laid down
their arms to Augustus in the year 19 b. c. No other con¬
quest had cost Rome so much. The numbers who pensnec
in the field of battle, and the amount of treasure sacrificed,
are not to be calculated. At the same time, scarcely any
other acquisition was productive of so much advantage o
the state, from the inexhaustible riches of the coun r).
After the destruction of the Carthaginian power m bpain,
this country was regarded as a Roman province, receive
name of Hispania, and was divided by the senate into i
rior and Ulterior, or Hither and Farther; the Ebro serv¬
ing as a boundary between the two. Each of t res
governed by a praetor, annually appointed by Rome,
extortions of these functionaries very soon became P
pressive to the natives, that they at last resolved on attemp
ing to rid themselves of their unprincipled rulers.
SPAIN.
ry. thus, a native of Lusitania, the mftst remarkable man in the
ancient history of Spain, collected a considerable body of
malcontents, and took the field against the Romans. Not
only by stratagems and sudden surprises, but in regular
pitched battles, he succeeded in foiling the most valiant
officers of the Roman legions. For above eleven years he
bade defiance to the formidable hosts of the invader. To
subdue him by force of arms was found impossible, and the
base spirit of Q. Servilius Caepio had recourse to treachery.
The offer of a magnificent recompense stimulated three
of the followers of Viriathus to assassinate him, which
bloody deed they accomplished whilst he lay asleep. It
is some consolation to record, that the murderers were dis¬
appointed of their reward, and dismissed from the Roman
camp with insults and contempt. The indomitable spirit of
independence which animated the Spaniards was not, how¬
ever, broken by the death of their great leader. The Nu-
mantians, in particular, still remained fiercely hostile to the
Romans, and the destruction of Numantia was decreed by
the senate. Scipio iEmilianus, the conqueror of Carthage,
was appointed to the command of the legions destined tor
this service, and the city was closely invested by a power¬
ful army. While food was left to the besieged, they defied
all the efforts of the Romans to take their city. Famine
however humbled them into submission, and they sued for
mercy, but in vain. Driven to desperation, the wretched
remains of the defenders issued from the gates, and fell with
fury upon the Roman intrenchments ; but they were forced
back within the walls. fEmilianus had formed the cruel
resolution of starving them into an unconditional surrender.
Rather than yield to this, the Numantians determined, in
imitation of the Saguntines, to make a sacrifice of them¬
selves, and of all that was valuable which they possessed.
This resolution they carried into effect under circumstances
even more shocking than those which accompanied the de¬
struction of Sagunturn. When the victor entered the city,
not a human being remained alive to grace his triumph;
nothing met his eyes but smouldering ruins and a horrible
solitude. This event took place in the year 133 b. c.
After the destruction of Numantia, three fourths of the
Peninsula submitted to Rome; and nothing very remarka¬
ble occurs in its history till the time of the civil war between
Marius and Sylla. The latter having crushed the Marian
faction, proscribed those who had taken a part in it, whom
he could not immediately destroy. Among these was Ser-
torius, who had previously served in Spain as a tribune;
a man of great bodily and mental endowments, of con¬
summate valour, and experience in the art of war, but
whose ambition was equal to his nobler gifts. Having es¬
caped to Spain, he there succeeded in gaining over to his
interest several of the native tribes, raised a considerable
army, and routed the Roman legions in repeated engage¬
ments. Fie introduced a strict order of discipline among
his troops, founded public schools, constituted a senate in
imitation of that of Rome, and attempted to establish in
Spain a rival sovereignty to that of Italy. But, in the
midst of these brilliant though ambitious undertakings,
Sertorius was basely assassinated by his subaltern Perpenna,
in the year 73 b. c. With the death of this great captain
expired the last faint glimmer of national independence.
Pompey, and afterwards Julius Caesar, reduced most of
the native tribes to subjection. After the fall of Pom-
pey in Africa, his eldest son selected Spain as the fittest
scene for opposing the dreaded dictator. For the fourth
fcme, Caesar hastened to the Peninsula, and, on the plains of
Munda, gained a bloody but decisive victory over the younger
Pompey, who was slain in attempting to effect his escape
irom the country. Augustus, the successor of Caesar,
effectually secured the dominion of Rome over Spain, hav-
j'j'S reduced the Asturians, Galicians, and Cantabrians,
the bravest and most warlike of the native tribes. Spain
491
now began to rest from the continual wars with which it History.
had been devastated from the period of the Carthaginian  
conquest, and quietly submitted to the domination of Rome,
from which it received its religion, its laws, its manners, and
its language.
It has already been noticed that the country was at first
divided into two provinces, Citerior and Ulterior, between
which flowed the Ebro as the natural boundary. With the
advance of the Romans the size of the provinces increased,
but it is impossible to define their exact limits before the
time of Augustus. This emperor, less desirous of effecting
new conquests than of securing the old, made arrangements
for improving the condition of the whole peninsula. Out
of the two provinces he formed three, and gave them the
names of Tarraco, Lusitania, and Baetica. Under the pre¬
text of saving time and trouble to the senate, but really
for the purpose of retaining power over the whole army in
his own hands, he undertook the management of two of
the provinces, in which, on account of the pretended inse¬
curity of their situation, a considerable number of troops
was maintained. Only Baetica came under the direct con¬
trol of the senate. A proconsul, who had his seat at His-
palis, was installed governor of this province, but without
any military power; whilst in the imperial provinces, a
legatus Augustalis in Emerita, and a legatus proconsularis
in Tarraco, exercised complete civil and military autho¬
rity. Subsequently the province conceded to the senate
fell entirely under the sway of the emperor, when the go¬
vernor received the name of praeses or president. The
districts being very extensive, it was found necessary to ap¬
point inferior officers; under the legate of Lusitania wras
placed a vice-legatus militaris, and there were three placed
under the consular legates of Tarraco. A legate and a
quaestor were subject to the proconsul of Baetica. In this
manner the country as a whole was divided. Let us now
take a glance of the constitution and condition of the
towns.
After the complete subjugation of the Peninsula, the co¬
horts, composed principally of the natives of the country,
were transplanted to the most distant parts of the empire,
while Roman legions were sent into Spain to supply their
place. No arrangement could have been made that was
better calculated to give a Roman impress to the character
of the people, and to their manners, customs, and establish¬
ments. In the interior of the country, towns purely Roman
sprung up, small tracts of country having been conferred on
soldiers as a reward for their services. Thus the town of Leon
is indebted for its name and origin to the seventh legion, which
settled there; and in the same manner arose Emerita Augus¬
ta (Merida), Pax Julia (Beja), Caesar Augusta (Saragossa),
and many others. Originally, most of the cities managed
their own affairs; but when Caracalla declared all his subjects
throughout his vast empire Roman citizens, the constitutions
of the cities of Spain were made uniform with those of the
other cities of the empire. Rome, the capital, wras the great
type to which they all conformed. For purposes of general
police, and for the superintendence of public works, for¬
tresses, entertainments, and the like, aediles were appointed
in provincial towns, whose office, however, was one more of
pomp and honour than emolument. The affairs of the cities
weie universally administered by a council or curia, the
members of which, called decuriones, were chosen from
among the richest and most respectable of the inhabitants.
As advocates or defenders of the people, there were the
dejensoves civitatum, who neither belonged to the body of
the decurions nor to the army, but formed rather a sort of
check upon these, and resisted the encroachments of power
on the rights of the citizens. We pass over a number of
other subordinate functionaries, whose duties are either im¬
perfectly known, or, where known, of minor importance.
All matters not cognizable by the legal tribunals, nor af-
492
SPAIN.
History, fecting the interest of the emperor, were discussed in the
'assembly of the decurions. For all important affairs, such
as those affecting the welfare of the whole district, the de¬
curions of the principal city of a province could call a ge¬
neral assembly, concilium, to which the other towns sent
plenipotentiaries. Long after the comitia had ceased to
exist in Rome, the province enjoyed the privilege of calling
together such meetings ; and they served at the same time
as a means of making known their wants to the emperor.
Of all the provinces incorporated with the Roman em¬
pire, there was not one productive of so much gain, not
one in which such inexhaustible sources of wealth were dis¬
covered, as the Pyrenean Peninsula. Mines, rich in the pre¬
cious metals,1 satisfied the thirst of the Romans for gold;
and a soil nowhere surpassed in productiveness filled their
granaries with corn. During the republic the Peninsula
was laid under the obligation of supplying the capital of
the empire with the twentieth part of its corn harvests.
The price paid for the grain was fixed by the Roman se¬
nate itself, a convenient way of obtaining cheap provisions.
While Spain continued to be ravaged by war, the Ro¬
mans did not in general bind themselves to a regular sys¬
tem of taxation, but only drew as much from the Peninsula
as it was convenient for it to pay at the time; but when
low : of Bsetica, Hispali#'; of Lusitania, Emerita ; of Gali- Hist
cia, Bracara ; of Tarraco, Caesar Augusta; of Carthagena,v,
New Carthage ; of the Balearic Isles, Palma ; and of Tin-
gitania, Tingis. The first three were placed under con¬
suls, and the others under presidents (prcesides). Spain
was subject to the prefecture of Gaul, and over these local
governors was placed a vicar (yicarius), whose administration
was chiefly confined to civil affairs, and the count {comes),
whose functions were of a military nature. Sometimes,
however, both the civil and military departments fell to the
vicar. We have yet to mention one important event con¬
nected with the Roman conquest of Spain, namely, the in¬
troduction of Christianity into the Peninsula. This took
place so early that the unanimous voice of tradition has as¬
cribed it to St James the elder ; and from the same autho¬
rity we also learn that St Paul preached “ Christ crucified”
to the idolaters of Spain. Of course little or no reliance is
to be placed on such statements ; but whether the apostles
or their successors propagated the gospel in these regions,
certain it is that Spain can adduce her martyrs as early as
the second century. There is abundant evidence to prove
the antiquity of the persecutions sustained by the Christians
of Spain, but our limits prevent us from entering into details.
The prosperity of the Peninsula began to decline after
the conquest of the country was completed, a fixed rate of the death of Constantine, a. d. 337. A species of tax in¬
troduced by Diocletian, which was made to fall with para¬
lysing weight on the middle or industrious classes, proved
so pernicious in its operation, that in a short time the coun¬
try presented the melancholy picture of deserted towns,
fields lying waste, fruit-trees uprooted from the soil, that
taxation* was introduced. Consequently, after Augustus
had divided Spain in the manner which we have describ¬
ed, the senate sent quaestors into the provinces to collect
the taxes. In those provinces placed under the imme¬
diate control of the emperor, there were procurators em¬
ployed ; and functionaries of this class were also appoint- the possessors of the ground might lessen the value of their
ed to look after the monies received by the officers of the property, and thus escape the taxes ; trade and manufac-
senate, the application of the whole being under the entire tures at a stand; in short, nothing but desolation, poverty,
management of the emperor. These procurators were like- and misery, everywhere presented themselves. It only
wise extremely useful in preventing the subordinates from required a strong impulse from without to overwhelm the
defrauding the emperor. By degrees their number increas- whole country in ruins. The last day of the year 406
ed, so that ultimately there came to be procurators, not only
for the collective income of a province, but for separate
branches of the taxes.
In Spain, as well as throughout the whole Roman em¬
pire, the taxes consisted of a capitation and a land tax;
but by degrees, more from the extravagance of the empe¬
rors than from the necessities of the state, the people came
to be burdened with a multitude of other imposts. The
towns had their own particular estates and incomes, inde- ^ ^ ^ „
pendent of those of the government, and which were ma- the line of defence (409), they burst like a torrent through
naged by the civic authorities themselves. These served the Pyrenean chain, and poured the tide of destruction from
to defray the expenses of erecting public establishments, its base to the Pillars of Hercules. Native historians of the
building fortresses, and instituting games. The contribu- Peninsula describe the ravages committed by these barbari-
tion to the state taxes paid by the towns was levied by ans as dreadful and revolting almost beyond parallel. The
the magistrates from the inhabitants, in exact proportion to very wild beasts quitted their lairs to prey upon the human
their wealth ; hence the taxes, although they continued to species, too emaciated by famine and pestilence to drive
rise, did not press with unequal and crushing weight upon
individuals and classes. Never was Spain so wealthy, so
populous, and so industrious, as during the first centuries
of the empire. Aqueducts, bridges, amphitheatres, and
other magnificent structures, even the ruins of some of which
posterity surveys with wonder, still bear testimony to the
flourishing condition of the country during that period.
When Constantine the Great assumed the purple, im¬
portant changes were introduced into the empire. From
marks the passage of the Vandals, Alans, Suevi, and
other Germanic tribes, across the Rhine. From this river
to the Pyrenees, terror and dismay announced their ap¬
proach, death and destruction marked their progress. For
a time this great barrier of nature and of nations restrained
the roving bands, and the mountain-passes were at first well
guarded. But the prolific fields and wealthy mines of
Spain were too rich a prey not to be reached at all hazards.
Finding an opportunity, when negligence had weakened
them back. In a word, the country was turned into a de¬
sert ; and, satiated with carnage and rapine, the barbarians
sat down amidst its ruins and divided it by lot. Baetica fell
to the Vandals, Lusitania to the Alans, and Galicia, with
a great portion of Leon and Castille, to the Suevi. Tarraco
alone seems still to have been retained by the Romans.
But a fourth people, more formidable than all the rest
combined, came to disturb the new settlers in their pos-
These were the Goths under Ataulphus, to whom
the province of Tarraco he separated the governments of Honorius, the Roman emperor, had ceded the fertile pro¬
vinces of Southern Gaul and the Peninsula. The Gothic
monarch espoused Placidia, the emperor’s sister, in 414, and
immediately proceeded to Barcelona, where, however, he
was shortly afterwards assassinated. His successor, Sigenc,
a detestable monster, shared the same fate ; and the elec¬
tion of the Goths now fell upon Wallia, a chief every way
Carthagena and Galicia, thus making five provinces in the
Peninsula, viz. Tarraco, Carthagena, Galicia, Lusitania,
and Bsetica. Theodosius the Great erected the Bale¬
aric Isles into a province, and the African district of Tin-
gitania was also reckoned another, so that there were seven
in all. The principal cities of these provinces w ere as fol-
* Gibbon very justly observes, £t Spain, by a very singular fatality, was the Peru and Mexico of the old world. The disGOv'cry o ^
rich western continent by the Phoenicians, and the oppression of the simple natives, who were compelled to labour in their mines o
benefit of strangers, form an exact type of the more recent history of Spanish America.” Chap. vi.
SPAIN.
•y. worthy of their choice. Peace being made with Rome,
hostilities were vigorously commenced against the kindred
barbarians (418). The result of the war was the subjuga¬
tion of the Suevi, the total destruction of the Alans, and
the expulsion of the Vandals from Spain (427). But the
restless and powerful Suevi were scotched, not killed. Du¬
ring the reign of Theodoric, Wallia’s successor, they be¬
came formidable alike to the Romans and the Goths', and
made many important conquests in the neighbouring pro¬
vinces. Theodoric might easily have subdued them had
he not been summoned to encounter a far more terrible
antagonist, the renowned Attila, with his half million of
mounted Huns. The death of the Gothic monarch on the
plains of Chalons (451), the elevation of his son Thoris-
mund to the vacant throne, his assassination by his brothers,
and the elevation of the elder of the fratricides, Theodoric,
were events which closely followed each other. The reign
of the last-named prince was diversified by alternate suc¬
cess and disaster. The Peninsula, become one great battle¬
field to three contending hosts, the Goths, Romans, and
Suevi, was plunged in misery, and, from the Pyrenees to
the sea of Africa, was overspread with innumerable swarms,
which, like so many locusts, utterly destroyed the spots on
which they settled. While Theodoric was preparing to con¬
duct an army across the Pyrenees against Remismund, king
of the Suevi, he was assassinated by his brother Euric, in
his capital of Toulouse (466).
The reign of Euric was unusually brilliant and success¬
ful. He rendered himself absolute lord of the country, by
extinguishing the dominion of Rome in it, and completely
subjecting the Suevi. Euric was the first legislator of his
nation, and the founder of the Gothic kingdom of Spain;
for hitherto the country had rather been overrun than sub¬
dued. This prince died at Arles, the capital of his em¬
pire, a. d. 483. He was succeeded by his son Alaric, a
weak sovereign, who, after submitting pusillanimously to
many indignities, was overthrown in battle, and slain by
Clovis, king of the Franks (506). Amalaric, the son of
Alaric, being a minor, was for a time superseded by his
natural brother Gensaleic, but ultimately ascended the
throne (522). He was the first Gothic king who estab¬
lished his court in Spain. He fixed on the city of Seville.
From the death of this prince (531) till Recared I. became
king of the Goths (587), a few obscure royal names occur,
regarding whom it would be a mere waste of space to enter
mto details. The chief act of this sovereign was to re-
c aim his subjects from the heresy of Arianism to orthodox
Catholicism. He died in 601. Of eleven monarchs who
ollowed, occupying a period of seventy years, none is in
any way remarkable. In 673, Wamba, a man distinguish¬
ed alike for wisdom, valour, and virtue, was raised, by the
unanimous voice of the Gothic electors, to the throne, left
vacant by the death of Receswind (672). The early part
o his reign was spent in quelling intestine war. During
t ie latter part of it he successfully cultivated the arts of
peace, and built a fleet for the protection of the coast; a
veiy wise precaution, for the Saracens had already begun to
swm'm all over the sea of Africa. Had Wamba been succeed-
^ y monarchs of equal prudence and activity, the scourge
ot baracenic domination, the greatest perhaps that ever af-
icted any people, would probably have been for ever avert-
j ®Pa*n' *n consequence of having sunk into a
ueatn-like trance, in which state he was apparelled in the
garments of the grave, Wamba was compelled to relinquish
the crown (680). ^
One of the most celebrated names in the line of Gothic
709^°deripk’ who ascended the throne in
hk nvJi owe(1 hIS.elevation to a party which rose against
Cnimt SCySkor Witiza? whose two sons, with their relations,
and n JU ian’ g°vernor of the Gothic possessions in Africa,
uPpas, an archbishop, are supposed to have aided the
493
Saracens in their design of conquering the Peninsula. At History,
all events, the party which they formed against Roderick-v—
weakened the Gothic monarchy, and thus gave encourao-e-
ment to the Moors to make a descent on the country, which
they effected in 711. Roderick marshalled a large army,
amounting, it is said, to 90,000 men, and advanced against
the audacious infidel. The hosts met upon the plains of
Xeres, where was fought a battle, so bravely contested on
either side that it seems scarcely unworthy to have decided
the fate of a kingdom. For three days, from sunrise to
sunset, the embattled squadrons fought with equal ardour
and obstinacy, till victory at last declared for the Mahom-
medans. Roderick himself is believed to have perished in
the conflict, as he was never heard of more. By this de¬
cisive battle the Moors made themselves masters of near¬
ly the whole of Spain. The wretched remains of the Goths
retired into the mountainous parts of Asturias, Burgos, and
Biscay, where they maintained their independence, and
perpetuated their monarchy. In a few years their power
began to revive under the renowned Pelagio or Pelayo, a
piince of the royal blood. But before noticing the exploits
of this warrior, we shall take a brief view of the political,
dvil, and religious condition pf the people subject to the
Gothic monarchy.
The local divisions of Spain, as already laid down, under¬
went little or no change until some time after the descent
of the Mahommedans. The power possessed by the Gothic
kings was considerable; but its exercise was greatly con¬
trolled by the nobles, in general a fierce, turbulent, and
haughty body. The jurisdiction of the monarch was not
confined to affairs purely temporal. He nominated bishops,
presided, if he chose, at ecclesiastical tribunals, convoked
national councils, and regulated the discipline of the church.
Next to the king in civil dignity were the dukes, who ap¬
pear to have been governors of provinces. After them
came the counts, whose jurisdiction is supposed to have
been confined to particular cities. A number of other
functionaries were subordinate to these; and besides the
officers of the crown, each city or town had its municipal
council. Of course there were regular courts of law in¬
stituted throughout the country, where justice was adminis¬
tered ; the forms of procedure in these tribunals being
much the same as those practised in the Spanish courts at
the present day, but less tedious. There was a Visigoth
code of laws, partly of Gothic, partly of Roman origin. If
we pass from the civil to the military state of the country,
we find that the Goths were a nation of soldiers, the obli¬
gation of service being imperative on all freemen. After
the Gothic power was established in Spain, the constitu¬
tion of the church underwent important changes. The
pope was acknowledged as supreme head, and metropolitan
sees were formed, wdiich exercised an ecclesiastical jurisdic¬
tion over the suffragan bishops. The bishops possessed an
irresponsible power over the rectors, displacing or removino-
them at pleasure. The cathedrals and parish churches
were in general well endowed ; lay patronage existed, and
monasteries were introduced. As in other countries, the
ecclesiastical councils were of a threefold description, dio¬
cesan, provincial, and national, convoked respectively by
the bishop, the metropolitan, and the king. The Goths
present nothing of literature worthy of particular notice.
If we pass to the domestic arts, we find still less to admire;
in every thing they consulted the useful in preference to the
beautiful or magnificent. It is therefore to be concluded,
that however devout, temperate, honest, and sincere the
Goths might have been, as many historians attest, yet Spain
under their dominion made little advancement in civilization
and the elegant arts.
The Moors under Tank and Musa subdued the fairest
portion of Spain, including the largest and strongest cities
of the kingdom, with a rapidity which shows how complete-
494
SPAIN.
History, ly the power of the Goths was broken. Still many of them
'v'——' preferred independence under severe privations amidst the
wild rocks of the Asturias, to abundance and plenty on the
fertile plains of Murcia. At the head of those who sought
a refuge in this mountain sanctuary was Pelayo, a prince
of royal Gothic blood, and who is recognised by Spanish
historians as having acceded to the throne in 718; Theo-
domir, the legitimate monarch, having ingloriously submit¬
ted to the yoke of the infidel. Numbers of his countrymen
flocked to his standard, and his force became at lengt so
formidable as to create alarm in the Saracens. A large
army was despatched to the Asturias to crush the using
insurrection ; but in attempting to gain the position where
Pelayo and his resolute followers were strongly posted, the
Moors were repulsed with a slaughter so terrible, that for
some years they showed no inclination to assail their for¬
midable neighbours. Various successes followed, and the
Asturias, now left in the undisturbed possession of Pelayo
and his band, became the asylum of the liberty and the re¬
ligion of the Christians in Spain. It formed the nucleus
of a kingdom, which was destined slowly but surely to in¬
crease in size from century to century, until the invaders
were finally expelled from the Peninsula. Little more is
known of Pelayo, than that he gained repeated victories
over the Moors, and died in peace in 737. H.e was suc¬
ceeded by his son Favila, whose reign was brief and his
end tragical, he having been killed by a wild boar m 739.
The subsequent history of Spain is rendered so confused
by the numerous kingdoms established by Christians and
Moors, that some chronological guide is necessary to ren¬
der it intelligible. We shall therefore present a chronolo-
o-ical list of the various sovereigns who reigned over dn-
ferent parts of the country, which had been erected into
distinct and independent sovereignties, i he dates given
mark the years in which the sovereigns acceded to the
throne ; the intervening periods, of course, indicate the du¬
ration of their respective reigns. We shall commence with
the Mahommedan succession, as during the earlier centu¬
ries the greater part of Spain was subject to the Moors.
MAHOMMEDAN RULERS OF SPAIN.—CORDOVA.
I Emirs.—Tarik ben Zeyad and Musa ben Nozeir, 711.
Abdelasis ben Musa, 714. Ayub ben Habib and Alhaur
ben Abderahman, 715. Alsama ben Melic, 721. Abder-
ahman ben Abdalla, 722. Ambisa ben Sohim, 724. Ho-
deira ben Abdalla and Yahia ben Zulema, 726. Othman
ben Abi Neza, Hodeira ben Alhaus, and Alhaitam ben
Obeid, 727. Mohammed ben Abdalla, 728. Abderahman
ben Abdalla (second time), 729. Abdelmelic ben Cotan,
733. Ocba ben Albegag, 736. Abdelmelic ben Cotan
again, 741. Baleg ben Bakir, and Thalaba ben Sulema,
742. Husam ben Dhizar, 743. Thueba el Ameli, 744.
Yussuf el Fehri, 746.
2. Kings.—Abderahman I. ben Moawia, 75o. i lixem
I. Abderahman, 787. Alhakem ben Hixem, 796. Abder¬
ahman II. ben Alhakem, 821. Mohammed I. ben Abder¬
ahman, 852. Almonahir ben Mohammed, 886. Abdalla,
brother of the former, 888. Abderahman III. grandson of
Abdalla, 912. Alhakem, II. son of Abderahman III. 961.
Hixem II. ben Alhakem II., dethroned to make way for
his cousin Mohammed, but restored in 1010; in 1012 final¬
ly removed, 976. Suleyman, 1012. Ali ben Hamud, 1015.
Abderahman IV. 1017. Alcassim ben Plamud, brother of
Ali, 1018. Abderahman V., and Mohammed II. cousin of
Hixem II., 1023. Hixem III. brother of Abderahman IV.
1026. Gewahr ben Mohammed, 1031. Mohammed ben
Gewahr, 1044. Mohammed Almoateded, 1060. Moham¬
med Almosstadir, 1069. Dynasty of the Almoravides—Yus-
sef ben Taxfin, 1094. Ali ben Yussef, 1107. Taxfin ben
Ali 1144. DynastyoftheAlmohad.es—Abdelmumen, 114i.
Yussef Abu Yacub, son of Abdelmumen, 1163. Yacub Histor
ben Yussef, 1178. Mohammed, son of Yacub, 1199. Abu'"—v*
Yacub, 1213. Abulmelic, and Abdelwahid son of Yacub,
1223. Almamon and Abu Ali, 1225.
KINGDOM OF GRANADA.
Mohammed I. Aben Alhamar, founder of the kingdom,
1238. Mohammed II. ben Mohammed, 1273. Moham¬
med III. Abu Abdalla, 1302. Nassir Abul Giux, brother
of the preceding, 1309. Ismail ben Ferag, nephew of Nas¬
sir, 1313. Mohammed IV. ben Ismail, 1325. Yussef
Abul Hagiag, brother of the former, 1333. Mohammed V.
ben Yussef, 1354. Ismail II. brother of Mohammed, 1359.
Abu Said, brother-in-law of Ismail II. 1360. Yussef II.
Abu Abdalla, son of Mohammed V. 1391. Mohammed
VI. son of Yussef II. 1396. Yussef, brother of Moham¬
med VI. 1408. Muley Mohammed VII. son of Yussef
III. 1423. Mohammed VIII. cousin of Muley Moham¬
med VII. 1427. Mohammed VII. restored, 1429. Yussef
IV. Aben Alhamar. Mohammed VII. restored a second
time, 1432. Mohammed IX. Aben Osmin (nephew of Mo¬
hammed VII.), 1445. Mohammed X. nephew of Moham¬
med VII. 1454. Muley Ali Abul Hassan, son of Moham¬
med X. 1463. Abu Abdalla, son of Abul Hassan, 1483.
Abdalla el Zagal, brother of Abul Hassan, 1484. Both
princes survived the fall of Granada, which took place in
1491.
KINGDOM OF THE ASTURIAS AND LEON.
Pelayo, 718. Favila, son of Pelayo, 737. Alfonso, son-
in-law of Pelayo, 739. Fruela I. son of Alfonso, 757.
Aurelio, nephew of Alfonso, 768. Mauregato, bastard of
Alfonso, 774. Bermudo I. nephew of Alfonso, 788. Al¬
fonso II. son of Fruela, 791. Ramiro I. son of Bermudo,
842. Ordono I. son of Ramiro, 850. Alfonso III. son of
Ordono, 866. Garcia, son of Alfonso III. 910. Ordono
II. brother of Garcia, 914. Fruela II. son of Alfonso III.
923. Alfonso IV. son of Ordono II. 925. Ramiro II.
brother of the same Alfonso, 930. Ordono III. son of
Ramiro II. 950. Sancho I. brother of the same Ordono,
955. Ramiro III. son of Sancho I. 967. Bermuda II.
grandson of Fruela II. 982. Alfonso V. son of Bermudo
II. 999. Bermudo III. son of Alfonso V. 1027. With
this sovereign the male line of the house of Leon terminated.
Leon and Castille now formed separate kingdoms, the con¬
temporaneous sovereigns of which were:
Leon. Castille.
1037. Fernando I. king of Cas-
tille; king of Leon in
right of his wife.
1065. Alfonso VI. son of Ferdi-
nando I.
1126. Alfonso VIII. (the empe¬
ror), son of Urraca.
1157. Fernando II. son of Alfon¬
so the emperor.
1138.
Alfonso IX. son of Ferdi-
nando II.
1230. Ferdinando HI- son of
Alfonso IX. (also king
of Castille).
1026. Sancho el Mayor, king of
Navarre; first king of Cas¬
tille in right of his wife.
1035. Fernando I. son of Sancho.
1065. Sancho II. son of Ferdi¬
nando I.
1072. Alfonso I. son of Ferdi¬
nando I. (also VI. of
Leon). ,.
1109. Urraca, daughter of Ferdi¬
nando L, and Alfonso 11.
(also sovereign of Leon).
1126. Alfonso II. (the emperor),
son of Urraca.
1157. Sancho III- son of Alfonso
the emperor.
1158. Alfonso III. son of Sancho
III.
1214. Enrique I. son of Alfonso
in. , A1.
1217. Fernando HI- s°n 0
fonso IX. of Leon (aRer-
wards king of Leon).
SPAIN.
KINGDOM OF LEON AND CASTILLE UNITED.
Alfonso X. son of Fernando III. 1252. Sancho IV. son
of Alfonso X. 1284. Ferdinando IV. son of Sancho IV.
1295. Alfonso XL son of Ferdinando IV. 1312. Pedro
the Cruel, son of Alfonso XI. 1350. Enrique II. bastard
son of Alfonso XL 1369. Juan I. son of the former, 1379.
Enrique III. son of the former, 1390. Juan II. son of
the former, 1406. Enrique IV. son of the former, 1454.
Isabel, daughter of Juan II. and her husband Ferdinando
V. (the II. of Aragon), 1474. Juana, daughter of Fernan¬
do and Isabel, and Philip I. of Austria, 1504.
KINGDOM OF NAVARRE.
The first independent count of Navarre was Sancho Inigo,
873. The kings reported to have reigned prior to this pe¬
riod are entirely fabulous. Garcia I. (Iniguez), son of
Count Sancho, and the first king, 885. Sancho I. (Garces
Abarca), son of Garcia I. 905. Garcia II. (el Trembloso),
son of Sancho I. 924. Sancho II. (el Mayor), son or grand¬
son of Garcia II. 970. Garcia III. son of Sancho, 1035.
Sancho III. son of Garcia III. 1054. Sancho IV. (also I.
of Aragon), 1076. Pedro I. son of Sancho IV. (also king
of Aragon), 1094. Alfonso I. brother of Pedro (also king
of Aragon), 1104. Garcia IV. 1134. Sancho V. son of
Garcia IV. 1150. Sancho VI. son of Sancho V. 1194.
Thibault I. nephew of Sancho VI. 1234. Thibault II.
son of the former, 1253. Henri, in right of his wife, who
was daughter of Thibault II. 1270. Jeanne, queen of
Philip IV. king of France, 1274. Louis Hutin (king of
France), son of Jeanne, 1305. Philip, brother of Louis
(also king of France), 1316. Charles I. brother of Philip
(also king of France), 1322. Jeanne II. daughter of Louis
Hutin, married to Philip count of Evreux, 1328. Charles
II. son of Jeanne, 1349. Charles III. son of the former,
1387. Blanche, daughter of Charles III. and Juan her
husband, son of Ferdinando I. king of Aragon, 1425.
Francois Phoebus de Foix, in right of his grandmother,
daughter of Juan, 1479. Catherine de Foix, sister of
Phoebus, and her husband, Jean d’Albret, 1483. This
kingdom united with Castille in 1512.
KINGDOM OF ARAGON.
Aragonese independence is to be dated from 1035, when
Sancho el Mayor, king of Navarre and Castille, divided his
states among his sons. Aragon fell to the lot of Ramiro
I. 1035. Sancho I. (afterwards IV. of Navarre), son of
Ramiro I. 1063. Pedro I. son of Sancho I. (also king of
Navarre), 1094. Alfonso I. brother of Pedro (also king of
Navarre), 1104. Ramiro II. brother of Alfonso, 1134.
Petronilla, daughter of Ramiro II. 1137. Alfonso II. son
of Petronilla, 1163. Pedro II. son of Alfonso II. 1196.
Jayme I. son of Pedro II. 1213. Pedro III. son of Jayme
I. 1276. Alfonso III. son of Pedro III. 1285. Jayme
II. brother of Alfonso, 1291. Alfonso IV. son of Jayme
II. 1327. Pedro IV. son of Alfonso IV. 1336. Juan I.
son of Pedro IV. 1387. Martin, brother of Juan I. 1395.
Fernando I. brother of Enrique III. king of Castille, elect¬
ed 1412. Alfonso V. son of Ferdinando I. 1416. Juan
II. (also king of Navarre), brother of Alfonso V. 1458.
lernando II. (the V. of Castille), son of Juan II. 1497.
This kingdom united with Castille in 1516.
COUNTS OF BARCELONA.
During the early period of Mahommedan domination in
^ pam, Barcelona and all Catalonia were subject to it. In
the year 801, however, the Moors were expelled from Bar¬
celona, and a count named Bera, a native of Gothic Gaul,
495
was nominated head of the independency. The names of History,
his successors, eleven in number, are too insignificant to■“v'——'
require mention individually. Alfonso Raymond, the last
count, acceded to power in 1131. On his death, Barce¬
lona was united with Aragon.
To give a connected history of these various sovereign¬
ties is quite incompatible with our limits. We can only
briefly describe those more important transactions affecting
the whole country, in which the Christians, by wresting
portions of soil from the Moors, compelled them to retire
within narrower limits, and thus circumscribed their power.
Alfonso and Fruela, the sovereigns who immediately suc¬
ceeded Pelayo’s son, inflicted several severe blows on the
Moors, and overran a considerable portion of the flat coun¬
try. But what proved a more effectual check upon the
Saracens than the arms of the Christians, were their own
domestic quarrels. So mutable had been the govern¬
ment, that in the space of only forty years from the period
of their first landing in Spain, no less than twenty emirs
had been called, or had raised themselves, to the seat of
power. On the establishment of a monarchy under Ab-
derahman, intestine revolt was quelled for a time; but a
more formidable foe from without made his appearance.
This was no other than the celebrated Charlemagne, who
poured his legions over the Pyrenees into the valleys of
Catalonia. We shall not discuss the much agitated ques¬
tion as to the motives which brought this emperor into
Spain. He appears to have received an invitation from
some discontented Moorish governors; and in acceding to
their request, he probably also listened to the dictates of
his own ambition. Certain it is that he entered Spain with
a powerful army, and, if we can trust his historian Eginhard,
subjected the country from the Pyrenees to the Iberus.
But he was soon recalled from the Peninsula by the revolt
of the Saxons. In his passage through the mountain de¬
files, the rear of his army was attacked by the Navarrese,
and cut to pieces.
It seems certain, that from the period when Charlemagne
poured his legions into Navarre, he considered the country
as a fief of his crown, and thus gave great umbrage to the
Asturian kings. But the inhabitants of the province, averse
to the sway of either, longed for independence, and this
they succeeded in achieving about the year 885. The rise
of this kingdom was another blow to the Saracens. So
signal were the successes gained over them by the Chris¬
tians of Navarre, that in the year 920 not a Mahommedan
remained in the whole kingdom north of the Ebro. The
kings of Asturias and Leon also rapidly extended their do¬
minions. Ordoho II. invaded the Mahommedan posses¬
sions, and gained many advantages. In 932, Ramiro II.
made an irruption into the states of the enemy, and ruined
Madrid. Arabian writers boast of terrible reprisals having
been made on the Christians, and assert that Ramiro him¬
self was defeated. The Saracens having invested Zamora,
Ramiro approached with a formidable army. The com¬
batants met, and a battle ensued, more obstinately con¬
tested and bloody than any that had been fought since the
days of Roderick. There can be no doubt that victory
shone on the banners of the Christians, but the success was
less splendid than their writers assert it to be. The ac¬
counts of all the battles fought between the Moors and the
Christians in Spain are to be received with caution. The
Arabian writers, to exalt the prowess of their countrymen,
exaggerate mere skirmishes into great battles, and tempo¬
rary and partial checks into decisive victories. In equivo¬
cal cases, they seem invariably to claim the advantage;
and where they were defeated, they either obscurely hint
the fact, or diminish the loss which they sustained. It is
to be feared, that in many instances Christian chroniclers
are chargeable with similar partiality.
496
SPAIN.
History. The reign of Abderahman III. (912) has been extolled
■“■“'y''-'''' as the most brilliant period in the history of the Spanish
Arabs. Commerce flourished, and riches were accumulated
to an unexampled extent. A powerful navy was formed,
and maintained in full activity; the arts and sciences were
cultivated with ardour, because their professors were re¬
warded with princely liberality ; many splendid works were
undertaken in the towns of Mahommedan Spain ; and the
king himself was the friend of industry and of merit. Still
none of the territories which had been lost in previous reigns
was recovered, and the Christians were gradually becom¬
ing more and more formidable to the Moors, when Moham¬
med, better known as Almanzor, appeared to restore the
glory of the Saracen arms. He was an eminent general,
an enlightened statesman, and a patron of the liberal arts.
His campaigns against the Christians proved most fatal to
them. The towns were ruined, the open country was ra¬
vaged, and once more the mountains of Asturias became
the inaccessible asylum of the native monarchy. At length
the three powers, Navarre, Castille, and Leon, entered into
a confederacy to repel the common foe. The armies met
at a place situated between Soria and Medina Celi, where
a drawn battle was fought. This check, and the fearful loss
which he had sustained, so mortified Almanzor, that he sunk
under the weight of his despair, and died, some assert by
voluntary abstinence from food, in the year 1001. An event
of some importance to the Christian cause was the erection
of Castille into a distinct kingdom, by Sancho el Mayor, king
of Navarre, the most powerful prince of his age and coun¬
try. Besides Sobrarve, he held the lordship of Aragon;
and in 1026, in right of his wife, a princess of Castille, he
became king of that country. By his conquests he consi¬
derably extended his dominions ; and the marriage of his son
Fernando to the heiress of Leon gave him influence in the
affairs of that kingdom; so that at the period of his death, in
1035, he was virtually master of all Christian Spain except
Catalonia. Before his death he divided his states among
his sons, and Aragon fell to the share of Ramiro. The in¬
dependence of Aragon as a separate kingdom is therefore
to be dated from 1035, the year in which Ramiro I. ob¬
tained possession of the throne.
About the middle of the eleventh century Spain may be
said to have been divided into two unequal parts, by a
straight line drawn from east to west, from the coasts of
Valencia to a little below the mouth of the Duero. The
country north of this belonged to the Christians, who as
yet had the smallest and least valuable portion, while all
the rest belonged to the Moors. In point of wealth and
real power, both by land and sea, the latter were much su¬
perior to the former ; but their perpetual dissensions mate¬
rially weakened them, and every day facilitated the progress
of the Christians. Indeed, had either party been united,
the other must soon have been quelled ; but the Christians,
although they did not constantly make war upon each other
like the Moors, continued from time to time to be so em¬
broiled by domestic feuds, as to be unprepared for striking
a decisive blow with the combined armies of all the king¬
doms ; while the same evils, existing to a still greater ex¬
tent amongst the Mahommedans, rendered it impossible for
their monarchs to take advantage of the untoward state of
the affairs of the Christians. Among the Moors almost
every city was a kingdom ; and as these petty sovereignties
supported one another very indifferently, they, one after an¬
other, fell a prey to their enemies. The rapidity with which
the kingdom of Cordova fell to pieces has few examples in
history. Alfonso I. king of Aragon, also of Navarre, and
for some time of Castille and Leon, is reckoned among
the most valiant princes of Spain. From his warlike habits
he was surnamed El Batallador. He conquered Tudela,
Saragossa, Tarragona, Calatayud, Daroca, Mequinencia,
and much of the country south of the Ebro. Since the con ¬
quest by the Arabs, he was the first who carried the Chris- Hist*:!
tian ensigns into Andalusia. In 1134, however, he lost a''—Y
great battle, and either perished in the conflict or died of
grief shortly afterwards. This was a misfortune, but the
misfortunes of the Christians were in general soon repaired,
although for nearly a century their conquests were less bril¬
liant than those achieved by El Batallador. At the com¬
mencement of the thirteenth century, indeed, the Moors
gained some decided advantages, and reduced several im¬
portant towns. But the balance was restored on the cele¬
brated plains of Tolosa, where an enormous army of Moors
from Africa was nearly annihilated. Alfonso of Castille
having made some destructive inroads into Andalusia, Mo¬
hammed Abu Abdalla, emperor of Barbary, prepared to
punish his audacity. It is related, on credible authority,
that one of the five divisions of the army which he assem¬
bled mustered 160,000 combatants. To meet this over¬
whelming host, the Christian kings, fortunately at this junc¬
ture brought to terms of amity with one another, united
their armies at Toledo, where they were joined by nume¬
rous volunteers from Portugal and France. On the 16th
of July 1212 the Christian army descended the mountain¬
ous chain which divides New Castille from Andalusia into
the plains of Tolosa, where the Mahommedan army was
drawn up in battle array. The conflict wdiich ensued was
obstinate and bloody, but victory at length declared for the
Christians, and its immediate consequences involved the
ruin of the Mahommedan empire in Spain. The thirteenth
century is distinguished by other important advantages
gained by the Christians. Ferdinand III. king of Leon,
afterwards of Castille, by his numerous victories made him¬
self lord of Spain, from the Bay of Biscay to the vicinity of
the Guadalquivir, and from the confines of Portugal to those
of Aragon and Valencia. In 1233 he triumphed over Aben
Hud, king of Murcia, Granada, Cordova, Merida, and Se¬
ville ; and from that year to 1248 he successively obtained
possession of Toledo, Cordova, the whole of Murcia, Jaen,
and Seville. The loss of the city of Cordova, which in the
eyes of the Mahommedans was sacred alike from its magni¬
ficent mosque, and from its having been so long the seat ol
their caliphs, was a severe blow to their power. About the
same time King Jayme, the greatest name in the ancient
history of Aragon, and surnamed the conqueror on account
of his victories, reduced the Balearic Isles, and obtained
other important victories. At this period Mahommedan
Spain obeyed three sovereigns, who hated each other as
cordially as they wrere all detested by the Christians. Mo¬
hammed, who ruled in Jaen, was the least powerful, but
the most successful, of these petty kings. He successively
got rid of his two contemporaries, and fixed his court in
Granada, resolving if possible to extend, or at the w orst to
preserve, his new states against the independent walis or
local governors on the one hand, and the Christians on the
other. Thus the celebrated kingdom of Granada was found¬
ed in the year 1238, for that of Cordova no longer existed.
During twm centuries and a half, this Mahommedan state
withstood the hostile attacks of its Christian neighbours,
and only fell when all Spain became united under one
sceptre, and was consequently rendered irresistibly superior
to the kingdom of the Moors.
The first king of Granada was equally valiant in war
and wise in council, but he was not in a condition to con¬
tend with Ferdinand of Castille. He submitted to do hom¬
age to him as his vassal; and during the lifetime of Fer¬
dinand a good understanding subsisted between him and
Mohammed. But in succeeding reigns war again broke
out between the Moors and Christians. In 1303 the strong
fort of Gibraltar was reduced by Ferdinand IV. king o
Castille and Leon. But the reign of this prince was
ly one of disaster. An iniquitous league was formed y
two native princes, who proposed to share the kingdom be-
SPAIN.
:ory
tween them. The kings of France, Portugal, and Gra-
xnada, were not ashamed to sanction this unhallowed com¬
pact. The king of Portugal invaded Castille, the king of
Granada spread his ravages into Andalusia, and the fate of
Ferdinand seemed on the point of being sealed, and his
kingdom partitioned among the combined robbers. But dis¬
sensions among the confederates, and the want of money,
dissolved the league, and saved Spain. The greatest bat¬
tle which had been fought between the Moors and Chris¬
tians since the mighty African host was destroyed on the
plains of Tolosa, took place in October 1340, on the banks
of the small river Salado. The Christians under Alfonso
of Castille were a very small band compared with the enor¬
mous host led by the king of Granada; but the former
gained a brilliant victory, the loss of the Moors having been
immense. The consequence was the surrender of several
fortresses ; and in the following year the destruction of the
Mahommedan fleet was effected by the Christians.
It is now necessary to mention some circumstances in
the history of Navarre, relative to the intimate connection
which so long subsisted between that kingdom and France,
and which had a material influence on the destinies of Spain.
The male line of the house of Sancho Inigo, founder of
the sovereignty, having ended in Sancho VI., who died in
1234, leaving no issue, the Navarrese elected as their future
king, Thibault, a French prince, and nephew to the de¬
ceased Sancho. Of this monarch we know little beyond
an expedition to Palestine, which he undertook along with
several princes of France. His two sons, who successively
occupied the throne of Navarre, espoused French princesses,
and thus an intimate connection with France was establish¬
ed. The relationship between the tw o kingdoms became
still more close when Queen Jeanne gave her hand to Philip
the Fair of France. In short, Navarre became a province
of France, and for four reigns has no distinct history. In
1328, however, the kingdoms were again separated, though
the sovereigns of Navarre were closely related to those
of France. Charles II. surnamed the Wicked, ascended
the Navarrese throne in 1349, and shortly afterwards
married Jeanne, daughter of King John of France. His
reign is one of perfidy, intrigue, and dishonourable al¬
liances. Events which belong more immediately to the
history of France, led to the arrest of Charles by the
French monarch, and his detention in prison for several
years. He effected his escape, and again resumed his old
practice of intriguing, particularly against the king of
France. In 1366 he entered into a league with the cele¬
brated Black Prince of England, for the restoration of Pe¬
dro, surnamed the Cruel, who had been driven from the
throne of Castille on account of his many enormities. The
expulsion of this detestable monster w as the act of an in¬
dignant nation, which immediately elevated his bastard
brother Enrique, or Henry, count of Trastamara, to the
throne of Castille. The exiled king himself appealed in per¬
son to the generosity of the English hero, and the conse¬
quence was that the Black Prince led a powerful force
across the Pyrenees. In his combined army of English
and Normans were some of the flowrer of English chivalry.
Henry made every disposition in his power, resolving to
hazard all in a battle. The recollection of the cruelties
and oppressions of Pedro’s government w;ere a strong
stimulus to his followers, and might have insured success
had he only been opposed by Pedro the Cruel and Charles
the Micked; but he had to contend with the victor of
Cressy and Poictiers. The battle which decided the fate
of the two kings was fought near Logrono, a few miles
south of the Ebro, on the 3d of April 1367. Henry nobly
contested the day, as also did his antagonist, who was as
brave as he was cruel. The conflict w'as for a short time
desperate, but it terminated in the complete discomfiture
o Henry, an event followed by the immediate restoration
vol. xx.
of Pedro to the Castillian throne. His gallant ally had soon
reason to regret his connection with a prince equally per¬
fidious, debauched, and bloody. Edward quitted him in
disgust, without receiving payment of the sum promised
to the English troops. Pedro, no longer overawed by the
Black Prince, who was as humane as he was valiant, im¬
mediately set about punishing those whom he either knew
or suspected of having been zealous in the cause of
Henry. His late disgrace had sharpened his naturally
keen appetite for blood; but we pass over the revolting
details of the enormities which he committed. They pro¬
duced their usual effects, the complete alienation of the
minds of his subjects from him, and then a conspiracy to put
an end to such barbarous tyranny. Henry, who had fled to
France, entered Spain with a small force, which, however,
soon became augmented to an army. Tyrants have few
friends in the hour of adversity, and those who have been
bribed by gold or overawed by authority to become their
pliant tools, are too easily seduced from their allegiance to
be trusted when the day of trial comes. Mohammed V.,
king of Granada, was induced to take the field in behalf of
Pedro ; but it was less to aid his ally than to take advan¬
tage of the confusion of the times. Pedro’s army gradually
melted away, and he himself, compelled to flee for shelter to
a fortress, and nearly deserted by his followers, was there
shortly afterwards slain by the hand of Henry. Although,
as we have already noticed, this prince was a bastard, yet
he quietly ascended the Castillian throne, wrhich he bequeath¬
ed to his posterity.
For nearly a century after these events took place, the
history of Spain presents little or nothing that is remark¬
able. The continued and petty hostilities between the na¬
tive princes, or between any or all of them and the Moors,
merit but slight attention. Henry IV. surnamed the Im¬
potent, ascended the throne of Castille in 1454. The mis¬
conduct of this prince, a frivolous and contemptible de¬
bauchee, produced a conspiracy amongst his turbulent no¬
bles, to resist his weak and flagitious administration. He
was formally deposed at Avila, in a very extraordinary man¬
ner ; an effigy which represented him being solemnly de¬
graded from the royal dignities, while at the same time his
brother Alfonso was proclaimed king of Castille and Leon.
Henry was naturally anxious to punish the rebels, but they
assumed an attitude too formidable for him. Civil war pro¬
duced a total relaxation of the laws, and let loose bands of
robbers, who pillaged the open country, and not unfrequent-
ly attacked and plundered the towns. In the midst of these
troubles the Infante Alfonso died, an event for the present
highly favourable to the king. Some attempts to raise the In¬
fanta Isabella, his sister, to the throne, proved at first abor¬
tive ; but she was the person upon whom the nobles had set
their eyes as the only legitimate successor to Henry. In
1469 was laid the foundation of a union which w’as to prove
of such unbounded advantage to Spain. Juan II. of Ara¬
gon solicited the hand of Isabella of Castille for his son and
heir Don Ferdinand, king of Sicily. By distributing lar¬
gesses amongst the Castillian nobles, and firmly attaching
the archbishop of Toledo to his interest, Juan succeeded in
his object. On the 25th of October 1469, the royal pair
received the nuptial benediction in the cathedral of Valla¬
dolid. The negociations had been secretly conducted, and
the whole affair was brought to a conclusion without the
knowledge of Henry or his queen, a princess as licentious
as himself. She had borne a daughter, the Infanta Juana,
wrhom the whole kingdom supposed, on pretty good grounds,
to be the fruit of her intrigue with Don Beltran de la Cueva,
count of Ledesma, one of Henry’s favourites. No sooner
was Henry made acquainted with this precipitate marriage,
than he resolved to leave no measure untried for securing
the crown to Juana. He caused her to be proclaimed heir¬
ess of his dominions, and in his last will declared her his sue*
3 R
498
SPAIN.
History.
cessor. But popular opinion is too strong even for princes.
The country believed her illegitimate, and on the death of
Henry in 1474, Ferdinand V. and Isabella were elevated to
the throne of Castille and Leon, it being stipulated that the
king and queen should reign conjointly. The king of Por¬
tugal at first espoused the cause of Juana; but the alliance
was productive of no event of importance, and peace was
restored between Castille and Portugal in 1479. The very
same year, Ferdinand, by the death of his father, Juan II.,
was called to the throne of Aragon. Having received the
homage of his Aragonese subjects at Saragossa, of the Ca¬
talonians at Barcelona, and of the Valencians in the capi¬
tal of that province, he returned into Castille.
The reign of Ferdinand and Isabella is distinguished by
great events, events of the highest importance, not only to
Spain, but to mankind. It was under their auspices that
Columbus brought a new world to light, and it was by their
arms that the power of the Mahommedans was for ever ex¬
tinguished in the Peninsula. Their first object was the re¬
gulation of the government and the enforcement of the
laws, which, from the license of preceding reigns, had fallen
into desuetude, or were openly defied. The king and queen
were noted for a rigid administration of justice ; neither
for money nor favour would they spare the guilty; and there
was too much to punish and correct not to give their admi¬
nistration a character of severity, which would have had no
existence had the country not fallen into a state of civil
and political disorganization almost unprecedented. The
local judges were overawed by the nobles, and extraordi¬
nary judges or corregidors were appointed to see that they
did their duty. This not being found sufficient to eradi¬
cate an evil which had existed for centuries, the aid of the
Holy Brotherhood was sought and obtained. This associa¬
tion, which had existed since the middle of the thirteenth
century, consisted of a number of confederated cities and
towms, which maintained a considerable body of troops, in
order to protect travellers and pursue criminals, and took
cognizance of all violent offences against the laws, appoint¬
ing courts and judges in various parts of the kingdom.
New powers were reposed in this association, so that it be¬
came a powerful instrument in the hands of government,
and alike terrible to robber and rebel. By this means
the territorial jurisdiction of the seignoral nobles was ma¬
terially abridged, while the royal prerogative was greatly
extended. The prompt and impartial administration of
justice restored tranquillity and order ; and it had been well
for the fame of these sovereigns if their salutary severity
had been only directed against the disturbers of the pub¬
lic peace. But unfortunately they were equally severe
against all who ventured to differ from the established faith.
Against apostates, all converts who, after baptism, reverted
to Judaism or the faith of Islam, their hatred was impla¬
cable. Their intemperate zeal led them to establish, or
rather to re-organize, an ecclesiastical tribunal, which became
proverbial throughout the civilized world for its enormous
cruelties and injustice. This was the court of inquisition.
We now approach what is not only an important event
in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, but an era in the
history of Europe, namely, the conquest of Granada, the
last possession of the Mahommedans in Spain. A sovereign
so zealous for the Catholic faith as Ferdinand proved him¬
self to be, was not likely to allow such enemies of Chris¬
tianity to remain long in the Peninsula, if by force of arms
he could expel them; and accordingly he early turned his
attention to the subject. Every thing conspired to favour
his design ; the Moorish kingdom was distracted and dis¬
united by a civil war between father and son ; and Ferdi¬
nand having obtained the bull of Sixtus IV. authorizing a
crusade, put himself at the head of his troops, and entered
Granada. He continued the war with rapid success ; Isa¬
bella attended him in several expeditions ; and they were
both in considerable danger at the siege of Malaga, an im- Hist*
portant city, which was defended with great courage, and /
taken in 1487. Baza was reduced in 1489, after the loss
of 20,000 men. Gaudix and Almeria were delivered up to
them by the Moorish king Alzagel, who had first dethroned
his brother Alboacen, and afterwards been chased from his
capital by his nephew Abdali. That prince engaged in the
service of Ferdinand and Isabella, who, after reducing every
other place of eminence, undertook the siege of Granada.
Abdali made a gallant defence; but all communication with
the country being cut off, and all hopes of relief at an end,
he capitulated, after a siege of eight months, on condition
that he should enjoy the revenue of certain places in the
fertile mountains of Alpuxarras ; that the inhabitants should
retain the undisturbed possession of their houses, goods,
and inheritances; the use of their laws, and the free exer¬
cise of their religion. Thus ended the empire of the Arabs
in Spain, after it had continued about eight hundred years.
Its overthrow was soon followed by the expulsion of the
Saracens from Spain. This expulsion, however, was not
entirely effected till the 17th century. Vast numbers of
the Moors, indeed, oppressed by their conquerors, aban¬
doned a country where they could not reside with comfort
and with freedom. From the reign of Ferdinand of Cas¬
tille, to that of Philip III. of Spain, more than 3,000,000 of
these people quitted Spain, and carried with them, not only
a great part of their acquired wealth, but that industry and
love of labour which are the foundation of national pros¬
perity.
The conquest of Granada was followed by the expulsion
of the Jews, under circumstances of great injustice and atro¬
city. This unhappy people had engrossed the greater part
of the wealth and commerce of Spain, yet not being al¬
lowed to take away the value of their property in the pre¬
cious metals, they were compelled to barter it for the pro¬
duce or manufactures of the Peninsula, and this could not
be effected except at a great sacrifice. One alternative was
left them, to embrace Christianity. The inquisition ex¬
hausted first its art and then its fury to accomplish this ob¬
ject, but with comparatively little success. Many, indeed,
to save their property, always dear to an Israelite, outward¬
ly at least embraced the faith of the cross ; but by far the
greater number, in profound despair, and stripped of much
of their wealth, took leave of the land of their birth. About
the same time that this decree was promulgated, their Ca¬
tholic majesties concluded an alliance with the emperor
Maximilian, and a treaty of marriage for their daughter
Juana with his son Philip, archduke of Austria, and so¬
vereign of the Netherlands. To this period also belongs
the contract concluded with Columbus for the discovery ol
new countries ; an event which more powerfully than any
other attracts the notice of posterity to this splendid reign,
and which materially tended to raise the Spanish monarchy
above any other in Europe. To Isabella must be ascribed
the glory of the enterprise, for she it was who borrowed
the sum of money necessary for the armament, and bade
the great navigator depart. This great queen died in 1501,
leaving her daughter Juana, and after that princess her
own grandson (the celebrated Charles V.), heirs to the
monarchy, but appointing her husband Ferdinand regent
of the kingdom till the majority of Charles.^ Ihe latter
years of Ferdinand’s life were embittered by family dissen¬
sions, which broke out even before Isabella had breathed her
last. Juana was undoubtedly queen, for the Salic law, which
excludes females, never existed in Spain. This was well
known, and is important, as bearing on events which hap¬
pened in more recent times. Philip therefore prepared to
enforce his right, while Ferdinand, fond of power, and
backed by the will of his late wife, showed a determination
to maintain his position in the kingdom. But just as t ie
affairs of Spain were assuming a serious aspect, Philip die >
SPAIN.
Ms!
dan
ory- and Ferdinand gradually resumed his authority over the
/-—'''whole country. Insurrection quailed before him, the laws
resumed their empire, and prosperity revisited the people.
The remaining events of his reign must be briefly summed
up. He solicited and obtained the hand of Germaine, niece
to Charles of France, in the hope of leaving a male heir
to the throne; but his anticipations were not realized. In
several expeditions to Africa, important conquests were
made in that country, Algiers, Tunis, and other places sub¬
mitting to become vassals to the king of Spain. In 1511
he went to Italy to assist the pope against the schismatics
under the protection of the king of France and the em¬
peror. But into the interminable affairs of Italy, the criti¬
cal wars carried on by Ferdinand in that country in de¬
fence of his Sicilian and Neapolitan possessions, we cannot
enter. This war, however, led to one memorable result,
and one not very glorious to Ferdinand. Desirous of car¬
rying hostilities into France, he demanded from Jean
d’Albret, king of Navarre, permission to march his troops
through that country. The Navarrese refused, but at the
same time promised to remain neutral. He broke his en¬
gagement, however, and entered into an alliance, offensive
and defensive, with France. Determined to accomplish his
end by force, and to punish the duplicity of the Navarrese,
Ferdinand invaded Navarre, and in a short time obtained
possession of the whole kingdom, annexing it to that over
which he formerly ruled, and successfully defending it against
the invasion of the French. This was the last great event of
Ferdinand’s life, and, however fortunate for the country, it
• was by no means honourable to the king. After a linger¬
ing illness, his death took place on the 23d of January 1516.
In his last will he declared his daughter Juana heiress to all
his dominions in Spain and Italy, and after her his grandson
Charles. Cardinal Ximenes Cisneros was at the same time
appointed sole regent of Castille till the arrival of his
grandson. Ferdinand is justly regarded as the founder of
the Spanish monarchy; and although his character has some
dark stains upon it, intolerant bigotry being not the least
conspicuous, he was certainly the greatest prince of his
age, and one of the ablest and best that ever swayed the
sceptre of Spain. We shall now glance at the civil and
political condition of Spain under the Moors and under
the Christians respectively, from the period of the Mahom-
medan conquest till the death of Ferdinand,
me- Mahommedan Spain originally comprehended nearly
iin' n*ne tenths of the Peninsula. Murcia, which the Arabs
call Tadmir, though governed by the Christian Theodomir
and his successor Athanagild, was as much dependent on
the Saracens as Andalusia or New Castille. The districts
over which the barbarian sway never extended were the
mountains of the Asturias, Biscay, Navarre, and an angle
of Aragon. Thus not only by far the greatest, but infinite-
y the most valuable, part of the Peninsula was comprised
in the Mahommedan kingdom. Under the viceroys of
the caliphs, and the immediate successors of the first Ab-
(erahman, that is, during the first three centuries, it was the
acmnation and terror of Europe. The revenues which the
mgs of Cordova derived from their ample possessions
were doubtless immense, and this enabled them to main-
tain not only a large army of native troops, but great bodies
o oreign auxiliaries. These mercenary soldiers are sup¬
posed by some of the most distinguished Arabian histo¬
rians to have been the principal cause of the downfall of
at splendid monarchy. The spirit of nationality was not
destroyed; it was fostered by transplantation from the
original sod ; the Egyptians in Beja and Lisbon ; the Per-
Huete; the Assyrians in Granada; the Berbers
o avones in most of the great cities, especially about
t^e. inhabitants of Damascus, Emessa, and of
„ i estineJ in Cordova, Seville, Niebla, Medina Sidonia,
Algeziras; became so many rival factions, all eager in
the pursuit of power, and all mutually hostile. Their fre¬
quent quarrels occasioned great disasters in the state, and
allowed the ambitious no less than the desperate a lono--
continued impunity. In this distracted state of the king¬
dom, rebel chiefs contrived to retain and even to extend
their governments; while the Christians, ever ready to
take advantage of circumstances, drove the Saracens from
city to city, and from province to province, till they finally
expelled them from the country. After Cordova fell from
its proud eminence, the Mahommedan power declined w ith
great rapidity. The rulers of Toledo, Badajos, Beja, Se¬
ville, Ecija, Malaga, Granada, Almeria, Lorca, Murcia,
Denia, Valencia, Lerida, Saragossa, and Huesca, all openly
aspired to independent sovereignty. Many of these petty
states were annihilated by the king of Seville; but his
own, with those which still remained, were swept from the
Peninsula by Yussef, the first emperor of the Almoravides.
This African dynasty was again subverted by the still
more ferocious Almohades. In the decline of the latter,
the local governors again endeavoured to establish inde¬
pendent kingdoms. The Moorish domination thus be¬
came circumscribed within the mountainous region bounded
by the sea, and by a line drawn from Malaga through Ar-
chidona, Loxa, Guardia, the Sierra de Cazorla, to the en¬
virons of Lorca. This small state was still farther limited
by the succeeding sovereigns of Castile, from Alfonso el
Sabio downwards, till, as we have seen, it was finally sub¬
jugated by Ferdinand the Catholic.
In all the states of Spain, whether Mahommedan or
Christian, the government was absolute, but not despotic.
If the Christian, as a protection against arbitrary power,
could appeal to the legal code of the country w'hich he inha¬
bited^ the Mahommedan could also invoke the provisions of
the Koian, for the laws of the followers of the prophet are
founded in their religion. Several of the Mahommedan
potentates were the munificent patrons of literature and
literary men, the names of some of whom are mentioned
with respect at the present day. At the close of the
eleventh century, Mahommedan Spain could boast of se-
venty public libraries, and of colleges, or seminaries of
learning, in all the principal cities. Thus learning was
much encouraged; and among these numerous collections
of books were many hundred volumes by native writers.
So great, in fact, was the literary reputation of the Spa¬
nish Arabs, that when the caliph of Egypt desired his
library to be arranged and indexes to be made, he confided
the task to two individuals of that nation. These men
of learning comprised historians, poets, grammarians, ora¬
tors, rhetoricians, mathematicians, astronomers, philoso¬
phers natural and moral, physicians, lawyers, and divines.
It was in the physical and experimental sciences that the
people most excelled, and that too at a time when many of
the sciences wrere wholly neglected or totally unknown in
the lest of Europe. Their knowledge of botany was far
famed ; that of chemistry was still more so. Indeed they
are to be regarded, if not the founders, at least the regenera¬
tors, of that science in Europe. I heir skill in medicine
was great; in the mathematics they particularly distin¬
guished themselves; the improvements which they made
in algebra are well known. Optics and astronomy wTere
much cultivated by them; nor were the useful arts less at¬
tended to, more especially agriculture, including horticul¬
ture and planting. I he mechanical arts and manufac¬
tures were also carried to considerable perfection by the
Spanish Arabs. Commerce was deemed no less worthy of
encouragement than domestic industry. The fine arts
however were less cultivated; but still all the great cities
of Mahommedan Spain, Cordova, Granada, Toledo, Va¬
lencia, Ubeda, Coimbra, were deeply indebted to the Moor¬
ish inhabitants; a fact sufficiently proved by the remains of
their past magnificence, which still exist.
499
History.
500
History.
Christian
Spain.
SPAIN
From the foundation of the Christian states, the extent
of territory comprised by each was usually variable, de¬
pendent alike on their conquests over the common enemy
and among themselves. The relative extent of each at
different periods may be briefly noticed. 1. When Pelayo
established his little court at Cangus, the Asturian king¬
dom could only have occupied the mountainous district
immediately surrounding that humble capital. By Al¬
fonso I. this territory was extended into Galicia on the
west, probably to Aragon on the east, and to the confines
of Toledo on the south. Alfonso III. still further am¬
plified the Asturian kingdom, by extending its frontiers to
the Sierra de Cuenza, in the territory of Toledo, to the
Duero, in Estremadura and Portugal; in one instance
even as far as the Guadiana. The capital regularly conti¬
nued to shift towards the centre of Spain as new terri¬
tory was acquired. Thus the Asturian kingdom went on
increasing till, on the incorporation of Castille with it, and
the subsequent conquest of Andalusia by San Fernando,
the capital of the monarchy was fixed at Seville. From
the reign of San Fernando may be dated the true era of
Spanish greatness. Murcia was conquered by his son Al¬
fonso ; and by his successors the Moorish kingdom of
Granada was first circumscribed and finally subjugated.
2. Navarre (that is, Spanish Navarre), from its origin to its
conquest by Ferdinand V. underwent little change in its
dimensions ; and its capital was always Pamplona. See the
article Navarre. 3. The Lordship of Barcelona, which
for some time continued dependent on the Cariovingian
princes, comprehended anciently, not only Catalonia, but
likewise Languedoc. The Spanish frontier, however, uas
subsequently held as a separate government, to which other
lordships were subordinate. The dependence on France
was of short duration, and appears nearly to have ceased
towards the close of the ninth century, when Wifredo IL,
count of Barcelona, entirely cleared Catalonia from the in¬
fidels. That ruler decrees in the sovereign style, and is re¬
cognised even by the French as the founder of an heredi¬
tary state ; which continued as independent a sovereignty
as any in the Peninsula, till its union with Aragon, about
the middle of the twelfth century. 4. Aragon was at first
but a small mountainous region at the foot of the Pyrenees,
the capital of which was Jaen, or ban Juan de la Pena.. 1 he
conquest of Sobrarve, Ribagorza, and Pallas, by Ramiro I.;
of the Mahommedan fortresses from the Pyrenees to the
Ebro by Sancho I.; of Huesca by Pedro ; of 1 udela, Sara¬
gossa, Calatayud, Daroca, Mequinencia, &c. by Alfonso I.,
amplified this little lordship into a considerable kingdom, the
capital of which in 1119 was transferred to Saragossa. W hen
Lerida and Fraga were reduced by the prince of Aragon,
the Balearic Isles and Valencia by Don Jayme el Conquis¬
tador, Aragon became, next to Castille, the most extensive
and powerful of the peninsular kingdoms.
The government of all the Christian states was absolute,
and in the whole of them latterly it was hereditary. The
powers of the sovereign varied at different times ; latterly
they became very great. He could concede or revoke, in¬
terpret or abrogate laws, declare war or make peace, ap¬
point) udges, levy and exact contributions, and the like. But
still all was to be done according to the ancient form, that
is, according to established custom. Other restraints were
placed upon his power, and it is pretty certain that the Spa¬
nish kings were not commonly tyrannical. The true tyrants
were the feudal lords, who were at perfect liberty to exercise
almost royal authority within their respective jurisdictions.
Of their violence and rapacity there are innumerable com¬
plaints in the national chronicles, and in the acts of the
Cortes. It is worthy of remark, that the queens presided
with their husbands in the Cortes, the councils, and the tri¬
bunals of justice, and that as judges, not merely as spectators.
The only great feudatories of the crown, exercising a local
jurisdiction, were the condes, who held different ranks and Histoi
enjoyed different degrees of power. But, from the thir-'
teenth century, the governors of provinces were termed
adelantados (now captains-general), while those of cities,
towns, and fortresses, were known as alcaldes. As conquest
gave the Christians additional territory, admirals and consta¬
bles were appointed, with power over the affairs of sea and land
respectively. Of the dignities, whatever their names might
be, most were doubtless of a mixed nature, partly civil and
partly military. But there were functionaries who exercised
an exclusively military authority. Among the officers of
administration, those of the law must have occupied a pro¬
minent place. The judgment in civil or criminal cases
properly depended on the counts or viscounts, who some¬
times decided themselves, sometimes in concert with men
learned in the law, called counsellors, and at other times they
left the duty to the ordinary judges. These counsellors or
judges were expressly educated for the office, and otherwise
well adapted for such a situation. The forms of proceeding,
which were simple and brief, w ere conducted in public, and
the sentence was also openly delivered. From the decision
of all the ordinary judges, lay an appeal to the royal tribunal,
which also took cognizance of certain offences and cases.
Spain can boast of an ample body of laws promulgated dur¬
ing the middle ages.
As the circumstances of the country altered, and the
state of society advanced, it became necessary to extend
or limit the existing laws, and to enact new ones, lo
encourage the cultivation of waste lands, the Christian
kings promised to the lower orders, that if they reclaimed
unoccupied wastes, formed themselves into small communi¬
ties, building villages and towns, and defended their pos¬
sessions against the common enemy, they should enjoy cer¬
tain social privileges in addition to the profits of their in¬
dustry. Of these privileges the most highly prized were
those which rescued the people from the jurisdiction of their
feudal tyrants, which empowered them to elect their own
magistrates, to form municipal juntas, and to dispose of cer¬
tain revenues arising from forests and other possessions.
It may well be believed that so brilliant a reward attracted
many settlers, who were thus at once raised from the rank
of serfs to that of citizens. Such was the origin of many
fueros, or provincial laws, which varied in their spirit
according to the liberality of the monarch and the re a-
tive importance of the colonies. Ihese fueros weie de¬
vised with jealous care to preserve the inhabitants from
feudal domination. No baron or noble could settle in a
community, unless he abandoned his birthright, enro et
himself among the citizens, and owned obedience to the
local fuero. So many temptations did these new commu¬
nities present, in the shape of municipal posts, that many
nobles were known to renounce their rank, and class them¬
selves among the plebeians, for the purpose of obtaining
them. The defects of such a system were not long in being
felt, and a remedy was provided by the introduction of t e
“ Siete Partidas,” so called from the seven parts into wtnen
it is divided. It is by far the most comprehensive code ot
Spain, being taken from the code of Justinian, the v isi-
gothic, the Fuero Viejo, the local fueros, as well as Iron
the canon law. . r .l.
Passing over the much-disputed question regarding the Cortes.
origin of popular representation in Spain, we bnd e,
were present, at the Cortes held at Leon in the year ,
deputies of towns, chosen by lot,” that is, representatives ot
the people, the third estate. On these municipal towns
many important privileges were conferred by su
sovereigns, the direct tendency of which was to abi g
powers of the feudal lords. But even at the brightest p nod
of popular representation, which was the fourteent ce >
the representation was never definite. Many o g
towns neglected to send any deputies at all, and those
S P A I '
L S'
Char
ory. did return them appear to have observed little proportion in
the numbers. Two was the number which ought to have
been returned by each, but some towns sent eight, while
others of larger size sent only one or two. Indeed it seems
highly probable that the privilege of sending deputies was
a favour granted by the sovereign to such towns as it w^as
his pleasure to honour. It is preposterous, therefore, to look
upon the third estate as consisting of independent repre¬
sentatives of the nation : the members were little better
than nominees of royalty, and their numbers could be in¬
creased or diminished just as it suited the purposes of go¬
vernment. Much as the popular representation of Castille
is extolled by national writers, it seems to have been better
adapted for securing and extending the power of the crown,
than for protecting the rights of the people. Under Ferdi¬
nand and Isabella the last lingering traces of popular liberty
were destroyed; but the power of the other orders of the
state suffered at the same time a corresponding diminution,
as we have already noticed. Such is a brief outline of the
government and laws of Castille and Leon, the most import¬
ant of the peninsular kingdoms, and almost the only ones
in which the reader will take much interest, or, indeed, re¬
garding which authentic documents remain. It may be
mentioned, however, with regard to the kingdom of Aragon,
that, with the exception of the lowest order, the serfs of the
soil, the Aragonese possessed a greater share of individual
liberty than any other people in the Peninsula. The citi¬
zens and nobles frequently coalesced for the purpose of ob¬
taining fueros or privileges from the crown, and when thus
united they were generally too powerful to be resisted.
Hence numerous concessions were made by successive so¬
vereigns, and an amount of popular freedom obtained by
the people which frequently threatened the existence of the
monarchy itself. Catalonia and Valencia wrere always dis¬
tinct from Aragon, both in government and laws. Each
had its Cortes, consisting of three estates, prelates, nobles,
and deputies, all no less tenacious of their privileges than
those of Aragon.
are, Several historians of note, wdiose works have come down
to us, flourished in the various Christian kingdoms of Spain
during the period of Mahommedan domination. Poetry
sprung up about the middle of the twelfth century, and
some very interesting specimens of these ancient, composi¬
tions still remain, particularly the Poema del Cid. The old
Spanish ballads are well known, and celebrated throughout
Europe. The scientific state of Spain, as compared with
the Mahommedan, exhibits a lamentable contrast; nor does
!l,af?Pear t^at any °f the useful arts of life the Spanish
Christians were equal to the Moors. The most distinguish¬
ed place in Spanish science during this period has been as¬
signed to Alfonso X. surnamed el Sabio; but even he was
greatly indebted to the Arabians for the perfection which
ie attained. The theologians of Spain, during the middle
ages, were more numerous than all her other writers put
together, and the writings of many of these shining lights
o the church are to be met with in the libraries of Spain,
r ti 1re£ar^to rehgion it is only necessary to state, that the
1 Vu0 1 ^ ^ Prcvailed in full force, and was characterized
Y ie darkest bigotry and the fiercest intolerance, as the
uoings of the inquisition amply testify.
’ rip of Germany) became king of Spain on the
ueatn ot berdinand, but a regency had been nominated to
govern the kingdom until he should attain his twentieth
year, if the events and transactions in which this monarch
s concerned were to be woven into the history of Spain,
thp °U • !? ^.Ct .be tbe history of alroost all Europe during
Peno*°f ]”s reign. But our business is with events
arp J Pe^Hsular; or if others of a more general character
clnSplCCaS10na y not.iced’ it; be because they are too
violen COm^.ctc'<J w.ith the former to be separated without
ee. His foreign wars, negociations, and other trans-
501
actions, arose from his position as emperor of Germany, not History,
irom Jus being king of Spain ; and an account of them will
be found under the heads France, Italy, and England,
to which articles the reader is referred.
Ihe Cardinal Ximenes Cisneros, to whom the regency
had been left by the deceased king, was bitterly opposed in
his administration, principally by the nobles of Castille, who,
envious of his dignity, displeased with his firmness and vi¬
gour, and hoping for impunity under a young monarch, soon
showed a disposition to refuse him obedience. Popular
discontent reached a great height; and as his best measures
Mere misrepresented to the king, Charles perceived the ne¬
cessity of making his appearance in Spain, where he arrived
in 1517. Nobles and prelates hastened to meet their so¬
vereign, and among the rest the calumniated Ximenes.
But that sovereign he was not destined to see ; he suddenly
sickened and died, not without suspicions of poison. Charles
brought with him a multitude of Flemings from the Nether¬
lands, who soon monopolized the principal situations in
church and state, and in all their dealings evinced an un¬
quenchable thirst for gold. The favour extended to these
foreigners so incensed the people, that Charles found ex¬
treme difficulty in obtaining the homage of the Spaniards.
Although they swore allegiance to him, it was on certain
stipulated conditions, sufficiently advantageous to them¬
selves. In 1519 occurred an event destined to exercise
great influence over his future life, over his hereditary
states, in fact over all Europe. This was his election to
the imperial throne of Germany, left vacant by the death
of his paternal grandfather Maximilian. The Spaniards
were pleased that this dignity was conferred on their so¬
vereign ; but as the old grievances continued to gall them,
they were not so dazzled as to be insensible to their own
interests, dhe leading men of many of the principal cities
publicly remonstrated with Charles, and it was only by
granting certain concessions that he could keep them from
open rebellion. His presence having become absolutely
necessary in Germany, he quitted Spain, but proceeded first
to England to concert with Henry VIII. the means of hum¬
bling the power of the French king, Francis I. This mo¬
narch had been a candidate for the imperial diadem ; but,
disappointed in his ambition, and in hatred of his success¬
ful rival, he leagued himself even with the enemy of the
Christian faith. He also laid claim to Italy, the Nether¬
lands, and Navarre; so that war was unavoidable, and hos¬
tilities immediately commenced; for an account of which
see the articles already referred to.
The turbulence of the times was not likely to be as¬
suaged by the absence of the king from his all but revolt¬
ed territories in the Peninsula. Opposition had now de¬
generated into rebellion ; and Mrhat before might have been
dignified M'ith the name of patriotism, could only be charac¬
terized as crafty schemes of personal ambition. Unfortu¬
nately for the interests of order, the regency of Castille,
where disaffection had assumed the most serious aspect, was
held by a man, estimable and virtuous, indeed, but little
fitted for such stormy times. The appointment of this in¬
dividual, Cardinal ^Adrian, who subsequently wore the triple
crown, had at the first given great offence to the nobles
and deputies at court; but the king, though solicited, wrould
not change him for another. The persons upon whom the
fury of the mob fell wrere chiefly the governors and deputies
of the cities and provinces. Many were massacred ; open
insurrection spread from city to city ; and no species of crime
was left uncommitted. In this critical position of the royal
cause, it was fortunate that Aragon, Catalonia, and most of
Andalusia, stood aloof from the confederation. Had they
joined it, the evils might have been long protracted, and the
whole Peninsula plunged in misery and ruin. But the re¬
volted cities followed one another in making their submis¬
sion to government; and those which did not voluntarily
502
S P A I N.
History.
submit were reduced by the royal troops, now augmented
to a considerable body. An attempt of the French king to
seize Navarre was happily frustrated, so that in 1522 the
whole country was restored to tranquillity.
In July of that year, the emperor, whose presence had
been often requested by the royalists, arrived in Spain. It
was expected that summary justice would be inflicted on
those who had taken a prominent part in the recent distur¬
bances ; but on this occasion Charles showed a degree of
clemency almost unexampled in history, very few being
condemned to suffer. During the remainder of this prince’s
reign, the domestic tranquillity of Spain was undisturbed, ex¬
cept by an insurrection of the Moors, which was soon sup¬
pressed. Of two expeditions of the emperor to the African
coast, to humble, if not to extirpate, the Mahommedan pirates,
one was successful, the other disastrous. He compelled the
Grand Turk, who penetrated into the centre of Europe, to
retreat; and took his great rival, Francis I. of France, pri¬
soner at Pavia. Such were some of his achievements in his
foreign wars, by which the fame of the Spanish arms was ex¬
tended throughout Europe. The mines of the west also had
begun to pour their inexhaustible wealth into the country, so
that the military and political power of Spain now attained its
zenith, and became a source of uneasiness to other nations.
In 1525 Charles married the Princess Isabella, sister of Joam
III. king of Portugal. The issue of this union was, besides
two daughters, the infant Philip, destined to be no less fa¬
mous than his father. Charles made an ineffectual effort to
procure for him the imperial crown of Germany; but in
1554 succeeded in obtaining the hand of the princess Mary
of England. That the nuptial ceremony might be per¬
formed with greater splendour, he invested his son with
the regal title, by abdicating in his favour his Italian pos¬
sessions, the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, and the
duchy of Milan. This was but a prelude to a still more ex¬
traordinary sacrifice. It appears that from the very prime
of life the emperor had meditated a retreat from the world ;
and that on the death of his mother Juana, in 1555, he was
determined on fulfilling his long-cherished project. Many
reasons have been assigned for this memorable act, but the
principal cause is to be traced to his superstitious tempera¬
ment ; something is also to be allowed for the bad success of
his arms during the latter years of his reign. Having con¬
cluded a truce with Henry, the successor of Francis, and re¬
called Philip from England, he assembled at Brussels the
states of the Netherlands. There, amidst the most impos¬
ing solemnity ever witnessed since the days of the Roman
Caesars, he resigned the sovereignty of the Low Countries
into the hands of his son. With the same august ceremony
he resigned the crown of Spain, and the dominions thereto
belonging; and from the monastic retreat to which he retired,
he sent his resignation of the imperial diadem. The place
which he had chosen for his residence was the monastery
of St Justus, one of the most secluded and delightful situa¬
tions in Estremadura. Here, employed in religious ob¬
servances, passed the latter years of the life of the most
powerful sovereign Europe had seen since the days of Charle¬
magne and the empire of the west. His character has been
variously described by natives and foreigners; the former
can see little in it to condemn, the latter nothing to admire.
His policy was always close, sometimes crooked, and in not
a few instances dishonourable. He was no friend either to
civil or religious liberty, and may safely be pronounced a
bigot. Under him the condition of Spain was more splen¬
did, perhaps also more prosperous, than in any prior or sub¬
sequent reign. Notwithstanding his many wars, the people
do not appear to have been overburdened in supporting
them, for the New World poured its treasures at his feet. A
new impulse was given to national industry by the markets
opened for Spanish productions in the transatlantic colonies.
But the brightest landscape has its masses of shade. The
nobles held a power over the people which was often ex- His,
ercised with violence. Favouritism to foreigners was prac-''—v
tised to an unprincipled extent, and the sale of offices be¬
came a branch of traffic. Another baneful evil was the
multiplication of religious orders. Lastly, the exemption
from taxation of the nobles and clergy, which threw the
whole weight of public contribution on the third estate, in¬
creased the disaffection of that body, and was one of the
chief causes of the subsequent decline of the kingdom. For
an account of the private life and character of Charles, see
the article Charles V.
The reign of Philip II. commenced in 1556, and extend-Phili
ed to the year 1598. Much of it was occupied in foreign
wars, to which we can only briefly advert. For an account
of Philip’s long, bloody, and inglorious struggle with his
revolted subjects of the Low Countries, see the article Hol¬
land. The circumstances which led to the invasion of
Portugal, and the annexation of that kingdom to the Spa¬
nish crown, will be found fully detailed under the head Portu¬
gal. An attempt was made by the pope, in conjunction with
France, to wrest from Philip his Italian dominions, but
without success. The duke of Alva, the viceroy of Naples,
put his troops in motion, seized several fortresses of the
papal states, and the holy city began to tremble for its
security. Philip himself invaded France, and inflicted a
severe blow on Henry under the walls of St Quentin. The
French army, under the duke of Guise, was recalled from
Italy; and the pope, left at the mercy of the duke of Alva,
was compelled to purchase his safety by withdrawing from
the French alliance. In 1559 peace was made with France;
and Philip having become a widower, further ratified the
treaty by marrying Elizabeth, sister of the French king.
But the Turks continued to harass Naples, although they
durst not make a stand before the Spanish forces. In 1565,
Philip assisted the Maltese with 10,000 Spaniards in the
famous siege which they underwent from sultan Solyman.
Five years afterwards, the war between the Venetian re¬
public and the Porte again brought the Spaniards into col¬
lision with the latter power, and they had no small share in
achieving the glorious victory of Lepanto. The Mahom-
medans, however, still continued to make descents on the
Italian coast, and to harass the African possessions of Philip;
but, on the whole, the war with the misbelievers was honour¬
able to the Spanish arms.
We now approach an event of peculiar and lasting inte¬
rest to every Briton, the projected invasion of England by
the famous Spanish Armada. Elizabeth had certainly done
much to provoke the resentment of Philip. She had suc¬
coured the insurgents of the Netherlands, fomented the
disturbances in Portugal, assisted France, and her naval
captains had ravaged the dominions of Spain in both he¬
mispheres. Philip’s patience being exhausted, he prepared
a mighty armament for the invasion of England. A com¬
plete account of this famous attempt to plant a foreign
standard on our shores, and its disastrous termination, will
be found in the article England. A second expedition
for the invasion of Ireland shared the fate of the former;
and this effectually cured Philip of all ambition to attempt
the subjugation of the most hated of his enemies.
The revolt of the Moriscos occupies a remarkable place
in the native annals of the sixteenth century. These Chris¬
tianized Moors still remained Mahommedans at heart, mak¬
ing amends for compulsory apostasy by celebrating in se¬
cret the rites of their religion. It was the jealous policy
of Spain to destroy, if possible, every vestige of their na¬
tionality. To effect this end the government had re¬
course to severe and unjust measures, which produce
open revolt and civil war in Granada. Dreadful atrocities
were committed by the Moriscos, and fierce was the reta
liation of the Christians. The war raged with various sue
cess for some time, but how the struggle must ternnna e
ji iry,
SPAIN.
could never for a moment be doubtful. The Moriscos fled
to the mountains, the ancient asylum of liberty ; and in the
deep caverns with which they abound they deemed them¬
selves secure. But thither they were hunted by the Chris¬
tians, and, like wild beasts, smoked to death by fires kindled
at the mouths of these subterranean retreats. All who
were in arms were cut off in this manner, or by the sword.
The total expulsion of the Moriscos, however, did not take
place till a subsequent period. To some affairs of a private
or more trivial nature it is unnecessary to advert, although
some of them deeply implicate the character of Philip. This
prince died in September 1598, in the palace of the Escu-
rial, of which he was the founder, and which is the noblest
monument of his reign. By the last of his four wives, Anne
of Austria, Philip left a son, who succeeded by the title of
Philip III.; his other male children preceded him to the
tomb. Don Carlos, one of these, is generally believed to
have been murdered by the command of his bloody and un¬
relenting father. The character of Philip was gloomy, stern,
and cruel; he was suspicious, dark, and vindictive, the irre¬
concilable foe of civil and religious liberty, for which there
can only be brought forward as a palliation his zeal for
what he called religion. But Philip was eminently prudent,
attentive to public affairs, and what he conceived to be the
best interests of his country. It has been supposed that
the sceptre of Philip was swayed over 100,000,000 of hu¬
man beings, including the population of all the foreign pos¬
sessions of Spain. At this time the state of the inhabitants
of the Peninsula was one of comparative comfort. Agri¬
culture, manufactures, and commerce, flourished to an ex¬
tent even greater than in the best period of the emperor’s
reign. Yet all his vast resources, especially in the New
World, were unhappily wasted by Philip; and his own po¬
licy destroyed the very foundations on which they rested,
and hastened the decay, or rather ruin, of the kingdom.
The measures which exercised so fatal an influence over
the destinies of Spain may be briefly enumerated. 1. His
persecution of the Flemings and Dutch, which led to a re¬
volt that cost him 150,000,000 of ducats; 2. his war with
England, no less expensive and disastrous; 3. the treasures
sent to support the abominable Catholic league, and wars
in other quarters; 4. the subjugation of the Moriscos, and
the proceedings of the inquisition, by which the most pro¬
ductive and useful classes of his subjects were ruined or
expatriated. From these and from other minor causes, not¬
withstanding the enormous revenues and resources of the
kingdom, Philip died insolvent.
, The greatness of Spain having passed away with Philip
11., from this period it declined with fearful rapidity. For
a long period there is little to be recorded beyond the reign
ot worthless favourites, the profligacy of courts, and the
leeble etiorts of a government struck with mortal paralysis.
Uur retrospect of these reigns will therefore be charac¬
terized by a brevity corresponding with their importance.
Ihe most signal event of Philip III.’s reign was the total
expulsion ot the Moriscos from all parts of Spain where
tftey had sought a home during the struggle recorded in
ie last reign. The loss to agriculture and commerce, for
.• eY ^er.e by ^ar tbe most ingenious and industrious nor-
non ot the community, and the blow which would be in-
icted on the national prosperity by the withdrawal of so
much wealth as they possessed, were never taken into ac-
. y . ,e Lerma, the prime ministers, nor any
His inquisitorial councillors. Orders were issued for their
fmnnnnte.iX^isi°n in SePtember 1609, and no fewer than
uu,UU0 mdmduals were forcibly dragged from their homes,
wnll k el0n the Afncan shore> there to be treated even
Thpf .y,t le m0St Cruel and Perfidi°us of the human family,
pu:]- transactions ot this reign are unimportant,
son Jl u' (leid m ^larch 1621, leaving his kingdom to a
who bore his name, and also inherited his imbecility.
503
Philip IV. ascended the Spanish throne in his seventeenth History,
year. Profligate extravagance and dissipation soon began "'v—--
to characterize the proceedings of the court, and murmurs PhiliP IV-
and complaints to agitate the people, who were exhausted
of their wealth in supporting pantomime and mummery at
home, and iniquitous wars abroad. The reins of govern¬
ment were surrendered into the hands of the Conde de Oli¬
vares, a worthless favourite. An attempt to enforce an
obnoxious measure drove the Catalans to revolt. They
sought and obtained the aid of France, and this occasioned
a feeble and unimportant war, which languished till 1660,
when peace was concluded, but not till Spain had surren¬
dered part of her territory to France. Contemporary with
the origin of the Catalan insurrection was that of Portugal,
by which the Portuguese freed themselves from the Spanish
yoke. See Portugal. During his long reign, Philip was
frequently at war with England, Holland, and France, and
every power committed fearful ravages on his territories.
England took Jamaica during this disastrous and disgrace¬
ful period of Spanish history. In Naples, a terrible shock
was sustained in 1646, by the insurrection of Massaniello.
See the article Naples. But the most calamitous of Phi¬
lip s transactions was the war in the Low Countries, which
terminated in his recognising the independence of the
seven United Provinces. Philip died in 1665. His cha¬
racter needs no description. Since the days of Roderick
the Goth, a more disastrous reign than his had not dark¬
ened the annals of Spain.
Charles II. son of Philip IV. succeeded to the throne Carles IE
when only four years of age. As the affairs of the kingdom
were then situated, they were not likely to improve under
a child ; and it was a further misfortune, that throughout his
long reign the king remained little better than a child. He
v/as feeble in body, and next to imbecile in mind; in proof
of which it may be mentioned, that he believed himself
bewitched, and submitted to the exorcisms of his confessor
with devout solemnity. Louis of France, who espoused
Maria Teresa, sister of Charles II. by a prior marriage,
in right of his wife preferred a monstrous claim to the Low
Countries, and poured his legions over the frontier to make
it good. The union of Sweden, Holland, and England, to
oppose the ambition of the Frenchman, saved the whole
Netherlands from subjugation ; but by the peace of Aix-la-
Chapelle Louis retained the most valuable of the conquests
which he had made. In this reign the complete indepen¬
dence of Portugal was recognised. In 1672, France invad-
ed Holland, now the ally of Spain, conquered Franche-
Comte, which belonged to Spain, made some destructive in¬
roads into Catalonia, and reduced some fortresses in the
Low Countries. By the alliance against France, in which
England, Germany, and Spain joined, Louis’s career of
ambition was effectually checked. But subsequently he
leduced Valenciennes, Cambray, St Omers, and other places;
Ypres and Ghent were assailed with equal success; and a
place on the Catalan frontier also yielded to his arms. Most
of these places, however, were restored at the peace of
Nimeguen in 16/8, one of the conditions of which was,
that Charles should receive the hand of Maria Louise, niece
of the french king. On the death of this princess in
1689, the French again poured the storm of war over the
frontier of Catalonia. Destitute of money and of troops,
Spain trembled to her most distant extremities. But cir¬
cumstances of a delicate nature, into which we shall not
enter, induced Louis to restore all his conquests at the
peace of Ryswick in 1697. The health of Charles, always
infirm, now rapidly declined, and he expired on the 1st of
l\ovember 1 /00. He was the last of the Austrian dynasty;
and glorious as the condition of Spain was under its early
sovereigns, those who succeeded them had brought the
kingdom to the verge of ruin. From the accession of the
third I hilip it had declined, from causes already specified.
504
SPAIN.
History.
Philip V.
The condition to which it was now reduced was pitiable.
The army and navy were in a state of utter disorganization ;
the walls of towns and fortresses were in ruins ; the public
revenues had dwindled to little more than a nobleman’s in¬
come ; and trade, manufactures, and commerce, had all but
ceased to exist. Another such reign as that of Charles II.
would have dissolved the bonds of society.
Charles II. was succeeded by Philip V. duke of Anjou,
grandson to Louis XIV. of France. He was the eldest son
of Maria Teresa, eldest daughter of Philip IV., consequent¬
ly the most legitimate sovereign; for Charles left no issue,
and before his death he had subscribed an instrument, de¬
claring Philip his successor. The foreign events of this
reign demand our first attention. The transactions of the
war which was soon declared against I ranee and Spain, by
England, Holland, and the empire, assisted by Savoy, Por¬
tugal, and Prussia, have been already related under the
article Britain. The chief objects of the alliance were to
obtain satisfaction for the Austrian claims on Spain, the
emperor Leopold being not only descended from Fernando,
brother of Charles V., but whose mother was the daughter
of Philip III.; to rescue the Netherlands from France ; to
prevent the union of the French and Spanish crowns; and
to exclude subjects of the former from the Spanish posses¬
sions in the West Indies. The treaty of Utrecht, which
terminated the differences between the principal contend¬
ing powers, was signed in 1713 ; and in 1715 a permanent
peace was concluded between Spain and Portugal. By
the celebrated treaty of 1713, Spain was stripped of half
her European possessions. Philip was indeed acknowledged
king of Spain and the Indies; but Sicily was ceded to the
duke of Savoy ; Milan, Naples, Sardinia, and the Nether¬
lands, to the emperor; and Gibraltar and Minorca to the
English. The Catalans, who had revolted and joined the
allies, were likewise guaranteed a general amnesty, but
without any stipulations for the preservation of their an¬
cient fueros or privileges, which they had justly forfeited.
Philip also renounced, both for himself and his successors,
all claims to the French crown. In return for this renun¬
ciation, he forced rather than persuaded his council to in¬
troduce a measure to which subsequent events in the his¬
tory of Spain gave great importance. This was to alter
the order of succession, and establish a sort of Salic law,
by which the most distant male of the family would be called
to the inheritance in preference to the nearest female. The
innovation was regarded with discontent. By the ancient
law, which, in default of direct male issue, called females to
the throne, the monarchy had been formed. By it Catalo¬
nia had been united with Aragon, and the latter with Cas-
tille; and by it Philip himself had inherited the crown.
Philip made an unsuccessful attempt to recover Sicily,
Sardinia, and Naples; for he had now rendered both his
navy and his army formidable alike by discipline and num¬
bers. His fleet, however, was totally destroyed off the coast
of Sicily, by our Admiral Byng, in the year 1718.
By a new treaty in 1720, Sardinia was given to the duke
of Savoy, and Sicily to the emperor ; and by the treaty of
Seville, concluded in 1729, the duchies of Tuscany, Parma,
and Placentia, were ceded to Spain. In 1731, the Spanish
king invaded Naples, took possession of that kingdom, and
conferred it on his son Don Carlos, in consequence of which
war was declared between Spain and the empire in 1733.
At the end of that year the palace of Madrid was consumed
by fire, and all the archives relating to the Indies perished
in the flames. In 1739, hostilities were renewed between
Spain and Britain ; but the only successes obtained by the
latter power were the capture of Porto Bello by Admiral
Vernon, and that of the Manilla galeon by Commodore
Anson. Philip’s long and turbulent reign was now draw¬
ing to a close. In July 1746, he was hurried to the grave
by an attack of apoplexy. One memorable event of his
.11
reign remains to be noticed. In imitation of the emperor, Hi T
he resigned the cares of royalty into the hands of his son''-'^
in 1724; but finding seclusion irksome, he resumed them
again in a very short time. Whatever might be the weak¬
nesses of this prince, he had a sincere desire for the good
of Spain, and retrieved it from hopeless ruin by several
judicious measures which he introduced, so that the coun¬
try attained a degree of positive prosperity unknown since
the days of the second Philip.
Ferdinand VI. a mild, prudent, and beneficent prince, Fer0 i(i
reformed abuses in the administration of justice and ma-Vl
nagement of the finances. He revived commerce, estab¬
lished manufactures, and promoted the prosperity of his
kingdom.
Charles III. succeeded Ferdinand in 1759. The famous Chi
family compact was concluded at Versailles in 1761, among
the four kings of the house of Bourbon. The English,
alarmed by the naval preparations of Spain, declared war in
1762, and took Havannah in the island of Cuba, and Ma¬
nilla in the East Indies. Notwithstanding this success,
peace was hastily concluded at Fontainebleau, in Novem¬
ber, by which the Havannah was restored. In 1767 the
Jesuits w^ere expelled from Spain. An unsuccessful ex¬
pedition was concerted against Algiers in 1775, the par¬
ticulars of which it is unnecessary to detail. In the war
between Great Britain and her American colonies, Spain,
by the intrigues of the French court, was instigated to
take up arms in support of the latter. At the conclusion
of that calamitous war, Great Britain, in a treaty with Spain,
ceded to this power East and West Florida, and the island
of Minorca. Charles died in 1788, and was succeeded by
his second son Charles Anthony, prince of Asturias, the eld¬
est having been declared incapable of inheriting the crown.
Charles IV. had not long been seated on the throne be-chrl V.
fore the portentous revolution in France involved Europe IT
in a general scene of political and military contest. TheEngs ip
king of Spain joined the general confederacy against the new the ci
republic, and in consequence was numbered among the derat
objects of its resentment, by a declaration of war in 1793.^
1"
The military operations of Spain, however, were extremely
languid ; and after two campaigns, in which she might be
said to carry on rather a defensive than an offensive war
against the republican armies, she was compelled to con¬
clude a treaty of peace, which was signed at Basel on
the 22d July 1795. By this treaty the French republic
restored to the king of Spain all the conquests which she
had made from him since the commencement of hostilities,
and received in exchange all right and property in the
Spanish part of St Domingo.
This treaty was soon followed by a rupture with Great War
Britain. On 5th October 1796, the court of Spain having^
published a manifesto against this country, the court 0‘grjta
London made a spirited reply ; and about the same time
was published a treaty of offensive and defensive alliance,
which had been concluded about two months before,between
the king of Spain and the French republic. In the war
which followed between Spain and Great Britain, his Ca¬
tholic majesty could boast of but little honour or s^ce*s;
and the French republic gained little from its new ally but
the contributions of money which it from time to time
compelled him to advance. On the 14th of February i t
a Spanish fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line was defeate
by Sir John Jervis off Cape St Vincent, and four ot tne
Spanish line-of-battle ships were left in the hands ot e
victors. From this time till the temporary cessation o
hostilities by the peace of Amiens in 1802, there is not mg
remarkable in the transactions of Spain. .
On the renewal of the war in 1803, Spain was again c
pelled, by the overbearing power of France, to take an
active part against Great Britain, and fitted out a forrn' ^
fleet, which was united to a considerable naval force e d
ITS
SPAIN.
i
jry- ing to the French. The Spanish declaration of war against
•—''Britain is dated at Madrid on the 12th of December fstM;
and on the 21st of October 1805, the combined fleets of
France and Spain were annihilated by Lord Nelson off Cape
Trafalgar. After this terrible blow to the naval power of
Spain, nothing of importance took place till 1808, when
the liberties of Spain were subverted by the machinations
of Napoleon. Ihe designs of the French emperor, long
suspected, became sufficiently apparent in 1808. Unfor¬
tunately the dissensions of the royal family of Spain were
so favourable to his plans, that they may be said to have
hurried on theii execution. 1 he dark and tortuous policy
by which he effected his purpose, and the course which
events took in Spain, will be found detailed in the arti¬
cle France, so that only a brief notice of the leading
facts will be given in this place. At this time (1807) the
management of state affairs was in the hands of Don Ma¬
nuel Godoy, the favourite of Charles IV. and his queen,
and better known by the name of the Prince of Peace.
He had been raised from the humblest station to be the
richest and most powerful subject in the kingdom, and
to fill its highest posts. Ferdinand, the prince of Astu¬
rias, had refused to marry the sister-in-law of this fortu¬
nate minion, and to secure himself from his vengeance he
wrote to Napoleon asking for protection. At the same time
he exposed the administration of Godoy, in a letter to his
father, and requested to be allowed some participation in the
government. This so enraged the queen that she ordered
his immediate arrest; but, on asking pardon of the king, Fer¬
dinand was restored to liberty, not however before Charles
had taken the fatal step of appealing to Napoleon regard¬
ing his son s supposed treasonable conduct. The emperor of
France was thus constituted umpire between father and son.
French troops poured into Spain, which was thrown into a
eiment by the rumour that the royal family were preparing
to fly to America. Popular indignation was kindled against
the hated favourite, who narrowly escaped with his life. At
ength Charles abdicated in favour of his son, but two days
afterwards privately protested against his own act, and sent
a copy of this strange paper to Napoleon, who afterwards
made it a pretext for his ulterior designs.
1 The prince of Asturias, now elevated to the throne un-
dT m6 J1.f °^Ferdinand VII. made his triumphal entry
m o Madrid. Shortly afterwards he was induced to under-
take a journey to Bayonne to meet Napoleon, and consult
about the affairs of the kingdom. This memorable inter¬
view took place, and the eyes of Ferdinand were now
thomughly opened to the designs of the French emperor, by
^mself a captive in his hands, and his right to be
onsidered king of Spain rudely denied. The rest of the
royal family eagerly rushed into the snare set for them by
he master °f toils at Bayonne. Here father and son sur¬
rendered the crown of Spain into the hands of Napoleon,
.LTV WaS ,transferred to the head of his brother
.i niP; Bat sueh a momentous event as a change of
perfidv168’ "u UI?der circumstances of such atrocious
Ll J’ C°- j- n0t take PIace without rousing every loyal
neont yMdlgnant in the bosoms of the Spanish
than ii s,ooner was the fact of the renunciation known,
Astnr nartbei;l1 Provinces burst into open insurrection,
lowed h! T Ga 1Cia Set the examPIe 5 and it was soon fol-
nied nv a 111081 every part of Spain not immediately occu-
steps t/rrW* armieS °f France- 0ne of the first
semblp -by the Ieaders of the insurrection was to as-
When ti.6 Juntas or general assemblies of the provinces,
calling on cWere °^aniz.ed\ they issued proclamations,
and in tb thC SPaniards to rise m defence of their sovereign,
these prop!?586?1011 ? their own independence. Besides
"•erepubltS °nSifr0m the Provincial juntas, addresses
the popular r d m a m°St every Province by the leaders of
v^pular cause; in particular, the province of Aragon
505
w as addressed by Palafox, a name celebrated in the annals History,
of the Spanish revolution, in a bold and spirited manifesto.
Ihe junta of Seville, which assembled on the 27th of May
orrned itself into a supreme junta of government, caused'
F erdinand to be proclaimed king of Spain, took possession
of the military stores, and issued an order for all males firom
sixteen to forty-five, who had no children, to enroll them¬
selves in the national armies. On the 4th of July the alliance
ot Great Britain with the Spanish nation was proclaimed,
and a struggle began which terminated in the complete ex¬
pulsion of the French from the Peninsula. The events of this
celebrated war will be found recorded in the article Britain.
Ihe loss of the royal family, by which they were deprived
ot a directing power, a legitimate head to give the con¬
stitutional stamp to their proceedings, plunged the Span-
laics in great difficulties. Unity of opinion was wanting
to the junta, and vacillation and weakness marked its pro¬
ceedings. It was unfortunate, that while one spirit animat¬
ed the mass of the people against the French, many of the
nobles and other influential individuals had given in their
adhesion to the French dynasty. The successes of the lat¬
ter were attributed, probably not without some reason, to
treachery; and more than one Spanish general fell a victim
o public indignation, whether justly or unjustly cannot now
be known. But whatever victories the French gained,
they only remained masters of the places which they occu-
pied. A vast system of guerilla warfare had been orga¬
nized and vigorously prosecuted, which served to preserve
the energy and confidence of the nation unbroken. The
guerillas everywhere surrounded and harassed the French •
no fine of communication was safe for them. These petty
achievements, however, could not compensate for the loss
of battles on a large scale, and the capture of fortresses, the
strongholds of the kingdom. The supreme junta fell under
suspicion, and, unable to sustain the weight of government
and the storm of public indignation, it was agreed that the
Loi tes should be convoked, and a regency appointed. The
manner in which this celebrated Cortes was constituted has
een a su ject of keen disputation ; but the circumstances
m which the kingdom was placed at the time, rendered it
impossible for the members being chosen according to the
ancient forms. It has been alleged that this assembly was
ot a much more popular and democratic nature than the
regular Cortes, which is undoubtedly the fact. It ought to
be recollected, however, that the nobles were a suspected
body, and therefore the burgesses and others might consider
it dangerous to admit their voice in a matter which involved
the liberties of the kingdom. But, we repeat, the situation
in which Spain stood at this eventful moment made it a
matter of necessity for those who directed the affairs of the
nation, to act as they did. Had not the progress of the
F rench armies dispersed the central junta, and concentrat-
fi hl fuJ?ltlve Patnots at Cadiz, it is more than probable
that the Cortes would have been assembled according to the
ancient forms, and that the privileged classes, supported by
the majority of the nation, would have defeated any attempt
to alter the old constitution. But Cadiz offered to that par¬
ty which has been since known by the name of liberal, the
most favourable opportunity of striking a deadly blow at the
very root of the monarchical power under which they had
so long groaned in hopeless yet silent restlessness. Cadiz
was not only m itself a place much more democratic than
any other in Spain, but during the usurpation of the French
it had become the asylum of all who professed liberal prin-
7 fs- c As .tbey generally belonged to that numerous class
of the Spanish gentry who look up to the patronage of go¬
vernment for the means of subsistence, the court drew them
oget lei from the provinces. On the prospect of the poli¬
tical changes which the captivity of Ferdinand opened to
the country, these men attached themselves to the central
junta, and finally followed its members in their flight from
3 s
506
SPAIN.
History. Seville to Cadiz. Hither, too, flocked all the stragglers of
—v''—' the philosophical party; and on the dissolution of that dn ,
dilatory knot of ill-assorted men, who, under the veil ot dig¬
nified gravity, had for a time concealed their unfitness to
direct the nation, the Spanish speculatists found themselves
in the midst of a population highly disposed to listen to tneir
doctrines, to approve their views, and constitute them tne
organs of the new laws which were to remodel the kingdom.
New con- The majority of the first Cortes being composed of liberals,
stitution. the project of a constitution was immediately set on loot,
and a committee of the ablest members appointed to draw
up the fundamental code of the monarchy. Such a task,
at all times arduous, was, in the present circumstances of
the country, beset with peculiar difficulties. Encouraged by
the absence of the king, placed beyond any check from the
privileged classes, and the weight of the landed property of
the country, it is not surprising that the framers of the con¬
stitution allowed their zeal to carry them too far, especially
when it is considered that the Spanish people were almost
entirely unaccustomed to the exercise of civil rights. 1 he
government was wholly remodelled, so that from being the
most absolute monarchy in Europe, itbecame the most strict y
limited of all limited monarchies. As this constitution, with
the exception of a few alterations, is nearly the same as that
which is now in force, our introducing it in this place will
serve to give greater clearness to the subsequent narrative ot
events. It was drawn up by 184 members of Cortes, on
the 18th March 1812. On the 20th of the same month the
regency, which consisted of Cardinal Bourbon and two other
apparently incapable individuals, took the oath to maintain
it. This constitution was acknowledged by the allies of
Spain, namely, Great Britain, Sweden, Denmark, Prussia,
Russia, and other states.
By one of the first articles in the code, the sovereignty
is declared to reside essentially in the nation, which, being
free and independent, neither is nor can be the patrimony
of any person or family. All Spaniards, without distinc¬
tion, are subject to taxation. “ The religion of the Spa¬
nish nation is, and shall be for ever, the Catholic, Apos o-
lic, and Roman, which is the only true religion. I he
nation,” it is added, “ protects it by wise and just laws, and
forbids the exercise of any other whatever.” The govern¬
ment of the Spanish nation is stated to be “ a limited here¬
ditary monarchy.” The power of making laws is vested in
the Cortes, jointly with the king.” In describing the class
of Spaniards who enjoy the privileges of citizenship, per¬
sons “ reputed of African origin, either by the father or
the mother’s side,” are excluded. A similar exclusion is
given to Spaniards who obtain naturalization in another
country, or who, without leave, absent themselves five
years from Spain. The only basis for the number o re¬
presentatives in the Cortes is population, to be taken from
the census of 1797, till one more correct can be made, tor
every seventy thousand souls there is to be one deputy in
the Cortes. The returns of the members are made by three
successive elections. Every parish appoints electors for
the district to which it belongs. These repair to the chief
town of the district to choose another set of electors, who,
lastly, meeting in the capital of the province, make the final
appointment to the Cortes. The Cortes are triennial. No
member can be elected for two successive representations.
No debate can be carried on in the presence of the king;
his ministers may attend and speak, but are not allowed to
vote. There is a permanent deputation, or committee ot
the Cortes, composed of seven members, appointed by the
whole body, before a prorogation or dissolution, whose duty
is to watch over the executive, and report any infringement Hista.
of the constitution to the next Cortes. It also belongs to'—y-
them to convoke an extraordinary meeting of the Cortes in
the cases prescribed by the constitution.1
The powers of the Cortes are chiefly these : Is*, To move
and pass the laws, and to interpret and alter them when ne¬
cessary ; 2d, to administer the constitutional oaths to the
king, the prince of Asturias, &c.; 3c?, to determine any
doubt or fact relative to the succession ; 4^, to elect a re¬
gency, and define its power; 5th, to make the public re¬
cognition of the prince of Asturias j 6th, to appoint guar¬
dians to the king while a minor ; 1th, to appi ove or reject
treaties previous to ratification ; 8th, to allow or refuse the
admission of foreign troops into the kingdom ; Qth, to de¬
cree the creation or suppression of offices in the tribunals
established by the constitution, as well as of places of pub¬
lic trust; U)th, to fix, every year, by the king’s proposal,
the land and sea forces ; IRA, to regulate the military code
in all its branches ; 12/A, to fix the expenses of the govern¬
ment; IBitA, to impose taxes, contract loans, and direct
every thing relating to the revenue; 14?A, to establish a
plan of public instruction, and direct the education of the
prince of Asturias ; 15th, to protect the political liberty of
the press ; 16*A, to enforce the responsibility of the secre¬
taries of state, and other persons in office.
Laws may be proposed, in writing, by any one of the de¬
puties. Two days after the motion, the bill is to be read a
second time. It is then determined whether the subject
is to be debated, or to be referred to a committee. Four
days after the bill has been voted worthy of discussion, it
is read a third time, and a day is appointed for the debate.
A majority of votes decides the fate of the bill; the mem¬
bers present on these occasions must exceed half of their
total number by one.2
The powers of the king are, 1. To suspend the passing
of a law, by withholding his sanction. He can exercise this
power against any decree of the Cortes for two consecu¬
tive sessions; but is compelled to give his assent if the same
law is passed by three Cortes successively. 2. The exe¬
cutive power resides exclusively in the king, and extends
to whatever relates to the preservation of public order in
the interior, and to the external security of the state, ac¬
cording to the constitution and the laws. The privileges
and duties of the executive are thus detailed in the consti¬
tution. The king may issue decrees, regulations, and in¬
structions, for the more effectually enforcing of the laws;
it is his duty to watch over the administration ot justice;
he declares war and makes peace, under the control of the
Cortes; he appoints judges to all the civil and criminal
courts, on the presentation of the council of state; all civil
and military employments are of the king’s appointment;
he presents to all bishoprics, ecclesiastical dignities, an
benefices which may be in the gift of the crown, all by the
advice of the council of state; the king is the fountain ot
honour; the army and the navy are at his command, and
he has the appointment of generals and admirals; he ha
the right of coinage, and the privilege of impressing h
bust on the metallic currency of the realm ; the king ca
propose new laws, or amendments to those in existence.
It belongs also to him to circulate or withhold the pop
rescripts and bulls. He can choose and dismiss his own mi-
niSThe following checks are imposed on the king’s authori¬
ty by the constitution. . r . rnrtp*
1. The king cannot prevent the meeting of the Lorte
at the periods fixed by the constitution, neither can
i The Cortes were separated into two bodies in 1836, and the election was made direct not indirect. ided that
* ^at rafioTin the powers of the sovereign was made in ^ ^o^on was adopted ^
the crown should have an absolute veto in the enactment of laws, and should likewise have t p
dissolving the Cortes; but in the latter case to be under the obligation of assembling others within a g
SPAIN.
507
13 >ry. solve them or disturb their sittings ; his advisers and abet-
--''tors in such attempts are guilty of treason. 2. If the king
should quit the kingdom without the consent of the Cortes,
he is understood to have abdicated the crown. 3. The
king cannot alienate any part of the Spanish territory.
4. He cannot abdicate the crown in favour of his succes¬
sor without the consent of the Cortes. 5. He cannot enter
into any political alliance, or make commercial treaties, with¬
out the consent of the Cortes. 6. He cannot grant privi¬
leges or monopolies. 7. The king cannot disturb any in¬
dividual in the enjoyment of his property, nor deprive him
of his personal liberty. If the interest of the state should
require the arrest of any individual by virtue of a royal
order, the prisoner must be delivered over to a competent
tribunal within eight and forty hours. 8. The king can¬
not marry without the consent of the Cortes; he is sup¬
posed to abdicate the crown by taking a wife against their
will.
The council of state is composed of forty individuals, viz.
two bishops, two priests, and four grandees; the other
thirty-two must not belong to any of these classes. The
members of the council of state shall be chosen by the king,
out of a triple list presented to him by the Cortes. The
councillors of state cannot be removed without a trial be¬
fore the supreme court of justice. Their salary is fixed by
the Cortes. The functions of this council of state are to ad¬
vise the king on all important matters of government, and
especially upon giving or refusing his sanction to the laws,
declaring war, or making treaties. The king, besides, can¬
not bestow any ecclesiastical benefice, or appoint any judge,
but at the proposal of the council of state, who, upon every
vacancy, are to confine his choice to one out of three indi¬
viduals, whose names they are to lay before his majesty.
The laws for the security of personal liberty are these :
1. No Spaniard can be imprisoned without a summary pro¬
cess, in which he is credibly charged with the infraction of
some law that subjects the offender to corporal punish¬
ment ; 2. the arrest cannot take place without the warrant
of a competent judge; 3. prisoners are not to be examined
upon oath ; 4. the gaoler shall keep a register of the pri¬
soners, expressing the warrant, and the alleged cause of his
confinement.
The rapid series of misfortunes which had shaken the
imperial throne of France to its foundations opened the way
for the return of the captive Ferdinand to Madrid. The
constitutionalists looked forward to his appearance in the
country with no favourable eye, and the arrival of despatches
from him to the regency threw them into great consterna¬
tion. Ferdinand announced that he had concluded a treaty
with Napoleon. This assumption of absolute power on the
part of the king, without the knowledge of the Cortes, was
aiming a direct blow at their authority, and violating the
constitution recently established; and they accordingly
rejected the treaty. They likewise suspended the king
from the exercise of all power till he should take the oath
which the new constitution prescribed. He entered the
bpamsh territory on the 24th of March 1814, and took up
ns residence at Valencia. On his way he had not been
slow to discover that the lower orders were in general in-
i erent to the constitution. The fact is, the new political
principles had scarcely struck root among the people ; and
with a very considerable party, consisting of grandees, dig¬
nitaries of the church, and others, the king was still absolute,
and these flocked around their master. In the Cortes itself
ere was a strong body opposed to the new order of things.
I Potion, signed by sixty-nine members, was presented to
ie king, in which the Cortes was described as a mere tool
in the hands of a republican party, without freedom of de- History,
bate, and acting under the control of a mob regularly hired
to take possession of the galleries. Nothing, therefore,
could be more favourable to Ferdinand’s resuming absolute
power. Accordingly, on the 4th of May 1814, a decree was
solemnly promulgated, in -which the Cortes were declared
illegal, and all their laws consequently rescinded. Some
of the leading members were arrested, as a prelude to what
was shortly to happen. Under their usual leaders, the priests,
the lower orders broke out into fierce demonstrations of joy
when the news of these events reached the chief towns, and
the king proceeded in a sort of triumph to Madrid. Fur¬
ther arrests of the deputies of the late Cortes took place;
property was sequestrated and papers were seized; judges
were appointed to try obnoxious members; but justice prov¬
ing too tardy for the king’s eager spirit of revenge, he him¬
self pronounced sentence on the prisoners in a wholesale
manner, in open defiance of all law and justice. A few
were capitally punished, and a great many more were con¬
signed to dungeons. The inquisition was restored, and was
urged to exert its powers against all persons suspected of
liberal opinions. Monks became once more the sole direc¬
tors of the king’s conscience, and the reign of absolutism
and bigotry was completely restored.
But these arbitrary acts roused the dormant spirit of the
Spanish people, and a revulsion of feeling was the conse¬
quence. In vain did the court party silence the press or
bribe it into their service; facts which could not be con¬
cealed from the people daily pleaded the cause of liberty.
Bribery and venality were soon observed to prevail around
the throne; the treasury was completely drained, and the
army remained unpaid ; while, to add to the difficulties and
dangers of Ferdinand’s position, armed bands of guerillas,
now become organized banditti, swarmed over the country,
setting the helpless magistrates at defiance, and commit¬
ting all sorts of atrocities. Free-masonry was abolished, and
effectually kept in check; but a far more dangerous society,
the members of which assumed the name of Comuneros, was
secretly formed, and, in spite of the inquisition and its
emissaries, held meetings in most of the principal towns,
and kept up an active correspondence among their lodges.
The constitution was publicly burned ; but this served only
to spread disaffection, and to give it an importance in the
eyes of the people which it did not formerly possess. Cadiz
having been fixed on as the head-quarters of the liberals,
a regular plan for the overthrow of the government was
there formed, and its secret influence was extended through¬
out the provinces. Our limits do not permit us to mention
the numerous conspiracies which were discovered, and
quenched in blood. They \yere sufficient to alarm any mo¬
narch but one wholly abandoned to the guidance of weak,
wicked, or fanatical counsellors. Those who ventured to
remonstrate with the king were banished or thrown into
prison. The promise which he had made of granting
a constitution founded on liberal principles remained un¬
fulfilled, and for six years (1814-1820) Ferdinand reigned
with absolute power. During that time there had been no
less than twenty-five changes in the ministry, mostly sud¬
den, and attended with severities. They were produced
by the influence of the camarilla, or individuals in the per¬
sonal service of the king. Every attempt to save the state
was frustrated by such counsellors; and the overthrow of the
government, now apparently inevitable, became accelerated
by the loss of the American colonies.1
The army was the instrument of its fall. Amongst the
officers several conspiracies had been organized for the re¬
storation of the new constitution, at the head of which were
out ui '}0 m.orV” t.his Place tboH merely allude to the revolution in the Spanish colonies of South America, which broke
revolutiwis inthe varimiaermin*ted mnh.e adlievementofcomplete independence. Under the heads Mexico, Peru, Plata, &c., the
10118 ln tne various provinces will be found described.
508
SPAIN.
History. Porlier, Mina, Lacy, and Vidal. Mina had succeeded in
' making his escape, but the others were taken and executed,
their friends at the same time being put to the torture or
thrown into prison. But these severities had no effect in
repressing the discontent of the army ; for the cause which
immediately produced it was not removed,—the arrears due
to the troops still remained unpaid. The money which
might have been employed for this purpose was foolishly
lavished in fitting out an expedition to destroy the liberties
of the revolted South Americans: by a singular destiny it
became the instrument of the overthrow of despotism at
home, and the restoration of Spanish freedom. The troops
which were to embark in the autumn of 1819, wrere indis¬
posed to the American service ; and the officers, favourable
to the constitution of the Cortes, took advantage of this state
of feeling to effect their own purposes. W hole regiments
had determined not to embark; and the commander himself,
O’Donnel, count del Abisbal, was in the secret. But he
basely betrayed the cause, and had the principal conspira¬
tors arrested in front of the troops. For this devotion to
despotism he was rewarded by the court party by being
removed from the command of the expedition. Such un¬
grateful conduct towards a man who had forfeited his ho¬
nour to save them, could not fail to bring the Serviles, as
they were designated, into general contempt. A favour¬
able opportunity soon occurred for the liberals carrying
into execution the same plan which had failed through the
perfidy of O’Donnel. The yellow fever having made its
appearance at Cadiz, the safety of the troops which weie
there assembled demanded that they should be removed to
some distance, thus leaving the members of the secret so¬
cieties and other patriots at liberty to prosecute their
schemes without fear of violent interruption. The embark¬
ation of the troops had been fixed for January 1820 ; but
on the first of that month, Riego, who had been placed at
the head of the insurrection, gained over several battalions,
and proclaimed the constitution of 1812. He arrested
Calderon, the successor of O’Donnel; and finally joining
Quiroga, a liberated patriot, and at the time in command of
some troops, the combined force, amounting to 5000 men,
marched on La Caracea, which was occupied. They had
previously taken possession of La Isla. But still the coun¬
try showed no disposition to second this bold movement of
the army. In vain Riego led a flying column through the
provinces, proclaiming the constitution, and expecting sup¬
port from the inhabitants; few or none joined him. But
several fortunate circumstances which occurred at this time
materially contributed to the success of the insurrection.
Mina, who had been obliged to fly to France, entered the
Spanish territory of Navarre on the 25th of February, and
a numerous band immediately surrounded his standard.
Risings simultaneously took place in different quarters in
favour of the constitution, which was publicly proclaimed in
Galicia, Saragossa, Valencia, Murcia, Grarfada, and many
other places. General Freyer, who had been appointed to
the command of the troops in Seville, was himself obliged
to publish the constitution in that city.
These insurrections could not fail to appal the weak, ig¬
norant, and unpopular party which surrounded the throne.
Ferdinand himself saw no general of sufficient ability or
loyalty to be trusted with the command of a large army,
which could soon have been concentrated, for there still
existed fidelity among a sufficient number of the troops.
It was however an expiring feeling, which could only have
been re-animated by a great leader, but which, in the pre¬
sent destitution of the country, a mere breath might ex¬
tinguish. And it was extinguished. Ferdinand was aban¬
doned by his troops. Even O’Donnel, who had acted the
part of traitor to the liberal cause, became one of its princi¬
pal supporters. At Ocana he proclaimed the constitution ;
an event which produced a great sensation in Madrid. The
royal palace was surrounded by a crowd, who called on Fer- His
dinand to accept the constitution, and he now found that no^
alternative was left to his choice. I he humbled monarch
appeared at the balcony, holding a copy of the constitution
in his hand, as a pledge of his readiness to swear to its ob¬
servance. This occurred early in March 1820. To give
efficacy and legality to the restoration of the constitution,
it was necessary that the Cortes should be convoked, and
the oath of the king to uphold the new order of things taken
in their presence. The Cortes assembled on the 9th of July,
and all the formalities were regularly observed. Mean¬
while the constitutional system had been put into complete
operation. During its proclamation at Cadiz, a bloody and
disgraceful transaction took place ; some of the royal troops
present wantonly fired on the unarmed multitude, and about
500 were killed or wounded. The inquisition was abolished,
as inconsistent with it, the state-prisoners were liberated,
and new ministers were appointed. In place of the Coun¬
cil of Castille, and that of the Indies, a supreme judicial
tribunal, with appropriate subordinate courts, was established;
national guards were organized in the provinces, and the
municipal authorities were made to conform to the consti¬
tution.
The meeting of the Cortes of 9th July, and their subse¬
quent proceedings, mark the establishment of a new order
of things, destined however to be of short duration. This
assembly acted with extreme moderation, the measures oi
retaliation being infinitely less severe than those which fol¬
lowed the king’s triumph over the constitution. The mem¬
bers strove to temper the violence of the liberals, and en¬
deavoured to restore the afrancesados (those who took the
oath to support the French dynasty) to their rights, to coun¬
teract the machinations of the serviles, and to heal the
wounds of the country. But some of their proceedings
were characterized by less judgment and humanity. The
suppression of many of the convents and of the viajorates,
the banishment of the nonjuring clergy, and some other of
their measures, excited discontents. Various parts of the
country became disgraced by popular excesses, while on
the frontiers of Portugal the royalist party formed a junta
for restoring the privileges of the crown and the church.
Conspiracy and openly avowed disaffection to the new order
of things spread so widely, that when the second session o
the Cortes opened in April 1821, the country was declared
to be in a state of danger. The command of the army hav¬
ing been intrusted to Morillo, quiet was in some measure
restored ; but still it was found necessary to summon an ex¬
traordinary meeting of the Cortes in September. Spanish
affairs in America had now assumed their gloomiest aspect,
and the government wished to compromise the matter y
acknowledging America as a kingdom independent o Pain’
but united with her under a common sovereign, f erdinan
VII. Such an absurd proposal was rejected with scorn.
The absolutists, although beaten everywhere by the troops
of the government, could not be entirely suppresse , anc
even the adherents of the constitution began to comp am
of the weaknesses and mistakes of the ministry.
Cortes requested the king to appoint abler men, an ^
this he reluctantly yielded in 1822. Notwithstan mg
errors of the Cortes, considering that the king was wi
them, and that his brother Carlos, although aPP^in? .
the conduct of the absolutists, had not ventured J
them, it is probable that the struggles, after continuing
a few years, might have ended in a compromise, a 1
the whole power of France been thrown into the sea
The events which immediately preceded Ferdinand sm
storation to absolute power, and the complete ,•
of all the acts of the Cortes, were so various and P
cated, that, if fully detailed, they would of themse v
than occupy all the space within the limits o w i
I ’>ry-
SPAIN.
outline of Spanish history must be confined. Into particu-
' lars, therefore, we shall not enter; only the most import¬
ant transactions can be noticed. Disalfection to the go¬
vernment in the southern provinces, where a strong body
of French troops was stationed as a sanitary cordon during
the prevalence of pestilence in Spain, terminated in open
revolt. The national guards were called out to suppress it,
and they were everywhere victorious; but the pecuniary
resources were chiefly in the hands of the supporters of des¬
potism. In Madrid an occurrence took place in July 1822,
which threatened the most disastrous consequences. This
was a daring attempt of the friends of absolute government
to overthrow the constitution. They were supported by
the royal guards, while the national guards were ranged
on the popular side. A conflict took place, in which
nearly the whole of the royal guards were cut off. But
insurrection, although thus suppressed in the capital, still
prevailed to an alarming extent in Biscay, Navarre, and
Catalonia, where armed bands, under the name of aposto¬
lical troops, feotas, or soldiers of the faith, committed re¬
volting cruelties. Near the French frontier, and probably
under French influence, the absolutists appointed a regency,
which issued orders in the name of the “ imprisoned” king,
as they thought fit to call Ferdinand, although he had re¬
cently, under no compulsion, but in the most voluntary
manner, again declared his adherence to the constitution.
The avowed object of this regency was the restoration of
every thing to the state in which it had been prior to the
7th of March 1820. But this band of outrageous serviles,
unsupported by the nation, was compelled to fly to France
in November 1822. The foreign relations of Spain now
fell into a state of dreadful disorder; and the principle of
armed intervention pronounced by Austria, Russia, and
Prussia, in relation to this unhappy kingdom, was threaten¬
ed to be acted upon by France. The restoration of Fer¬
dinand to the full enjoyment of sovereign authority was de¬
manded by the four powers named, while England advised
the Cortes to yield, and offered her mediation. But the
Spanish government repelled with indignation this attempt
of foreign powers to interfere in its affairs. The conse¬
quences were the recall of the foreign ambassadors by their
respective courts, and the march of 100,000 French sol¬
diers across the Bidassoa. The duke of Angouleme, by
whom this army was commanded, established a junta, con¬
sisting of Eguia, Calderon, and Erro, who formed a pro¬
visional government, declaring the king the sole depositary
of sovereign power, and that no change in the government
should be recognised but such as the king should make of
his own free choice. All the decrees of the Cortes were
declared void; in short, the object of French interference
was simply to restore the reign of absolute power. Unfor¬
tunately the Cortes had no ally. The relations of Portugal
to Great Britain did not allow her to conclude a defensive
treaty with Spain. Britain remained neutral; but the ex¬
portation of arms and ammunition to Spain was allowed,
and, in parliament, Canning called the attempt of the French
unjust, and wished the arms of the Cortes success; an ex-
jnession of sympathy which led the Spaniards for a time to
iope that Britain would take a part in the war. Ferdinand,
or greater safety, had removed to Seville, and on the 23d
o April 1823 he formally declared war against France;
ut e in vain called on the nation to support the consti-
ui°n' The great mass of the people were completely
un er the influence of the most bigoted priesthood in the
wor d, who of course were absolutists, and hailed the ar-
iva o die French; the adherents of the constitution
i k? c°nhned to the educated class, the army, and the in-
„h, * a^s of> flties- The Spanish army might be equal in
it w t t^le ^ench, but a considerable part of
'as isposed in garrisons and fortresses, scattered over
Se surface of country. The military operations of the
509
French, during their advance upon Madrid, were the siege History,
and capture of several strong towns, and a few partial en-
gagements, in one of which, at least, that of Logrono, they
were defeated. The southern provinces, where the abso¬
lutists had always a preponderancy, were occupied by the
invaders with hardly any resistance; but in Lower Cata¬
lonia, where Mina commanded, they were kept in check
for a considerable time. The main body of the French
army under Angouleme hastened to the capital, which
was occupied on the 24th of May. One of the first steps
taken was to appoint a regency, which put every thing on
the same footing as before March 7, 1820. But the re¬
gency had no pecuniary resources, and no power, if they
had the will, to prevent the furious ebullitions of party
hatred. The Cortes had in vain tried to excite a general
guerilla war; it was but too plain that the mass of the
people, at once miserably ignorant and furiously bigoted,
without any just notions of what rational liberty was, or in
what the new constitution consisted, were content to sur¬
render themselves entirely to the guidance of the priest¬
hood, and consequently everywhere opposed the constitu¬
tionalists. Their hatred was still further increased by the
seizure of all the property of persons of the opposite party,
by a large forced loan, and by the coining of the super¬
fluous church plate, to which measures the want of money
compelled the Cortes to have recourse. The war had now
spread from the south to the north over the whole breadth
of the land, and was actively prosecuted in Andalusia and
Estremadura. An attempt at mediation on the part of the
English ambassador, Sir W. A’Court, failed ; and the king
having refused to go to Cadiz, the Cortes, acting on that
part of the constitution which provides for the moral inca¬
pacity of the sovereign, appointed a regency with royal
powers. We cannot regard this proceeding in any other
light than as a gross indignity offered to the king, and most
impolitic at the time. However, Ferdinand accompanied
the Cortes to Cadiz, and the regency ceased to exist. On
the other hand, the members of the Cortes who had declared
the king morally incapable, were denounced as traitors by
the regency of Madrid, which now became recognised by
foreign powers, Austria, Prussia, and France, as the only
legitimate government of Spain.
Meanwhile the war was briskly carried on, but nothing
would induce the people to join the constitutionalists, who
accordingly were gradually driven from stronghold to strong¬
hold, although in some places they made a gallant resist-
Defection among the officers of the army materi¬
ally contributed to the downfall of their cause. Morillo
and Sarsfield were among the deserters. The regency of
Madrid conducted themselves in a cruel and outrageous
manner towards the friends of the constitution, notwith¬
standing the strenuous efforts of the French generalissimo
to restrain their fury. The duke of Angouleme took pos¬
session of the city of Cadiz on the 4th October 1823.
Previously to this, the Cortes had reinvested Ferdinand
with absolute power, and requested him to remove to the
French head-quarters, where he was received with becom¬
ing pomp. The first measure of the king was to de¬
clare all the acts of the constitutional government from
March 7, 1820, to October 1, 1823, null and void, on the
ground that during that period he was acting under com¬
pulsion. The war terminated in November; and on the
22d of that month the duke of Angouleme took his leave
of the army of the Pyrenees. Among the crowds of fugi¬
tives were Mina and the count of Abisbal; and among the
victims capitally punished was Riego, who suffered at Mad¬
rid on the 6th of November.
1 he party which now succeeded to power, although weak
from want of means, was powerful enough to exercise a
persecuting and vindictive policy towards the former par¬
tisans of the constitution. The French wished to secure
510
SPAIN.
History, mildness and moderation, but the bad faith of the Spanish
-v~—^ government frustrated these objects. To restrain the
violence of party fury, which so widely prevailed, a treaty
was concluded with France, by which that power agreed
to maintain a large military force in the country, until the
Spanish army could be organized. This was certainly a wise
measure in the circumstances; for Spain, if left to itself,
would probably have fallen into irretrievable confusion. It
was divided by two parties, who mortally hated each other ,
and the bonds of society, already shaken loose by years of
war and unrestrained licentiousness, required little more to
dissolve them altogether. The reports from the provinces
were appalling; the treasury was empty; home and foreign
credit were alike destroyed ; and trade and commerce were
paralyzed. The personal moderation of the king led to the
formation of a plot by the absolutists, to compel him to ab¬
dicate, and to raise his brother Carlos to the throne. I his
wTas the origin of the Carlists, who make so conspicuous a
figure in the sequel. An attempt to restore the inquisi¬
tion was happily frustrated. In May 1824, a decree of am¬
nesty appeared; but it was a mere mockery, for it con¬
tained so many exemptions, that those who were to enjoy
its benefits seemed rather to form the exception than the
rule. The year 1825 was disturbed by several insurrec¬
tions of the Carlists, which were attended with numerous
executions. The independence of the American colonies
was recognised by foreign powers, but Spain herself did not
acknowledge it till the year 1836. The general interrup¬
tion of commerce and industry, with the flight of many
persons of property, occasioned much distress. The dis¬
turbances continued for some years, attended with the same
marks of feebleness on the part of the government, and a
continuance of general distress. It was a period of terror
for the liberals, who were plundered and imprisoned on the
slightest pretexts. The army, purged of all officers sus¬
pected of liberalism, was recruited by a, motley throng of
adventurers, friars, smugglers, mechanics, publicans, and
muleteers, who had been officers in the guerilla bands of
Catalonia and Navarre. The ranks being replenished m
this manner, the French troops were enabled to evacuate
Spain in 1828. Some insurrections, which had broken out
during the preceding year, were suppressed without much
trouble; and in spite of the arbitrary rule of the Carlists,
their tortuous policy, and their open violence, the country
began to show some symptoms of improvement.
In May 1829, Ferdinand lost his queen, and on the 9th
of November following, her place was supplied by a Neapo¬
litan princess, Christina Maria. Unblessed with issue by
his three former marriages, the hope and the desire of hav¬
ing a child of his own to inherit his honours and preserve
• the throne to his dynasty, probably hastened the nuptials
of Ferdinand. The trench revolution of 1830 caused
much less sensation in Spain than might have been ex¬
pected. The fact is, the liberal party had been so devour¬
ed or dispersed by the sword, the scaffold, exile, and the
dungeon, that in the country itself it was not powerful; but
a rash and ill-judged attempt in the constitutional cause was
made from without. General Mina assembled a body of refu¬
gees and others, and invaded the Basque provinces; but they
were speedily repelled, and sought refuge in France. Mean¬
while, some events of momentous importance had taken
place in the royal family. The Infant Don Carlos was
presumptive heir of the throne; the succession to the Spa¬
nish crown had been subjected to the Salic law by Philip
V., so that, as matters stood at present, no daughter of
the reigning king could interrupt its descent to his brother.
The queen of Ferdinand was about to make him a father,
and in order to secure the crown to his own child, should
the issue prove a female, he resolved on revoking the Salic
law, which excludes females. It is important to observe,
that, in 1789, Charles IV. issued a pragmatic sanction, hav¬
ing the force of law, and establishing the regular succession His
to the crown of Spain in females as well as males. The''—v
Cortes of 1812 likewise solemnly revoked the law of Philip
V., and re-established the old law of the Partidas. But as
Ferdinand had annulled the acts of that assembly, and as
the decree of Charles IV. might be cavilled at by the fierce
and intolerant party who wished that Carlos should suc¬
ceed to the throne, the king obtained the records of the
Cortes of 1789 regarding the succession, and on the mar¬
gin opposite the decree of Charles IV., with his own hand,
wrote a decree to the same effect. The minister, Ca-
lomarde (a Carlist at heart), remonstrated with the king
against its publication; but Ferdinand was firm, and or¬
dered the resolution to be carried into effect. In com¬
pliance with this demand, the whole was forwarded to the
council; and in the gazette of the 6th of April 1830, the
edict was published to the world. It was likewise regular¬
ly proclaimed in the streets of Madrid with the usual for¬
malities. Ferdinand’s foresight was justified. The infant
with which the queen presented him was a daughter, born
on the 10th of October, and christened Isabella Maria Luisa.
But the Carlists did not wait for the expected birth of
the heir to the throne to show how terribly the publication
of the decree had staggered them. They rushed into hasty
plots against the government, which were detected before
they were ripe for execution; and in various ways showed
their chagrin and irritation. In order to render the suc¬
cession still more secure, Ferdinand called a meeting of
the Cortes, before which the edict of Philip V. was again
repealed, and his daughter, the Infante Isabel, recognised
as princess of the Asturias. An insurrection broke out in
Cadiz in 1831, at the head of which was General Torrijas.
It was soon quelled, and the leader, with fifty-three com¬
panions, fled to Malaga, where they were taken prisoners,
and all shot in cold blood. The other events of this year
are unimportant, with the exception or a sudden illness of
the king, which so excited the hopes of the Carlists, that
they strenuously urged their master to take advantage of
the circumstance, and at once seize the crown. This re¬
markable fact shows with what spirit they were animated.
•It was not a love of justice, but ambition, and a spirit of
vindictive hostility to the constitutionalists, who now began
to be tolerated, that instigated them to attempt the exalta¬
tion of Carlos to the throne, and that at all hazards, even
before he possessed the semblance of a claim to it; for
while Ferdinand lived, by what right could he grasp at his
sceptre ? Yet his partisans extol his magnanimity in refus¬
ing it at this time.
In the course of the year 1832, Ferdinand had an alam-
ing relapse of his disease, during the paroxysms of which
a transaction took place of the utmost importance in itse ,
and which has been very differently represented by diiter-
ent parties. It was the signing of a decree by which he re¬
stored the Salic law to full operation, and the further con¬
firming the disinheriting of his daughter, by annulling i-
testament in her favour. It is certain that the er*
strenuously urged him to adopt this measure; and tha )
were under Carlist influence, is no less certain. very
thing was accomplished to their wishes; the documen was
signed and properly secured, and the king appeare o
fallen into the sleep of death. His dissolution indee -
announced ; but, contrary to all human expectation, the cib-
ease took a favourable turn; all symptoms of im"
danger disappeared, and consciousness and understa g
were restored to Ferdinand. The use which he ma
the lucid interval thus vouchsafed to him, was to dismiss!
ministers, to appoint the queen regent during is 1 ’
and to undo what he had lately done regarding ,, ne_
sion, thus restoring to his daughter her right to i ^
The decree to this effect was issued on the last day J
year. The former ordinance, he declared, had be
SPAIN.
H
fl¬
ed from him, not only when he was in the agonies of ex¬
pected death, but under false misrepresentations that all
Spain demanded it, and that the inviolability of the monar¬
chy required it; whereas it had only been desired by an
ambitious and unscrupulous faction, and was opposed to the
fundamental laws of the kingdom. A more liberal minis¬
try was formed, and some liberal measures were adopted;
high expectations wrere raised that milder times were at
hand, and the funds in Madrid rose ten per cent. Early in
1833, Ferdinand was able to resume the reins of govern¬
ment. On the 20th of June he assembled the Cortes to
swear allegiance to his daughter, and do homage to her
as their future sovereign. This solemnity was performed
with great pomp in the church of the royal monastery of
St Jerome. Don Carlos refused to take the oath ; but pre¬
viously to this he had taken up his residence in Portugal,
where his nephew was playing the same desperate game
which he himself was about to undertake. Ferdinand sur¬
vived the ceremony of the jura only a few months. He ex¬
pired on the 29th of September 1833, leaving a will, in
which he appointed his daughter Isabella heir to the crown,
and her mother regent during her minority.
No sooner was Isabella II. proclaimed queen, than Don
Carlos announced his claim to the throne, and the flames of
civil war burst out in the northern provinces, where his par¬
tisans, assembled in great numbers, stood ready armed for
the contest. Of the bloody and protracted struggle for the
throne which ensued, we can afford room for few details;
indeed, an account of the numerous battles, skirmishes,
sieges, and other warlike operations, would prove a very
uninteresting and monotonous portion of the modern his¬
tory of Spain. Isabella was acknowledged without opposi¬
tion throughout all the provinces of Spain, and by the lead¬
ing powers of Europe. The question of the Spanish suc¬
cession, apart altogether from the bloody war to which it
gave rise, has been keenly agitated in this and many other
countries. It may be briefly stated as follows. Carlos’s
right rests upon the Salic law, which had never the force of
law in Spain. The Salic law was not the ancient rule of
succession; it was first introduced by the Bourbon Philip V.,
the great-grandfather of Don Carlos. Females could always
succeed in Castille, Leon, and Portugal. It was by mar¬
riage with the heiress of Navarre that a king of France ob¬
tained a claim to that kingdom ; and although females were
excluded in Aragon, yet it was through a princess that its
inheritance passed to the counts of Catalonia. It was by
the right of female succession that the house of Austria
reigned in Spain ; it was by the same right that the Bour¬
bons themselves occupied the throne. It formed a part of
the Partidas, or system of constitutional law, which Philip
swore to observe on hi$ succession to the throne. The
Salic law, on which Carlos grounds his claim, could only
be established in two ways ; by the old forms of the con¬
stitution, or by the despotic will of the sovereign. If the
advocates of Don Carlos take their stand on the former
ground, the answer is, that the forms as well as the sub¬
stance of the constitution were violated when Philip V. es¬
tablished his law of succession ; and that, conscious of its in¬
validity, he did not register it in the form usual with similar
acts; while again, if we pass over the Cortes of 1789 as
secret and irregular, we have the Cortes of Cadiz in 1812,
which abolished the decree of Philip, and restored the an¬
cient law of the Partidas. But Ferdinand having annulled
t ie proceedings of this body, its re-establishment of the
vigit of female succession must fall to the ground with its
otier decrees. There is however Ferdinand’s own de¬
cree, constituting his daughter his successor, which was just
as regularly sanctioned by the Cortes as Philip’s law of suc-
cession. If, on the other hand, the sovereign is to be re-
ga. ed as despotic in Spain, the question is at an end; for
even Carlos must acknowledge that Ferdinand had a right
to regulate the succession according to his own royal plea¬
sure. This view seemed to have been taken by the king’s
confessor, and his minister Calomarde, when, during his
dangerous illness at La Granja in 1832, they induced him
to sign a new will, settling the crown on Don Carlos. Fer¬
dinand’s recovery disconcerted their plan ; but their effort
plainly shows that the partisans of Don Carlos at that time
felt that the Salic law was a very weak support to their
favourite’s claims. The transaction by which Ferdinand
(supposed to be on his death- bed) transferred the crown
to his brother, is admitted by the Carlists to have been a
perfectly legal proceeding. Can the subsequent transaction,
by which, under exactly similar circumstances, the king ap¬
pointed his daughter his successor, be considered otherwise
than as an equally legal proceeding ? If the constitution
be referred to, the question is decided against Don Carlos;
the will of the sovereign is against his claim ; and, what is
of yet more consequence, as the event has shown, the will
of the majority of the nation is against him.
It was in the northern provinces, in Navarre, Guipuscoa,
Biscay, and Alava, that the strength of Don Carlos lay.
Here he was immediately proclaimed in several towns by
the title of Charles V., and bands of Carlist guerillas as¬
sembled to maintain his right to the throne. He himself
still hovered a fugitive on the frontiers of Portugal, his
movements being closely watched by a royal force under
General Rodil. Another strong division of the queen’s
army, under General Sarsfield, marched against the disaf¬
fected provinces. The Carlists retired before him ; Bilboa
and other towns were occupied and garrisoned; the con¬
stitutional party was restored in several places where it had
lost ground ; and the insurrection seemed at first to have
been happily put down without much loss. But early in
183J the affairs of the Carlists assumed altogether a new
aspect. Hitherto their operations were carried on in an
unconnected manner ; this system was now exchanged for
one of steady unity of design. Indeed so numerous were
the adherents of Don Carlos in the north, that there was
only required a firm hand to seize the reins, control local
jealousies, and direct aright the energies of the provinces.
Such a man was Thomas Zumalacarreguy, who now as¬
sumed the chief command of the Carlists. He was admi¬
rably skilled in the desultory warfare of these provinces,
and well acquainted with the country and with the charac¬
ter of the inhabitants. By his activity and enterprise he
repeatedly inflicted severe blows upon the forces of the
queen, or the Christinos, as they were generally called. His
method of fighting was to surprise the enemy in an unpro¬
tected position, and cut off as many of them as he could
before they recovered from their panic. His troops would
then suddenly separate and fly, but only to unite again at
a predetermined point some miles in the rear. By this
mode of warfare he caused great loss to the Christinos,
while his own small band suffered little. The Christine
army under General Rodil, who had now obtained the chief
command, might amount to 20,000 men, and was thus suf¬
ficiently strong at least to have confined Zumalacarreguy
to the mountains; but it was greatly reduced by several
thousand troops having been distributed among a number
of petty fortresses, most of which, one after the other, fell
a prey to the Carlist chieftain. It was further weakened
by being divided into different corps and scattered over the
country. Rodil found it necessary to resign the command,
which now devolved upon Mina, from whom much was ex¬
pected. Nor did he disappoint the hopes which were formed
ot him. Just before his appointment, Generals O’Doyle
and Asina had severally been defeated with great loss by
Zumalacarreguy, which occasioned much alarm at Madrid,
and loud outcries against the ministry. But the old war¬
rior, though broken by sickness and infirmities, restored
confidence by making head against the hitherto victor!-
History.
512 SPA
History, ous Carlists, and bringing victory to the standards of the
queen.
In the mean while. Don Carlos, after paying a short visit
to England, made his appearance in Spain; and his presence
among his partisans greatly strengthened his cause in the
northern provinces. France and Britain had acknowledged
Queen Isabella II. These two powers, along with Portu¬
gal, entered into a treaty with Spain, the conditions of which
quadruple alliance were, that France should watch the fron-
tiei's, so that the insurgents might receive no aid from that
country; that Britain should supply such arms and muni¬
tions of war as the Spanish government should stand in
need of, whilst at the same time she should guard the north¬
ern ports of Spain, so as to prevent the insurgents from re¬
ceiving any assistance in men, money, or ammunition, and
also assist the queen with a naval force; and that Portugal
should co-operate by every means in her power: but that
country was at the time in too embarrassed a situation to
render any efficient assistance. As soon as the arrival of
Don Carlos in Navarre was known, the four powers who had
been parties to the treaty renewed its stipulations, in re¬
spect that its object had not yet been attained. This
imparted confidence and vigour to the cabinet of Madrid,
of which it stood greatly in need. A variety of measures
occupied the attention of government during the year
1834, not the least important of which was the plan of a
new charter or constitution. It is quite unnecessary to
enter into any details of what the Cortes proposed should
be done, as every thing was overturned and put upon a
new footing by a revolution which occurred two years af¬
terwards. The financial state ot Spain, particularly the
large debt which the government owed to foreign nations,
formed a subject of protracted discussion. Doubts were
raised as to whether a part of it wTas legitimately owing;
but the debates in the Cortes terminated in the whole being
recognised as justly due. This contributed to restore the
credit of Spain in foreign money-markets, where it had been
greatly shaken, and enabled the government to contract
for a new loan. Another measure of importance which
engaged the attention of the Cortes, was the passing of a
bill of exclusion from the throne against Carlos and his de¬
scendants. During the year the ministry had undergone
a complete change, chiefly through the instrumentality of
a popular leader of the name of Llauder. Zea was super¬
seded in the office of prime minister by Martinez de la
Rosa, supposed to be a person of more liberal predilec¬
tions.
The military operations of 1835 were prosecuted with
great vigour on the part of the Carlists. Several import¬
ant towns and fortresses fell into their hands, and siege
was laid to Bilboa, the capital of Biscay. After sustaining
a furious bombardment for several days, the place was re¬
lieved, principally through the instrumentality of some Bri¬
tish gunners under Lord John Hay, commander of a ship
of war then on the coast of Biscay. It was during the
attack on Bilboa that Zumalacarreguy received the wound
of which he died on the 23d of June. The death of this
chief threw a gloom on the affairs of Don Carlos: it was
the severest loss which his cause had sustained, and he
never properly repaired it. Among the Christinos this
event diffused a joy and hope which they made no efforts
to conceal. Worn out by long service, by age, and by dis¬
ease, the veteran Mina resigned the command, which ulti¬
mately devolved upon General Cordova, under whom was
the celebrated Espartero. The Spanish government hav¬
ing been permitted to levy a body of mercenaries in Great
Britain, several thousand recruits were raised in this
country, and wrere led to the theatre of war in Spain under
the command of General Evans. The British legion soon
took an active part in the war, and distinguished itself upon
various occasions. The Carlist army, although it aban-
. I N.
doned the siege of Bilboa, still continued in the neighbour- His;,
hood, prepared to take advantage of circumstances. An s—■■ „
opportunity soon occurred for attacking the Christinos at
the village of Arrigoriaga, which they made an attempt to
pass. The royalists were driven back with considerable
loss, and this check for the time interrupted the movements
of Cordova’s army. On the other hand, the Christinos
laid claim to more than one victory gained over their ene¬
mies; but these doubtful and unproductive skirmishes,
which in the flush and enthusiasm of triumph were magni¬
fied into decisive battles, are too insignificant to require
a detail in this place. At the close of 1835, matters stood
much as they did at the commencement of the year. But
the war was now carried on with more humanity than for¬
merly. A strong remonstrance on the part of the British
government, against the barbarous practice of putting
prisoners to death, had the desired effect, at least for
a time, of staying the effusion of blood in this inhuman
manner.
Those parts of Spain exempt from the horrors of war,
were for the most part subjected to the scourge of political
anarchy. The new government of the queen-regent had
been founded on an abandonment of the old system of un¬
mitigated despotism. Her daughter’s throne was to be
identified with more liberal institutions, and was thus to be
protected by all political reformers, all who were inimical
to absolutism. But the extent to which the old system was
to be abandoned, and the form in which a popular govern¬
ment was to be established, were questions regarding which
every possible diversity of opinion prevailed. The un¬
quiet elements thus at work showed themselves first in a
military revolt, and then in the revolt of several provinces,
in which the democratic party sought to usurp the powers
of government. For a time they set the lawful authorities
at defiance, for the government of Madrid was helpless.
Even here disaffection had spread to a most alarming ex¬
tent, the urban militia having openly revolted. In vain
were royal decrees issued, and strong measures put in force
to repress the disturbances ; an open war between the go¬
vernment and numerous sections of the liberals seemed on
the eve of breaking out. Fortunately this was averted by
a change of the ministry, which was loudly demanded by
the factious opposition. The life and soul of the new mi¬
nistry was Mendizabel, a man of great vigour, and very
popular among the people, on account of his liberal prin¬
ciples. He condemned the repressive measures which had
been acted upon, adopted a more lenient system of deal¬
ing with the malcontents, and proposed various alterations
in the constitution, the mere mention of which sufficed to
restore the country to comparative tranquillity. But all
the deliberations of the ministry and the Cortes were ren¬
dered abortive by the military revolution which broke out
at Malaga on the 25th of July 1836. The object of the ultra
liberals had uniformly been the restoration of the consti¬
tution of 1812. Without this no change of ministers could
satisfy them, and no vigilance on the part of government
could prevent them from covertly prosecuting their designs.
It wm,s with the national guard that the revolt originated.
In Malaga the governor was assassinated, and a junta was
appointed to proclaim the constitution. Intelligence ot
these events spread throughout the country with the greatest
rapidity. Cadiz and Saragossa took yp the signal nearly
at the same moment; and they were instantly followed Dy
Seville, Cordova, Granada, and Valencia. At tne
capital itself joined the insurgent cities; and on the 13tn o^
August the queen, now deserted and helpless, was com-
pelled to issue a decree, promising the restoration ot i
constitution of 1812. But all men who were reasonable
and honest in their politics felt and admitted that some
terations in that code were quite indispensable. I e
accordingly appointed a committee to consider an prop
SPAIN.
such alterations as were necessary and advisable; and this
they accomplished in a highly satisfactory manner. The
changes recommended and finally adopted by the Cortes
were, 1st, that the part of the constitution which contain¬
ed mere regulations and forms, and regarded organic bodies
and laws, should be entirely suppressed : 2dly, that in¬
stead of the Cortes continuing to form, as they did under
the constitution of 1812, only one body, they should now
consist of two bodies, differing from each other in the per¬
sonal qualification of their members, &c. but neither to be
hereditary nor privileged : 3dly, that the crown should have
an absolute veto in the enactment of laws, and should like¬
wise have the power of convoking, proroguing, and dis¬
solving the Cortes; but in the latter case to be under
the obligation of assembling others within a given time:
4thly, that the election of members of the Cortes should
be direct, and not indirect, as established by the constitu¬
tion of 1812.
While Spain was thus undergoing the most momentous
political changes, the very existence of the queen’s govern¬
ment was threatened by the Carlists, who were making
alarming progress in the very centre of the kingdom.
During the early part of the year the Christines attacked
the position of the Carlists at Arlavan, but with so little
success that they were compelled to make a retrograde
movement. However, early in May, the British legion,
under General Evans, gallantly carried the Carlist lines be¬
fore St Sebastian ; but unfortunately this victory, like many
others gained, was productive of no important result, chiefly
through the sloth and inactivity of the Spanish generals.
The circumstance which created the great alarm to which
allusion has been made, was the march of a large body of
Carlists under Gomez through the very heart of Spain.
This chief penetrated from province to province, to the
centre of Andalusia, laying the country under heavy con¬
tribution, and carrying oft' loads of booty from every place
which he visited. The audacity of this enterprise seems
for a time to have paralyzed the royalists. Consternation
spread over Spain from Madrid to Gibraltar. Gomez at¬
tacked and carried several towns, and some bodies of troops
who attempted to arrest his progress were totally destroyed.
No less than three distinguished Spanish generals, each
with a large army, were despatched to cut him off; but all
their efforts to entrap him and his daring band proved fruit¬
less. He was repeatedly surrounded, and apparently on
the eve of being taken, but always succeeded in effecting
his escape. At length, however, he was hemmed in to the
sea-coast at San Roque, and his destruction seemed inevi¬
table ; but, by a daring and masterly movement, he broke
through the line which encompassed him, and secured his
retreat to the strongholds of the north.
Towards the close of 1836, the town of Bilboa was again
invested by the Carlists, to whom it w’as an object of great
importance, as being a city of sufficient consideration to
give dignity to the court of Carlos, and an appearance of
permanence to his establishment. It was, besides, the ca¬
pital of Biscay, and inseparably connected, in the eyes of
the Basques, with their fueros and local parliament. The
siege was carried on with an ardour corresponding with the
importance attached to the place. The defence was equally
spirited and heroic. During the sixty days which the in¬
vestment lasted, the fortitude of the besieged was put to
the severest test, not only by the long-continued fire of the
arlists, by their repeated attacks, and by their mining
operations, but by want of proper food and by sickness. At
ength General Espartero succeeded in compelling the Car-
ists to retire with the loss of all their guns and materiel
or the siege, and Bilboa was relieved. The intelligence
j'as received at Madrid with unbounded enthusiasm, and
onours and rewards were heaped upon the defenders, and
ose ™° had so opportunely relieved them. The Chris-
VOL XX.
533
tinos, however, as usual, neglected to follow up the success, History,
allowing the Carlists to remain unmolested in the neigh-
bourhood. Near St Sebastian they mustered very strong
during the early part of 1837, and here they were attacked
by the Anglo-Christinos under General Evans, and driven
back with some loss; but receiving a great accession of
strength, the Carlists in their turn compelled the royalists
to retreat with at least equal loss. The affair of Hernani
w'ould have been much more disastrous, but for the steady
bravery of a small body of British marines, who checked
the advance of the Carlists, and retired to St Sebastian in
good order. In a subsequent attack on Irun and Fuent-
arabia, General Evans was completely successful; but it
seems perfectly clear that this officer was never cordially
supported by the Spanish commanders. The defeat before
Hernani would never have taken place had Espartero and
Sarsfield supported him according to the concerted plan.
The time for which the British legion volunteered its ser¬
vices expired in the month of May, and shortly afterwards
it disbanded, nearly the whole returning to England in the
most destitute condition. Meanwhile Don Carlos had follow¬
ed the example of Gomez, by marching an army through the
central parts of the kingdom. Our limits will not permit us to
follow him in this daring but useless expedition. One body
of Carlists advanced within a few leagues of Madrid, and
all was consternation in the capital. But the Christino
generals concentrating their forces, compelled the main
body of the Carlist army to retire from the provinces into
which it had made so fierce an irruption. Disunion also
began to show itself in the camp of Don Carlos, so that,
disappointed and disheartened, he retreated to his old
fastness beyond the Ebro, accompanied however by a
large convoy of booty. Besides these military operations,
prosecuted on a large scale, there was a system of desultory
warfare maintained all over the country, more destructive in
its effects upon the inhabitants than the regular operations
of an army. Brigandage, never viewed with much horror
in Spain, had now become as common as a lawful trade.
Remorseless cruelty characterized the proceedings of all
parties ; and civil life, except in the large towns, seemed for
the time suspended.
The civil and parliamentary history of Spain for 1837
presents little that is of any importance. The new consti¬
tution formed a fruitful theme of discussion in the Cortes.
After undergoing the alterations already mentioned, and
some others of less moment, it was solemnly ratified by the
queen-regent in the Cortes, and proclaimed to the nation.
It is worthy of being noticed, that an attempt to introduce
toleration in religious matters, by an amendment to the
article which establishes the Catholic faith, met with the
strongest opposition. This striking fact shows how deeply
rooted the old Spanish bigotry remains in the national mind.
During the year, bills were passed for the suppression of
religious houses, and the abolition of the payment of tithes,
the maintenance of the clergy being left to the government.
Several judicious ecclesiastical reforms were projected; and
among other important measures passed by the Cortes, was
the abolition of the local parliaments in the Basque provin¬
ces. Ministerial changes repeatedly took place during the
year, but into these we shall not enter.
The military operations of the Carlists in 1838 were less
successful and less enterprising than they had been during
the two previous years. Cabrera, indeed, a general who
had frequently signalized his talents for war, had firmly es¬
tablished himself in Aragon and Valencia, and the bands of
partisans allowed no respite to the distracted provinces;
but we have to record none of those daring and brilliant
flying expeditions which more than once traversed Spain
in all directions with such celerity and success as to com¬
mand the attention of Europe. Something of this kind was
indeed attempted by Basilio Garcia, and by Tallada, but
3 T
514
SPAIN.
History, both these generals were signally defeated. The cause of
Don Carlos was now visibly declining: the best and bravest
of the chiefs who had served him had successively incurred
his displeasure, and were either in disgrace, exile, or con¬
finement ; above all, the country was beginning to be favour¬
ably disposed to the queen. Her troops however were very
unsuccessful in the field. General Orad was defeated at
Morelia, and General Alaix also suffered a repulse. But
the principal battle fought between the Carlists and Chris¬
tines was that of Maella, where General Cabrera completely
routed the queen’s troops under Pardinas, but sullied his
victory by butchering nearly two hundred prisoners in cold
blood. The war throughout had been disgraced by similar
atrocities, notwithstanding the efforts of Britain to put a
stop to them. Both parties appear to have been equally
guilty of this inhuman practice. The operations of Espar-
tero were feeble and uncertain. He did little but march
a large army from place to place, without striking a decisive
blow. As usual, almost every part of Spain continued to
be ravaged by guerilla bands, who swarmed over the pro¬
vinces with no other objects in view but plunder and blood¬
shed. During the year, the Cortes had twice met; their de¬
liberations chiefly referred to the state of the finances a.nd
the negociation of a loan, which was not effected. The
ministry, always feeble, had now become more feeble than
ever, notwithstanding that changes were continually taking
place. The queen-regent found it impossible to form a
strong government in the present political state of the coun¬
try. Its helplessness was such that the generals command¬
ing in the different provinces found it necessary to act in¬
dependently of its arrangements, and to appropriate the
revenues of each province to the payment of the military
expenses incurred in it, instead of allowing the monies to
pass into the treasury. Thus General Van Halen, who had
organized a fine army of 40,000 men, called the army of the
centre, after declaring the kingdoms of Aragon, Valencia,
and Murcia, in a state of siege for the rest of the war, and
that in future the civil were to consider themselves in sub¬
ordination to the military authorities, proclaimed, that the
entire revenues of those provinces should be paid into the
military chest, and exclusively appropriated to the expenses
of the war. This was probably the very wisest measure
that could have been adopted for bringing the war to a
speedy termination. Want of pay had repeatedly paralyzed
the operations of the Christino armies ; it had dispersed the
British legion; and at this very moment it was exciting
discontent, if not revolt, in the camp of Don Carlos. To
place the pay of the queen’s troops upon a sure footing, was
therefore the first step to secure ultimate triumph in the
field.
During 1839, the cause of Don Carlos rapidly declined,
notwithstanding the desperate efforts made by Generals Ca¬
brera and Maroto to maintain it. Espartero, the comman¬
der-in-chief of the queen’s troops, after some hard fighting,
cut off the Carlists completely from the plains of Alava,
while Diego Leon likewise expelled them from the rich
country between the mountains and the Ebro. Many
towns and fortresses of importance, one after another, sub¬
mitted to the triumphant Christinos, so that almost the only
parts of Biscay which now owned the authority of Carlos
were rugged mountainous tracts of country, whither no re¬
gular army could follow the fugitives. An armistice was
at length concluded between Maroto and Espartero, which
was followed by twenty-one Carlist battalions laying down
their arms. Don Carlos himself, reduced to the last ex¬
tremity, fled for refuge into France, where he formally
renounced his pretensions to the throne of Spain, under
certain conditions alike reasonable and necessary. The
-question relative to the fueros of the Basques and Na¬
varre, which, it will be recollected, had been abolished,
caused much uneasiness. It seemed perfectly evident that
these important provinces would not be satisfied, or com- Sti
pletely surrender themselves to the queen’s authority, unless'''”
their local privileges were restored. After some debating
in the Cortes this measure was agreed to, government stipu¬
lating that it would so modify the fueros as to reconcile the
interests of these provinces with those of the nation, and
with the constitution of the monarchy. The only Carlist
chief who gave any uneasiness to the government was Ca¬
brera, who, little affected by the pacification of the northern
provinces, still maintained his footing in Valencia, deter¬
mined to support the cause of Carlos while an army remain¬
ed to back him. Towards the close of the year, however,
sickness paralyzed his exertions; nor is it supposed that he
will be able to effect much when the season again arrives
for an army taking the field. It is to be hoped that this
protracted, bloody, and disgraceful war is now virtually at
an end. It has left Spain overwhelmed with a debt which
at present she has no prospect of being able to pay for many
years to come. National property, chiefly that of the church,
was sold to the amount of L. 10,000,000, to meet the exigen¬
cies of the time, but even this large sum fell far short of
what was required. The resources of the country are no
doubt great, but a long period of peace, and a wise admi¬
nistration of public affairs, will be necessary before these
are developed to their full extent. Spain has scarcely been
free from internal war since this century commenced. The
injury thus inflicted on agriculture, commerce, trade, and
manufactures, is not to be estimated, while its effect on the
morals of the people has been most pernicious, transforming
the peaceful husbandman into a robber, and the aspiring
student into a leader of banditti. That Spain has struggled
through this sanguinary period of her history without being-
involved in total ruin, proves that the natural resources
of the country are immense, and only require proper man¬
agement to raise her above her former rank in the scale of
nations.
STATISTICS.
The position and boundaries of Spain have already been
described. Its extent north and south is from Tarifa Point,
in the Straits, in 36° north latitude, to Cape Ortegal in
Galicia, 43° 46', making 7° 46' of latitude, or about 540
English miles. From east to wrest the extreme points are
Cape Creus, in Catalonia, 3° 17' of east longitude, and
Cape La Roca, 9° 17' of west longitude, the distance in
this direction being 5G0 miles. The Peninsula thus forms
almost a square, allowance being made for the irregularity
of its outline ; and the entire extent of Portugal being ex¬
cluded, it is reckoned to contain about 176,000 square
miles English.' .
Spain may be considered as composed of a series ol
mountain terraces, which, projecting successively their rug¬
ged edges towards the south, present a flight ot gigantic
steps from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean. The chains
of mountains which terminate and divide the great plains o
the Peninsula are branches of the immense ridge that, from
the most elevated part of Tartary, runs across Asia am
Europe, penetrates into the south of France by Switzerlan ,
and, entering Spain in the direction of the valleys or Konca
and Bastan, separates Navarre from Guipuscoa, Biscay trom
Alava, the highlands of Burgos from the plains ol Old pas¬
tille, and Asturias from the kingdom of Leon; then crosses
Galicia, and dips into the ocean at Capes Ortega an
Finisterre. i.
The Pyrenees are lateral ramifications of this grea ru ,
which run east and west on the eastern side ol Spain, an
take a south-west and north-west direction on the c°n
of Aragon and Navarre. The accumulated mass o
mountains presents, towards the Peninsula, the convex
of a spherical segment, which, like a shield with i s
S P A I N.
i. the south, rounds its edges near the Atlantic and the Me-
s diterranean, and rears the highest part of its curve on the
Spanish territory, between the springs of the rivers Cinca
and Ara. This eminence, called Mont Perdu by the French,
is known, in Aragon, by the appellation of Tres Sorores,
alluding to its three peaks, distinctly seen from Saragossa,
of which the highest rises 4114 Spanish yards above the
level of the sea. The line of perpetual congelation is there
at the height of 2924 yards.
In the minor branches which strike ott from the Pyrenees
in a south direction, without forming a part of the great
secondary chains, which we shall presently describe, there
are some mountains too remarkable to be left unnoticed.
Such are the Monsein, on the coast of Catalonia, near the
town of Arens, and the well-known Monserrat, which rises,
on the same coast, to the height of 1479 yards above the
sea; such the Sierras of Ribagorza, Barbastro, Huesca, and
Jaca, which take their names from the principal cities in
their neighbourhood; such, finally, those numerous spurs
of the great ridge which run into Navarre, whose various
appellations would only tend to confuse the reader.
Of the main ridges which run across the Peninsula, that
which rises to the west of the source of the Ebro was called
Idubeda by the Romans, and formed the limits of the an¬
cient Celtiberia. In its course towards the Mediterranean,
the natives, according to a general custom, distinguish the
various portions or great links of the chain by the appel¬
lation of Sierras, adding the name of some town or notable
height in their vicinity. Such are the Sierra de Oca of
Urbion (the Pistertire of the middle ages), of Moncayo
{Mans Caunus), of Molina, Albarracin, and Cuenza. Part
of this chain forms the limits of Aragon and Castille: it
then penetrates into Valencia, Murcia, and Granada, and
ends in the Capes Oropesa (Tenebrium), Martin, Palos,
and Gata. The small town of Alcolea, in the province of
Soria, stands on this chain, at the height of 1486 yards
above the sea. Its mean elevation, on the road between
Molina and Teruel, in Aragon, is 1580 yards.
Ihe first point where this great ridge splits into the
minor chains, which lose themselves in the Mediterranean,
is to the north of Albarracin, in Aragon. Of these branches
the most remarkable is that which, entering the province of
Valencia, is again subdivided into the smaller ridges which
terminate at Peniscola and Cape Oropesa. The waters
that descend from these heights, to the north, mix finally
with the Ebro, while the 1 uria and the Mijares are swelled
by those which flow from the southern declivities. On the
branch stretching towards Peniscola, and in the limits of Ara¬
gon, rises the Muela de Ares, a conical mountain, deprived
o its apex; whose top is an extensive plain covered with
uxunant pasture, and surrounded by fearful precipices, at
the elevation of 1562 Spanish yards above the sea. This
is one of the highest spots in the Peninsula. The Tagus,
ucar, and the Gabriel, take their rise among these
mountams, and divide the waters which flow from their
sides between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Nu¬
merous flocks of sheep, both itinerant and stationary, find,
m ttie valleys formed by this chain, the most abundant sum¬
mer pastures.
Fiom Albarracin, this chain strikes into the territory of
SPSZaV in, a direction nearly north and south. It then
j„.i , . a branch to the east-south-east, on which the Col-
se (a * a^a’ or Silver Hill, rises 1598 yards above the
. ‘l, > c°ntains a quicksilver mine, which was formerly
dp Pc a "°m tne neighb°urhood of this town the Sierra
Murvufl an rUnS’ an unbroken bulwark, to the sea near
west tp’m a direction between south-east and north-
ficturesque.86 ^ S ^ described as singularly grand and
uff^anoiPo ^, sour^e of the Tagus, the Iberian ridge sends
r branch, which, stretching in almost a southern
515
direction, separates La Mancha from the province of Mur- Statistics,
cia, to the west of the town of Albacete, and rises into the''■“"■'v'"'*"''
lofty mountains of Alcaraz and Segura (the ancient Oro-
speda), dividing the wraters between the Guadalquivir and
the Segura, the two main streams which severally and finally
convey them to the ocean and the Mediterranean. One of
the two great limbs which terminate the Iberian ridge runs
into the sea at Cape Cervera; the other, bending to the
south, skirts the kingdom of Granada, and disappears at
Cape Gata. To the latter belongs the mountain called
Cabezo de Maria, between Carthagena and Cape Gata, one
league west of the town of Vera, on the coast of Valencia.
It rises 2287 yards above the sea, and has its summit
covered with snow during one half of the year.
Smaller branches of this chain project between the Turia
and the Gabriel, which loses itself in the Xucar at Cofrentes.
A ridge runs between the last-mentioned river and the Al-
coy, another stream, which flows into the sea near Gandia.
A minor chain separates the Alcoy and the mouth of the
Segura. The province of Valencia is, in fact, divided by
mountains into most fertile stripes, watered by numerous
streams, and enjoying every blessing which nature grants
to the most favoured climates.
The great ridge whose summits divide the waters be- Great ridge
tween the Duero and the lagus grows out of the Iberian between
chain, not far from the sources of the Xalon and the Ta-tbe f>uero
juna, to the south of the city of Soria, and the site of the ?’ld the
ancient Numantia. Where it divides the province of Gua-
dalaxara from that of Soria, it is called Sierra de Paredes,
and Altos de Baraona. On one of the hills, north of Sigu-
enza, rises the Henares, which gives its name to the ancient
now Alcala de Henares, the seat of a university.
Near the source of the Lozoya, a rivulet which runs into the
Xarama, these mountains are called Somosierra, till, more
to the west, they bear the name of Guadarrama; an appel¬
lation which they preserve throughout the long course in
which they skirt the provinces of Segovia, Avila, Guada-
laxara, and Madrid. Ihe Puerto de Navacerrada, the
highest point on the road from Madrid to the summer pa¬
lace of San Ildefonso, is 2204 yards above the sea.
The mountains of Guadarrama are a very striking ob¬
ject when seen from the neighbourhood of Madrid, on the
road to Old Castille. They principally consist of naked,
fractured granite rocks, heaped up together, and adorned
only towards their bases with single evergreen oaks, while
the upper parts are bleak, dreary, and barren, presenting
fantastic prominences, and in many places covered with per¬
petual snow. This chain, in its course towards Portugal,
where it ends in the Rock of Lisbon, rises into some re¬
markable elevations. We shall notice that of Pehalara, be¬
tween the sources of the Eresma and the Lozoya, 2834
yards above the sea; the Puerto del Pico, in the province
of Salamanca; the Pena de Francia, and Sierra de Gata,
on the northern limits of Spanish Estremadura.
The minor branches run nearly north and south from
the main ridge, and may be traced from the opposite course
of the rivers which flow either into the Duero and the Mino,
or into the ocean, on the western coast of Galicia.
Almost parallel to the mountains of Guadarrama, we Chain of
find the ridge which divides the waters between the Tagus the Tagus
and the Guadiana; but it rises to no great height, and i$ and the
altogether of minor importance. Guadiana.
Ihe third great branch of the Iberian ridge is the Sierra Ridge of
Morena (Montes Mariani), which divides the waters be- the Guadi-
tween the Guadiana and the Guadalquivir. It begins inana and
the vicinity of Alcaraz, near the eastern limits of the pro- Guadixkiui.
vince of La Mancha, issuing from that spur of the Iberian V I’
chain which terminates in Cape Palos, and, trending in a
direction noith-east and south-west, with La Mancha and
Spanish Estremadura to the north, and Jaen, Cordoba,
Seville, and Algarve in Portugal, to the south, ends in the
>16
SPAIN.
Rivers.
Statistics, ocean at Cape St Vincent. The pass named Puerto del
'y'—Rey, where the road from Madrid to Andalusia crosses
these mountains, is 821 yards above the sea. Near Cordo¬
ba, where the bold skirts of the Montes Marictni are seen,
within a short distance to the north, like a skreen raised
to protect the rich and extensive plains watered by the
Gaudalquivir, the ridge borrows the name of the neigh¬
bouring city. On the southern limits of Estremauura,
and to the north of Seville, it is called Sierra de Guadal¬
canal. The chain now bends to the south-west, forms the
northern boundary of the Portuguese province of Algarve,
and, through the Sierras of Caldeiraon and Monchique,
connects itself with Cape St \ incent.
Ridge of The brink of the last mountain plain towards the south
Granada of Spain is skirted by the ridge of Granada and Honda,
and Ronda wl)ich, striking off at the extremity ol the Iberian chain, is
successively called Sierra de Gador, Sierra Nevada, Ber-
meja, and de Ronda, till it ends in various points ol the
coast, but most conspicuously in the Rock of Gibraltar.
Part of Sierra Nevada rises above the highest Pyrenees.
The Cumbre de Mulhacen is 4254 yards above the sea,
the Picacho de Veleta 4153. The line of perpetual con¬
gelation is found in these mountains at the height ot 3305
’ The five great streams which water the plains lying be¬
tween the great mountain ridges, are the Mino, the Ebro,
the Duero, the Tagus, the Guadiana, and the Guadal¬
quivir. . . „ .
The Miho. The Mino, or Minho (Minius or Bams), rises in Galicia,
in the district of Lugo, from a beautiful spring called
Puente Mina. This river is navigable only to Salvatierra,
The Ebro, two leagues above Tuy. The Ebro rises, near Reynosa,
out of a spring so copious that it turns a corn-mill a lew
steps from its source. After a course of 110 leagues, it
flows into the Mediterranean at Alfaques. From the
boundaries of Navarre to the sea, the Ebro makes a pro¬
gress of 1° 12' 42" towards the south. The chief towns on
this stream are Logroho and Calahorra, in the province of
Rioja; Tudela, in Navarre; Saragossa, in Aragon; and
Tortosa, in Catalonia. It is a misfortune for Spain that
this great river presents strong obstacles to navigation,
both in its course and where it reaches the sea. Of the
plans which have been conceived, and partly executed, to
obviate these impediments, we shall presently have occasion
TheDuero. to speak. The Duero, or Douro, has its source to the
north of the city of Osma, in a deep lake, at the summit of
that portion of the neighbouring chain of mountains called
Sierras de Urbion. Its course is at first towards the south,
passing by Garray and Soria, where it turns to the west,
continuing in that direction till it reaches Miranda. From
this town to Moncorvo the river falls again into a south
direction. It lastly takes a decided course to the ocean,
which it reaches near Oporto, having traversed a distance
of 150 leagues. This river is navigable up to the tower
of Moncorvo, a space of thirty leagues. The navigation,
which was formerly obstructed by rapids, has been expe¬
dited through the exertions of the Portuguese company of
Alto Douro. Some of the smaller streams flowing into the
Duero rise at remarkable heights. The Adaja, which de¬
scends from the northern slope of the great chain between
the Duero and the Tagus, is, at Avila, 1271 yards above
the sea; the Eresma, when it flows by the castle of Segovia,
The Tajo, is 1107 yards above the same level. We have mentioned
cr Tagus, that elevated part of the chain between the Tagus and the
Guadiana which takes the name of Albarracin, and the
truncated mountain called Muela de San Juan. An in¬
considerable spring, denominated Pie Izquierdo, is the source
of the majestic Tagus. In its course through the province
of Cuenza it is considerably augmented by the contribu¬
tions of several streams. Before its waters reach Aran-
juez, they surmount the rocky edge of its native mountain,
and, dashing upon the plain beneath, sink into a pool of Stati-
great depth, called Olla de Borlaque. The Tagus, now'—~
running placidly through the plains of Zorita and the royal
gardens of Aranjuez, at the elevation of 621 yards above
the sea, directs its course to 1 oledo, passes by ^ Talavera,
Alcantara, Abrantes, and Santarem, losing itself finally in
the sea near Lisbon. The latitudes of several towns on
the banks of the Tagus show the gradual inclination of its
stream towards the south. The sources of the Guadiana are The
found north of Alcaraz, in La Mancha, at the pools ofdiana
Ruidera. The course of the river is first to the north-west
for eight leagues. It is then absorbed by the soil, and dis¬
appears for seven leagues. The first gathering of its waters,
after their subterraneous dispersion, takes place near Day-
miel. The spot is called Ojos (Eyes) de Guadiana. The
stream now proceeds to Liudad Real, the chief town of the
province of La Mancha, to Merida, Badajos, Mertola in
Portugal, and, re-entering the Spanish territory, terminates
in the ocean at Ayamonte. In its course to this point, the
Guadiana passes over a space of more than 100 leagues, but
it is not navigable higher than Mertola in Portugal. Ihe
Guadalquivir occupies the centre of the plain which lies be-Tbei
tween the Sierra Morena and the chain of Granada, where dalq.
it takes its course to the north-east of Jaen. The chief
towns on its banks are Andujar, Cordoba, Seville, and San
Lucar ( Teinpluni Luciferi). At the ferry near Mengibar,
on the road from Madrid to Granada, the Guadalquivir is
203 yards above the sea. 1 his river is navigable for large
vessels up to Seville ; but its bed being constantly raised
and obstructed by growing shallows, the navigation is ex¬
tremely tedious.
If we except the series of small lakes from which the river
Guadiana takes its rise, there are in Spain few lakes that
merit particular notice. The most remarkable of these is
the lake of Abulfera, in the province of Valencia. Ihis
lake begins near the village of Cataroija, about a league
north of the city of Valencia, and extends nearly four leagues,
as far as Cullera. When it is full, it is about four leagues in
length, and two in breadth; but it is so shallow that small
boats can scarcely float in it. To supply the deficiency o
Avater, an engine is employed, by which the neighbouring
waters are drawn into the bed of the lake; and any super"
abundant water occasioned by heavy rains is carried off into
these by means of an artificial opening. This lake contains
a great many fish, and numerous aquatic birds make it t eir
haunt. . .
According to Professor Hausmann, viewing bpain as aso.l
whole, a threefold principal difference is to be observed.m,.,
The northern zone, which extends to the Ebro, diners en
tirely in its characters from the middle zone ; and this again
is completely different from the southern zone, which is
bounded on the north by the Sierra Morena and a part o
the Ostrandes. The northern zone, which includes Ga¬
licia, Asturias, the Basques, Navarre, the northern part o
Aragon and Catalonia, is a widely extended, mountainous,
and hilly country. The snow-fields and glaciers of the
Pyrenees on the one side, and on the other t ic noi u
north-west winds, have a marked influence in lowering
temperature of the atmosphere, and in increasing the sup¬
ply of water. The increased humidity is favourable t
getation, which on the whole very much resembles t
the south of France ; and the variety of rocks containing
lime, clay, and sand, and also their frequent a ern -
operate beneficially on the soil. Everywhere i i
cultivation, and the inhabitants of this region art act
husbandmen. The middle part of Spain, which compr
Old and New Castille, a part of Aragon, Leon, and E ^
madura, is not so favourably circumstance . -
speaking, it is deficient in either beauty or vane y P
The broad and lofty table-lands present a umforman
notonous surface, destitute of trees, and score re
SPAIN.
517
s
Pr
tio
-{leg, 0f the sun. The corn-fields are wretchedly cultivated, and
"'desert heaths of cistus everywhere meet the eye. Planta¬
tions of olive-trees are rare; here, in short, every kind of
vegetation dwindles for want of water. In most cases the
rivers carry but little water in comparison with the extent
of the land and the number of considerable mountain chains.
The causes of this great deficiency are principally the ex¬
treme dryness of the atmosphere ; the inconsiderable cover
of snow on the mountains, and its short continuance; the
absence of forests and great moors on the heights ; and the
comparatively inconsiderable breadth of the mountain
ranges. The southern and south-western part of Spain,
which comprehends Andalusia, Granada, and Murcia, is very
different from that just described. On the opposite side of
the Sierra Morena the whole land has a more southern as¬
pect, which announces itself not only by the vegetable, but
likewise by the animal kingdom. The great difference of
climate is produced by the southern situation, the exposure
of the acclivity on the south and south-west to the African
winds, and the strong reflection of the solar rays from the
lofty naked mountain-walls. The mountain ranges are
more closely aggregated, the valleys more deeply cut; and
there is also a greater difference in the rocks and in their
position, so that extensive table-lands cannot be formed.
The south of Spain thus possesses not only a much higher
temperature, one fit for the orange and the palm, but also
a more varied and more favourable soil for cultivation. In
East Valencia and Murcia, in the south of Andalusia and
the Algarves, in Western Alemtejo and South Estremadura,
the rich and varied vegetation rivals that of the fertile plains
of Syria. In Andalusia frosts are unknown, and the snow,
if it ever falls, melts the moment it touches the soil; so that
it is not surprising that, in the cultivated districts, the Spa¬
niards, so famous for their maritime expeditions of yore,
should have introduced many vegetables from remote parts
of the world, thus giving a perfectly tropical appearance to
the country. There is, however, a deficiency of moisture,
but it seems only to affect the growth of some of the lower
species of plants.
|ic- Passing over such productions of the soil as are only in¬
teresting to the botanist, we shall enumerate those which
come under the cognizance of the husbandman. Spain may
be reckoned one of the most fruitful countries of Europe,
and it presents a great variety of products. Wheat, secale,
barley, maize, and flax, are cultivated in almost all the pro¬
vinces, but still not in crops sufficient for home consump¬
tion. Oats are neglected, barley being given to the cattle
instead of that grain. Oil and soda are the principal pro¬
ducts of the southern shores of the Mediterranean ; the
others are sumach, and different esculent plants of an admi¬
rable quality. In the same part of the country are fields
of saffron, plantations of rice, which stretch out like so many
plains, and the cotton shrub thrives as on its native soil.
The mulberry trees are very luxuriant, and their leaves af¬
ford rich nourishment to the bombyx, which easily accounts
for the superior quality of the silk. In the south of Spain
there is an immense variety of the most delicious fruits, not
only such as are common in temperate climates, but many
which naturally belong to the tropical regions. The sugar¬
cane grows near the cotton plant, and numerous olives fur¬
nish the oil which forms so important a branch of commerce.
Kali, from which barilla is extracted, is produced in great
abundance in Valencia; anise, maize, and different dye¬
stuffs in Murcia; and the honey of Cuenza is still as cele¬
brated as it was in the time of the Romans. Among the
vegetable products we may briefly mention chestnuts and a
variety of other nuts, the cork-tree, palm, lemon, banana,
ate, pomegranate, fig, citron, cheremoya, laurel, bay,cypress,
a mond, and strawberry tree ; potatoe and other culinary
vegetables ; forests of oak, pine, and other trees, chiefly in
atalonia, the Asturias, Galicia, and the Sierra Morena.
Extensive valleys covered with rich pastures are found in Statistics.
Navarre, and numerous herds are fattened on them. In y—
the Asturias considerable forests still exist, chiefly of ever¬
green oaks, from which naval timber is obtained. But of
all the vegetable productions of Spain, the vine is the most
important, the lands being almost everywhere favourable
to its culture. The excess of the vintage above the quan¬
tity consumed in the country forms a considerable branch
of the export trade, and it is capable of being greatly ex¬
tended. The best wines are those of Peralta in Navarre ;
Ribadavia and Betanzos in Galicia; Mansanares and Val
de Penas in La Mancha; Xeres or Sherry, San Lucar, and
Rota, in Seville; Cabra, Lucena, and Campine, in Cordova;
Malaga in Granada; and lastly, Alicantin Valencia. Sherry
wine is produced in great quantities in the plain of Xeres,
and a considerable portion is exported to this country. Mr
Jacob estimates the quantity of this wine annually produced
at 40,000 pipes, of which 15,000 are exported, mostly to
England. The finest wine is produced in Malaga, but not
in large quantities.
Mr Swainson thus describes the zoology. “ The native
zoology has been so little investigated, that nothing beyond
a meagre list could be furnished of indigenous animals. In
the mountains of Asturias the ibex is not uncommon, and
the Alpine squirrel (Sciurus Alpinus) is only found in the
Pyrenees. In the southern parts, bordering on the African
shore, a few species of warblers have recently been found,
which are as yet unknown to the rest of Europe. The
European bee-eater frequents the vicinity of Gibraltar in
large flocks during the season of migration. Among the
domesticated animals, the horse and sheep deserve particu¬
lar notice, as having been long celebrated throughout Eu¬
rope. The best horses are generally about four feet six or
eight inches in height; they have all the fire, docility, grace,
and action of the beautiful Arabians of Barbary, and there
can be no doubt of these noble animals having been intro¬
duced by the Moors and crossed with the native breed.
Those of Andalusia, Granada, and Estremadura, are the most
distinguished.. At Zeres are found two perfectly distinct
races; the one, w'hich possesses the fine qualities above
mentioned, is still preserved in all its purity at Chartreux.
The other race is larger, stronger, less elegant, and used
for common purposes. But little care has latterly been
bestowed in keeping up the more noble breed, so that fine
horses are not so common in Spain as formerly. The mule
in so mountainous a country is particularly useful, and, w ith
the ass, is principally used for conveying goods into the in¬
terior. The breeds of the latter are very fine, and are hardly
excelled by those of Egypt. Spain is still celebrated for
its Merino race of sheep. The flocks are kept constantly
travelling during the greater part of the summer, but are
carefully pent up in winter. This race, subdivided into
breeds, is extended over the greater part of Spain, but those
of Cavage and Negrate are the best. A third breed, the
Sowan, appears more hardy, and passes the winter in Es¬
tremadura, Andalusia, and New Castille. These three con¬
stitute what is called the Transhumante, or travelling race,
to distinguish them from the Estautes, or those of a some¬
what inferior breed, which do not migrate. The best
fleeces are those which appear almost black on their sur¬
face, caused by the dust adhering to the peculiar greasy
pile; for it is invariably found that such fleeces are of the
purest white beneath.” There is a very large breed of
oxen in the country round Salamanca; but the cattle of
Spain have been much neglected, the mountaineers deriv¬
ing all their milk and butter from goats. Fine cattle, how¬
ever, are reared in the Asturias; and pigs are very common
on the mountains of the same province. The wild boar,
the wolf, the bear, and different kinds of deer, are still found
in Spain, but these are gradually becoming extinct. The
chamois and the lynx still find shelter in the Pyrenees and
518
SPAIN.
Statistics, the mountains of Cuenza. "1 he wild animals of the south-
^ ern part of Spain are very similar to those of the north of
Africa.
Minerals. Spain has long been celebrated for its richness in mine¬
rals, and large veins of various metals are still found in seve¬
ral parts of the country. Gold and silver mines were for¬
merly worked; but they have been given up, although grains
of these metals are still found. Lead is found in consider¬
able quantities; the principal veins, as the lead-glance veins
of Sinares, are found in granite. The colossal deposit oi
galena, which yielded 600,000 quintals of lead in 1829,
lies in irregular masses in a limestone formation. The prin¬
cipal mines are near Tortoza in Catalonia; at Zoma, Be-
nasques, and Plan in Aragon; in Estremadura, in Murcia,
in Old Castille, in Seville ; and at the district of Linares, in
Jaen. Mercury is also found, and at Almaden there is a
rich mine of this valuable mineral, which is wrought in the
clay slate. Iron ore occurs in very large quantities, princi¬
pally in the northern provinces. In the Pays Basque, the
lias formation is very rich in iron ore; and at Solomostro,
near Bilboa, enormous deposits of carbonated iron are
found. Veins of copper, antimony, and sulphur, are occa¬
sionally discovered, but not in such quantities as to be worth
working. Coal also exists in considerable quantities in
many provinces; and this mineral is gaining in importance
every year, from other fuel becoming scarce.
Asrricul- Although Spain possesses all the advantages of climate, and
ture. the soil is generally fertile, the agriculture of the country is
in a state of deplorable backwardness. A variety of causes
has been assigned for this, but the principal cause is what has
been appropriately termed the curse of the Mesta. This is
a privilege granted to the proprietors of flocks to conduct
their sheep into different provinces for the sake of pasturage.
In their progress the sheep commit considerable depreda¬
tions on the crops. The law of entail, which exists in Spain
in its worst form, is also supposed to hinder improvement
in agriculture; but perhaps the most serious obstacle to
improvement is the want of internal communication, and
the indolence of the rural population. The farms are ge¬
nerally small, and the farmers of a district live together in
villages. There is no rotation of crops, and the wheat,
after a slight ploughing, is sown at the commencement of
the rains. The operation of thrashing and cleaning the
grain is performed in the open air, and the grain is left in
the fields or concealed in caves till sold. Implements
of husbandry are of the rudest description ; fanners are un¬
known except about the sea-coast, and the spade is still in
use in some of the mountainous parts of the country. The
most careful cultivation is to be found in the huertas of
Granada, Murcia, and Valencia, which are well irrigated by
the waters of the Xenil, Segura, and Xucar. Rice is pro¬
duced in Valencia, and a mild red pepper is the chief vege¬
table cultivated in Murcia. These three provinces are con¬
sidered as the gardens of Spain, and annually yield three
and four crops of vegetables, maize, and a mild red pep¬
per. In spite of this fertility, however, it is calculated that
the entire lands of Spain do not yield more than from one
and a half to two per cent, to the proprietors. Some im¬
provements have recently been introduced, but even now
scarcely a fourth of the surface of the country is applied to
any profitable use. A far greater extent of land is devoted
to pasturage than is required for the maintenance of the
cattle; and only about a twelfth of the superficies is occu¬
pied by wood. In Biscay, agriculture has made many im¬
provements ; and in spite of the disadvantages of soil, the
population of this district is more numerous, and grain
cheaper, than in the fertile plains to the south and east of
Seville; which, if properly cultivated, might supply all Spain.
“ The kingdoms of Old Castille and Leon,” says a writer
in the Foreign Quarterly Review, vol. v. “ are justly con¬
sidered the granaries of Spain. They have their outlets in
the north by various ports from Gijon to St Sebastian, the Shtisti
principal being Santander and Bilboa. The provinces of^-^-
Burgos and Palencia are the nearest points from which these
ports get any considerable supply; the distance being from
130 to 140 English miles from each. The elevated and
rich campos which extend from Logroho to Burgos, and
thence on each side of the Arlanza and Pisuerga, and along
the Cauvion, and numerous other streams which water the
provinces of Palencia, Valladolid, and Zamora, yield im¬
mense quantities of wheat; and further to the west, and on
the south side of the Douro, the provinces of Toro and
Salamanca may be considered as forming a portion of the
richest wheat country in Spain, or perhaps in the world.
The crop is often so abundant for a series of years, that the
produce of the fields at a distance from the villages is some¬
times allowed to rot on the ground, the expense of convey¬
ing it home being considered beyond its value. It was cal¬
culated that the accumulated surplus of four or five succes¬
sive years, in the silos and granaries of these plains, amount¬
ed at the close of the harvest of 1828 to 6,000,000 of fane-
gas, or 1,200,000 Winchester quarters. The ordinary cost
of carriage does not exceed seven or eight shillings for every
hundred miles; but the means of transport are so defec¬
tive and so badly organized, that when any extraordinary
demand for exportation takes place, the rates advance ac¬
cordingly. Thus, in September 1828, the usual price was
seven or eight shillings; but in consequence of extensive de¬
mands from France and England, it rose two months after
to fourteen shillings and sixteen shillings per quarter. The
grain of Spain is of the finest quality, that of Andalusia
bearing a price ten or fifteen per cent, higher than that of
any foreign grain brought to the markets of Cadiz. In
spite of her facilities for agriculture, it is remarkable that
Spain regularly imports, upon an average, 400,000 quarters
of grain. This may arise from the want of proper means
of transporting grain from one province to another, and not
from any deficiency in the produce of the country.” Seve¬
ral of the provinces, such as Galicia, Asturias, part of Leon,
Santander, Biscay, and the kingdom of Navarre, barely
produce sufficient for the consumption of their inhabitants.
Catalonia does little more than maintain the half of its in¬
habitants ; Valencia exports rice, but both it and Murcia
import wheat; Cuenza, Guadalaxara, Segovia, Avila, and
Madrid, produce less than their consumption. The pro¬
vinces of Old Castille, part of Leon, Estremadura, part of
Andalusia and Toledo, produce such an abundance that
they might supply all the deficiencies of the other parts ot
Spain, and also export to foreign countries in seasons ot
plenty. Miiiano calculates the gross amount of agricul¬
tural produce in 1826 at L.76,965,000, and the net pro¬
duce at L.28,403,666. The same authority estimates the
number of cattle, &c. in the kingdom in 1826 as follows:
horned beasts, 2,944,885; horses, 400,495; mules, 223,646;
sheep, 18,687,159; goats, 5,187,668; asses, 641,788; swine,
2,728,283 ; bee-hives, 1,697,593.
The manufactures of Spain are in a very depressed state, Mann ?
although some thriving manufactories exist, principally on
the sea-coast. The manufacture of silk was formerly the
grand staple of trade, and although now much depre¬
ciated, it is calculated to furnish employment for nearly
16,000 persons. Numerous manufactures of various kinds
have been established in Catalonia within the last twenty
years ; those of silk and cotton are the most extensive, and
are in a thriving state. The looms of Valencia are calcu¬
lated to employ at the present day nearly 3000 persons, and
produce tissues, gauzes, and ribbands, equal to the ITenc
manufactories. The silk manufacture of Talavera de la
Reyna and Saragossa are still in high repute. The latter
province also produces cloth, which is much in request.
Galicia annually imports 20,000 hundredweight of nax,
which is conveyed to Santiago, and distributed throughou
SPAIN.
519
dstics.
the villages of this province to be converted into linen, and
sold in the Castilles. In the north, Bilboa and Santander,
in the south, Seville and Cadiz, are the great entrepots for
the exportation of wool, which is also spun and manufac¬
tured into cloth in Catalonia and Barcelona. These manu¬
factures, however, are by no means sufficient for the inha¬
bitants, and almost every species of manufacture is import¬
ed. In Catalonia there are numerous manufactories of
coarse cloth, which enjoy a monopoly; coarse cloths of fo¬
reign manufacture being almost prohibited by a heavy tax.
The finest cloth is manufactured in Valencia, and the trade
is in a flourishing state, employing nearly 10,000 hands. Tan¬
ning is the most active branch of manufacture in the north¬
ern provinces. Potteries are numerous, but the articles
produced are generally of an inferior description. There
is a royal porcelain manufactory at Madrid, the produce of
which is very superior, but it costs the government more
than it returns. Hat and paper manufactories have also
been established, and have met with considerable success.
The manufacture of arms forms a part of the trade of Spain,
but the quantity made is by no means great. There are
two large factories in Biscay ; at Abaceti and Toledo swords
are made ; at Segovia, fire-arms ; and at this latter place, as
well as at Seville and Placencia, there are good founderies.
Seville carries on a considerable trade in leather, a species of
which, prepared with gall-nuts, is in much request. Fer-
rol and Vittoria possess considerable tanneries; and the
former has an establishment where varnished leather is
made. Iron manufactories are very numerous in Biscay,
but none of them is conducted on an extensive scale. In
almost every village in this province some kind of iron ware
is manufactured; horse-shoes, fusils, locks, and bedsteads
being the chief articles, which are sent to the interior. Cast
iron utensils are prohibited from being imported into Spain ;
but this regulation does not seem to be attended with any
great advantage, for there is only one smelting manufactory
at Bilboa. Several other iron manufactories have been
established throughout the country, the principal being at
Pederoza and Martulla in Andalusia; but it does not ap¬
pear that they have met with any degree of success. Iron
ore is prohibited from being exported, but considerable
quantities are nevertheless sent to France. Manufactures
are much checked in Spain by the system of monopoly,
several of the largest manufactories being in the hands of
the government, and consequently ill conducted.
The commerce consists chiefly in the exporting of wines,
wool, brandy, fruits, silk raw and manufactured, lead, iron,
mercury, barilla, and a few other articles, amounting in all,
according to a government return in 1826, to the value
of L. 1,584,000. Iron, in bars, is exported in considerable
quantities from Bilboa, Cumana, and Vittoria, chiefly to Bay¬
onne and Bordeaux. Malaga and Alicant wines are also
important branches of commerce ; and the coarse wines of
Murviedro are extensively exported. The export of dried
fruits gives activity to the ports of Alicant, Malaga, Seville,
and \alencia; and the latter town is famous for its dyes.
I he imports of Spain consist of sugar, salt fish, spices,
wood, rice, butter, cheese, hides, w-ool, and cotton, and al¬
most every manufactured article. The transport of salt from
Cadiz and Torrevieju, for the fisheries of Galicia, is an im¬
portant branch of commerce, and, along with the fisheries
themselves, employs a great number of hands, producing
the best sailors, and giving activity to the towns and vil¬
lages on the coast, which is seldom seen in the interior,
f he net produce of commerce and manufactures was es¬
timated by Minano in 1826 at L. 14,660,000. It is difficult
to arrive at any correct estimate of the value of the ex¬
ports and imports of Spain, from the want of official docu¬
ments ; and even wdien these are obtained, little reliance can
16 P^ed on them. The following is from an official do¬
cument published in 1826.
Value of the Imports and Exports in 1826, distinguishing Statistics.
the Countries. ,
Exports.
Africa  L.340
Asia .' 
United States  45,925
England 637,800
France 450,350
Germany  26,670
Holland  56,185
Prussia  5
Russia  4,085
Denmark  11,585
Sweden  6,210
Turkey  55
Switzerland 
Sardinia  2
Italy  83,740
Portugal 146,160
Spanish American Colonies 330,373
Imports.
L.11,090
214,660
68,940
957,395
726,170
150,510
133,525
2,060
135,800
30,070
87,080
31,255
8,930
110,895
146,300
204,090
754,690
Total 1,799,485 3,773,475
Amount of importations from the different states of Eu¬
rope, the United States, Asia, and Africa L.3,018,785
Importations from Spanish Colonies  754,690
L.3,773,475
Amount of exportations to states in Europe, America,
Asia, and Africa L. 1,469,112
Exportations to Spanish Colonies  330,373
L. 1,799,485
This table shows a balance of L.1,973,990 against Spain,
of the imports over the exports; and the important article
of tobacco is entirely omitted ; neither is there any account
of the imports and exports to and from the free provinces
of the north.
Banking is almost unknown in Spain, the principal mer¬
chants doing the business of bankers. There are no sub¬
stitutes for cash in ordinary transactions, bills of exchange
being principally used; but these do not pass from hand to
hand as cash, except by special arrangement. The diffi¬
culty of transmitting specie is the cause of these bills being
much used; merchants preferring rather to pay a premium
than run the risk of losing the specie altogether. The rate
of exchange of course varies with the supply of bills in the
market, and also with the character of the houses offering
the paper. Most of the bills are at short dates, generally
within one month. Some are as short as two days; and
these are allowed eight days’ grace, unless the word fixed
is written on them. Interest generally varies from three to
four and a half per cent, on discounting bills, but this mode
of negociation is not much practised. Interest on mercan¬
tile transactions is understood to be fixed at six per cent.,
and three per cent, on mortgages; but the law is easily
evaded, there being no penalty inflicted on those who charge
more than the legal interest. There are no bankers with
whom money can be lodged; and it is customary for people
rather to horde up their money than to run the risk of its
being lost in the hands of merchants.
In internal communication, Spain lies under great dis- Roads, ca-
advantages, both from the mountainous nature of the coun-nals. &c.
try, and the obstructed navigation of the rivers. In the hands
of an enterprising people, these difficulties might soon be
overcome. The roads and canals are not numerous, and, if
we except the principal highways, are but imperfectly kept.
T be two roads which run from Madrid to Burgos, the one
through Valladolid, and the other through Aranda de Douro,
are kept in good condition; but the great eastern roads are
520
SPAIN.
Statistics, represented as in a wretched state. Ine load to France
by way of Vittoria and Iran is kept in excellent condition,
considering the mountainous nature of the country through
which it runs. The road to Corunna and Fenol, through
Galicia, is in many places impassable for carriages or carts.
That over the Sierra Morena to Seville is well kept. The
roads of Catalonia are said to be in better condition than
most in Spain. These roads are kept up partly by tolls, and
partly by local taxes; but the amount collected is not suf¬
ficient for maintaining proper communications. It appears
that L.92,400 were expended in repairing and making roads
and building bridges in the year 1826, and L.89,240 for
the same purpose in 1827. The ordinary mode of convey-
ino- goods is by means of mules, asses, or small carts diawn
by oxen. Stage-coaches are becoming more common ; but
these can only be used on the great roads, the ordinary
cross roads being generally too bad for such conveyance.
In Biscay and Navarre the roads are under the supennten-
' denceof the provincial administration, and are moie nume¬
rous, better constructed, and more carefully managed, than
any others in the country.
The canals are stated to be in a much more deplorable con¬
dition than the roads, and although many have been projected
by government, none of any importance has been completed.
The most important is that which was intended to unite Statist j
the Mediterranean Sea with the Bay of Biscay ; but of this''“■‘yv
mighty undertaking only two portions exist, the canal of
Aragon, running parallel to the Ebro, from Saragossa, and
that of Old Castille, along the Pisuerga and Carrion, by
Placencia. Neither of these portions, however, approaches
the sea, and their benefit is therefore limited. The other
canals are, that of Castille, which connects the port of San*
tander with the Duero ; the canal of Segovia, which connects
that town with the river of the same name ; and the canal of
San Carlo, w^hich is constructed to give a port to Fortoza.
The population of Spain presents fluctuations which can Popula;
only be accounted for by the fact of the internal wars which
have so frequently convulsed her, or on the supposition that
the returns which have been published are incorrect. It
has been gradually increasing for the last two centuries, and
latterly at a more rapid progression. It appears that in 1700
the population was estimated at 8,000,000. I he following
table, extracted from M‘Gregor’s Statistics of Nations, gives
the population in 1803 as exhibited by the official tables,
and in 1827 as given by Moreau de Jonnes in his Statistics,
which latter, however, must have exceeded the real num¬
bers, as the population was ascertained in 1837 to amount
only to 12,168,572.
General Descrip¬
tion.
New Castille •
Old Castille"
Leon.
Asturias 
Galicia 
Estremadura...
Madrid 
Toledo 
Guadalaxara..
Cuenza 
La Mancha....
Burgos 
Soria 
Segovia  
Avila 
Leon 
Palencia 
Toro 
Valladolid 
Zamora 
Salamanca....
Asturias 
Galicia 
Estremadura.
Seville 
Superficies.
English French
Miles. Leagues.
Andalusia....
Murcia 
Aragon 
Valencia...
Catalonia.,
Navarre....
Biscay.
r
i
Baleariclsles -J
l
Cordova  
Jaen 
Granada....
Sierra Morena
Murcia 
Aragon 
Valencia 
Catalonia 
Navarre 
Biscay 
Guipuscoa 
Alava 
Majorca and j
Cabrora f
Minorca 
Iviya and \
Formen j
1,330
8,8G3
1,970
11,410
7,620
7,752
4,118
3,502
2,600
5,943
1,751
1,992
3,272
1,606
5,128
3,725
16,060
14,478
9,080
4,202
3,236
9,720
1,304
7,957
14,882
7,764
12,111
2,475
1,280
628
1,093
1,352
242
181
110
734
163
945
631
642
341
290
215
493
145
165
271
133
471
308
1330
1199
752
348
268
805
108
659
1232
643
1007
205
106
52
90
112
20
15
Population.
1803. (a)
1827. (6)
Inhabi¬
tants to
Square
Mile.
Total ; 176,627 ! 1555 10,351,075 13,953,959 | 7»
228,520
370,641
121,115
294,290
205,548
470,588
198,107
164,007
118,061
239,812
118,064
97,370
187,390
71,401
209,988
364,238
1,142,630
428,493
746,221
252,028
206,807
692,924
6,196
383,226
657,376
825,059
858,818
221,728
111,436
104,491
67,523
140,699
30,990
15,290
297,812
485,203
157,338
382,577
257,210
611,762
267,537
221,379
153,479
311,755
153,482
126,581
243,607
92,821
272,982
464,565
1,585,419
556,780
970,087
327,256
276,905
1,097,093
493,192
856,219
1,255,095
1,116,461
288,244
144,875
135,838
92,807
Capitals.
Geographical Posi¬
tion of Chief
Towns.
N. Lat. IE. Lon.
Population
1827
242,893
224
54
79
33
33
78
65
63
59
52
87
63
74
57
53
124
98
38
106
77
85
112
61
57
161
92
116
113
216
84
136
Madrid 
Toledo 
Guadalaxara....
Cuenza 
Ciudad Ileal....
Burgos 
Soria 
Segovia 
Avila 
Leon 
Palencia 
Toro 
Valladolid 
Zamora 
Salamanca 
Oviedo 
Santiago 
Badajos 
( Seville 
( Cadiz 
Cordova 
Jaen 
Granada!......,
Carolina 
Murcia 
Saragossa 
Valencia 
Barcelona 
Pampeluna...
Bilboa 
St Sebastian,.
Vittoria 
Palma 
40 25
39 52
40 33
40 6
39 0
42 25
41 42
41 6
40 45
42 45
42 6
41 45
41 45
41 35
41 21
43 24
43 24
38 49
37 24
37 52
37 48
37 16
38 30
37 59
41 38
39 29
41 22
42 46
43 14
43 10
42 55
39 30
Ciudadella j 40 5
Ivica  38 53
3 33
4 11
3 22
2 16
3
55
30
10
45
27
35
5 37
4 35
5 45
5 40
5 55
8 20
6 47
5 39
4
3
3
3
1
1 2
0 23
2 10
1 42
2 42
1 58
2 55
2 25
3 15
1 29
201,000
15,600
7,000
7,000
10,000
12,000
5,000
12,000
4,000
5,000
10.000
9,000
32,000
7,000
14,000
10,000
28,000
12,000
91,000
70,000
46,000
18,000
80,000
35,000
55,000
66,000
120,000
15.000
15,000
9,000
7,000
30,000
U) Offici.il census. (6) As given by M. Moreau (]e Jonnes, in his Statistics for
ber of inhabitants ; and according to the returns of 1723 it would appear that in t)opuiatj0n of
had increased from 7,925,000 to nearly 14,000,000. It also appears, from the observation of most persons, . ^ Moreau de
naa mcreaseu t,* , _ j > r ,, * ^Qrt;„„iarlv hpfore osine her South American empire, y*- ,
thatof any other country, particularly before losing her South A-erican empire ^
Jonnes estimates the population in 1834 at 14,060,000. According, however, to a return of the number Pst 1837, the
Cortes from all SpaiS, corresponding to the population of the provinces, which appeared m the royal decree of o Aug us
exact population of the kingdom was 12,108.572,
SPAIN.
CS, THE OFFICIAL RETURNS OF THE POPULATION FOR 1826.
Householders having ike Qualification of Electors.
Nobility, including men, women, and children... 1,440,000
Citizens and farmers, &c 1,560,000
Heads of Families, viz.
Magistrates and advocates 5,883
Notaries 9,683
Attorneys and clerks of law-courts 13,274
Medical men 17,990
Public functionaries and clerks 27,243
Merchants 6,824
Agricultural proprietors 364,514
Heads of families 445,411
Women and children 1,128,275
—
1,573,686
Agricultural Population.
Agricultural proprietors 364,514
Farmers 527,423
Labourers   805,235
Proprietors of flocks and herds 25,530
Shepherds 113,628
Heads of families and others 1,836,330
Women and children 6,777,140
Total agricultural population 8,613,470
Merchants and Manufacturers.
Merchants 6,824
Ketail dealers 18,851
Manufacturers and labourers 489,493
Heads of families 515,168
Women and children 1,803,088
Total manufacturing population 2,318,256
Other Classes.
Domestics (one in thirty-seven inhabitants) 276,000
Vagabonds (one in seventy) 140,000
Smugglers (one in a hundred) 100,000
Custom-house officers  40,000
Officers of the Inquisition   22,000
Wandering beggars 36,000
Convicts 2,000
521
and intolerant form. The church establishment includes Statistics,
eight archbishops and seventy-two bishops, 2393 canons,''—v'——’'
and 1869 prebendaries, together with an immense multi¬
tude of other ecclesiastics, under various denominations. In
the year 1835 there still remained 1940 cloisters, contain¬
ing 30,906 monks. Of these the Franciscans alone possessed
651 cloisters, with 11,232 monks and lay-brothers. But by
a royal decree of the above year, all the religious houses
which did not contain more than twelve monks were
abolished. The number of monasteries thus condemned
amounted to 900. Their revenues were applied to the ex¬
tinction of the national debt. The whole income of the
church is valued at L. 12,500,000 sterling, and the portion of
the income which is consumed by the spirituality exceeds
the collective income of the state by about L.2,000,000.
Education.
The institutions for public instruction in Spain are the
universities of
Valencia, established in 1411 Students in 1827 1569
Valladolid  1346  .1247
Saragossa  1474  1175
Santiago  1532  1054
Seville  1504   807
Granada  1531   812
Cervera  1717   573
Huesca  1354   537
Oviedo  1580    420
Salamanca  1404   418
Alcala.....  1490     364
Onate  270
Toledo    257
Palma  177
Orihuela  124
There are two artillery schools, and a hundred and sixty-
three colleges and seminaries of a higher order, containing
3810 pupils. The common schools throughout the country
have been estimated at about 20,000.
There are numerous public libraries in the more impor¬
tant towns, some of them of considerable extent. One at
Madrid contains about 130,000 volumes, numerous manu¬
scripts, and a rich collection of medals. The prohibition,
however, of many standard works greatly limits their value.
Finances.
According to the budget of 11th February 1837, the ex¬
penditure amounted to 1,929,300,795 reals.
The income to 800,000,000 ditto.
All other classes, or one in thirteen inhabitants 700,000
Extent and Population of the Colonies of Spain in 1827.
Philippine Islands 
Canary Islands 
Cuba (
Porto Rico J  
Presidencies of Africa.,
Total inhabitants..
Square
Miles.
7,451
46,700 |
36
Inhabitants.
2,525,000
210,000
704,487
284,957
4,000
3,528,444
The population of Spain, according to the royal dec
0 August 1837, being 12,168,572, if we add the 3,528,
0 the colonies, the entire population of Spain and its
pendencies will be 15,697,016.
the Roman Catholic religion exclusively prevails
Pain, and here in all ages it has assumed its most bigc
V01-. xx.
With regard to the national debt of Spain it is impossi¬
ble to obtain any thing like a correct estimate. For the
last eight or nine years it has continued to accumulate with
fearful rapidity, and loan after loan has been negociated.
It seems almost impossible that so large an amount as from
two millions to two millions and a half sterling, can be an¬
nually collected to pay the interest of the national debt in a
country already grievously oppressed with taxes, and where
trade is in some measure stagnant. The balance of her
trade, ever since the loss of her colonies, has been in the
ratio of two to one against Spain, while the whole value of
her exportable produce, even in the most prosperous periods,
has not exceeded three millions and a half; and this is now
supposed to be greatly reduced, since the exports to Eng¬
land, which is the greatest consumer of her fruits, wine,
and wool, have barely averaged for the last four or five
years one million sterling. In 1833, the public debts
amounted to L.165,000,000, and as the expenditure ex¬
ceeded the income, and various loans have since been nego¬
ciated, it has now materially increased. Taxation in Spain
is very heavy, and is levied with little regard to the well-
3 u
522
SPAIN.
Statistics, being or comfort of the population. It is grossly unequal
s '-"—■''and arbitrary, no one ever being able to tell what he may
be required to pav; and the greatest abuses exist in its
collection. Scarcely one half of the tax laid on the in¬
habitants ever reaches the government, the rest being
absorbed by the various officers employed. No fewer than
16,000 persons are employed in collecting the custom-
duties ; and being ill paid, they are open to bribery, and
even levy contributions for their own pockets. 1 he same
duties are not imposed in the different towns, one merchant
being called upon sometimes to pay L.40 of a tax, while an¬
other in a different place may have only to pay L.20. I he
alcabala is a tax which is levied upon every article of use,
and presses with great severity upon the poor. It was for¬
merly an impost on the transfer of commodities from one
hand to another, but is now paid by gate-duties. In towns
which are not walled or have no gates, this tax is levied by a
calculation of the amount paid by another town of the same
size. Tithes are, next to the alcabala, the most oppressive of
the taxes ; but the clergy do not receive perhaps one half of
the amount collected. There is also a tax of six per cent,
on the produce of all rented lands; and on the accession of
the heir to an entailed estate, the first half year s rental falls
to the government. A tax of L. 100,000 is levied yeaily
upon the merchants: the finance minister fixes the amount
which each intendancy has to pay, and the intendant the pro¬
portion which each town must pay ; and another magistrate
assesses the individuals. The revenue from tobacco and
salt is considerable, they being monopolies in the hands of
‘Tovemment. The amount of salt which each town ought
to consume is fixed; and landowners and farmers pay in pro¬
portion to the number of their dependents, and the cattle
and sheep which they possess. The clergy pay an annual
subsidy, in additidn to some other contributions.
The state of crime shows Spain to be in a very imperfect
state of civilization. The administration of justice is ex¬
tremely slow and uncertain, and indeed all tlm legislation
upon criminal affairs is as bad as possible. The ciimes
most complained of are those of assassination and roobeij ;
and although these do not prevail now to the extent they
once did, the returns show that murder is still a very com¬
mon crime. The returns for the year 1827 give the num¬
ber of murders as 1223, and attempts at murder as 1773;
and this report is very inaccurate, as no returns were sent
from either Aragon or Valencia. A person robbed or as¬
saulted is bound over to prosecute; and should he fail to
prove the guilt of the criminal, he has to pay all expenses
of the suit. Witnesses are liable to imprisonment in case
of the prisoner being acquitted ; and this preposterous law
has a strong and obvious tendency to interrupt the course
of justice.
The poor in Spain are numerous, and begging is consi¬
dered as no disgrace in many of the provinces. Even stu¬
dents have been known to go on begging excursions
during the vacation, labour being in their estimation a
greater disgrace tnan asking alms. There are numerous
hospitals in the large towns, chiefly under the management
of the clergy. The funds for maintaining them are prin¬
cipally derived from legacies of lands and rents, partly be¬
queathed by private individuals, and partly by bishops. In
the northern provinces the hospitals are supported chiefly
by public subscriptions and collections in the churches, the
legacies being unimportant. The convents and monaste¬
ries support many paupers ; the Franciscan, Dominican,
and Capuchin orders, although beggars themselves, keep¬
ing open table for a certain number of poor. A contribu¬
tion of L.30,000 is annually made from the public funds,
being a portion of the revenue collected by the vicar-ge¬
neral of the cruzado. Notwithstanding these institutions,
however, the number of beggars is still very great. Only
in some of the towns is begging prohibited, and in these
the vagrants are employed much in the same way as in our Statis
owm workhouses.
The character of the Spaniard is grave, adventurous, ro¬
mantic, honourable, and generous. He is not inclined to
adopt foreign manners, and is possessed of great national pride.
He is naturally brave, provided hisheartbein thecausewhich
he espouses ; but he is easily excited to tumultuary violence,
and is very unw'illing to submit to the restraints of discipline.
In prosperity he is apt to give way to supineness and false
confidence ; but in adversity which might overwhelm others,
he will often display great courage and surprising resources.
He is very slow in his operations, and often ruins enter¬
prises by temporizing. In all the provinces except those of
the north, the inhabitants are extremely indolent, and pos¬
sess a most invincible hatred of labour. They are fond of
amusements, dancing and cards being the favourite re¬
creations. Theatrical exhibitions are not very popular,
being generally insipid. *1 hey are still attached to the
bull-fight, but this cruel amusement is not now so common
as formerly. It will howTever prevail as long as the coun¬
try remains in its present state of ignorance. Dancing has
acquired a national character ; and to this day the Spaniard
has many an allegorical dance, borrowed from the Moors.
The pleasures of society are chiefly sought at evening
parties, where only slight refreshments are presented;
and indeed, both in eating and drinking, the Spaniaids
are remarkably temperate. Music also forms one of their
principal amusements, the instrument most generally used
being the guitar. Castanets are also extremely common,
and are employed wdth great dexterity and address in the
national dances. The music of the country is not remark¬
able, being almost altogether light melodies, with a slight
accompaniment from the guitar. Spanish architecture,
from its being a mixture of the Moorish and Gothic styles,
has somewhat affected the architecture of other countries.
The innumerable churches scattered over the country are
generally in the Gothic taste, but more light, from its con¬
junction with the Moorish. Many of them are fine edifices;
but the most remarkable architectural monument of Spain
is the palace of the Escurial, which is built entirely in the
Roman or Vitruvian style. Spain has produced few great
painters, which is somewhat remarkable, considering the
poetical character of the people. Murillo, Velasquez, and
Lope de Vargas have acquired a fame which will endure
wherever painting is appreciated. There is at Madrid an
academy for painting, sculpture, and architecture, and the
royal palace and Escurial have galleries; but it does not ap-
pear that these arts are much cultivated in the present day.
The literature of Spain, in the days of her greatness, was
almost on a level with that of any other country in Europe;
but it has now sunk to a very low condition. Hie ballad
is what the early Spanish writers most excelled in; and
this is characterized by romantic fervour, frequently ot an
oriental character. The language is peculiarly fitted to ex¬
press the dignified and the pathetic, but its solemn digni y
frequently seduces the writer into bombast. No language has
such a store of ballads as the Spanish ; but they are, particu
larly the early ones, little more than mere relations ot cm-
valrous deeds. The wars with the Moors form the subject
an endless number of these ballads, which the chiva rous na
ture of the people of Spain during the middle ages broug
to a state of excellence unequalled in any country in Lurope.
The song was the natural growth of the warlike pen
Spain, and served to commemorate warlike exploits ,
they were of a very simple character until the pe
the conquest of Naples, when they assumed a more lync
form. The national drama has always been pecum ,
sisting chiefly of religious comedies founded on e f
of saints. There are however some noble come i » ^
historical nature. The perfection of the intrigue -
the Spanish writers chiefly value ; but their plots are
SPA
SPA
523
tro structed without any regard to the unities. The drama ac¬
quired its greatest celebrity from Lope de Vega and Calde-
ron. In romance, Spain has accomplished much. The per¬
fection of Spanish prose is to be found in the works of the in-
“^imitable Cervantes. After his time, and when the Bourbons
ascended the throne, the literature declined with the state,
and may be said to have remained ever since in a similar state
of inactivity. Spain possesses at the present day few writers
known beyond their own country. Jovellanos on political
economy, Campany in philology, Llorente in history, Mora-
lez in mathematics, have done much to rouse a spirit of re¬
flection; and Juan Valdez is called the Anacreon of Spain.
The army of Spain, once the most formidable and best Spallan-
organized in Europe, is now comparatively in a low state. zaili-
It is, however, represented as the best organized part of herVs-l^V—^
establishment, the pay being regular, and the officers ex¬
perienced. In the present unsettled state of the country
it is impossible to form any estimate of its actual numbers.
Besides the regular army, there is a large body of militia
called royalist volunteers, who have frequently proved of
great service as light troops. The navy now exists only in
name: in 1823 there was but one ship of the line, which,
being sent out to South America, surrendered to the Pe¬
ruvian government. (r. r. r.)
SPALATRO, a city of the ancient province of Dalma¬
tia, and the capital of a circle of the same name, which ex¬
tends over 2060 square miles, and contains 84,980 inhabi¬
tants. This city is situated on a peninsula, and is power¬
fully fortified both by nature and art. It incloses the space
where formerly stood the extensive palace of Diocletian,
the Roman emperor. It is now the seat of an archbishop,
has a cathedral and several other churches, a seminary, and
six religious houses, all for Catholics. It has narrow and
crooked streets, 1500 large and antique houses, and 7400
inhabitants. It has considerable trade in salted meat, oil,
wine, and fruit. The harbour is secure, and protected by
two strong bastions. Lat. 43. 34. 30. Long. 15. 49- 25.
SPALDING, a town in the district of Holland, and
county of Lincoln, ninety-seven miles from London. It
stands near the mouth of the river Welland, which is navi¬
gable to the town. Of the adjacent district, the soil is
rich, but marshy. Besides corn, chiefly oats, it produces
much flax and hemp. Spalding has a fine old church, a
spacious market-place, much frequented every Saturday.
The famous Dr. Bentley was for a short time master of
Spalding school. The inhabitants of the town were in
1811, 4330; in 1821, 5207 ; and in 1831, 6497.
SPALLANZANI, Lazzaro, a celebrated naturalist,
was born at Scandiano, in the duchy of Modena, on the
12th of January 1729. He began his studies in his native
country, and at the age of fifteen, wrent to Reggio de Mo¬
dena, where he was instructed in rhetoric and philosophy
by the Jesuits, who contended with the Dominicans in or¬
der to secure his attachment. His thirst for knowledge de¬
termined him to go to Bologna, where his relative Laura
Bassi, a woman highly celebrated for her genius, eloquence,
and skill in natural philosophy and mathematics, was one
of the most distinguished professors of Italy. Under this
enlightened guide, he was taught to prefer the study of na¬
ture to that of her commentators, judging of the real value
of the commentary by its resemblance to the original. He
availed himself of the wisdom of that lady’s counsels, the
happy effects of which he very soon experienced. Spallan¬
zani’s taste for philosophy was not exclusive, for he care¬
fully studied his own language, became a proficient in the
Latin tongue, and attached himself above every other to the
Lreek and French. By the advice of a father whom he ar¬
dently loved, he applied himself to jurisprudence ; but be¬
ing urged by Antonio Vallisnieri to renounce his vocation,
by procuring the consent of his father, he gave himself up
to the study of mathematics with more zeal than ever, at
the same time devoting himself to the study of languages,
both living and dead.
It was not long before he was known all over Italy, and,
what is seldom the case, his own country first made that es¬
timate of his talents which they justly merited. In the
year 1745, he was chosen professor of logic, metaphysics,
nnd Greek, in the university of Reggio, where he taught
during ten years, devoting every moment of his leisure to
t ie study and contemplation of the works of nature. The
attention of Haller and Bonnet was fixed by his observa¬
tions on the animalculae of infusions, the latter assisting him
in his laudable career, and ever after distinguishing him as
one of the learned interpreters of nature. He was invited
to the university of Modena in 1760 ; and some years after
he declined to accept of the advantageous offers made to
him by the academy of Petersburg, as well as similar ones
from Coimbra, Parma, and Cesena. He preferred his na¬
tive spot, and therefore continued at Modena till the year
1768, and saw raised up by his care a generation of men
constituting at that time the glory of Italy, among whom
we find Venturi, Belloni, Lucchesini, and Angelo Mazzo.
In 1765, while he resided at Modena, he published his
“ Saggio di Osservazioni Microscopiche concernenti il Sis-
tema di Needham e di Buffbn ;” in which he establishes, by
a number of the most ingenious and solid experiments, the
animality of microscopic animalculce. This work was sent
by the author to Bonnet, who drew from it a prediction re¬
specting the future celebrity of Spallanzani, which he lived
to see accomplished. This circumstance gave birth to the
most intimate friendship, which lasted tb the close of life,
and constituted their chief happiness. During the same
year he published a truly original work, entitled “ De La-
pidibus ab Aqua resilientibus ;” in which he proves, by the
most satisfactory experiments, and in opposition to the com¬
mon received opinion, that what are called ducks and
drakes, are not produced by the elasticity of the water, but
by the effect naturally resulting from the change of direc¬
tion experienced by the stone in its movement, after it has
struck the water, and has been carried over the hollow of
the cup formed by the concussion.
When the university of Padua was re-established upon
a larger scale, the Count de Firmian was directed by the
empress Maria Theresa, to invite Spallanzani to be professor
of Natural History, although the chair was solicited by many
celebrated characters. His reputation justified this prefer¬
ence, and immense crowds of students thronged to his lectures.
He possessed much ingenuity, and his knowledge was of vast
extent: his method was simple, but rigorous in its nature, and
what he knew he connected with principles firmly established.
In the year 1776 he published, in two volumes quarto,
his work entitled “ Opuscoli di Fisica Animale e Vegeta-
bile,” containing the explanation of part of the microscopic
observations which were previously given to the world.
It must be admitted, that the art of accurate observation
is one of the most difficult, and it cannot be denied, that
it is at the same time the most necessary, and requires
a rare combination of talents. These were possessed by
Spallanzani in a remarkable degree, as is fully evinced
by the researches which his admirable writings have re¬
corded. The polite manner in which he conducted his
dispute with Needham respecting the phenomena of gene¬
ration, secured for him a high degree of applause. On this
occasion, he treated of the influence of cold upon animals,
and proved that the torpidity of some during winter, does not
depend on the impression which the blood may receive from
it, since a frog deprived of blood becomes torpid when re¬
duced to the same cold suite, by being immersed in ice,
524
SPA
SPA
Spallan¬
zani.
and swims as formerly when restored to a proper degree of
warmth.
Spallanzani travelled through Switzerland and the Ori¬
sons in the year 1779, after which he went to Geneva,
spending a month with his friends, by whom his conversa¬
tion was not less admired than his masterly writings. In
the year 1780 he published, in two volumes quarto, his “Dis-
sertazioni di Fisica Animale e Vegetabile,” in which he un¬
folded the secrets of the interpretation of two very intricate
phenomena, concerning the economy of animals and vege¬
tables. To this study he was led, from some experiments
made by him upon digestion; and he repeated the experi¬
ments of Reaumur on gallinaceous birds, remarking that the
trituration which in this case is favourable to digestion,
could not be a very powerful means. He perceived that
the gizzard of those birds, by which the stones of fruit are
pulverized, did not digest the powder thus formed ; it be¬
ing necessary that it should undergo a new operation in the
stomach, previous to its becoming chyle for the production
of the blood and other humours. This subject may be regard¬
ed as one of the most difficult in physiology, because the
observer is always under the necessity of finding his way in
the midst of darkness : the animal must be managed with
care, that the derangement of the operations may be avoid¬
ed ; and when the experiments are completed with great
labour, it is requisite that the consequences be well distin¬
guished. In this work, Spallanzani analyses facts with scru¬
pulosity, in order to ascertain their causes with certainty ;
comparing nature with his experiments, in order to form a
correct judgment respecting them ; laying hold of every
thing essential to them in his observations, and measuring
their solidity by the increase or diminution of supposed
causes. John Hunter appears to have been greatly hurt
by this work ; and in the year 1785, he was induced to pub¬
lish “ Some Observations upon Digestion,” in which he
throws out some bitter sarcasms against the Italian natu¬
ralist. Spallanzani took ample revenge by publishing this
work in the Italian language, and addressing to Caldani in
1788, “ Una Lettera Apologetica in Risposta alle Osser-
vazioni del Signor Giovanni Hunter.” Here he exposed
with great moderation, but at the same time with logic
which nothing could resist, the mistakes and errors of the
British physiologist.
The generation of animals and plants is discussed in the
second volume of his Dissertazioni; where, by experiments
as satisfactory as surprising, he proves the pre-existence of
germs to fecundation, shewing also the existence of tadpoles
in the females of five different species of frogs, in salaman¬
ders, and toads, before their fecundation. He likewise re¬
counts the success of some artificial fecundations upon the
tadpoles of those five species, and even upon a quadruped.
In the year 1781, he took the advantage of the academi¬
cal vacation, for the purpose of making a journey, in order
to add to the cabinet of Pavia. In the month of July he
set out for Marseilles, where he began a new history of the
sea, which presented him with many new and curious facts
on numerous genera of the natives of the ocean. He went
also to Finale, Genoa, Massa, and Carrara, to make obser¬
vations on the quarries of marble, held by statuaries in such
estimation. He then returned to Spezzia, and brought from
thence to Pavia a vast number of fishes, which he deposited
in the cabinet of that city, wholly collected by himself.
With the same view and success he visited the coasts of
Istria in 1782, and the Apennine mountains the subsequent
year, taking notice of the dreadful hurricanes, and the as¬
tonishing vapours by which that year became so noted in
meteorology. The emperor Joseph, on examining this
cabinet, presented Spallanzani writh a gold medal. In 1785,
he was offered the chair of natural history by the university
of Padua, vacant by the death of Antonio Vallisnieri; but
in order to prevent his acceptance of it, his salary was
doubled by the archduke, and he went to Constantinople Spj
with Zuliani, who had been appointed ambassador from the za
Venetian republic. He set out on the 21st of August, and ^
on the 11th of October reached the Turkish metropolis,
where he remained during eleven months. Flis attention
was fixed by the physical and moral phenomena of this
country, which were new even to Spallanzani. He wan¬
dered along the borders of the two seas, and ascended the
mountains in the vicinity ; he paid a visit to the island of
Chalki, discovering to the Turks a copper mine, the exist¬
ence of which they had never once conjectured. In the
island of Principi, not far from Constantinople, he disco¬
vered an iron mine, of which the Turks were equally
ignorant.
" A voyage by sea was undoubtedly the safest, but the dan¬
gers to which he would be exposed by land were regarded
as nothing when contrasted with the idea of being benefi¬
cial to science and to man. Having reached Bucharest,
Mauroceni, the friend of science, received Spallanzani with
marks of distinction, presented him with many rarities which
the country produced, and supplied him with horses for tra¬
velling, with an escort of thirty troopers, to the confines of
his own dominions. The philosopher passed by Herman-
stadt in Transylvania, and on the 7th of December 1786,
reached Vienna, where he remained during five days, and
had two long conferences with the emperor. He was much
esteemed by the nobility of that city, and respectfully vi¬
sited by many literary characters. When he arrived at Pa¬
via, the students advanced from the city-gates to meet him,
and testified their joy at his return by repeated acclama¬
tions. He was almost instantly drawn to the auditory, and
compelled to ascend the chair from which he had been ac¬
customed to deliver his fascinating lectures; but in the
midst of these demonstrations of joy and shouts of applause,
he requested them to indulge him with that repose in his
own house which was now so absolutely necessary. His
students this year exceeded 500.
The reputation of Spallanzani was sufficiently brilliant to
excite envy and detraction. His discoveries were too ori¬
ginal and solid to be successfully disputed; but some of those
who could not rival his successful ingenuity, began to call
in question his integrity in the management of the museum
at Pavia. A judicial investigation completely established
the purity of his character; and it must be mentioned to
his honour, that he had the fortitude to forget this event.
His enemies in general confessed their mistake, renounced
their unprovoked animosity, and still hoped to regain a
friendship of which they had proved themselves so unworthy.
In 1792 he published at Pavia, in 6 vols. 8vo, his “ Viaggi
alle due Sicilie, ed al alcune parti dell’ Appennino.” Here
we meet with what may be denominated a new volcanology.
We are instructed how to measure the intensity of volcanic
fires, and almost to touch the particular gas which tears
those torrents of stone in fusion from the bowels of the
earth, and raises them to the top of Mount Etna. This de¬
lightful work is closed by some important inquiries into the
nature of swallows, the mildness of their dispositions, the
rapidity of their flight; discussing the celebrated problem
respecting their remaining torpid during the winter season ,
proving that artificial cold, much more intense than what is
ever naturally experienced in our climates, does not reduce
these birds to the torpid state. c ,
Things apparently impossible were discovered by Spal¬
lanzani. In the year 1795 he made one of this description,
which he gave to the world in his “ Lettere sopra il Sospe o
di un nuovo Senso nei Pippistrelli.” In that work we are
informed that bats, deprived of sight, act with the same
precision in every instance as those which have their eyes,
that they shun in the same manner the most trivia o s a
cles, and also know where to fix themselves when tneir
flight is terminated. Several philosophers confirme
SPA
SPA
525
SP1
Sp
.idoriastonishing experiments, from which a suspicion arose, that
these animals must have a new sense, as it appeared to
dm. Spallanzani that the other known senses could not compen-
***/sate for the want of sight; but he was afterwards inclined
to think, in consequence of Professor Jurin’s experiments
on the organ of hearing in bats, that in this particular in¬
stance the sense of hearing might possibly supply the want
of sight.
He published many other works, which we cannot here
enumerate.1 He had nearly finished an account of his
voyage to Constantinople, and had collected many valuable
materials for a history of the sea, when his life and labours
were brought to a termination. He was seized with a re¬
tention of urine, on the 30th of February 1799, and next
morning was so far deprived of the use of his faculties, that
he only enjoyed a sound mind during very short intervals.
Tourdes and Scarpa did every thing to save him, which
could be produced by the joint exertions of genius, expe¬
rience, and friendship, but in vain. He died on the twelfth
of the same month, after having completed the seventieth
year of his age. His works have been translated into a
great variety of languages, and he was enrolled as a mem¬
ber of many foreign academies.
SPALMADORI, a small island situated between the
continent of Asia Minor and the island of Scio. Long. 26.
7. E. Lat. 38. 36. N.
SPAN, a measure taken from the space between the
thumb and the tip of the little finger when both are
stretched out. The span is estimated at three hands-
breadths, or nine inches.
SPANDAU, a town of Prussia, in the government of
Potsdam. It is a strongly fortified place, and is the chief
arsenal of the kingdom. It stands on a peninsula, formed
by the junction of the river Spree with the Havel. There
are manufactures of all descriptions of arms, for the use of
the government, and some private establishments for mak¬
ing silk goods, together with several breweries and distil¬
leries. In the fortress is the state-prison; and there are
institutions for the punishment of offenders, by keeping
them to hard labour. The town contains 540 houses,
with 6750 inhabitants. Lat. 53. 33. 7. Long. 13. 36. 40. E.
SPANDRELL, the solid work on each haunch of an
arch, to keep it from spreading.
SPANHEIM, Ezekiel, a very learned writer, was born
at Geneva on the 7th of December 1629. His father,
Frederic Spanheim, a distinguished theologian, was succes¬
sively professor of divinity at Geneva and Leyden. The
son accompanied him to the latter university, and there dis¬
tinguished himself by his proficiency in solid learning. His
early reputation procured him the professorship of eloquence
at Geneva. He took possession of this chair in 1651 ; but
he only retained it for a few months, the elector palatine
Charles Louis having appointed him tutor to his only son.
This task he discharged to the entire satisfaction of the
elector, by whom he was also employed in divers negocia-
tions at foreign courts. In 1677 he entered into the service
of the elector of Brandenburg, who in 1680 sent him as en¬
voy extraordinary to the court of France, and soon after made
him a minister of state. After the peace of Ryswyck, he
was again sent on an embassy to France, where he conti¬
nued from the year 1697 to 1702. The elector of Bran¬
denburg having during that interval assumed the title of
king of Prussia, conferred on him the title and dignity of a
baron. In 1702 he left France, and was sent as ambassa-
or to England, which he had previously visited on more
than one occasion. He died in London on the 7th of No¬
vember 1710, at the age of eighty-one. It is surprising,
at m discharging the duties of a public minister with so
much exactness, and amidst so many different journeys, he Spar,
could find sufficient time to write the various books which he Sparta,
published. It may be said of him, that he acquitted himself
in his negociations like a person who had nothing else in
his thoughts; and that he wrote like a man who had spent
his whole time in his study. His works display a very pro¬
found and variegated erudition. The most elaborate of
them is entitled, “ Dissertationes de Praestantia et Usu Nu-
mismatum antiquorum,” first printed at Rome in quarto in
the year 1664. The best edition, extending to two volumes
folio, was printed at London in 1706-17. Another valuable
work is his “ Orbis Romanus,” of which the best edition is
that of London, 1704, 4to. He translated the Caesars of
Julian into French, and illustrated them with annotations.
He likewise contributed notes on Aristophanes, Callimachus,
and some other Greek writers, of whom he did not himself
publish editions.
SPAR, in Mineralogy, a name given chiefly to some of
the crystallized combinations of lime, as the carbonate and
the fluate; the former being called simply lime spar, the
latter fluor spar, or Derbyshire spar, from the name of the
place where it is found in greatest abundance.
SPARTA, or Lacedaemon, the capital of the country The his-
of Laconia in Greece, an ancient and most renowned state, tory of
the inhabitants of which have been in all ages celebrated Sparta
for the singularity of their laws and character. The his- mostly 6*-
tory of Sparta for many ages is entirely fabulous ; and the
authentic accounts commence only with the celebrated Ly^nr'^’
lawgiver Lycurgus, who flourished about 870 b. c.
After his death, the first important transaction which we
find mentioned in the Spartan history is the Messenian war,
which commenced in the year 752 b. c., and ended in the
total reduction of the Messenian territory. During this
period, according to some authors, a great change took
place in the government of Sparta. This was the creation
of the ephori, which is ascribed to one of the kings named
Theopompus. Perceiving that there was a necessity for
leaving magistrates to execute the laws, when the kings
were obliged to be in the field, he appointed the magis¬
trates above mentioned, who afterwards made so great a
figure in the state. One great privilege of the ephori was,
that they did not, like all other magistrates, rise up at the
presence of the kings: another was, that if the kings of¬
fended against the laws, the ephori took cognizance of the
offence, and inflicted a suitable punishment. From the
first election of the ephori the year was denominated, as at
Athens from the first election of the archons.
The conquest of Messenia gave Sparta the superiority
over the rest of the states, excepting only that of Athens,
which for a long time continued to be a very troublesome
rival; but the contests between these two rival states have
been so fully related under the article Attica, that no¬
thing more is requisite to be added in this place. In the Leonidas
time of the Persian war, Leonidas as the Spartan king, dis-undertakes
tinguished himself in such a manner, as to become the ad-t0 defend
miration not only of that but of every succeeding age. It^6^™18
being resolved in a general council to defend the straits of° yl^"
Thermopylae against the Persians, 7000 foot were put un-against the
der the command of Leonidas ; of whom, however, only Persians.
200 were Spartans. Leonidas did not think it practicable
to defend the pass against such multitudes as the Persian
king commanded; and therefore privately told his friends,
that his design was to devote himself to death for his coun¬
try. Xerxes advancing near the straits, was strangely sur¬
prised to find that the Greeks were resolved to dispute his
passage; for he had always flattered himself, that on his
approach they would betake themselves to flight, and not
attempt to oppose his innumerable forces. Still however
1 Biograpbie Universelle, tom, xliii. p. 246, where a catalogue of Spallanzani’s works may be found.
5W
SPARTA.
Sparta.
sed with
great
slaughter.
They are
shown a
way over
the hill to
surround
entertaining some hopes of their flight, he waited four days
without undertaking any thing, on purpose to give them
time to retreat. During this interval, he used his utmost en¬
deavours to gain and corrupt Leonidas, promising to make
him master of Greece if he would espouse his interest.
His offers being rejected with contempt and indignation,
the king ordered him by a herald to deliver up his arms.
Leonidas, in a style and with a spirit truly laconical, an¬
swered, “ Come thyself, and take them.” Xerxes, trans¬
ported with rage at this reply, commanded the Medes and
Cissians to march against them, seize them all alive, and
bring them to him in fetters. The Medes, not able to
stand the shock of the Greeks, soon betook themselves to
flight. In their room, Hydarnes was ordered to advance
with that body which was called Immortal, and consisted
The Per- 0f 10,000 chosen men; but when these assailed the Greeks,
ris repul- t^ey succeeded no better than the Medes and Cissians, be-
4 ing obliged to retire with great slaughter. The next day
the Persians, reflecting on the small number of their ene¬
mies, and supposing so many of them to be wounded that
they could not possibly maintain a second fight, resolved
to make another attempt; but, with all their efforts, they
could not make the Greeks give way; on the contrary,
they were themselves put to a shameful flight. The valour
of the Greeks exerted itself in a manner so extraordinary,
that Xerxes is said to have three times leaped from his
throne, apprehending the entire destruction of his army.
Having lost all hopes of forcing his way through troops
that were determined to conquer or die, he was extremely
perplexed and doubtful what measures he should adopt in
this posture of affairs, when one Epialtes, in expectation
sunumiu of a great reward, came to him, and discovered a secret
the Greeks, passage to the top of the hill which overlooked and com¬
manded the Spartan forces. The king immediately order¬
ed Hydarnes thither with his select body of 10,000 Per¬
sians ; who, marching all night, arrived at break of day,
and possessed themselves of that advantageous post. The
Phocseans, who defended this pass, being overpowered by
the enemy’s numbers, retired with precipitation to the very
top of the mountain, prepared to die gallantly. But Hy¬
darnes, neglecting to pursue them, marched down the
mountain with all possible expedition, in order to attack in
the rear those who defended the straits. Leonidas being
now apprised that it was impossible to withstand the ene*.
my, obliged the rest of his allies to retire ; but he himself
remained with the Thespians, 1 hebans, and 300 Lace¬
daemonians, all resolved to die with their leader; who, be¬
ing told by the oracle, that either Sparta should be de¬
stroyed or the king lose his life, determined, without
the least hesitation, to sacrifice himself for his country.
The Thebans indeed remained against their inclination,
being detained by Leonidas as hostages; for they were
suspected to favour the Persians. The Thespians, with
their leader Hemophilus, could not be prevailed upon to
abandon Leonidas and the Spartans. The augur Megis-
tias, who had foretold the event of this enterprise, being
pressed by Leonidas to retire, sent home his only son ; but
he remained himself, and died by Leonidas. Those who
were left did not indulge any hope of conquering or escap¬
ing, but looked upon Thermopylae as their grave; and
when Leonidas, exhorting them to take some nourishment,
said, that they should all sup together with Pluto, they
with one accord raised a shout of joy, as if they had been
invited to the banquet.
Leonidas Xerxes, after pouring out a libation at the rising of the
killed with sun, began to move with the whole body of his army, as
all his men. ]ie had been advised by Epialtes. Upon their approach,
Leonidas advanced to the broadest part of the passage, and
fell upon the enemy with such undaunted courage and re¬
solution, that the Persian officers were obliged to stand
behind the divisions which they commanded, in order to
prevent the flight of their men. Great numbers of the Spa^
enemy falling into the sea, were drowned; others w^ere ^ y
trampled under foot by their companions, and very many
killed by the Greeks; who, knowing they could not avoid
death upon the arrival of those who were advancing to fall
upon their rear, made prodigious efforts of valour. In this
action fell the brave Leonidas; which Abrocomes and
Hyperanthes, two of the brothers of Xerxes, observing,
advanced with great resolution to seize his body, and carry
it in triumph to Xerxes. But the Lacedaemonians, more i
eager to defend it than their own lives, repulsed the ene¬
my four times, killed both the royal brothers, with many
other commanders of distinction, and rescued the body of
their beloved general out of the enemy’s hands. But in
the mean time, the army that was led by the treacherous
Epialtes, advancing to attack their rear, they retired to the
narrowest part of the passage, and all drawing together,
except the Thebans, posted themselves on a rising ground.
In this place they made head against the Persians, who
assaulted them on all sides, till at length, not vanquished,
but oppressed and overwhelmed by numbers, they all fell,
except one who escaped to Sparta, where he was treated
as a coward and traitor to his country; but he afterwards
made a glorious reparation in the battle of Platasa, where
he distinguished himself in an extraordinary manner. Some
time after, a magnificent monument was erected at Ther¬
mopylae, in honour of those brave defenders of Greece,
with two inscriptions; the one general, and relating to all
those who died on this occasion, importing, that the Greeks
of Peloponnesus, to the number only of 4000, made head
against the Persian army, consisting of 3,000,000. The
other related to the Spartans in particular, and was com¬
posed by the poet Simonides, to this purport: “Go, passen¬
ger, and acquaint the Spartans that we died here in obedi¬
ence to their just commands.” At those tombs a funeral
oration was yearly pronounced in honour of the departed
heroes, and public games were celebrated with great so¬
lemnity. In these none but the Lacedaemonians and Thes¬
pians had any share, to show that they alone were concern¬
ed in the glorious defence of Thermopylae.
At the end of the 77th Olympiad, a most dreadful earth- A drf „|
quake happened at Sparta, in which, according to Diodo-eaithTe
rus, 20,000 persons lost their lives; and Plutarch avers,inSplj.
that only five houses were left standing in the whole city.
On this occasion the Helotes, or slaves, whom the Spartans
had all along treated with the utmost cruelty, attempted
to revenge themselves, by taking up arms, and marching
directly to the ruins of the city, in hopes of cutting off at
once those who had escaped from the earthquake. But
their attempt was defeated by the prudence of the Spartan
king Archidamus ; for observing that the citizens were
more desirous of preserving their effects than taking care
of their own lives, he caused an alarm to be sounded, as it
he had known that an enemy was at hand. On this the
citizens armed themselves in haste with such weapons as
they could come at; and having marched a little " ay from
the city, met the Helotes, whom they soon compelled o
retire. The latter however knowing that they had novv\\ar
no mercv to expect from those who had already trea e t e
them with such cruelty, resolved to defend themselves o
the last. Having therefore seized a sea-port town in JV es-
senia, they from thence made such incursions into e
Spartan territories, that they compelled those impenous
masters to ask assistance from the Athenians. I his was
immediately granted; but when the Spartans saw that tne
skill oi the Athenians in besieging towns was much g’E
than their own, they became jealous, and dismisse
allies, declaring that they had now no further occasion
their services. On this the Athenians left them in d
gust; and as the Helotes and Messenians did not choose
to come to an engagement wuth a Spartan army m
S P A R T A.
527
field, but took shelter in their fortified places, the war was
-Wprotracted for upwards of ten years. The Helotes were
at last reduced to their former misery; and the Messeni-
ans were obliged to leave Peloponnesus, on pain of being
likewise made slaves. These poor people were then re¬
ceived by the Athenians, who granted them Naupactus for
their residence, and afterwards brought them back to a
part of their own country, from whence in the course of
the Peloponnesian war they had driven the Spartans,
he The Peloponnesian war commenced in the year 431 b. c. ;
Art «|S but for its details we must refer to the article Attica.
This war ended most unfortunately for the Athenians ; for
Ml their city was taken and dismantled. Thus were the Spar-
tains raised to the highest pitch of glory ; and in the reign
of Agesilaus, they seemed to be on the point of subverting
the Persian empire. But here their good fortune and their
views of empire were suddenly checked. Agesilaus had
carried on the war in Asia with the greatest success; and
as he would hearken to no terms of accommodation, a Per¬
sian governor named Tithraustes, having first attempted in
vain to bribe the king, dispatched Timocrates the Rhodian
with fifty talents into Greece, in order to try whether he
could there meet with any persons less incorruptible than
the Spartan monarch. This agent found many who inclined
to accept his offers; particularly in Thebes, Corinth, and
Argos. By distributing the money in a proper manner, he
inflamed the inhabitants of these three cities against the
A" ra' Spartans; and the Thebans listened to his terms wdth the
t i' Ii dint greatest readiness. They saw that their antagonists would
Spa
Anti
not of their own accord break with any of the states of
Greece, and did not choose to begin the war themselves,
because the chiefs of the Persian faction were unwilling to
be accountable for the event. For this reason they persua¬
ded the Locrians to invade a small district which lay in dis¬
pute betwixt the Phocians and themselves. The Phocians
accordingly invaded Locris ; the Locrians applied to the
Thebans, and the Phocians to the Spartans. The latter
were glad of an opportunity of breaking with the Thebans ;
but met with a much warmer reception than they expected.
Their old general Lysander, who had reduced Athens, was
defeated and slain, along with a thousand of his soldiers.
On this disaster Agesilaus was recalled, and was obliged to
relinquish all hopes of conquering the Persians. His re¬
turn changed the fortune of the war so much, that all the
states began to grow weary of a contest from which nobody
derived any advantage except the king of Persia. In a short
time a treaty wras concluded, known in history by the name
i'15, of the peace of Antalcidas. The terms of this treaty w^ere
highly disadvantageous and dishonourable to the Greeks ;
;or even the Spartans, though successful in Greece, had
lost a great battle at sea with the Persian fleet under Conon
the Athenian, and this event entirely broke their power in
Asia.
by the peace of Antalcidas, the government of Boeotia w as
taken from the Thebans, which they had for a long time en¬
joyed ; and they were so much provoked, that at first they
absolutely refused to accede to the treaty; but as Agesi¬
laus made great preparations to invade them, they at last
(nought proper to comply. It was not however long be-
e“' ore a nevy war commenced, which threatened the total sub-
' ersion of the Spartan state. As, by the peace of Antalci-
l<as, tlie king of Persia had in a manner guaranteed the so-
'ereignty of Greece to Sparta, this republic very soon be¬
gan to exercise its power to the utmost extent. The Man-
tineans were the first who felt the weight of their resent-
'ent, although they had been their allies and confederates.
a orc er to bod a pretext for making war against them, they
eoniiuanded them to quit their city, and to retire into five
o-uv] lagcs, which, they said, had served their forefathers,
11 "bere they would live in peace themselves, and give
° umbrage to their neighbours. As they refused to obey,
an army was sent against them to besiege their city. The Sparta,
siege was continued through the summer with very little
success on the part of the Spartans; but having during the
winter season dammed up the river on which the city stood,
the water rose to such a height, as either to overflow or
throw down the houses; and the Mantineans were thus
compelled to submit to the terms prescribed to them, and to
retire into the villages. The Spartan vengeance next fell
on the Phliasians and Olynthians, whom they forced to
come into such measures as they thought proper. After
this they assailed the Thebans, and, by attempting to seize
on the Piraeum, drew the Athenians also into the quarrel.
But here their career was arrested: the Thebans had been
taught the art of war by Chabrias the Athenian; so that The power
even Agesilaus himself took the command of the Spartan of Sparta
army in vain. At sea they were defeated by Timotheus theenti,e!y
son of Conon ; and by land the battle of Leuctra put an end^k^11-
to the superiority which Sparta had retained over Greece for
nearly five hundred years.
After this dreadful defeat, the Spartans had occasion
to exert all their courage and resolution. The women
and nearest relations of those who were killed in battle,
instead of spending their time in lamentations, shook
each other by the hand, wLile the relations of those who
had escaped from the battle hid themselves among the wo¬
men; or if they were obliged to go abroad, they appeared
in tattered clothes, with their arms folded, and their eyes
fixed on the ground. It was a law among the Spartans,
that such as fled from battle should be degraded from their
honours, should be constrained to appear in garments patch¬
ed with divers colours, to wear their beards half-shaved, and
without resistance to suffer any to beat them who pleased.
At present however this lawr was suspended ; and Agesilaus,
by his prudent conduct, kept up the spirits of the people, at
the same time that by his skill in military affairs he check¬
ed the progress of the enemy. Yet, during the lifetime of
Epaminondas the Theban general, the progress of the war
was greatly to the disadvantage of the Spartans; but he be¬
ing killed at the battle of Mantinea, all parties soon became
desirous of peace. Agesilaus did not long survive; and
with him, we may affirm, perished the glory of Sparta. Soon
after this all the states of Greece fell under the power of
Alexander the Great; and the Spartans, as well as the rest,
having become corrupt, and lost their martial spirit, became
a prey to domestic tyrants, and to foreign invaders. They
however maintained their ground with great resolution
against the celebrated Pyrrhus king of Epirus; whom they
repulsed for three days successively, though not without as¬
sistance from one of the captains of Antigonus. Soon after
this, one of the kings of Sparta named Agis, perceiving the
universal degeneracy that had taken place, made an attempt
to restore the laws and discipline of Lycurgus, by which he
supposed the state would be restored to its former glory.
But though at first he met with some appearance of success, Agis and
he was in a shoi't time tried and condemed by the ephori Cleomenes
as a traitor to his country. Cleomenes, however, who as-att.eniPt in
cended the throne in 216 b. c. accomplished the reforma-va^n t0 re'
tion which Agis had in vain attempted. He suppressed thestoie u-
ephori; cancelled all debts; divided the lands equally,as they
had been in the time of Lycurgus; and put an end to the
luxury which prevailed among the citizens. But at last he
was overborne by the number of enemies which surround¬
ed him; and being defeated in battle by Antigonus, he fled
to Egypt, where he put an end to his own life. With him
perished every hope of retrieving the affairs of Sparta: the
city for the present fell into the hands of Antigonus; af¬
ter which a succession of tyrants gained and lost the as¬
cendency, till at last all disturbances were ended by the
Romans, who reduced Greece to the condition of a pr°-institutions
vinTCe- , . ofLycur-
It only remains to make some observations on the cha-gus.
528
SPARTA.
Sparta.
racter, manners, and customs of the Spartans, which, as they
' were founded on the laws of Lycurgus, may best be learn¬
ed from a view of those laws.
tt- i , The institutions of Lycurgus were divided into twelve
concerning tables. The first comprehended such of the Spartan laws
religion. as regarded religion. The statues of all the gods and god¬
desses, even to Venus herself, were represented in armour ;
in order that the people might conceive a military life the
most noble and honourable, and not attribute, as other na¬
tions did, sloth and luxury to the gods. As to sacrifices, they
consisted of things of very small value; for which Lycur¬
gus himself gave this reason, that want might never hinder
them from worshipping the gods. Tfmy were forbidden to
make long or rash prayers, and were enjoined to ask no more
than that they might live honestly and discharge their dut^.
Graves were permitted to be made within the bounds ot the
city, contrary to the custom of most of the Greek nations;
nay, they buried the dead near the temples, that all degrees
of people might be made familiar with death, and not con¬
ceive it such a dreadful thing as it was generally esteemed
elsewhere. On the same account, the touching dead bodies,
or assisting at funerals, made none unclean, but these were
held to be as innocent and honourable duties as any other.
There was nothing thrown into the grave with the dead
body; magnificent sepulchres were forbidden ; nor did they
even permit an inscription, however plain or modest. Tears,
sighs, outcries, were not allowed in public, because they
were thought dishonourable in Spartans, whom their law¬
giver would have to bear all things with equanimity. Mourn-
ino- Was limited to eleven days; on the twelfth the mourner
sacrified to Ceres, and threw aside his weeds. In favour of
such as were slain in the wars, however, and of women who
devoted themselves to a religious life, there was an excep¬
tion allowed as to the rules before mentioned; for such had
a short and decent inscription on their tombs. When a
number of Spartans fell in battle, at a distance from their
country, many of them were buried together under one
common tomb; but if they fell on the frontiers of their own
state, their bodies were carefully removed to Sparta, and
interred in their family sepulchres.
Concerning II. Lycurgus divided all the country of Laconia into
the division30,000 equal shares: the city of Sparta he divided into
of land
9000, as some say; into (5000 according to others; and as a
third party will have it, into 4500. The intent of the legis¬
lator was, that property should be equally divided among
the citizens, so that none might be powerful enough to op¬
press his fellows, or any be in such necessity, as thus to be
exposed to the danger of corruption. With the same view
he forbade the buying or selling these possessions. If a
stranger acquired a right to any of these shares, he might
quietly enjoy it, provided he submitted to the laws of the
republic. The city of Sparta was unwalled, Lycurgus trust¬
ing it rather to the valour of its citizens than to the art of
masons. As to the houses, they were very plain ; for their
ceilings could only be wrought by the axe, and their gates
and doors only by the saw ; and their utensils were to be ot
a similar make, that luxury might have no instruments among
them.
Of the citi- III- The citizens were to be neither more nor less than
zens, ckil- the number of city lots ; and if at any time there happen-
dren, &c. ed to be more, they were to be led out in colonies. As to
children, their laws were equally harsh and unreasonable ;
for a father was directed to carry his new-born infant to a
certain place, where the gravest men of his tribe looked up¬
on the infant; and if they perceived its limbs straight, and
thought it had awholesome look, they then returned it to its
parents to be educated ; otherwise it was thrown into a deep
cavern at the foot of the mountain Taygetus. This law
seems to have had one very good effect, namely, that of
making women very careful, when they were with child,
of either eating, drinking, or exercising to excess: it made
also excellent nurses; for which they were in mighty re- Spar;
quest throughout Greece. Strangers were not allowed toWy,
reside long in the city, that they might not corrupt the
Spartans by teaching them new customs. For the same
reason, citizens were also forbidden to travel, unless the
good of the state required it. Such as were not bred up
Fn their youth according to the law, were not allowed the
liberty of the city, because they held it unreasonable, that
one who had not submitted to the laws in his youth should
receive the benefit of them when a man. I hey never pre-
ferred any stranger to a public office 5 but it at any time
they had occasion for a person not born a Spartan, they
first made him a citizen, and then preferred him.
IV. Celibacy in men was infamous, and punished in a Of & [LI
most extraordinary manner; for the old bachelor was con-ami i
strained to walk naked, in the depth of winter, through thej
market-place: while he did this, he was obliged to sing a
song in disparagement of himself; and he had none of the
honours paid him which otherwise belonged to old age, it
being held unreasonable, that the youth should venerate
him who was resolved to leave none of his progeny behind
him, to revere them when they grew old in their turn. The
time of marriage was also fixed; and if a man did not marry
when he was of full age, he was liable to an action; as were
such also as married above or below their condition. Such as
had three children enjoyed great immunities; suchashadfour
were free from all taxes whatsoever. Virgins were married
without portions; because neither want should hinder a man,
nor riches induce him, to marry contrary to his inclinations.
When a marriage was agreed on, the husband committed a
kind of rape upon his bride. Husbands went for a long
time, secretly and by stealth, to the beds of their wives,
that their love might not be quickly and easily extinguish¬
ed. Husbands were allowed to lend their wives; but the
kings were forbidden to exercise this license. Some other
laws of the like nature there were, which, as they were
evidently against modesty, so they were far from producing
the end for which Lycurgus designed them; since, though
the men of Sparta were generally remarkable for their vir¬
tue, the Spartan women were as generally decried for their
boldness and contempt of decency.
V. It was the care of Lycurgus, that the Lacedaemonians, Edm in
from their very birth, should be inured to conquer their ap-ofth
petites. For this reason he directed, that nurses shouldc 1
accustom their children to spare meals, and now and then
to fasting; that they should carry them, when twelve or
thirteen years old, to those who should examine their edu¬
cation, and who should carefully observe whether they were
able to remain alone in the dark, and whether they had con¬
quered all other follies and weaknesses incident to ehiWren.
He directed, that children of all ranks should be brought
up in the same way; and that none should be more favour¬
ed in food than another, that they might not, even in their
infancy, perceive any difference between poverty and riches,
but consider each other as equals, and even as brethren,
whom the same portions were assigned, and who, Hiroug
the course of their lives, were to fare alike. 1Y"'1
alone were allowed to eat flesh: older men ate their black
broth and pulse; the lads slept together m chambers, ana,
after a manner somewhat resembling that recently in u
Turkey for the Janizaries. Their beds, in the summer, w ^
very hard, being composed of the reeds plucked by e
from the banks of the Eurotas: in winter their beds were sol.,
but by no means downy, or fit to induce immoderate s Pj
They ate altogether in public; and in case any a
from coming to the tables, they were fined. ^
wise strictly forbidden for any to eat or drink at home be
fore they came to the common meal; even then e d
his proper portion, that every thing nught be
with gravity and decency. The black broth was the erea
rarity of the Spartans, which was composed of salt, vin g
SPARTA.
529
3ff|r
lie:,‘U‘
blood, &c. so that in our times, it would be esteemed a very
unsavoury soup. If they were moderate in their eating, they
were likewise so in their drinking; of which thirst was the
sole measure; for never any true Lacedaemonian thought of
drinking for pleasure. As for drunkenness, it was both infa¬
mous and severely punished ; and slaves were compelled to
drink to excess, that young men might be disgusted by the
beastliness of this vice. When they retired from the pub¬
lic meal, they were not allowed any torches or lights, be¬
cause it was expected, that men who were perfectly sober
should be able to find their way in the dark ; and besides,
it gave them a facility of marching without light.
VI. As the poor were fed as well as the rich, so the rich
could wear nothing better than the poor’. They neither
changed the fashion nor the materials of their garments,
which were made for wTarmth and strength, not for gal¬
lantry and show, and to this custom even their kings con¬
formed; for they were not entitled to mark their dignity by
splendid apparel, but were contented that their virtue should
distinguish them rather than their clothes. The youths
wore a tunic till they were twelve years old; they were
afterwards furnished with a cloak, which was to serve them
for a year; and their clothing was in general so thin, that
a Lacedaemonian vest became proverbial. Boys were accus¬
tomed to go without shoes: when they grew up, they were
indulged with them, if the manner of life which they led re¬
quired it; but they were always inured to run without them,
as also to climb up and slide down steep places with bare feet.
The very shoe they used was of a particular form, plain
and strong. Boys were not permitted to wear their hair;
but when they arrived at the age of twenty, they suffered
their hair and beard to grow. Baths and anointing were
not in much use among the Lacedaemonians; the river Eu-
rotas supplied the former, and exercise the latter. In the
field, however, their sumptuary laws did not take place so
strictly as in the city; for when they went to war, they wore
purple habits; they put on crowns when they were about
to engage the enemy; they also wore rings, but only of iron.
Young women wore their vests or jerkins only to their knees,
or, as some think, not quite so low; a custom which both
Greek and Roman authors censure as indecent. Gold, pre¬
cious stones, and other costly ornaments, were permitted
only to common women; which permission w'as the strong¬
est prohibition to women of virtue, or to those who affected
to be thought virtuous. Virgins went abroad without veils,
with which married women were always covered. In cer¬
tain public exercises, in which girls were admitted as well
as boys, they were both obliged to perform naked. Plu¬
tarch apologises for this custom, urging, that there could be
no danger from nakedness to the morals of youths whose
minds were fortified and habituated to virtue—One of Ly-
curgus’s principal views in this institution, was to eradicate
the very seeds of civil dissension in his republic. Hence
proceeded the equal division of estates enjoined by him;
hence the contempt of wealth, and the neglect of other
distinctions, as particularly birth; distinctions which, in
other commonwealths, frequently produce tumults and con¬
fusions that shake their very foundation. He considered
the people of his whole state as one great family.
VII. Though the Spartans were always free, yet it was
1 su-with this restriction, that they were subservient to their own
jaws, which bound them as strictly in the city, as soldiers,
in other states, were bound by the rules of war in the camp.
In the first place, obedience to their superiors was most
rigidly exacted in Sparta. This they regarded as the very
basis of government, and without which neither laws nor ma¬
gistrates could much avail. Here old age conferred an in¬
dubitable title to honour: to the old men the youth rose
np whenever they came into any public place; they gave
way to them when they met them in the streets, and were
silent whenever their elders spoke. As all children were
vol. xx.
Sparta.
?nce
looked upon as the children of the state, so all the old men
had the authority of parents: they reprehended whatever1
they saw amiss, not only in their own, but in other people’s
children; and by this method Lycurgus provided, that as
youth are everywhere apt to offend, they might be nowhere
without a monitor. The laws proceeded still farther: if an old
man was present where a young one committed a fault, and
did not reprove him, he was punished equally with the de¬
linquent. Among the youths there was one of their owm
body, or at most two years older than the rest, who was
styled iren: he had authority to question all their actions,
to look strictly to their behaviour, and to punish them if
they did amiss; neither were their punishments light, but, on
the contrary, very severe. Thus the youths were rendered
hardy, and accustomed to bear stripes and rough usage.
Silence was highly commended at Sparta, wdiere modesty was
held to be a most becoming virtue in young people; nor was
it restricted only to their words and actions, but extended to
their very looks and gestures; Lycurgus having particular¬
ly directed, that they should look forward, or on the ground,
and that they should always keep their hands within their
robes. A stupid inconsiderate person, one who would not
listen to instruction, but was careless of whatever the world
might say of him, the Lacedaemonians treated as a scan¬
dal to human nature: with such a one they would not con¬
verse, but threw him off as a rotten branch, and worthless
member of society.
VIII. The plainness of their manners, and their being Learnjnc
so much addicted to war, made the Lacedaemonians less
fond of the sciences than the rest of the Greeks. That of
a soldier was the only reputable profession in Sparta; a me¬
chanic or husbandman was thought a low person. The rea¬
son of this was, that they imagined professions which re¬
quired much labour, some constant posture, being con¬
tinually in the house, or always near a fire, weakened the
body and depressed the mind; whereas a man brought up
hardily, was equally fit to attend the service of the repub¬
lic in time of peace, and to fight its battles in time of war.
Such occupations as were necessary to be followed for the
benefit of the whole, as agriculture and the like, were left
to their slaves the Helotes; but for curious arts, and such
as serve only to luxury, they would not so much as suffer
them to be introduced in their city; rhetoricians, augurs,
and dealers in money were consequently excluded. The
Spartans admitted none of the theatrical diversions among
them; they would not bear the representation of evil even
to produce good; but other kinds of poetry were admitted,
provided the magistrates had the perusal of pieces before
they were communicated to the public.
Above all things, they affected brevity of speech, and
accustomed their children, from their very infancy, never
to express themselves in more words than were strictly ne¬
cessary; whence a concise and sententious oratory is to this
day styled Laconic. In writing they used the same concise¬
ness. We have a signal instance in a letter of Archidamus
to the Eleans, when he understood they had some thoughts
of assisting the Arcadians. It ran thus: “ Archidamus to
the Eleans. It is good to be quiet.” And therefore Epa-
minondas thoughthe had reason togloryin havingforced the
Spartans to abandon their monosyllables, and to lengthen
their discourses.
The greatest part of their education consisted in giving
their youth right ideas of men and things: the iren or mas¬
ter proposed questions, and either commended the answers
that were made him, or reproved such as answered weakly.
In these questions, all matters, either of a trivial or abstruse
nature, were equally avoided; and they were confined to
such points as were of the highest importance in civil life;
such as, who.was the best man in the city? wherein lay the
merit of such an action? and, whether this or that hero’s
fame was well-founded? Harmless raillery vras greatly en-
3 x
SPARTA.
couraged; and this, joined to their short manner of speak-
in0*, rendered Laconic replies universally admired..
Music was much encouraged; but in this, as in other
things, they adhered to that which had been in favour with
their ancestors. They would not permit their slaves to
learn either the tune or the words of their most admired
odes; or, which is all one, they would not permit them to
possession of them penal; but as some standard of value Spari;
was necessary, he directed an iron coinage, whereby the
Spartans were supplied with the useful money, and at the
same time had no temptation to covetousness afforded
them ; for a very small sum was sufficient to load a couple
of horses, and a great one must have been kept in a barn or
warehouse. The introduction of all foreign money was also
lot permit mem tu waicnuuoc.  -7- , , ',
Bing them if they had learned them Th»“gW,e youth that ^irantntmltK^LVna™!
of the male sex were much chenshed and beloved, as those ot commerce ^ of one commodity for a„othcrj
U1 LUC UlctiC XXAU.V..*     ,
that were to build up and continue the future glory ot the
state, yet in Sparta it was a virtuous and modest affection,
untinged with that sensuality which was so scandalous at
Athens. The good effects of this part of Lycurguss in¬
stitutions were seen in the union that reigned among his
citizens; and which was so extraordinary, that even in cases
of competition, it was hardly known that rivals bore ill-will
to each other; but, on the contrary, their love to the same
person produced a secondary friendship among themselves,
and united them in all things which might be for the benefit
of the person beloved. .
Some authors have accused this great lawgiver of en¬
couraging theft in his institutions; which, they say, was
not held scandalous among the Spartans, if it were so dex¬
terously managed as that the person was not detected in 1 .
But this is certain, and seems to be a strong contradiction
of the heinous charge, that when a theft was discovered,
it was punished with the utmost severity: a person even
suspected of it would endure the heaviest punishments ra¬
ther than acknowledge it, and be branded with so base a
crime. . . ,
Exercises. IX. The exercises instituted by law belong to the ninth
table. In these all the Greeks were extremely careful, but
the Lacedaemonians in a degree beyond the rest; for 1 a
youth, by his corpulence, or any other means, became unht
for these exercises, he underwent public contempt at least,
if not banishment. Hunting was the usual diversion of their
children; nay, it was made a part of their education, be¬
cause it had a tendency to strengthen their limbs, and to
"SS&rssrJs iss=
public dances, in which they exceedingly delighted, and
which were common alike to virgins and young men: in¬
deed, in all their sports, girls were allowed to divert them¬
selves with the youths ; insomuch, that, at darting, throw¬
ing the quoit, pitching the bar, and such like robust diver¬
sions, the women were as dexterous as the men. For the
manifest oddity of this proceeding, Lycurgus assigned no
was preserved bv law in Sparta long aftei it had fallen into
disuse everywhere else. Interest was forbidden in the
Spartan commonwealth ; where they had also a law against
alienation of lands, accepting presents from foreigners, even
without the limits of their own country, and when their au¬
thority and character might well seem to excuse them.
XI. Such of the laws of Sparta as related to courts ofCourt
justice may be brought under the eleventh table. Thirtyjustict
years must have passed over the head of him who had a
rio-ht to concern himself in juridical proceedings. Young
men were thought unfit for them ; and it wras even consi¬
dered as indecent for a man to have any fondness for law¬
suits, or to be busying himself at the tribunals, when he had
no affairs there of his own. By these rules Lycurgus
thought to exclude litigiousness, add to prevent that multi¬
plicity of suits which seems to be a necessary evil in other
states. As young people were not permitted to inquire
about the laws of other countries, and as they were hinder¬
ed from hearing judicial proceedings in their courts, so they
were likewise forbidden to ask any questions about, or to
endeavour to discover, the reasons of the laws by which
themselves were governed. Obedience was their duty;
and to that alone they would have them kept. Men ot
abandoned characters, or who were notoriously of ill fame,
lost all right of giving their votes in respect of public affairs,
or of speaking in public assemblies; for they could not be¬
lieve that a man unprincipled in private life could be better
affected to his country than to his neighbour.
XII. Before the age of thirty, a Spartan was not capable _
01 serving in the army, as the best authors agree; though;
some think that the military age is not well ascertained by
ancient writers. Their forces were forbidden to march at
any time before the full-moon ; the reason of which law is
very hard to be discovered, if indeed it had any reason at
all, or was not rather founded on some superstitious opi¬
nion, that this conjuncture was more lucky than any other.
They were likewise forbidden to fight often against the
J ^  In f ftp no-
servic
as men. strong ami healthy, that the ch.ldren they brought '‘‘“bS , Ld lost her
kTnd oThfe! were only enlotaefthe youth’ifor when they that authority,whidt for ““y^^lb'wfrrrnr^'
*eTwereS“emp«eal K Eof k- the^Tlm-bans, to whom she had an inve«erareha?ed;he a.
Se’, oT fn Thejrdrm^od^^inVa" “th"r ^ coZa^Epaminondfto maim
Money,
he.
tain time, young men in the temple of Diana, and about her
altar ; which, however palliated, was certainly unnatural and
cruel. It was esteemed a great honour to sustain these
flagellations without weeping, groaning, or showing any
sense of pain ; and so strong was the thirst of glory in these
young minds, that they frequently suffered death without
shedding a tear, or breathing a sigh. A desire of overcom¬
ing all the weaknesses of human nature, and thus rendering
his Spartans not only superior to their neighbours, but to
their species, runs through many of the institutions of Ly¬
curgus ; and by keeping this principle in view, we are en¬
abled to understand many circumstances that must other¬
wise appear inexplicable.
X. Gold and silver were, by the constitutions of Lycur¬
gus, rendered of no value in Sparta. Of the danger of
riches he was so well apprised, that he rendered the very
tain"for a time the principality of Greece. With maritime
affairs they were forbidden to meddle, though the necessi y
of things compelled them, in process of time, t0 £ansg^,
this institution, and by degrees to transfer to Aemsel
the dominion of the sea as well as of the land ; but,
the Peloponnesian war, they again neglected naval atta .
from a persuasion that sailors and strangers corrupted those
with whom they conversed. As they never fortified Sp >
they were not ready to undertake sieges: fighting in
field was their proper province, and, while tbej fou
overcome their enemies, they rightly conceived that notm g
could hurt them at home. In time of war, they ^
somewhat of their strict manners of living,
son for this was, in all probability, that war might e ^
burdensome to them ; for, as we have more an aij
served, a strong desire to render them bold and warh
s p E S P E 531
nus, the reigning passion of their legislator. They were forbid- SPECIFIC, in Philosophy, that which is peculiar to any Specific
^ den to remain Jong encamped m the same place, as well to thing, and distinguishes it from all others. jj
hinder their being surprised, as that they might be more Specifics, in Medicine. By specifics is not meant such sPel<h>urst.
troublesome to their enemies, by wasting every corner of as infallibly and in all patients produce salutary effects
their country. They slept all night in their armour; but Such medicines are not to be expected, because the onera-
their outguards were not allowed their shields, that, being tions and effects of remedies are not formally inherent in
unprovided of defence, they might not dare to sleep. In all them, but depend upon the mutual action and reaction of
expeditions they were careful in the performance of reli- the body and medicine upon each other; hence the various
gious rites ; and after their evening meal was over, the sol- effects of the same medicine in the same kinds of disorders
diers sung together hymns to their gods. When they were in different patients, and in the same patient at different
about to engage, the king sacrificed to the Muses, that, by times. By specific medicines we understand such medi-
their assistance, they might be enabled to perform deeds cines as are found to be more uniform in their effects than
worthy of being recorded to the latest times. The army others in any particular disorder.
then advanced in order to the sound of flutes, which played Specific Gravity, is a term much employed in the dis-
the hymn of Castor. The king himself sung the paean, cussions of modern physics. It expresses the weight of any
which was the signal to charge. This was done with all particular kind of matter, as compared with the weight of
the solemnity imaginable, and the soldiers were sure either the same bulk of some other body of which the weight is
to conquer or die, nor indeed had they any other choice; supposed to be familiarly known, and is therefore taken for
for if they fled they were infamous, and in danger of being the standard of comparison. The body generally made use
slain, even by their own mothers, for disgracing their fami- of for this purpose is pure water. See Chemistry and
lies. In this consisted all the excellency of the Spartan Hydrodynamics.
women, who, if possible, exceeded in bravery the men, SPECTACLES, in Dioptrics, an instrument consisting
never lamenting over husbands or sons, if they died ho- of two lenses set in silver, horn, &c. to assist the defects
nourably in the field, but deploring the shame brought on of the organ of sight. Old people, and others who have
their house, if either the one or the other escaped by flight, flat eyes, use convex spectacles, which cause the rays of
The throwing away a shield also inferred infamy ; and mo- light to converge so as to meet upon the retina- whereas
thers, when they embraced their departing sons, were wont myopes, or short-sighted people, use concave lenses for spec-
to caution them, that they should either return armed as tacles,. which cause the rays to diverge, and prevent their
they were, or be brought back so when they were dead; meeting before they reach the retina.” See Optics
for, as we have observed, such as were slain in battle were SPECTRA, images presented to the eye after removmP-
nevertheless buried in their own country. When they put them from a bright object, or closing them. When any one
an enemy to flight, they pursued no longer than till victory has long and attentively looked at a bright obiect, as at the
was certain ; because they would seem to fight rather for setting sun, on closing 'his eyes, or removin"- them, an im-
the honour of conquering, than of putting their enemies to age, which resembles in form the object he”was attending
death. According to their excellent rules of war, they to, continues some time to be visible. This appearance in
were bound not to spoil the dead bodies of their enemies ; the eye we call the ocular spectrum of that object. These
but in process of time, this, and indeed many other of their ocular spectra are of four kinds: 1st, Such as are ow-
most excellent regulations, fell into desuetude. He who ing to a less sensibility of a defined part of the retina or
overcame by stratagem, offered up an ox to Mars ; where- spectra from defect of sensibility. 2d, Such as are owing
as he who conquered by force, offered up only a cock; to a greater sensibility of a defined part of the retina or
the former deed being esteemed more manly than the lat- spectra from excess of sensibility. 3d, Such as resemble
ter. After forty years5 service, a man was exempted from their object in its colour as well as form; which may be
military duty ; and consequently, if they commenced their termed direct ocular spectra, 4th, Such as are of a colour
career at thirty, the Spartans were not considered as inva- contrary to that of their object, which may be termed re¬
lids till they attained the age of seventy. verse ocular spectra
j . SPARTIANUS, JElivs, a Latin historian, who flou- SPECTRE, an apparition, or something supposed to be
rished in the reign of Diocletian, about the year 290. He preternaturally visible to human sight, whether the "hosts
is known as the author of the lives of Hadrian and iElius of dead men or beings superior to man. See Appari-
Verus ; and to him are likewise ascribed several other lives tions.
contained in the collection of “ Historic Augustas Scrip- SPECULATIVE, something relating to the theory of
tores.’ See Fabricii Bibliotheca Latina, tom. iii. p. 95. some art or science, in contradistinction to practical.
SPECIES, in Logic, a relative term, expressing an idea SPECULUM for reflecting telescopes. See Optics and
which is comprised under some general one called a genus. Telescope.
Species, in Algebra, are the letters, symbols, marks, or SPEED, John, an English historian, was born at Faring-
cnaracters, which represent the quantities in any operation ton in Cheshire, in the year 1542. He was by trade a tailor,
or equation. This short and advantageous way of notation and a freeman of the company of merchant tailors in the city
was chiefly introduced by Vieta, about the year 1590; and of London. In 1606 he published his “ Theatre of Great
by means of it he made many discoveries in algebra. Britain,” which was afterwards reprinted in folio, under the
Species, in Optics, the image painted on the retina by title of “ The Theatre of the Empire of Great Britain.”
the rays oJ light reflected from the several points of the In 1614 appeared his “ History of Great Britain;” and in
surface of an object, received by the pupil, and collected 1616 he published in octavo, “The Cloud of Witnesses,
■n their passage through the crystalline, &c. It has been or, the Genealogies of Scripture ” These genealogies were
a matter of dispute among philosophers, whether the species prefixed to many editions of the English translation of the
objects which give the soul an occasion of seeing, be an Bible; and King James gave him a patent for securing the
usion of the substance of the body; a mere impression property to him and his heirs. He had twelve sons and
mil they make on all bodies under certain circumstances; six daughters; and died in 1629. He was interred in the
lio'fit C tm1' are S()m® more subtile body, such as church of St. Giles’s, Cripplegate, London, where a monu-
s n l he moderns have decided this point by the inven- ment was erected to his memory.
reopiv ftificial e}’es’ \n which the species of objects are SPELDHURST, a large parish in the hundred ofWash-
eye. 60 °n Paper> m the Same manner as in the natural lingstone and county of Kent, thirty-three miles distant
from London. A great part of the township of Tunbridge
532
S P E
Spelling Wells is comprehended in it, to which circumstance it owes
II its increased inhabitants, who were, in 1801, 1618; in 1811,
Spence. ig01 . in i82l, 2297 ; and in 1831, 2640.
’ SPELLING, in Grammar, that part of orthography
which teaches the true manner of resolving words into their
syllables.
All words are either simple or compound, as use, disuse;
done, undone; and the rules for dividing each must be such
as are derived from the analogy of language in general, or
from the established custom of speaking; which, lor the
English language, are reduced to the following rules: L A
consonant between two vowels must be joined with the
latter in spelling, as na-ture, ve-ri-ly, ge-ne-rous ; except,
however, the letter which is joined to the first, as in
fiax-en, ox-en, &c., and compound words, as m up-on, un-used,
&c 2. A double consonant must be divided, as in let-ter,
man-ner, &c. 3. Those consonants which can begin a word,
must not be parted in spelling, as in de-fraud, re-prove,^
distinct: this rule, however, is sometimes found to tail,
for though gn begins a word, as in gnaw, gnat, &c., yet it
must be divided in spelling, as in cog-ni-zance, ma-hg-ni-ty,
&c 4. Those consonants which cannot begin a word must
be divided, as Id in sel-dom, It in mul-ti-tude, mp in tem-per,
rd in ar-dent; but in final syllables there are exceptions,
as tl in ti-tle, dl in han-dle, &c. 5. When two vowels come to¬
gether, and are both of them distinctly sounded, they must
be separated in spelling, as in co-e-val, mu-tu-al, &c< b. ie
grammatical terminations or endings must be separated in
spelling, as ed in wing-ed, edst in de-h-ver-edst, mg m
hear-ing, ance in de-li-ver-ance, &c. 7. Compound words
must be resolved into their simple and component words,
as, up-on, in-to, ne-ver-the-less, not-with-stand-ing, &c.
SPELMAN, Sir Henry, an eminent antiquary, was de¬
scended from an ancient family, and born at Congham,
near Lynn in Norfolk, about the year 1561. He was
knighted bv King James I. who had a particular esteem
for him on account of his known capacity for business; and
he employed him several times in Ireland in public affairs.
When he was about fifty years of age, he went to reside
in London; where falling into a study to which his own ge¬
nius had always inclined him, he collected all such books
and MSS. as concerned the subject of antiquities, either fo¬
reign or domestic. In 1626, he published the firs part of
his well-known “ Glossarium Archaiologicum, which he
never carried beyond the letter L; because, as some have
suggested, he had made remarks under “ Magna Charta, and
“Maximum Consilium,” which could not then have appeared
without giving offence. Upon his death, all his papers came
into the hands of his son Sir John Spelman, a gentleman
who had abilities to have completed his fathers design, it
death had not prevented him. The second part was after¬
wards published by Sir William Dugdale, but with all the
marks of a scanty unfinished performance. The next work
which he undertook was an edition of the English Councils;
of which he published the first volume in 1639, leaving
the second volume, as well of this as of his Glossary, to be
published by Dugdale. The second volume appeared in
1664. Spelman wrote several other works relating to an¬
cient laws and customs, and died in 1641. His I realise
concerning Tithes, and his History of Sacrilege, deserve
a passing notice. His Posthumous Works were published
at Oxford, in folio, in the year 1698, under the inspection
of Mr. Gibson, afterwards Bishop of London.
SPENCE, Joseph, an eminent writer, was born in the
year 1698, but his family-history remains in obscurity.
He was probably educated at Winchester, for he became
a fellowof New College, Oxford, where he took the degree of
A.M. in 1727. During the same year he published a small
volume entitled “ An Essay on Pope’s Odyssey, in which
some particular beauties and blemishes of that work are
considered.” This essay was greatly admired by his con-
S P E
temporaries, and it procured him the friendship of Pope. Spem
Spence was elected professor of poetry in 1728, and held
that office ten years, which is as long as the statutes will
allow. His account of Stephen Duck was first published in
1731 ; but it was afterwards much altered, and prefixed to
an edition of Duck’s Poems.
About this time he travelled into Italy as tutor to the
Earl of Lincoln, afterwards Duke of Newcastle. In 1736 he
republished Gorboduc, at Mr. Pope’s desire, with a preface
giving an account of its author, the Earl of Dorset. He
quitted his fellowship in 1742, upon being presented by
his college to the rectory of Great Harwood in Buckingham¬
shire. He never resided on his living; but paid it an an¬
nual visit, distributing large sums of money among the poor,
and providing for many of their children. The same year he
was appointed professor of modern history at Oxford. In
1747 he published a large folio volume entitled “Polyme¬
tis; or, an Inquiry concerning the Agreement between the
Works of the Roman Poets and the Remains of ancient
Artists ; being an attempt to illustrate them mutually from
each other.” This work was treated by Gray with a con¬
tempt which it did not deserve. He raises objections be¬
cause the author did not illustrate his subject tiom Greek
writers ; that is, because he failed to execute what he never
undertook. By the publication of his Polymetis, Spence
is said to have cleared L.1500. He was installed preben¬
dary of the seventh stall at Durham on the 24th May 1754.
He' published the same year, “ An Account of the Life,
Character, and Poems, of Mr. Blacklock, Student of Phi¬
losophy in the University of Edinburgh;” which was after¬
wards prefixed to Blacklock’s Poems. The prose pieces which
he printed in the Museum he collected and published, to¬
gether with some others, in a pamphlet called, “ Molali¬
ties, by Sir Harry Beaumont.” Under the same name, he
published, “ Crito, or a Dialogue on Beauty,” and “ A par¬
ticular Account of the Emperor of China’s Gardens near
Pekin, in a letter from F. Attiret, a French missionary now
employed by that emperor to paint the apartments in those
gardens, to his friend at Paris.” Both these tracts are
printed inDodsley’s Fugitive Pieces, as is also “A Letter
from a Swiss Officer to his friend at Romej which Mr.
Spence first published in the Museum. In 1758, he pub¬
lished “ A Parallel, in the Manner of Plutarch, between
a most celebrated man of Florence and one scarce ever
heard of in England.” The Florentine was Maghabecchi,
and the other individual was Robert Hill the Hebrew tailor.
This tract is also to be found among the Fugitive Pieces.
During the same year he made a journey into Scotland, wine i
he described in an affectionate letter to Mr. Shenston ,
published in Hull’s Collection of Letters, 1778. In Lb4
he was very well described by James Ridley, m i
rable Tales of the Genii, under the name of Fhesoi b-
neps (his name read backwards), dervise of the groves, a
letter from Mr. Spence to that ingenious moralist, under tne
same signature, is preserved in the tlnrd volume o
ters of eminent Persons.” In 1768 he published‘‘Reinarks
and Dissertations on Virgil, with some other ckssical ob
servations, by the late Mr. Holdsworth. On the 201 ^
August the same year he was unfortunately drow
canal in his garden at Byfleet in Surrey. He v
flat upon his face at the edge of the canal, where t
was so shallow as not even to cover his head. 1
accident, it vvas supposed, for he was quite alo ,
sioned bv a fit. „ ,. , his
More than half a century after his death, ^PP ^
“ Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters o ^
Men, collected from the Conversation of Mr. P°P > „
others. With notes and a life of the author by S-M - b^g ^
London, 1820, 8vo. Mr. Malone had likewise p P.^
edition of this work, and, after his death, it P
during the same year.
S P E
t,r SPENCER, John, a very learned theologian, was born
at Eocton-under-Blean, in Kent, in the year 1630. From
!r- the grammar school of Canterbury he was removed to Cor-
,,Wpus Christi College at Cambridge, where he was entered on
the 25th of March 1645. Having taken the degree of A.B.
in 1648, and of A.M. in 1652, he was chosen a fellow in
1655. In 1660 he preached a sermon before the univer¬
sity, and during the same year it was published under the
title of “ The righteous Ruler.” He afterwards published
a learned and curious work, entitled, “ A Discourse con¬
cerning Prodigies.” To the second edition, corrected and
enlarged, he added “ A Discourse concerning vulgar Pro¬
phecies.” Lond. 1665, 8vo. During the same year, he pro¬
ceeded D.D. In 1667, he was presented by his college to
the rectory of Landbeach, and on the 3d of August elected
master of the college. About a month after his election,
he was preferred by the king to the archdeaconry of Sud¬
bury, in 1672 to a prebend of Ely, and in 1677 to the
deanery of that church. In 1669 he had published a La¬
tin dissertation concerning Urim and Thummim. But his
most elaborate work is De Legibus Hebrceorum Rituali-
bus, et earum Rationibus, libri tres. Cantab. 1685, 2 tom.
fol. An edition, with the author’s additions and improve¬
ments, was published at Cambridge in 1727; and several
editions, one by Pfaflf, were printed on the continent. “ It
is,” as Mr. Orme has remarked, “ a very learned, but a very
dangerous work; the great object of which is to show, that
the Hebrew ritual was almost entirely borrowed from the
Egyptians, and accommodated to the taste and prejudices
which the Jews had acquired among that people. The
same hypothesis had been stated by Maimonides, a philoso¬
phizing Jew, in his More Nevochim, and was greedily laid
hold of by Sir John Marsham, in his Canon Chronicus
iEgyptiacus. A masterly refutation of the v/ork of Spen¬
cer was furnished by Witsius, in his TEgyptiaca; and Shuck-
ford, in his Connections, supplies also many arguments on
the same side. Warburton partly espoused the system of
Spencer, and replied to Witsius, for which he is very pro¬
perly censured by Dr. Magee, in his work on the Atone¬
ment. Socinians and infidels have made very liberal use of
the work and arguments of Spencer.”1
Dr. Spencer died on the 27th of May 1695, in the sixty-
third year of his age. He was a great benefactor to his
college, to which he bequeathed an estate that had cost
him L.3600. He married Hannah, the daughter of Isaac
Pullen of Hertford, and had a son and a daughter, who
both died before their father.
Spencer Cape, a pointed rocky cape, the east point of
entrance into Spencer’s Gulf on the south shore of New
Holland. Long. 136. 56. E. Lat. 35. 18. S.
Spencer’s Gulf, a large gulf on the south coast of New
Holland, which extends 185 miles into the interior of the
country, in a north-east direction. The entrance between
Cape Catastrophe on the west, and Cape Spencer on the
east, is forty-eight miles wide. Captain Flinders traced it
to within eight miles of its termination.
SPENSER, Edmund, one of the greatest of English
poets, was born in East Smithfield, about the year 1533.
There is no record in which the admirers of his genius may
trace the incidents of his early years; but there is reason
to suppose that they were clouded by poverty and depen¬
dence. On the 20th of May 1519, he entered Pembroke
Hall, Cambridge, in the humble character of a sizer; a cir¬
cumstance which is alone sufficient to rescue those luckless
scholars from abject despondency, and to render them re¬
spectable in the eyes of their more fortunate companions,
borne poems, in a collection of fugitive pieces entitled
“ The Theatre for Worldlings,” which appeared during this
S P E 533
year, are ascribed to Spenser, upon internal evidence. Spenser.
On the 10th of January 1752-3 he took the degree of'>’•^■V^,,’
A.B., and on the 26th of June 1576 that of A.M. From
a letter of his friend Gabriel Harvey, himself a poet of
some reputation in his time, it appears that, in consequence
of having made enemies, who had both the will and power
to injure him, he quitted Cambridge in despair of academi¬
cal preferment. He had luckily some friends in the north
of England, among whom he now found a temporary asy¬
lum. Whether he was received as an honoured guest, or
compelled to turn his learning to account in the way of
tuition, is unknown; but the latter supposition is the more
probable of the two.
During his retirement in the north, Spenser wrote “ The
Shepherd’s Calendar.” Nothing is more common than for
poets to deprecate the barbarity of a phantom, and to be
reduced to despair, because some angelic nonenity turns a
deaf ear to their entreaties; but it is said that Rosalind was
a real mistress, at whose feet Spenser sighed in vain. The
successful rival of the needy sonnetteer was, in all likelihood,
some substantial yeoman. At this period of his history,
Harvey advised him to try his fortune in London; and it
is probable that he abandoned without reluctance, the scene
of his unrequited passion. Upon his arrival in the metro¬
polis, he was fortunate enough to obtain an introduction to
Sir Philip Sidney, who invited him to become his guest at
Penshurst, the seat of the family in Kent. As a token of
gratitude for this hospitality the “ Shepherd’s Calendar,”
published in 1579, was “ entituled to the noble and ver-
tuous gentleman, most worthy of all titles, Maister Philip
Sidney.”
Till long after the time of Spenser, the poet depended
upon the casual gratuities of distinguished persons, who
sometimes exerted their influence in procuring for a favour¬
ite bard some less precarious means of subsistence. Re¬
commended, as it is conjectured, by the Earl of Leicester,
the poet went to Ireland with Arthur Lord Grey of Wil¬
ton, who was appointed deputy of that kingdom in 1580.
Spenser was the secretary of the viceroy, and discharged
the duties of his office with greater promptitude and ex¬
actness than poets usually display in the ordinary business
of life. His “ View of the State of Ireland,” a treatise
written in the form of a dialogue, displays no inconsider¬
able portion of political sagacity. By the interest of Lord
Grey, Leicester, and Sidney, Spenser obtained, in 1586, a
grant of three thousand and twenty-eight acres of the for¬
feited estates of the Earl of Desmond. This piece of good
fortune was embittered by the death of his patron, the gal¬
lant Sidney, who fell in the same year at the battle of Zut-
phen. The pastoral elegy of Astrophel, sacred to the memo¬
ry of the departed hero, although not published until 1591,
was probably written when the grief of the poet was at
the height. It was provided by the royal patent, that those
who profited by the forfeiture should reside upon the lands
that were allotted to them. According to this arrangement,
Spenser proceeded to a place named Kilcolman, in the
county of Cork. This exile, to what was then little better
than a region of barbarians, was cheered by a visit from
the renowned Sir Walter Raleigh. At the suggestion, it
may be presumed, of his distinguished guest, whom per¬
haps he accompanied to England, the poet soon exchanged
his Hibernian solitude for the splendours of a court. In
1590 were published the first three books of the Fairy
Queen; and the poet was afterwards presented by Raleigh
to Queen Elizabeth, who conferred upon him a pension of
fifty pounds a-year, then no despicable sum. The grant of
this pension was discovered in the chapel of the Rolls by
Mr. Malone, who has thus been enabled to clear the repu-
1 Orme’s Bibliotheca Biblica, p. 417. Edinb. 1S24, Svo.
534
SPENSER.
Spenser, tation of Lord Burleigh from the stigma of having inter-
'cepted the bounty of his sovereign to the author of the
Fairy Queen. Mr. Malone has also made it appear, that
Queen Elizabeth had no poet-laureate; an appointment
which was supposed to have been held by Spenser. In the
sonnets annexed to the poem, is one to his new patron,
“ the right noble and valorous knight, Sir Walter Raleigh;”
but Spenser does not forget to shed a grateful tear to the
memory of Sidney. There is a sonnet addressed to the
Countess of Pembroke, the darling sister of that accom¬
plished person, for whose amusement he wrote his Arcadia.
With mournful dignity, the poet acknowledges to the coun¬
tess his many obligations to
that most heroicke spirit,
The heauens pride, the glory of our dales.
During his absence in Ireland, to which kingdom he re¬
turned after the publication of the Fairy Queen, was printed
a collection of Spenser’s minor pieces, entitled, “ Com¬
plaints: containing sundrie small Poemes of the Worlds \ a-
nitie. Whereof the next page maketh mention. By Ed.Sp.”
Lond. 1591, 4to. This production was followed by Daph-
noida, an elegy on the death of Douglas Howard, daughter of
Henry Lord Howard. It is dated January 1, 1591-2. About
this period, he is supposed to have paid a visit to his native
country; after which a considerable space intervenes un¬
marked by incidents.
Being no longer a pennyless rhymster, Spenser now wooed
a kinder mistress than Rosalind. The lady, whose name is
unknown, became his wife in 1594. The progress of this
successful courtship is traced in his Amoretti, or Sonnets.
In 1595 appeared the pastoral of “ Colin Clout’s come home
again.” The dedication of this production is erroneously
dated 1591, as Mr. Todd satisfactorily proves. It is dedi¬
cated to Sir Walter Raleigh, who is introduced as the Shep¬
herd of the Ocean. In 1596, he published four Hymns.
He informs the Countess of Cumberland and the Coun¬
tess of Warwick, to whom they are inscribed, that the two
latter, composed in his riper years, and treating of heaven¬
ly love and beauty, wei'e designed to atone for the two for¬
mer, which were written in the heyday of his blood, and
of which the subjects are sensual desire and earthly grace.
In the same year were produced the fourth, fifth, and sixth
books of the Fairy Queen. Of that magnificent poem,
two additional imperfect cantos are all that can be found.
Our limits prohibit the discussion of the question, whether
the remaining six books, which would have completed the
design, were destroyed by fire during the Irish rebellion,
or left unfinished. Nor is there much utility in transcrib¬
ing a long list of poems no longer extant, which are sup¬
posed to have shared their fate. In the course of this year,
Spenser presented his View of the State of Ireland to the
queen; but, for reasons not very clearly explained, that
performance was not printed until thirty-five years after the
author’s death.
In a letter from Queen Elizabeth to the Irish govern¬
ment, dated September 30, 1598, which was discovered by
Mr. Malone, Spenser is recommended to be sheriff of Cork.
A royal recommendation is generally equivalent to a com¬
mand; but the rebellion of Tyrone put a period to all the
poet’s hopes of dignity and emolument. To escape the fury
of the insurgents, he abandoned his house in Kilcolman,
leaving behind him one of his children, who had been for¬
gotten in the terror of the moment. Having removed every
thing else that it contained, the miscreants set fire to the
building, and left the infant to perish in the flames. Spen-
-pensions from the tomb,
Or laurels from the dust.
There is, however, a dark spot on the fame of Spenser.
From some original documents preserved in the Rolls Office
at Dublin, it appears that the murder of his infant, his own
ruin, despair, and death, are to be traced to his cupidity;
for the outrage that was the immediate cause of these dis¬
asters, was perpetrated less from the hopes of plunder than
the desire of vengeance for some unjust and oppressive at¬
tempts to add to his possessions.2 Injustice and oppression
were so habitual with the English settlers in Ireland, that
it was not easy for Spenser to escape the general contamina¬
tion.
This great poet is far from being a favourite of the ge¬
neral readers of modern times, who demand something of
a more stimulating nature than the lives and adventures oi
the cardinal virtues. Indeed, to have made an interminable
allegory interesting to thousands, must be allowed to be
one of the greatest efforts of genius. This Spenser has
accomplished; and his pages, if not devoured with tremb¬
ling eagerness, are always perused with wonder, and often
with delight, by the great majority of those whose suffrage
is of any value. It has been urged that Arthur, the hero
of the poem, instead of achieving the principal adventures,
acts only as an auxiliary to others, and that either his char¬
acter, or those of the twelve worthies, might with great
propriety have been expunged; that the allegory often de¬
generates into mere description, without any occult mean¬
ing; and that the ottava rima of Tasso and Ariosto, with
the addition of an Alexandrine, is a measure which is little
adapted to the genius of the English language. There is
however little rashness in predicting that the Fairy Queen
will last as long as the English language itself.
An edition of Spenser’s Works, with a glossary and a me
of the author, and an essay on allegorical poetry, was pub¬
lished by John Hughes. Lond. 1715, 6 vols. 12mo. Ihe
Fairy Queen, with an exact collation of the two ongina
ser did not long survive these multiplied calamities. On Spe^l
the 16th of January 1598-9, soon after his arrival in Eng- /
land, he died at an inn in King Street, Westminster. The
expenses of his funeral were defrayed by the unfortunate
Earl of Essex, who buried him in Westminster Abbey, near
the remains of Chaucer; a spot on which he had always de¬
sired to take his last repose.1
Spenser left two sons, Sylvanus and Peregrine. Hugo-
lin, the son of the latter, was restored to his grandfather’s
estate by Charles II.; but, adhering to the infatuated suc¬
cessor of that monarch, he was outlawed, after the revolu-
tion, for high treason. The lands of the outlaw, however,
were bestowed upon his cousin William, the son of Sylva¬
nus, through the interest of Mr. Montague, afterwards Earl
of Halifax. William Spenser was presented to the notice of
Montague by Congreve. “ The family of the Spensers,”
says Gibbon, “ has been illustrated and enriched by the
trophies of Marlborough, but I exhort them to consider the
Fairy Queen as the most precious jewel in their coronet.”
Of Spenser’s personal character, we are in a great measure
left to form our opinion' from his works. Both the tenden¬
cy and details of these are highly favourable to virtue; and
the many chaplets he threw upon the hearse of Sidney
prove that he cherished the memory of his benefactor with
pious care. It is easy to imagine gratitude allied to every
other noble quality, and it is mere misanthropy to question
the sincerity of tears that fall to those who can give no
more; for it is vain to seek
* Ben Jonson, in his Conversations with Drummond, stated, “that the Irish having rob’d Spenser’s goods and burnt his 0ll®e a,l.j
little child new born, he and his wyf escaped ; and after, he died for lake of bread in King Street, and refused twenty pieces sen o
by my Lord of Essex, and said, ‘ He was sorrie he had no time to spend them.’”
2 Hardiman’s Irish Minstrelsy, or Bardic Remains of Ireland, vol. i. p. 320. Lond. 1831, 2 vols. 8vo.
S P E
,:eti editions, a life of the author by Dr. Birch, and a glossary,
together with 32 plates from designs by Kent, must likewise
r be mentioned. Lond. 1751, 3 vols. 4to. Another edition
"■'of this poem, with notes critical and explanatory, was soon
afterwards published by Ralph Church, A.M. Lond. 1758,
4 vols. 8vo. And about the same time appeared a new edi¬
tion, with a glossary and notes explanatory and critical, by
John Upton, A.M. Lond. 1758, 2 vols.4to. An elaborate
and complete edition of Spenser’s Works was at length
published by Mr. Todd. Lond. 1805, 8 vols. 8vo. Nor must
we fail to direct the reader’s more particular attention to
Mr. Warton’s “ Observations on the Faerie Queen of Spen¬
ser,” in 2 vols. 8vo. As a proof of the poet’s continental re¬
putation, we may here refer to Spenser’s Sonnetten, uber-
setzt durch Joseph von Hammer. Wien, 1814, 8vo.
SPERMACETI, a whitish, unctuous, flaky substance,
prepared from oil, but chiefly from the brains of a species
of whale called physeter macrocephalus.
SPEUSIPPUS, an Athenian philosopher, the nephew
and successor of Plato. Contrary to the practice of his mas¬
ter, Speusippus required from his pupils a stated gratuity.
He placed statues of the Graces in the school which Plato
had built. On account of his infirm state of health, he
was commonly carried to and from the Academy in a ve¬
hicle. On his way thither he one day met Diogenes, and
saluted him: the surly philosopher refused to return the sa¬
lute, and told him, that such a feeble wretch ought to be
ashamed to live; Speusippus replied, that he lived not in
his limbs, but in his mind. At length being w'holly inca¬
pacitated, by a paralytic stroke, for the duties of the chair,
he resigned it to Xenocrates. He is said to have been of a
violent temper, fond of pleasure, and exceedingly avaricious.
Speusippus wrote many philosophical works, which are now
lost, but which Aristotle thought sufficiently valuable to
purchase at the expense of three talents. From a few frag¬
ments which remain of his philosophy, it appears that he
adhered very strictly to the doctrine of his master.
SPEY, a river of Scotland, rises from a lake of the same
name in Badenoch, and after a serpentine course of seventy-
six miles, passes by Rothes castle, and falls into the Ger¬
man ocean at Garnoch near Elgin.
SPHERE is a solid contained under one uniform round
surface, every point of which is equally distant from a cer¬
tain point in the middle called its centre; and is formed
by the revolution of a semicircle about its diameter.
Sphere, in Astronomy, that concave orb or expanse
which invests our globe, and in which the heavenly bodies
appear to be fixed, and at equal distance from the eye.
SPHEROID, in Geometry, a solid approaching to the
figure of a sphere. It is generated by the entire revolu¬
tion of a semi-ellipsis about its axis. When the revolution
is made round the largest axis, the spheroid is called pro-
late; and when round the shortest, oblate. This last is
the figure of the earth, and probably of all the planets,
SPHINCTER, in Anatomy, a term applied to a kind
of circular muscles, or muscles in form of rings, which
serve to close and draw up several orifices of the body,
and prevent the excretion of the contents.
SPHINX, in fabulous history, a monster which had the
head and breasts of a woman, the body of a dog, the tail
ot a serpent, the wings of a bird, the paw's of a lion, and a
mmanvoiee. It sprang from the union of Orthos with
ie Chimaera, or of Typhon with Echidna. The sphinx
ad been sent into the neighbourhood of Thebes by Juno,
^ o wished to punish the family of Cadmus, which she
persecuted with immortal hatred; and it laid this part of
ototia under continual alarms, by proposing enigmas, and
evcunng tlle inhabitants, if unable to explain them. In
6 midst of their consternation the Thebans were told by
S P I
535
the oracle, that the sphinx would destroy herself as soon Spice,
as one of the enigmas which she proposed was explained. In Spilsby.
this enigma, she wished to know what animal walked on
four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the
evening. Creon king of J hebes promised his crown and
his sister Jocasta in marriage to him who could deliver his
country from the monster by a successful explanation of
the enigma. It was at last happily explained by Oedipus,
wdio observed, that man walked on his hands and feet when
young, or in the morning of life; at the noon of life he
walked erect; and in the evening of his days he supported
himself by leaning on a stick. The sphinx no sooner heard
this explanation than she dashed her head against a rock,
and immediately expired. Some mythologists wish to
unriddle the fabulous traditions about the sphinx by the
supposition, that one of the daughters of Cadmus, or
Laius, infested the country of Thebes, by her continual
depredations, because she had been refused a part of her
father’s possessions. The lion’s paw expressed, as they
observe, her cruelty, the body of the dog her lascivious¬
ness, her enigmas the snares which she laid for strangers
and travellers, and her wings the dispatch which she used
in her expeditions.
Among the Egyptians the sphinx was the symbol of re¬
ligion, by reason of the obscurity of its mysteries; and on
the same account the Romans placed a sphinx in the pro-
naos or porch of their temples. Sphinxes were used by
the Egyptians to show the beginning of the water’s rising
in the Nile: as it had the head of a woman and the body
of a lion, it signified that the Nile began to swell in the
months of July and August, when the sun passes through
the signs of Leo and Virgo. There are several of these
still to be seen; one in particular, near the Pyramids,
much spoken of by the ancients. It is of a prodigious
size, and cut out of the rock; the head and neck ap¬
pear only at present, the rest of the body being hid in the
sand. J his, according to Thevenot, is twenty-six feet
high, and fifteen feet from the ear to the chin: but Pliny
assures us, the head was no less than 102 feet in circum¬
ference, and sixty-two feet high from the belly, and that
the body was 143 feet long, and was thought to be the
sepulchre of King Amasis. The learned Mr. Bryant ob¬
serves, that the sphinx seems to have been originally a vast
rock of different strata ; which, from a shapeless mass, the
Egyptians fashioned into an object of beauty and veneration.1
The Egyptians used this figure in their building; from
them the Greeks derived it, and afterwards improved it
into an elegant ornament. It is also frequently used in
modern architecture.
It may be proper to observe, that the sphinx of the
Egyptians is said in the Asiatic Researches1 to have been
found in India. Colonel Pearse was told by Murari Pan¬
dit, a man of learning among the Hindoos, that the sphinx,
there called singh, is to appear at the end of the world,
and as soon as he is born will prey on an elephant; he is
therefore figured seizing an elephant in his claws; and the
elephant is made small, to show that the singh, even a
moment after his birth, will be very large in proportion to
it. But in opposition to this account given by Murari
Pandit, the late Sir William Jones, the learned and illus¬
trious president of the Asiatic Society, was assured by
several Brahmins, that the figure taken for a sphinx was a
representation of a lion seizing a young elephant.
any kind of aromatic drug that has hot and pun¬
gent qualities ; such as pepper, nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon,
and cloves.
SPILSBY, a market-town of Lincolnshire, in the hun¬
dred of Bolingbroke and the division of Lindsay, thirty-one
miles from the city of Lincoln, and 132 from London. It
1 Bryant’s Ancient Mythology, vol iii. p. 532.
5 Vol. ii. p. 331.
536
Spinage
li
Spinning.
S P I
stands on an eminence, commanding an extensive view to¬
wards the south. It is composed of four streets, uniting at the
market-place, which is a square with a cross, consisting of
a plain octagonal shaft, with a quadrangular base; and
near to it is the town-hall, rebuilt in 1764, in which the
quarter sessions for the division of Lindsay are held. The
parish church is a large old edifice, including a chapel
with some ancient monuments. There is a good market on
Saturday. The population was, in 1801, 932; in 1811,
963; in 1821, 1234; and in 1831, 1384.
SPINAGE, or Spinach. See Horticulture.
SPINDLE, in Geometry, a solid body generated by the
revolution of some curve line about its base or double or¬
dinate ; in opposition to a conoid, which is generated by
the rotation of the curve about its axis or absciss, perpen¬
dicular to its ordinate. The spindle is denominated cir¬
cular, elliptic, hyperbolic, or parabolic, according to the
figure of its generating curve. ,
SPINET, or Spinnet, (Ital. Spinetta), an old-fashioned
musical instrument, of which the brass and steel wires
were struck by quills fixed to the tongues of the jacks
that were moved by finger-keys. It was the predecessor
of the harpsichord and the piano-forte.
SPINNING is the art of forming continuous threads by
drawing out and twisting together filamentous materials.
This was at first a manual art, and was practised in the
earliest ages. The simple tool first made use of, consisted of
a piece of wood, with its lower extremity of a conical form
like a boy’s top, and its upper portion long and tapering to
a point, to which the fibres to be spun were fixed; this was
termed a spindle, and in using was spun like a top to twist
the threads. To the spindle an addition was soon made of
the distaff, consisting of a piece of wood,round which the ma¬
terial to be spun was lapped. The distaff was held in the one
hand of the spinner, while the other hand was engaged in
drawing the fibres from the mass, and ever and anon giving
fresh impetus to the motion of the spindle. This simple ap¬
paratus must have been early used, as, among the sculp¬
tures of the early Egyptian tombs, we find representations of
females forming threads with the spindle; and singular though
it be, the same apparatus may yet be found in a few places
in Scotland, affording, in its toilsome progress, a striking con¬
trast to the whirling wonders of the cotton-mill.
A great improvement in the use of the distaff and spindle,
by which the spinner’s hands were in a great measure left
free to regulate the formation of the thread, was made by
mounting the spindle in a frame, and using a larger wheel
to drive it by a belt; and this again was further improved
by using a treadle to effect the movement of the wheel by
the foot of the spinner. ^No attempt, however, to introduce
mechanism to supply the place of the skill and dexterity in
manipulation, which the spinner could acquire only by as¬
siduous practice, appears to have been made before the be¬
ginning of the eighteenth century. At that time there were
in common use two kinds of spinning implements. The one,
called the large wheel, was used in the spinning of wool and
cotton, consisting of a large wheel or rim mounted in a frame,
and having a belt to drive the spindle which projected from
the side of the frame, and had the material to be spun affix¬
ed to its end. In spinning, the operator, usually a female,
laid hold of the wool or cotton with the finger and thumb of
her left hand, at a few inches distant from the spindle, and
drew it towards her, while she turned the wheel with her
right hand; she thus extended and twisted repeated por¬
tions, and as they were twisted, she, by guiding with her
hand the thread she had formed, allowed it to be wound upon
the spindle. Thus, from the carded cotton or wool, a loose
flabby thread or rove was formed, which was again sub¬
jected to a similar drawing or extension, and twisted until
reduced to a fine and compact thread. The other im¬
plement, called the small or Saxon xoheel, was a more per-
s P i
feet apparatus, and was used for the spinning of flax; it Spin
had on its spindle a bobbin, on which the thread was wound, ^
and a flyer revolving with greater rapidity than the bobbin
to give the thread twist; a fixed distaff, on which the pre¬
pared flax was loosely rolled; and a treadle by which a ro¬
tatory motion was given to the wheel by the foot of the
operator, whose hands were thus left at liberty to draw out
the fibres of the flax in the requisite number to form the
thread; in doing this, the fibres were, from time to time,
moistened with saliva, to make them more readily com¬
bine.
Such were the implements used in Britain and elsewhere,
when, about the year 1738, an ingenious mechanist, John
Wyatt, made an attempt to substitute mechanism for the
hands and the skill of the spinner. To him is due the ho¬
nour of discovering the principle of roller-spinning; a prin¬
ciple which, forty years afterwards, was fully developed by
the genius of Arkw:right. The following account of Wyatt’s
invention, by his son Mr. Charles Wyatt, will shew to what
extent he carried the principle of roller-spinning.
“ In the year 1730, or thereabouts, living then at a vil¬
lage near Litchfield, our respected father first conceived the
project, and carried it into effect; and in the year 1733,
by a model of about two feet square, in a small building
near Sutton Coldfield, without a single witness to the per¬
formance, was spun the first thread of cotton ever pro¬
duced without the intervention of the human fingers, he,
the inventor, to use his own words, ‘ being all the time in a
pleasing, but trembling, suspense' The wool had been card¬
ed in the common way, and was passed between two cy¬
linders, from whence the bobbin drew it by means of the
twist. ' 1 „
“ This successful experiment induced him to seek for a
pecuniary connexion equal to the views that the project ex¬
cited, and one appeared to present itself with a Mr. Lewis
Paul, which terminated unhappily for the projector; for
Paul, a foreigner, poor and enterprising, made offers and
bargains which he never fulfilled, and contrived, in the year
1738, to have a patent taken out in his own name for some
additional apparatus, a copy of which I send you; and in
1741, or 1742, a mill turned by two asses walking round an
axis was erected in Birmingham, and ten girls were employ¬
ed in attending the work. Two hanks of the cotton then
and there spun are now in my possession, accompanied with
the inventor’s testimony of the performance. Drawings of
the machinery were sent, or appear to have been sent, to
Mr. Cave, for insertion in the Gentleman!s Magazine.
“ This establishment, unsupported by sufficient property,
languished a short time, and then expired; the supplies
were exhausted, and the inventor much injured by the ex
periment, but his confidence in the scheme was unimpaire .
The machinery was sold in 1743. A work upon a larger
scale, on a stream of water, was established at Northamp¬
ton, under the direction of Mr. Yeoman, but with the pro¬
perty of Mr. Cave. The work contained 250 spindles, and
employed fifty pairs of hands. ,
“ The work at Northampton did not prosper. It passed,
I believe, into the possession of a Mr. Yeo, a gentleman o
the law, in London, about the year 1764; and, from a strange
coincidence of circumstances, there is the highest proba¬
bility that the machinery got into the hands of a Pers°
who, with the assistance of others, knowing how to appq
it with skill and judgment, and to supply what might be de¬
ficient, raised upon it, by a gradual accession of proftt,
immense establishment, and a princely fortune.
The principles of Wyatt’s invention are containe
that portion of Paul’s specification which we here quote.
“ The wool or cotton being thus prepared (by caruug
into slivers), one end of the mass, rope, thread, or shve,
put betwixt a pair of rowlers; cillinders, c01JeS.’ ° tion
such movements, which being twined round by
SPINNING.
ining
53?
draws in the raw mass of wool or cotton to be snun in nrn • n t. ,
''portion to the velocity given to such rowlers cillinders or tho r pind vvlncJh receding from the rollers, twisted Spinning
U*. As the prepared Sass passes reguWy *roS or’be- s stdi os^r red ‘'T85 for the Th« machine
twixt these rowlers, cillinders, or cones, a suLssZ nfZh^r f t! the Wve in wool-spinning.
rowlers, cillinders, ”or cones,S>mov^n^propordcmablfoster vet^rnr^riTf' SPin?ng’ fowe^> remained
than the first, d'-aw the rope, thread, or sliver, into any de for ilJ p ctica]ly sol''ed’ and thls solution was reserved
gree of fineness which may be required. S^SesTheS R chtd STriglt “ in P°0r ci™-‘ances,_
successive rowlers, cillmders, or cones (but not the firsts Tit KoTf g r ,,
have another rotation besides that which diminishes the „ m ief-b d Ccess of rolle7]sPinnm^in the hands of Wyatt,
thread, yarn, or worsted, viz., that they ffhve moll t ^gemous man, would have deterred most men fhom
gree of twist betwixt each pair, by me!n? of the ^re,d “S01” i‘i but partial failure appears to ha™
itself passing through the axis and center of that rotation Hc' ano “ tIle Per®everinS Arkwright to fresh exertion.
In some other cases only the first pair of rowlers, cillinders’ cJl<] STu’ a barber by t1rade’ unaided, almost unedu-
or cones, are used, and then the bobbyn, spole or onilV !fd’ g t0tt . y Una.cquainted Wlth mechanics» perfected a
upon which the thread, yarn, or worsted^ spun ’is so con ’ nufi^T of ma^b!ne-sPmning wh'ch ultimately raised the ma¬
tured as to draw faster than th. fircp _„!il!P "’n?8 80 COn’ naPactures of his country to a height unexampled, and ob¬
tained for him honour and wealth.
Arkwright’s principle of roller-spinning need not here be
particularly described, as we shall have occasion to illustrate
more fully afterwards. It is only necessary generally to
temlerH ^th ^ thls mode of sPinning the material is ex¬
tended to the requisite degree by rollers, and twisted and
wound up by a flyer and bobbin, as in the small flax wheel,
the drawing, the twisting, and the winding up being simul¬
taneously carried on. Important as the invention of roller¬
spinning is, it is not on it alone that the fame of Ark
, or worsted is spun, is so con¬
trived as to draw faster than the first rowlers, cillinders or
cones give, and in such proportion as the first mass, rope,
or shver is proposed to be diminished.” ^
To appreciate rightly Wyatt’s invention, we must take
into consideration the state of the art at his day. No ma¬
chine, except the household wheels, already described, then
existed and their useful effect depended on the skill and
dexterity of the spinner. Wyatt’s invention contained the
germ of a self-acting and self-regulating principle; and the
«1 b, the hands that although unforffi; his1’^^ STfelt ‘b It T 0" .'l' a'°"e ‘haf the »f A*:
, . | | . uuioriunately lus success
was only partial, he is yet entitled to our admiration for the
originality of h,s genius. He did much for the art, if what
turned Fepared a foundation for Arkwright’s superstruc-
The next invention was one in which an effort was made
in the wool-wheel, in drawing awayTe rovinl XTl on Bolton. This mgentous Individ
t.l extended to the proper length, and, after living twLted' of HarnrfavL’6 dra"'in®,r0”er »f Arkwright with the jenny
it, windimrit on tfiP A.. , & _ lblca or nargreaves, produced a heaiiiiful }
til extended to the proper length, and, after h^gTlsted’
it, winding ,t on the cope or spindle. This was the “ Jenny”
of Hargreaves, a poor weaver of Lancashire. y
ff we imagine many spindles to be set in motion by one
be inserted hhetendS °Vhe r°Ving8 connected with thJse to
inserted between two pieces of wood, which, like the
SdldfbTdr W°U d p0ld them firmly’ and by winch they
could all he diawn back at one time by the left hand nf th^
spinner, whde with his right hand he could drive the wheel
idea oHheV 'f ^ CS -heir m°ti0n’ We sha11 have a good
han this fn spinning;Jenny’ which was indeed, no more
than this. In process of time, however, the machine was
snindlps dlfferent from t}‘e one first constructed. The
ravesWi^r^l^T eight (tbe number in Har¬
greaves s original machine) to eighty, and upwards- the
iZved SPflrhi?, or rovi"Ss held was
„Qrvr„ i ^ui minu aispJayed in
emodellmg the habits of people accustomed to desul-
syS?em.0rk,nS’ ’ Shl>rt’ “ establishi"g the factory
; The next peat invention was also produced by a man
in humble circumstances,—Samuel Crompton, a weaver at
Hall-m-tl,e-wood near Bolton. This ingenious indTvIduat
of Hargreaves, prodncld a beautiful, though “ewKS
fcT-,ne’ t0 ,Wl,,lh he fave the Wopriate name of
e mule-jenny. In the mule-jenny the drawing rollers are
mounted ,n a stationary frame, and the twisting'spindles in
a moveable carnage; the rovings are passed through the
rollers and attached to the spindles ; the rollers and spin-
d es are then made to revolve, and the carriage to recede
r hwrheerS’ carryingaway and twisting the attenuated
rove. When a sufficient quantity of rove has been given
out, the motion of the rollers is suddenly stopped and that of
the spindles of the carriage increased to nearly double its
former velocity, the carriage itself still receding from the
rollers, but at anout one-half its former speed ; thus the
greatest extension only takes place as throve eceives
twist to enable it to bear it. eceives
improved in form, and mounted on a° carrfage^ andJ mlde nufacT^ Werf a11 tbe offsPring of the cotton ma-
to run on a railway in the framing, the effect^of which u-o« ?tU[e » but it may be well supposed that the principle
n»re perfect equality of the thread, and a grtaS degree o?; d Vav y T'1*,800" bC “dorted ia ‘be ?pSg
W*« Ileal foToli *1^™r ™ ‘be?ffere„t;,^ SS
ZT Tplete- 11 sti" remained a dJmest.c imp1c- latorvSLSp,nn,n!’, T"6 “ada.t0™d«go severalprcpa-
small cost, and its use rapidly extended Thp is t ’ P ct ssef’ ^. le edbct °i which, when well performed,
jenny was imperfect in g0 far that j c'lf , be ZouZ to ed anT^ ^ ^eS’t0 UnraVeI those which are ontang-
wheel 2r0r5S’VVhich required t0 be formed on Sand- ^ contimin^ 'v ^ CaSe,°ufflax’t0 Present the whole mafs
bv thlli f described- This defect was soon remed ed sL th " ^ i l^i T nbb°n °fan equal width and den-
d?°p?8'2" 0n 11118fli-rtheop“a-
in aframPlied by r°llerS’ aHd the sPindles being mounted rather filhe h°ld P01'110" of s,Ich a shver with the hands
frame running on a railroad. The card rolfs IrTvers of th J fill f °m each 0ther than tbe average lengtli
Plane fori8 lTChine plaCed continuously on an inclined the slichlrr 1118 composed> we shall find that/by
Pp tQ ’t]P°rr.med by a travelling canvas, which conducteTthTm IhL^lthmilhrlhilfG0 0tller’ We can extend il a
3 Y
538
SPINNING.
Soinnintr frenerate a certain compression among the co-fibres, we shall
Spinmn,. generate a c^ ^ ^ extend the m conslderably
farther without breaking, and so by continued drawing and
Itttag we may attenulte the allver -f'‘S-
thread There are two circumstances which limit iU ex
sibility- The first is that state of it when many of the fibres
which compose it end together at the same place, an w
Tis one 7the objects of carding, and the purpose ot some
rf the after processes, to prevent. The second >s when e
friction produced by the twisting beeves so great tl,a
fibres will sooner break than slide on each other.
The operations, then, be prforme^byA^spmm^-
ftom'thepreparlly machines, by repeated operations or
intonr,r i”;
^uired,"twisting thrld peTfec^formed"
the fibres1 will 'sooner break through, than separate, by slid-
3 , andlry* an”additional apparatus the sliver is twjst-
11 and this drawing and twisting are earned on together
iif the spinning-frame and in the muh, jenny untd the com-
pleThe maruie'r'Tntiiich the drawing is effected may be
conveniently represented by a
figure. Let a a in the figure
represent a pair of rollers,
which are called retaining rol¬
lers; let these revolve in the
direction of the arrows with a
the ends of many fibres occurring at the same place. Hence Spimij
there exists a necessity for laying many slivers of the first s--yv
drawing together, for the second drawing, and many of
these again for the third drawing. This laying together
of the drawings, which is termed doubling, possesses the
advantage of ensuring greater equality in the thread, from
the inequalities of the separate drawings contemperating
each other. The oftener this doubling is repeated, the
more compact and equal, or level, the thread will be, and
the more capable of enduring attenuation from the rnter-
snersion of the endings ot the fibres. .
As an example, in figures, of the effect of the drawing and
doubling processes, suppose the velocity of the drawing
rollers to that of the retaining rollers, or, in other words,
the draught of the machine to be as 5 to 1, let the length
of the sliver before drawing be l, and its density 1; atter
the drawing we shall have the length increased to 5, and
the density diminished to -2. Suppose a doubling consist¬
ing of 8 of those new drawings to be put through the rol¬
lers, we shall have a new sliver formed, length 25, density
•32; and the result of this doubling being repeated four
direction ot tne arruwB ™ - given velocity, and receive
between them the sliver b d; they will thus impart to it
the rate of motion of their own surfaces; let cc be an¬
other pair of rollers, which are called drawing rollers,
revolving with twice the speed of a a, and receiving be¬
tween them the sliver. Imparting to it now their own
motion, they will cause it to move forward twice as fast as
it is yielded by a a, which it can only do by the fibres
sliding asunder: If, therefore, a given length of sliver be
passed through the roller, it will be drawn out to twice
its original length, and its sectional area will be but hall
of what it was. The drawing rollers have here been sup¬
posed to move twice as fast as the retaining rollers, but
their relative speed may be in other proportions. Aims
the drawing rollers may move three, four, or five times
faster than the other pair, and extend the sliver to three,
four, or five times its original length. This difference o
speed is termed the draught of the machine, and a machine
is said to have a draught of two, three, four, five, or six, as
the speed of the surface of the drawing rollers is so many
times greater than that of the retaining rollers. It is ob¬
vious that, to effect the lengthening of the sliver, the dis¬
tance between the drawing and retaining rollers must be
somewhat greater than the average length ot the fibres
which compose the sliver. For were the distance less than
this, the consequence would be disruption ot the fibres
themselves, from both rollers having hold of the opposite
ends of the same fibres at the same time. But the dis¬
tance may be too great, which would tend to make the fibres
separate entirely at the middle point between the rollers,
or at least to make the greatest attenuation take place
"Tis obvious, too, that the amount of extension which a
single sliver can endure must be small, from the danger of
times, the ratios being the same, that is in figures, ^ X
8 v A * JL —1^=: 6-5. will be a length of 625, and
If X 5 5 — 625
a density 6-5; that is to say, there will be 6-5 times as many
fibres in the same space as there were originally, and the
length will be increased to 625, this length of 625 being
made up of 4096 separate slivers, or ends, as they are
termed. . . • •
Such is the process of drawing without twist, in its sim¬
plest form, and as it is applied to cotton, wool, and silk
waste. In flax spinning the nature of the material renders
a more complicated apparatus necessary. Each fibre ot
flax, on minute examination, will be found to be made up
of a number of smaller parallel filaments bound together.
The separation of these bundled filaments is P^tiaHy ef¬
fected by the hackling process; but it ^ evident that
thread is not capable of its greatest degree of attenuation,
until the total separation of the filaments be compleuA
For this reason, a hackle, which shall separate the filaments,
is an essential part of the drawing apparatus for flax . and,
in the repeated doublings of the sUvers, a succe^on ot
machines is used, in which the hackles are gia ' ^
From the length of the fibres of the flax, the rollers re
quire to be at a considerable distance from each oflier,
and the hackles are placed in the interval between them-
They are fixed to an endless chain, working °ver * ,
and their points are made to move through the sliver,
with a speed a little greater than that ct t e
ing rollers. They thus have a double ^“L reS-
ing the silver immediately on its emission fr°m down
in-T rollers, and moving faster than it does, they P
the bundles of the fibres, and allow the ^0^
tended by the rollers. As they proceed onwards, the
tion of the drawing-rollers makes the extend^ g l
move many times faster than the hackle., >
means, straightens and lays parallel those ties
happen to be doubled, or to ie, the name
This ingenious apparatus is called the Gill,
0f"oe-which succeeds these repeated drawings,
whether made by the simple rollers or by thegH,
ing the sliver into a rove. For this puip ujne
of a bobbin and flyer is made to the draw^ t^
The bobbin is made to revolve ^ Xthe last pair ot
wind up the rove as fast as it is yielde Y ,P ^ t0
rollers, and the flyer with so much additional P
give to the sliver the desired twist win bobbin
the roller and the bobbin. As the diamete
SPINNING.
nning. is continually increasing by the accumulation of the rove,
and as the speed of the rollers remains constant, it is neces¬
sary to vary the speed of the bobbin, so that, as it increases
in diameter, it may diminish in speed, and wind up the
rove at the same rate throughout. The mechanism for
effecting this is, in some machines, very complicated.
The next operation is forming the thread from the rove.
For this there are two kinds of machines used,—one, the
throstle, which is a simplification of Arkwright’s spinning-
frame, and consists of a set of drawing rollers with bobbins
and flyers as in the roving frame ; the other is that com¬
bination of the drawing rollers with the jenny, which is
termed the mule. In the roving and throstle frames the
twisting apparatus is stationary, and merely twists, and
the twisting succeeds the drawing. In the mule the twist¬
ing apparatus recedes from the rollers faster than they yield
the sliver, and consequently has a drawing as well as a
twisting power. In the throstle, the rove being pulled by
the bobbin through the flyer, is, while yet tender, subject¬
ed to a continual strain. In the mule the rove is only sub¬
jected to strain, as it receives twist enough to enable it to
bear the strain without injury. The mule, too, by the
peculiarity of its mode of action, destroys those inequali¬
ties of the rove which result from defects in the drawing,
or injury sustained in the roving. To understand how it
does so, it is necessary to observe, that, when a thread of
unequal thickness is twisted, the fibres which compose the
thick parts, forming larger and more oblique spirals than
those which compose the small parts of the thread, require
a greater force to twist them, and consequently remain
soft, while the small parts become comparatively hard twist¬
ed. If a considerable length of such a thread were pulled,
the fibres of the thick parts would slide upon each other ;
while those of the smaller parts, being mutually compressed,
by their greater degree of torsion would resist the drawing
asunder. I he drawing would thus take place only in the
thick parts; and, as they diminished in size, the twist
would gradually become equally diffused. The mule, act¬
ing in this manner', with a drawing and twisting power,
upon a considerable length of unequally sized, and conse¬
quently unequally twisted rove, reduces its inequalities, and
renders it level and uniformly twisted throughout.
Having thus endeavoured to make the reader acquainted
with the general principles on which these machines act,
we shall now proceed to describe the machines themselves.
Arkwright s first machine was called the water-twist frame,
from having originally been driven by water-power. It
consisted of a pair of retaining rollers and a pair of draw¬
ing rollers, such as those we have used .for the sake of il¬
lustration, which effected the extension of the sliver. From
the drawing rollers the sliver passed to another pair of rol¬
lers, called the delivering rollers, which, moving with the
same velocity as the drawing rollers, had no extending
power, but merely compressed the sliver and delivered it
to the twisting apparatus. This consisted of the bobbin and
yer of the Saxon or flax wheel, improved in respect of
the flyer being rendered automatic in spreading the thread
on the bobbin, in the manner which will be seen in the de¬
scriptions and drawings of the roving and spinning ma-
clines; and this automatic action was shortly afterwards,
with good effect, transferred from Arkwright’s machine to
a rl a. .'W^ee^ by a Mr. Antis. Each system of rollers
wisting apparatus in Arkwright’s machine was separ-
e, an was driven by a separate system of gearing, and
pvt e\S an^ bonds, rendering the machine, when of great
en , exceedingly complicated. One of the greatest im-
j ‘ovements of modern days, is the simplification of the
u.v ,ln^ Parts> by making each roller continuous along the
driv'6 en&tl 0 tbc machine, and using only one set of
mak'11^ afParatus ut the one or other extremity, and by
lug the shaft for driving the twisting machinery also
539
continuous, as will be seen in the drawing of the frame Spinning,
for flax spinning. y_r—
\\ e have seen that the parts of the machine which per¬
form the operations of drawing and twisting, viz. the rollers,
and the bobbin and flyer apparatus, are very simple. The com-
pexity arises, therefore, from the number of parts required
to communicate motion to these parts, and to regulate their
movements; and the arbitrary nature of the form and ar¬
rangements of the parts for communicating motion, causes
the great differences which exist in the various spinning
machines. In a brief sketch like the present, it is obviously
impossible to notice the many beautiful arrangements which,
from time to time, have been introduced. In addition to
those machines figured in Plates CLXXVII. CLXXVIII.
CLXXIX. Art. Cotton Manufacture, we shall pre¬
sent our readers with some of the spinning machines used
in the flax manufacture, and also with the latest improve-
ments in the cotton and worsted spinning machines, which
we are enabled to do in the most perfect manner, having,
through the kindness and liberality of Mr. Smith of Dean-
ston, been furnished with beautiful drawingsof the self-actor
cotton and woollen mules, of which he is the inventor and
patentee.
Referring then to the above-mentioned Plates, we pro- Spreading
ceed to the description of the machines contained in machine.
Plates CCCCLXV. CCCCLXVI. CCCCLXVII. Plate
CCCCLXV, fig. 1st, is an end view of the first machine
used in the operation of flax spinning, and which is called
the spreading machine. A is a board or table, called the
spreading table, over the surface of which an endless web
moves round rollers at its opposite ends; on this endless web
the stricks of flax are spread, and are by it carried forward to
the retaining rollers B. As it comes from between these rol¬
lers, it is acted on at the opposite side by the gills or moving
hackles, which, with their moving apparatus, occupy the space
between B and C the drawing rollers; the upper draw¬
ing roller C is moved by the friction of the under one, and
is called the pressing roller; its surface is usually covered
with leather. The pressure is communicated either by a
level and weight, as in the figure, or by a spring and screw.
D the delivering rollers. I hese have no drawing power, and
move just so fast as to keep the sliver tight between them
and the drawing rollers, and by them the sliver is dis¬
charged into the can E, placed to receive it. All these rol¬
lers, when seen in front, as in fig. 2, exhibit the appear¬
ance of narrow wheels, as, were they made broader than is
required for the mere action on the sliver, the flinty surface
of the flax Would speedily wear them down into channels,
while, by being narrow, their whole surface is worn down
equally, and funnel-shaped plates are placed in front of the
rollers, to guide the sliver properly between them. The
whole of the motions are taken from the drawing-roller shaft
in the following manner. A belt from the main gearing of
the mill works over a fast pulley on the drawingroller-shaf t,
which has also a corresponding loose pulley to receive the belt
when the machine is to be stopped. To avoid complexity,
these pulleys are not shewn in the drawings. A pinion a,
on the end of the drawing roller-shaft, communicates
motion through two intermediate stud wheels b, c, to a
pinion d, on the end of the shaft which drives the gill
a.ppai atus; on the end of the shaft is fixed a small pinion e,
fig. 3, to drive the under retaining roller B, through a spur-
wheel whose axle carries a small pinion g, gearing into
another spur wheel h, which gears into a spur-wheel i, fix¬
ed on the roller axle, and the upper retaining roller is driven
by the friction of the under one. The pinion on the shaft
of the spur-wheel yj also drives the inner roller of the spread¬
ing table through an intermediate spur-wheel k, working
into a spur-wheel l, fixed on the roller axle. The lower
delivering roller has on its end a pinion m, which is driven
through the intermediate wheel o by the pinion n fixed
540
S P I N N I N G.
Spinning, on the end of the drawing roller-shaft o. From this pinion
motion is also conveyed to other three portions of the ma¬
chinery; first, through the wheels p q, to the cleaning rollei
which is seen at F in the figures ; this roller is formed
of wood covered with listing, which rubs on the surface
of the pressing roller, and removes any filaments that may
adhere to it; second, through an intermediate wheel and
pinion r, to a wheel s, on the shaft of which a circular
brush is fixed, whose purpose is to clean the gills, as is
seen in the enlarged representation of that part of the ap¬
paratus at fig. 11; and, third, to another pinion t, whose
shaft carries an endless screw working into the teeth of a
small wheel u, called the measuring wheel. Its purpose is to
give notice to the attendant of the machine, whenever a pre¬
determined quantity of sliver has passed through the lolleis.
this it does by a stud fixed on its face coming in contact,
at every revolution, with the tail of a lever v, whose other
end is attached by a wire to the spring of a bell; when the
stud, in its progress round, comes in contact with the upper
end of the lever, the spring of the bell is drawn from its
position, and the moment the stud escapes the lever, the
spring is let back with a jerk, which rings the bell. The
wheel can be substituted by others containing a greater or
lesser number of teeth, according to the length of sliver re-
^The only remaining part of the machine to be noticed is,
a shaking motion, communicated to the cans while receiv¬
ing the sliver, that it may be deposited in regular layers.
This is best seen in fig. 1. I he can is placed on a
hinged bracket at v, and is steadied by another bracket at x,
both brackets having semicircular arms, which partly em¬
brace the can; to these brackets, and consequently to the
can, a regular jolting motion is communicated as follows.
On a rod which passes across the machine a short lever y
works; on its outer end is hung a weight, and to its other
end is attached a rigid rod, connecting it with an eccen¬
tric fixed on the drawing roller-shaft. The lever is by this
means jolted alternately up and down in every revolution of
the drawing roller, and being connected by rods with the
brackets v, x, they, witli their cans, are also moved in the
same manner.
Flax, after having been passed through the spreading
machine, is drawn twice or oftener. The drawing machine
is the same as the spreading machine, except in having no
spreading table, the sliver being drawn directly from the
cans, which are carried from the spreading machine, and
placed at the retaining roller end of the drawing machine
at H, and in having three in place of two retaining rollers.
The drawing machine, too, is of a lighter construction than
the spreading machine, and its gill teeth are finer.
Figs. 4 and 5 shew the two sides of the machine. A is
the drawing roller-shaft, and the motion is communicated
from it to the other parts as in the spreading machine.
The roving machine, fig. 6, is similar to the drawing ma¬
chine, except that it is still lighter in construction, and that
in it, in place of the delivering rollers, and the cans to receive
the sliver, there is substituted the apparatus for twisting the
rove seen detached in fig. 7. When the sliver leaves the
drawing rollers of this machine, it is passed through the top
part of the spindle, which is tubular, and called the eye of the
spindle; it is then conducted by the flyers K to the bobbins L.
The arms of the flyers are usually bent wires, with eyelits at
their lower extremity, through which the thread is passed.
Here they are represented to be tubular throughout their
whole length, this being considered to make a smoother
thread. The parts of the machine not already described are,
the spindle rail M,tlle coping rail or shifting plate N, on which
the lower disc of the bobbin rests. The coping rail has an
alternating motion up and down through a space equal to the
surface of the bobbins on which the threads are spread; and by
carrying the bobbin through this space, the thread is spiead
Drawing
machine.
Roving
machine.
equally over its surface. This alternating movement is vari- Spinm
ously effected. In the machine represented, it is done by a
mangle wheel at O; but in other machines it is given by a
heart wheel acting on the rail through a lever and chain.
From the circumstances before described, it is necessary
that the rotatory motion of the spindle and bobbin should
be, to a certain extent, independent of each other; and,
accordingly, while the speed of the spindle remains con¬
stant, the speed of the bobbin is made to diminish as its
diameter increases by the accumulation of thread. In
the ordinary construction of the machine, this differential
movement is regulated by the attendant, by the friction
of a string which can be made to embrace more or less
of the periphery of the bottom disc of the bobbin, as repre¬
sented in the figure of the spinning machine. The spin¬
dle and bobbin are both driven by a band passing over a
pulley fixed to them; and while the speed of the spindle re¬
mains constant, that of the bobbin is gradually diminished as
it fills, by the attendant moving the string successively along
into the different teeth of a rack, so as to make it embrace
more and more of the surface of the bottom disc, and thus
create a friction which retards the speed. 1 hus the proper
working of the machine depends entirely upon the vigilance
of its superintendent; and a simple yet accurate differential
movement is still a desideratum.
In the machine represented in the plate, the differential
movement is exceedingly accurate and beautiful, but is so
complex that it would require many detailed drawings, to
give the reader a correct idea of it. This motion, and many
other improvements in the spinning apparatus, are the inven¬
tion, we believe, of Mr. Fairbairn of Leeds.
Figs. 8 and 9 are a side and front view of a spinning SP™
frame, drawn from a machine constructed by Mr. Russell
of Kirkaldy. A A is the bobbin rail on which the bobbins
from the roving machine are placed; b b, the retaining
rollers; cc, slip rollers for guiding the rove; dd, drawing
rollers ; e, the traverse shaft; f the cylinder shaft.
The cylinder shaft is driven from the main gearing.
A belt from a pulley on the end of the cylinder shaft gives
motion to a pulley, which is called the speed pulley, be¬
cause all the motions are calculated from it. The speed
pulley shaft carries a pinion gearing into a wheel 6, on the
end of the drawing roller shaft, which again, by a train of
wheels, communicates motion to the retaining rollers, the
spindles are driven by small bands from the cylinders of
the cylinder shaft passing over wharves on the spindle
shaft; and the differential motion of the bobbin is produced
by the friction obtained from a small cord or temper-band,
as it is called, embracing more or less of the periphery ot
the under disc of the bobbin, as before described.
The motion of the heart-wheel, which, through the lever
and chain, gives the traverse motion to the bobbin, is taken
bv wheel and pinion from the retaining roller shaft, ine
speed of the spindle is from 3200 to 3500 revolutions per
minute. The average work of this machine is two hasps ot
yarn, of average quality, for each spindle in a working day
of twelve hours. _ .
The machines for drawing and spinning tow are
same, or nearly the same, as those for spinning flfx- f r0™
the shortness of the fibre of tow, the drawing and retaining
rollers are set much closer together, and the gu s are
In the fine spinning of flax, the thread is moistened, by
being made to pass through a trough contammg wate ,
practice probably derived from the custom of spinster
tening the thread with saliva in household sP'”n'n,?' D
the modern improvement of the substitution of o
water, a much finer, smoother, and more even t irea
spun from the same quality of flax than before.
The flax-spinning machinery has recently e
duced with great success into the spinning o si
SPINNING.
541
ing- which was formerly treated in the same manner as cotton.
As the gills are used in the spreading, the drawing, and
the roving machines, and as it is in the use of the gills that
flax machines differ from the machines for spinning cotton,
we have given in figs. 10, 11, and 12, the two kinds in ordi¬
nary use.
Fig. 10 shews the common chain gill. A A are the gill
rollers; B the gill chain, consisting of a series of links,
jointed together at their lower extremity, as is better seen
in the separate representation of them at C. There is one
of these gill chains at each side of the machine, and they
are connected together by the guard bars d d, which ex¬
tend across the machine. The gills are attached to the
gill stocks e e, which stretch across the machine, and
whose ends work through the slit in the links of the gill
chain, and extend beyond the links into the slit of the
guide frame f, of which there is one on each side of the
machine. These slits are called the gill slides, and per¬
form the office which we will immediately see. As the gill
stocks are carried round by the links of the gill chain, it is
evident that they will be elevated or depressed according
as the path of the links agrees with the line of the slides.
Their path and the slides are so made to agree from a to
b, that the stocks occupy the highest point of the links, and
the hackles are protruded to their greatest extent, and work
through the sliver in its passage between the retaining and
drawing rollers. At the point b, the slides suddenly diverge
from their former line, and nearly at right angles, by which
divergence the gill stocks’ ends are suddenly moved from
the highest to the lowest point of the link, and the hackles
arc withdrawn from the sliver nearly at right angles. In
following further the course of the guides, it will be seen
that the circles of the slides are of the same size as those of
the inner ends of the links, and consequently the gills are
retained at the inner end of the links until the divergence
of the slide at a again protrudes the hackles through the
sliver in a direction nearly at right angles to its course.
When the gills are withdrawn, their points fall just beneath
the level of the guard bars which sustain the sliver, and in
the case of entanglement, prevent it from being drawn down
along with the gills.
Such is the common flax gill; and its defects are, first,
that the teeth of the gills cannot be made to approach close
enough to the drawing rollers, or to enter the sliver imme¬
diately after leaving the retaining rollers; and, second, that
they do not leave and enter the sliver at right angles to its
course. To remedy these defects, the screw gill has been
introduced. Of this a longitudinal section is given at fig. 11,
and a transverse section at fig. 12. a a, a a, are four screws;
the two upper screws have their threads lying in the reverse
directions of the under ones; bb are the gill bars, stretching
across between the opposite pairs of screws, and having their
endsjworking in the screw threads. When the upper screws
are moved round their axis, the gill bars are carried forward
through the sliver, being supported in their position by the
bracket pieces cc, under the screws. These bracket pieces
and the threads of the screw terminate, just at the draw ing
roller, so that when the gill bar has arrived at that point,
it is no longer supported by the bracket, and falls down to
a lower bracket dd, which guides it in the same manner for
the under screws. In its fall the gill bar is aided by a cam
on the screw-shaft striking it when it has reached the termi¬
nation of the screw, and it is guided in its descent, and press¬
ed into the thread of the lower screw', by a strap of iron
torced against it by a lever. The threads of the lower screws
are so arranged as to carry the gills along on its bracket
piece towards the retaining rollers, and when it has reached
tie termination of the screw, a cam on the screw-shaft, with
a guiding apparatus as before, raises the gill again to the
upper bracket, to be acted on again by the upper screws.
As an introduction to the description of Mr. Smith’s self¬
acting mule, it is necessary to give the reader a general idea Spinning,
of the hand-mule jenny, a representation of which will be
found at Plate CLXXVTII, fig. 12. By consulting that Cotton
figure, the reader will see that the mule consists of two dis-mule'jenny*
tinct parts; first, the beam at the right hand of the figure
carrying the drawing rollers; and, second, the carriage upon
which the spindles are mounted for the purpose of giving
twist, the beam being stationary, and the carriage capable
of moving upon iron races along the extent of the machine,
as may be seen by the dotted lines on the figure. Motion
is communicated to the different parts by mechanism,
mounted on a frame-work placed across the mule, either at
one end or in the centre. This frame-work, with its appa¬
ratus, is called the headstock.
When the mule is put in motion to perform the opera¬
tion of spinning, the rollers are moved by wheel-work from
the headstock, and the carriage is gradually moved outwards,
keeping pace with the delivery of the rollers; and while
this process is going on, the spindles are put into a rapid
motion by belts and bands proceeding from the fly-wheel
of the headstock, and which can be adjusted to give such
an amount of twist as may be necessary. The whole of
the twist may be thrown in during the outcoming of the
carriage, as is generally done in spinning wefts, or as in
twist-spinning, when part is thrown in during the slubbing,
and the remainder after the carriage has reached its limit,
and the rollers have stopped. In the outward movement
of the carriage, the mule is driven by power communicated
from the main gear to the fly-wheel shaft of the headstock,
by a belt with a fast pulley, and when the stretch or draw
has been completed, the machine is entirely stopped, by the
belt being thrown on a loose pulley adjoining. The spinner
then lays hold of the fly-wheel with one hand, and turns it
back so far as to throw off all the coils from the stems of
the spindles, which is technically called backing off, while
with the other hand he puts down the taller or guide
to the proper position for winding the threads on the copes.
He then pushes the carriage towards the beam, directing
the faller with one hand, so as to guide the threads in pro¬
per form on the cope, while with the other hand he turns
forward the fly-wheel with such force, as to cause the
threads to be wound upon the copes with a uniform and pro¬
per tension. When the carriage has arrived at the beam,
he lifts up the faller wire, so as to throw the threads in coils
from the copes to the points of the spindles, thus com¬
pleting the draw or stretch, as it is called, and leaving the
whole in proper order to commence a new draw. The
driving belt being then thrown on the fast pulley, the ma¬
chine is again put in motion, and so goes on successively.
All these motions are in Mr. Smith’s machines performed Smith’s
at the proper instant by the machines themselves. Plate self-acting
466 fig. 1, shews a side elevation of the headstock, and cotton
an end elevation of the carriage. Fig. 2 is a bird’s eye viewF111!6-
of the carriage, race-rods, &c. The other figures in theJ61111^
same plate exhibit details of the mechanism, which will be
referred to in their proper place.
The same letters refer to the same parts in all the
figures. A AAA is the framing of the headstock, B the
beam upon which the rollers are mounted, C the race-rods
upon which the carriage runs, D the frame-work of the
ends of the carriage, E the wooden rails of the carriage.
The motion of all the parts of the machine is derived by
belts and pullies from the driving shaft F, which is itself
driven by a belt from the main gearing acting on its fast
pulley G, and when it is necessary to stop the whole machine,
the belt is thrown on the loose pulley H. The driving shaft
carries two pullies; a belt from the larger one I drives the
pulley K of the speed-shaft T, and a belt from the smaller
one L drives the pulley of the change-shaft M. These two
shafts also carry loose pullies, on which the belts are thrown
at the proper instant for stopping the motion of the shafts.
542
SPINNING
Spinning, by levers and apparatus whose action will be better de- wheel fixed to the shaft, and the pauls of the ratchet are Spinr,
scribed while noticing the action of the machine. attached to the wheel k. Hence it follows, that when tlie
The regular outward motion of the carriage, its time of spur-wheel is driven in that direction in which the pauls will
rest when at its outward limit, to allow time for the twist- slip over the ratchet, the ratchet-wheel, and consequently
ing of the threads, and its rapid inward motion during the the shaft /, and the rollers, will remain stationary, and this
winding of the threads on the copes, is obtained from the they do while the regulating wheel is performing its back-
change-shaft N in the following manner. The near end of ward motion ; but when the regulating wheel is moving in
the change-shaft carries a pinion O, which, through the the opposite direction, the pauls of the spur-wheel catch
wheels abc, drives the shaft c. The shaft c is carried in on the ratchet-wheel, and give motion to it and to the rol-
the lower, and the shaft of the wheel p in the upper socket
of a frame, called the vibrating frame, from its having a vi¬
brating motion, by its axis turning in bearings dd. The
further end of the shaft c carries a pinion ol eight, nine, or
lers.
Having thus described the manner in which the motion
of the carriage and rollers is effected, we will now show how
the twisting and winding-on motion is communicated to the
more leaves, which works into the teeth of a peculiarly spindles of the carriage. The speed-shaft K, we have seen,
formed wheel P, called the regulating wheel; and it is this is driven directly from the driving-shaft pulley I; from the
wheel, by the motion derived from its singular line of teeth, pulley R of the speed-shaft a band proceeds and passes over
which’ effects the varied movements of the carriage, by the the stud pulley in the frame at IP, and over the guide pul-
spur-wheel e attached to it working into the teeth of the lies of the carriage at S> and thence to the drums 43, which
carriage-rack Q. Q. When the pinion is working into the act on the spindles in the usual way ; by this a uniform re¬
carnage
outer ring of the teeth, which, it will be observed, are re¬
versed, the regulating wheel and its spur-wheel move in a
regular manner, and roll the carriage outward. W hen the
carriage has arrived at its outward limit, the pinion will have
begun to act on those teeth of the wheel which are eccen-
volving motion is communicated to the spindles, while the
carriage is running out, and during its pause at the end of
the course. The speed-shaft must then be stopped, that
the backing off may take place, and while the carriage con¬
tinues its inward motion, as, although the speed-shaft moves
trie, and which, lying nearly in the direction of a radius of and drives the spindles during this inward motion, for the
the wheel, cannot give it rotatory motion ; it therefore stops, purpose ot winding on the thiead, yet the winding-on mo-
and the carriage of course is also stationary, while the tion being variable in speed, and the speed of the shaft be*
pinion, rolling along the radial line of teeth, forces the vi- ing constant when chiven by the driving-shaft pulley, it is
brating frame, which carries its shaft, to vibrate round its necessary for winding on, to drive it by some other means.
axis, to enable the pinion to approach nearer to the centre
of the regulating wheel. When it arrives at that part where
the teeth begin to get concentric, it again puts the regu¬
lating wheel in motion, but in an opposite direction to its
former motion, for the teeth are now outward. This causes
the inward movement of the carriage, which is much more
rapid than its outward movement, from the smallness of the
circle of teeth. When the carriage, in its inward motion
Accordingly, an apparatus is provided, which at this junc¬
ture throws the driving belt of the speed-shaft upon its loose
pulley, and at the same time lets fall a break m upon a break
pulley fixed upon the shaft, and thus allows the new mov¬
ing parts or winding-on apparatus to come into play. The
break is attached to the short end of a lever n, to the upper
part of whose long end a spiral spring is attached. The ac¬
tion of the spring tends constantly to force the breaks upon
has nearly reached the drawing rollers, the pinion will have the pulley, but it is restrained by a catch which is w ithdrawn
begun to work into the opposite eccentric line of teeth; at the proper moment by the action ot an apparatus
this, as before, will be followed by a reverse vibration of the atrprwnrrls Hpsrrihed: and when the winding on is cc
frame, and the simultaneous stopping of the regulating
wheel, until the pinion have again arrived at the reversed
teeth of the outer circle, when the same series of move¬
ments is again ready to take place, and these changes in
the motion of the carriage are, by the peculiar form of the
line of teeth, made in the most gentle manner. It is ne¬
cessary that the carriage maintain perfect parallelism with
the line of the drawing rollers throughout its course; nor will
this appear to be easily effected, when we consider that it is
t°
be afterwards described; and when the winding on is com¬
pleted, the break is withdrawn from the pulley, and the
break lever again put on its catch, by the action of a cam
fixed to the under socket of the vibrating frame pressing
down the lever friction-pulley, as is better seen in detached
fig. 3. To communicate the winding-on motion to the
speed-shaft, when its twdsting motion is stopped, there are
three or more pauls o, attached within the rim of the break
pulley, which, when, the speed shaft is at rest, fall into a
ratchet-wheel o', to which is attached a spur-wheel p, fitted
sometimes fifty or sixty feet long, and that the force for loose upon the shaft; but when the speed sha t is m u
moving it is applied either at one end or at the middle of motion, the pauls, by the action of the centiifugal force, are
its length. This parallelism of the carriage, which is tech- thrown out of the ratchet-wheel, which, with the spur-wheel,
nically called squaring, is effected in hand-mules by means may thus remain at rest, or be driven at any s ov er oi
of bands, called squaring bands; but in this machine it is quicker rate by the spur wheel q of the w'inding-on s a t r,
effected in the following manner. A long shaft or cylin- which derives its motion from the roller shaft throng i te
derff, which, for the sake of lightness, is constructed of spur-wheels s,r, and it is plain that when the belt o e
iron or tin-plate, passes along the whole length of the car- speed-shaft T is throwm on the^ loose pulley, causing e
riage, and carries upon it at each end, and sometimes, in long
carriages, in the middle also, toothed wheels g g, which,
working into racks hh, attached to the races or railroad on
which the carriage runs, insure perfect parallelism in its - —     j   - , .
movements. T. The motion thus transmitted from the roller snatt ,
From the spur-w'heel e, attached to the regulating wheel, which is itself moved by the regulating wheel P) * e
the motion of the drawing rollers R is derived through the spindles, is capable of adjustment by a peculiar mec ’
wheels i k l; but as the motion of the rollers is only in one so that the motion ot the spindles, and the degree o  
direction, and continues only during the outward motion of
the carriage, while the regulating wheel has a forward and
backward motion, there is required a means of disconnect¬
ing them, when it is necessary that the rollers should stop
Accordingly, the wheel k, through which the roller shaft b is
driven, runs loose on that shaft, but has within it a ratchet
shaft to stop, and the pauls of the break pulley to fall into
the ratchet-wReel o', then the motion transmitted from the
roller shaft to the spur-wheel p, to which the ratchet-whee
o’ is attached, will be by it communicated to the speed snait
sion which the threads undergo in winding on, may be mo¬
dified in the degree required. This elegant differentia
movement, carried by the shaft r, is seen at fig. 4. An arm
1 is carried by the shaft r, from which a stud 2 projects, car¬
rying a pinion 3 ; this pinion on the one side gears mto
series of inverted teeth, extending round near the penp erJ
S|j in?
SPINNING.
of the friction pulley t, and on the other into a series ofex-
. ternal teeth 4; the pulley t, and the wheel 4, are both fitted
loose on the shaft r; when the shaft r, with its arm 58, move
round, the pinion being in gear both with the teeth of the
pulley and the wheel 4, has a tendency to carry both of
them in rotation with it; but if either of them be held fast,
it is evident that the motion of the pinion will communicate
so much additional motion to that which is loose, by ac¬
quiring from the stationary wheel a motion round its own
centre, as well as its motion round the shaft. In this way,
whatever part of the motion of the one is restrained, will be
imparted to the other. This restraint is imparted to the pulley
if, by a band or strap passing round it in its groove. The band
is of cotton thread, made fast atone end to a stud if, project¬
ing from the frame, and passed round the pulley and carried
along to the opposite end of the headstock, where it is at¬
tached to the cross-tail t' if of the lever u-, and the degree of
tension communicated to the friction-band can be modified
within certain limits, by the lever u having a moveable
weight u' adjustable in any position by means of the pinch¬
ing screw. When the threads are winding upon the bare
stems of the spindles, at the beginning of a new set of copes,
and for a few stretches after the commencement, it is ne¬
cessary to increase the motion of the spindles suddenly at
the beginning of each winding on, until the bottom of the
cope has acquired some volume. For this purpose an ad¬
ditional pressure is applied to the lever v, through the con¬
necting rod proceeding from the lever w,upon the lower sur¬
face of which pressure is thrown by a simple apparatus con¬
nected with the building bar of the carriage, to be after¬
wards described.
The mode by which the amount of twist is regulated, is
as follows. On the outer end of the driving shaft F, there
is an endless screw F, working into a screw-wheel X, on the
end of an upright shaft. The number of teeth on the screw-
wheel is so regulated, as to cause it to perform one revolu¬
tion during the time when the twist is throwing into the
threads, after the carriage has reached its limits at the head ;
and it stops the twist by a cam X', on its upright shaft
acting on the levers, which throw the belts from the fast to
the loose pulley of the speed-shaft.
The next thing to be considered is the apparatus attach¬
ed to the carriage for backing off, and for building the threads
regularly on the copes during the winding on. When
the carriage has arrived at the utmost, limit of its outward
stretch, and the spindles have been stopped by the break,
then before the taller wire can be put down to guide the
threads upon the spindles, the operation of backing off
oi unwinding the spiral coils of thread from the spindles,
takes place. The usual mode of effecting this, is by causing
t ie spindle to make three or four backward revolutions ; but
a more simple mode is here adopted. An under faller shaft
U’ 'Vlttl lts arms and wire, stretches along the whole length
ot the carriage, and is placed behind the building faller shaft
p’ , ut; *ts. arms are so much longer, that its wire is in front
o the building wire, and the wire is kept in such a posi-
ion, while the carriage is coming out, as to be at about a
qu.ar er 0 an mch distance below the threads, and by being
raised at the proper moment, it strips the spiral coils from
j16 indies. To the further end of the under faller
,ere 18 attached a lever y, carrying an adjustable nut
k Part ot which the upper part of a spiral spring
mi ^ a h°0k> and its lower end to the framework
anri ’ l le e^ect °f the spring is to draw down the lever,
consequently to raise the under faller wire. This is how-
the ^Unt^racted until the proper moment for stripping off
umW cnby f Projecting lever s at the other end of the
the un a Cr being held down by a moveable rod z
543
boltT^6-' en(| the rod is attached to the lever z by a stud
ver anff-fngitlir0Ugh an °Pening in the arc head of the le-
i s ower end rests on an inclined plane, forming
part of the bmldmg-on apparatus to be afterwards describ- Spinning
ed. On the rod there is an adjustable stud, made fast by
a pinching screw, which, resting on the top of a lever W,
prevents the spring from drawing up the under faller. When
this lever is turned round its fulcrum, in the manner we
shall afterwards see, it allows the rod to fall, and the under
faller consequently to rise, and the faller is again depressed
at the proper instant, by the inclined plane z" attached to
the building-on apparatus, which we shall afterwards de¬
scribe, raising the rod into its original position, in which it
is again retained by the lever W. From the near end of
the building wire shaft V there projects a toothed arc 5,
gearing into a vertical rack 6. This rack has a small pro¬
jection on the back, to which is jointed the folding arm 7,
whose opposite end is jointed to the folding leg 8. The lower
extremity of the folding leg carries a friction pulley, which
rests on the upper surface of the curved piece 9 ; and it also
carries a T-headed nut, which works in a vertical groove on
the spur piece 10 attached to the carriage, and so guides
the lower end of the folding leg in a vertical line, while it
is moved up and down by the action of the curved piece.
If the bent arm and leg be drawn into the same straight
line, while the friction pulley of the leg remains in its po¬
sition, the rack to which the upper joint of the arm is at¬
tached will move up, and acting upon the toothed rack of
the building wire shaft, will turn that shaft round, and de¬
press the wire; and the depression of the wire will be greater
or less, as the foot of the folding leg is at a higher or lower
point of its vertical slit. 1 o force the folding leg and arm
into the same straight line, the following apparatus is em¬
ployed. A sliding bar X called the poker, resting upon a
beaiing at II, is attached by a joint to the connecting arm
12, whose other end is attached by a joint to the folding
leg. When the carriage is nearly at the limit of its back¬
ward motion, the end of the poker to which the arm 12 is
attached, catches against, and is retained by the end of the
lever 13, while the carriage runs back to its full stretch.
The poker is thus sent home, and as a consequence, carries
with it the arm 12, and the jointed leg and arm 8 and 7;
and it carries these a little beyond the vertical position or
line of centres, from which they are again disengaged, and
lall into the position represented in the drawing, when the
carriage, having arrived nearly at the limit of its inward
course, causes the adjustable nut at the other end of the
poker to strike against the bracket piece Y of the frame.
In considering the next apparatus described, we shall show
that the point upon which the folding leg rests, is subject
to being raised and lowered, and consequently the sliding
bar is also raised and lowered; the effect of which is to
make the nut at the end of the poker strike on different
vertical points of the restraining bracket Y; so that by mak¬
ing the surface of this bracket upon which the points strike
to lie in an oblique direction, the exact period ofliberating
the jointed ieg and the building faller can be regulated with
precision. Thus, when the building takes place at the bot¬
tom of the spindles, the faller is made to be liberated sooner
than when the building approaches nearer to the point, and
by this means the due tension of the thread is preserved
at the lifting of the faller. A palm from the arm 12,
reaches to the supporting lever W of the under faller, and
carries a stud which works through the curved slit in the tail
of the lever, and retains it in its position ; and a small spiral
spring, seen in the drawing, being attached to the end of the
palm, and to a pin upon the folding leg, serves to keep the
arm 12 in its place. Prom this arrangement it follows,
that as the lower end of the folding leg is moved up in its
vertical slit, it will carry the stud of the palm nearer to the
fulcrum of the lever W; and that when the jointed arm and
leg are brought into the same straight line, the stud of the
palm will force the lever W round its fulcrum more or less
quickly, as the stud of the palm is at a greater or less dis-
544
SPINNING.
Spinning, tance from the lever’s fulcrum, or, what is the same thing,
' as the lower end of the folding leg is more or less elevated
in its vertical slit. . , , . . , , .
The form of the copes when finished is conical; and to
build the thread in this form, it is necessary that the build¬
ing wire should at first have a very limited range of mo-
. * .1 i  v-krt*** rv-P hnhmn alOOG
by the screw and winch, and raise the nose-piece, ready to Spim
commence a new set of copes. The apparatus which forces^/
the poker home is the spinner lever 13, whose inner end is
attached by a universal joint to one end of another lever, 26,
the other end of which is attached to the bottom of the vibrat¬
ing frame. When the regulating wheel ceases to move, the
ing wire should at first have a very mn c g vibrating frame vibrates nearer to its centre, and by means
lion, guiding the thread over par of the bobbin alone ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ outer end of the spinner ]ever
where the body or thickest part o P toward the carriage, which is at that time nearly at the
t be liml. of 1U ou.warS course; and .he .ever thus ,aSs ho.d o.
completed. To effect this, it is necessary that the appara¬
tus of the jointed rods which we have described, should first
have a very limited range of motion. The friction pu y
at the foot* of the rod, rests, as has been said, on the curve
surface of the Pf6 9' ^‘“nVuelsT^sin^down to bein'?at'the rolleibeaius, the machine is put in motioS;
building frame at 14, and has a tong , p ? d • and the pinion working in the outer teeth of the regulating
wheel, brings out the carriage with a slow and uniform mo-
through which a screw, held in bearings in the headpiece
17 works. On the end of the screw there is a ratchet-wheel
18, which is moved round a tooth at every traverse of the
carriage, by the lever of its paid being acted uponby an
inclined plane 19, attached to the carnage ; and thus the
screw carries the nut 16 and its pin along the slit in the
headpiece, under the end of the tongue of the curved piece
15 A diagonal bar 20 in the building frame rests also up¬
on the nut pin. The lower surface of this diagonal bar is near¬
ly a straight line. As the pin moves along under this sur¬
face, the building frame 21 is allowed to drop gradually in
proportion to the obliquity of the diagonal; but as the sur¬
face of the tongue 15, which rests on the pin, forms an an¬
cle with the line of the plane of the diagonal, so the tongue-
piece, and the curved surface-piece to which it is attached,
will be allowed to drop more than the building frame, as the
nut passes along; and the curved surface will thus be more
and more declined from the horizontal position, thereby al¬
lowing a greater vertical movement of the folding leg at
each successive draw, the effect of which will be t° increase ^ fche breaklever"-catch"38, and allows the break to
the range of the faU ing wire, an^^^^^e^ f u d n the break puUey, and stop the movement of
to^a certain pointf iTescapes the speed-sLft mid spindles. At the same instant, the cam
along the surface of the diagonal only, which being straight,
and at a regular inclination, allows the building frame to
fall down through equal spaces at each successive draw, pro¬
ducing also equal increase on the range of motion of the
falling wire. When a set of copes has been completed, the
pin is wound back by the winch attached to the end of the
screw. The whole of this apparatus is attached to a sliding
bar 22, working on studs fixed to the frame of the carriage,
and having at its further end a rack, into which a pinion,
attached to a wheel on the axis of the carriage, works. p ^ bar or poker, there-
This wheel moving in unison with the carriage, by means of fulcrum a Ji ^ the\inder tidier, which
the pinion and rack, causes the sliding bar to perform y t • „ tjle coqs and the continued
traverse of six inches at each draw. The curved piece 9 is ^-efoately rises and strips foe cods, ^ ^ ^
thus moved under the friction pulley at the foot of the fold¬
ing leg, and forces it to move in its vertical slit, to the ex¬
tent regulated by the screw apparatus which we have just
described. To this building apparatus is attached the sim¬
ple addition before alluded to, for throwing an additional
pressure on the lever v. It consists of a small lever 23,
jointed at 24, and having a nose-piece on its opposite end
resting upon the nut pin 16. From the nose-piece end there
projects a pin, 25, at right angles, which, when the cariiage
is at its outward limit, passes along the under surface of the
lever o, and by means of the rod connecting this rod with
the lever U, throws an additional tension upon the tension-
band ; and as the nut 16, by the action of the ratchet-wheel, piece x oi uie^ 11 ^11-T Cached to the upper
is drawn back, it relieves the nose-piece of the lever, which Jailer ; and a Fojecting g ^ comes in contact
falls down into the position shown in the drawing, and its bearer of the &uide p > » and throws
pin ceases to act on foe lever o, until one set of the copes at 39, with the ^S ^ andthe
firticVtorl rmt and nin Ifi are atrain brought forward foe belt again on the fast pu y I
limit of its outward course ; and the lever thus lays hold of
a projecting piece on the end of the poker before alluded
to, and so slides it home.
Leaving the minor parts to be incidentally noticed, we
shall proceed to describe foe general action of the machine
during the completion of a stretch or draw. The carriage
tion, while the rollers move in exact unison, and the speed
shaft is in full motion to give twist to the thread, as the
stubbing is given out by the rollers. When the carriage is
nearly at its utmost limit, a finger piece 27, attached to
the pulley bearer of the carriage S, comes in contact with
the tail of a hanging lever 28, which is connected by a
wire 29, to a cross-tail 30, on the bottom of the axis of the
lever. This causes the lever 31 to move round its fulcrum,
and throw the driving belt of the pinion shaft from the fast
pulley M to foe loose pulley M, whereby the movement of
the regulating wheel, and all the movements taken from it,
are stopped; but the speed-shaft T being diiven directly
from the main-shaft, continues to revolve. \\ hen the propel
quantity of twist at the head has been given, the cam x
will have arrived at the point ot the lever 32, and pushing
it round upon its fulcrum, will cause its opposite^end 33,
to draw the wire 34, attached to the guide lever 35. This
shifts the belt from the fast pulley K, of the speed-shaft f,
on to the loose pulley Kr; and the cam immediately moves
the lever 36, which, through the medium of the wire 3«,
tne speeu-snaiL unu ^    
a/ having reached the adjusting point of the lever 31, moves
this lever, and throws the belt again upon the fast pulley
of the change-shaft. Thus the shaft is again in motion, and
its pinion travelling down the radial series ot teeth ot tne
regulating wheel, causes the vibrating frame to vibrate to¬
wards the centre of the wheel. The cam on the bottom o
the vibrating frame, in its progress, passes over the friction
pulley of the break lever, and relieves the break; and at tne
same time the spinner lever, which is attached by its rod
26, to the bottom of the vibrating frame, turns round its
immediately rises ana strips me euno, ,
motion of the spinner lever and sliding bar forces up
folding leg into its vertical position, and consequently tor
the building wire into its building position.^ en
movement is about to be completed, the pinion o
gulating wheel has arrived at that part when the motion o
the wheel begins to be reversed, and the carriage b g
gradually to move inwards. At this instant, t e w1 &
on motion, which is taken from the regulating w ee >
to act, and the movement of the carriage and win g
continue to operate, until the carriage has reached*
ward limit at the beam. The adjustable pin a
of the poker then comes in contact Wlth ^ehb ildin(T
piece Y of the framework, and relieves the^mld^
S PI N
ing. machine is again in order to commence another stretch or
.'^draw.
s Of Smith’s self-acting woollen mule, several parts are the
I ing same as those of the machine already described. To these we
1 merely refer, reserving for particular description such parts
as are peculiar. Fig. 1 is a side elevation; fig, 2 bird’s eye
view; the other figures represent detached portions of the
mechanism A A A is the general framework of the head-
stock, B B B the general framework of the carriage, C the
main driving pulley, C' the corresponding loose pulley, D
the driving shaft, which in this case lies along the frame¬
work, EE' bevel wheels, through which motion is communi¬
cated from the driving-shaft to the shaft E', called the
fly-wheel shaft, on which the drum F, and the fly-wheel
G, are fixed. The drum F by a belt communicates mo¬
tion to the driving-shaft H, through its fast pulley H2; H'
is the corresponding loose pulley; I is a pinion upon the
near end of the driving-shaft, which communicates motion
through the wheels I1 and I2, to the stud wheel K, on the
central shaft K', of the vibrating frame L. From the wheel
K motion is communicated to the wheel M, of the vibrat¬
ing shaft M'. Upon the opposite end of this shaft the man¬
gle pinion N' is fixed. This pinion drives the mangle or re¬
gulating wheel N, as described in the former machine. The
mangle wheel in this machine moves the carriage rack by
the eccentric wheel O, fixed on the end of its shaft gearing
into the other eccentric wheel O', whose shaft carries a
spur-wheel P, which gears into the carriage rack P'P'.
Round the periphery of the mangle wheel are external
teeth, which, through the stud wheel Q, drive the pinion
Q', fixed upon a small cross shaft R, called the roller shaft.
Near the opposite extremity of this roller shaft there is fixed
a disc R', working in the bosom of the toothed wheel S:
this disc carries pauls, which work on a ratchet-wheel, fix¬
ed also in the bosom of the wheel S. The wheel S being
loose upon the shaft, is allowed to remain at rest, when the
disc moves in such a direction that the pauls slip over the
teeth of the ratchet. The wheel S gears into the stud
wheel T, which again gears into the wheel U, upon the
end of tlie rollers U'. The stud-wheel T moves upon a
stud carried by the radial lever T', whereby it is permitted
to move out and in of gear with the wheel S. These
movements are regulated by the disc lever V, which, rest¬
ing with its outer end on a disc pulley on the end of the
wiper pulley X, raises and depresses the point of the radial
lever T', by the movement of the mangle wheel shaft.
The place of the wiper on the face of the disc X, can be
shifted to adjust the point of movement. The roller shaft
R carries another wheel a, which, through the intermediate
wheel a', drives the wheel 6' fixed on the differential shaft
o. This shaft carries the differential box c, which is the
same as in the former machine, and through which motion
is communicated to the twist shaft d, by its wheel <?, for
w inding-on : its pulley is restrained by a band and lever,
as m the former machine. / is the break pulley on the
jra 1 with its ratchet-wheel acting as described in the
oimer machine. The manner in which the break is press¬
ed on the pulley in this case, is seen in the detached draw-
ingj fig. 3. Returning to the driving shaft H, there is a
pu ey g running loose upon the shaft for raising the driv¬
ing belt. Its nave carries a series of small pul lies of differ¬
ent iameters, for communicating motion to the cross shaft
wfich carries a corresponding inversed series of pullies
', by which a considerable difference of speed can at any
■me be attained. The outer end of the shaft A carries a
sma pinion i, which, through the intermediate stud-wheel
(rives the wheel/, running loose upon the driving shaft
u*' " by means of a disc A, with a set of catches
,a ^tchet-wheel, as in the case of the wheel S. can be
belt ^ ^le ^r*v'ng shaft. By this means, when the
i» t trown upon the loose pulley (/, motion is communi-
1SI I N G.
cated by the pulleys fixed on its nave to the pulleys //, and
consequently to the shaft A, which, again, acting by its pin¬
ion i on the wheels//', communicates a very slow move¬
ment to the driving shaft, and through it to the vibrating
frame pinion, which works in the mangle wheel, which is
necessary for regulating the back movement of the car¬
riage, while the twist is throwing into the yarn ; and its
speed can be easily and quickly modified to suit any
grist of yarn, by shifting the band upon the grooved pullies
g, k’. The amount of twist is regulated, as in the former
machine, by the worm screw /, upon the main driving-shaft
D, working into the crown wheel V. The shaft of this
wheel carries on its lower end the wheel m, which is called
the change wheel, because its place may be substituted by
wheels of various numbers of teeth, to suit the amount of
twist due to the grist and hardness of the yarns to be spun.
This wheel, through the intermediate wheel m’, drives
wheel n on the top of the cam shaft n, upon which are
placed the cams or wipers for moving the levers. On the
lower part of the cam shaft there is a bevel wheel o, work¬
ing into a corresponding wheel on the cross shaft p, called
the stripping shaft. This shaft carries a radial wiper //,
which, as the shaft revolves, comes at a particular point in
its comse to press upon the lever <y, which, being suspend¬
ed and acted upon by the spiral spring 9', is retracted to
its former position, when the wiper p' has raised it. The
point of this lever operates upon the horizontal plane r,
which is made to extend to a length exceeding the great¬
est distance that the carriage requires to be removed
backwards during the throwing of the twist, so that the
stripping wiper q may always press upon some part of the
plane.
On the inner end of the twist shaft d there is fixed the
pulley s, to drive the cylinder pulley of the carriage s'. The
band having been wrapped nearly round the pulley s, has
its one end passed over one of the stud pullies t, at the
right-hand side of the framing, and carried from it over
the cylinder pulley s', while its other end is passed round
the other pulley ^ and thence over the tightening pulley
ti. The tightening pulley t1 moves on a stud, which can be
slid along the horizontal slit in the projecting part of the
framework, so as to slacken or tighten the cylinder band.
Having noticed the principal parts of the headstock, we
proceed to the description of the carriage. The frame of
the carriage is indicated by BBBB. 1, is the driving pulley,
2, the upper faller rod with its fingers and guide-wires. The
apparatus for moving the building falters is the same as that
already described for the former machine. But the stripping-
faller apparatus is somewhat different. Two radial sockets
3, project from the under faller-rod 4, near each end; and
in these are fitted a running-nut, which can be adjusted to
any required extent of leverage, by turning round the screw;
and at the lower side of each nut there is a hook, to which
the spiral springs 5, are attached, their lower ends being at¬
tached to the framework of the carriage. The springs are
so adjusted, that they tend to pull round the under ful¬
ler-rod, which raises the faller-wire with a due force of
tension. A radial lever 6, extends from the one end of
the under faller-rod, and has an adjustable stud 7, to which
a rod 8, is fixed. This rod terminates at its lower end in a
socket with a friction-pulley, which, coming upon the in¬
clined plane at the side of the race-road, shoves the under
faller to its resting position, when the carriage goes up to
the rollers. I he end of the stud 9, projects beyond the
socket of the upright rod, and rests upon a moveable tap-
pit or sector J 0, which is thus turned upon its centre, by
the movement of the radial lever 6, attached to the fold-
ing-leg, when the poker is moved to put down the upper
faller. By this escapement, through the movement of the
tappit, the spiral springs are permitted to pull up the un¬
der fafre wire with considerable force, by which the coils
3 z
545
Spinning.
546
Spinning.
S P I
of yarn, which surround the stems of the spindles during
' the process of giving the twist, are stripped off or uncoiled,
to permit the building-faller to press down the threads to
the proper point for commencing the build at each succes¬
sive stretch. . , . , .
We now proceed to shew the manner in which the dif¬
ferent parts of the machine come successively into action
during one stretch or draw. The carriage being suppos¬
ed at the beam, the fly-wheel shaft is put in motion ; and
the belts from the fly-wheel and drum of that shaft being
upon the respective fast pullies of the shafts which they
drive, the various gear work connected with those shafts
is put in motion, and, consequently, twist is thrown in¬
to the thread bv the spindles, while the rollers slow y
yield the slubbing or sliver, and the regulating wheel, with
its eccentrics, moves back the carnage, wit a motion
equivalent at first to the out-give of the sliver by the
rollers, but gradually increasing, so as to take up the ex¬
tension of the sliver, which is caused by the throwing out
of the twist. When a sufficient quantity of slubbing has
been given out, the cam disc upon the outer end of the
mangle wheel shaft allows the roller lever to drop towards
its centre, which, disengaging the intermediate wheel that
conveys motion to the rollers, instantly stops them; but
the twist continues to be thrown uniformly in, and the
outward motion of the carriage continues gradually extend¬
ing the thread, and proportionally diminishing its grist, in
the manner regulated by the eccentric wheels, that is, with
a motion at first about equal to the delivery of the rollers,
and gradually becoming slower and slower. When the
carriage approaches its utmost limit outward, the cam piece
11 attached to it, comes in contact with the tail of the hang-
ino- lever 12, which, being connected by a wire with a stud
in’the opposite end of the driving-belt lever 13, shifts the
belt from the fast pulley to the pulley 9, giving the slow
motion to the vibrating shaft which we have already no¬
ticed, which, as its pinion has passed the returning point,
moves the mangle wheel backwards, and, of course, the
carriage towards the beam, with a very slow and steady
•motion, giving in to the tension of the threads as the twist
is thrown in. As soon as the desired amount of twist has
been given, the cam of the cam shaft will come in contatf
with the escapement lever 14, attached to the bracket lo,
and allow the weight to pull the belt lever one notch,
throwing the belt upon the loose pulley 9 > whereby the
movements derived from this shaft cease. Simultaneous
with this, one of the wipers of the cam shaft pulls the twist
belt lever, so as to disengage the twist shaft ;vand another
wiper acts upon the apparatus, which presses the break
against the break pulley, and stops the motion of the spin¬
dles. The motion of the cam shaft now causes the wiper
of the stripping shaft to press upon the stripping lever, the
point of which, pressing upon .the cross head or horizontal
plane, strips the coils of yarn from the spindles, and puts
down the upper faller-wire into a proper position for guid¬
ing the threads upon the copes. As soon as this has been
■performed, one of the wipers of the cam shaft will have ar¬
rived at a position to draw off the last notch of the escape¬
ment lever, whereby the driving belt is thrown upon the
fast pulley of the driving shaft, which with its connections
are a^ain put in motion. The pinion of the mangle wheel,
now passing along the teeth of the inner range, produces an
accelerated motion of the carriage toward the beam; and
the winding-on motion is at the same time communicated
through the differential box to the twist-shaft and spindles.
When the carriage is nearly at its inward limit, a tappit
lever, at the point of the vibrating frame, comes in contact
with the cross-tail of the twist-belt lever, and throws that
belt upon the fast pulley, to put the spindles again in mo¬
tion for twisting ; and at the same instant the mangle pm-
s P I
ion has arrived at that point of its eccentric path, at which Spir.
it takes in to the inverted teeth, and produces the outward'-^v
motion of the carriage, and the whole train of motions
consequent upon it. (b. s.)
SPINOZA, Benedict, was born at Amsterdam the 24th
November 1632. His father was a Jew of Portugal, and
by profession a merchant. After being taught Latin by a
physician, the son applied himself for many years to the
study of theology, and afterwards devoted himself entirely
to philosophy. He began very early to be dissatisfied with the
Jewish religion; and as his temper was open, he did not con¬
ceal his doubts from the synagogue. The Jews, it is said,
offered to tolerate his infidelity, and even promised him a
pension of a thousand dollars per annum, if he would.re¬
main in their society, and continue outwardly to practise
their ceremonies. But it this offer ivas really made, he re¬
jected it, perhaps from his aversion to hypocrisy, or rather be¬
cause he could not endure the restraint which it would
have imposed. He also refused being constituted heir to
an independent fortune, to the prejudice of the natural
claimants; and he learned the art of polishing glass for
spectacles, that he might be enabled to maintain himself
by the labour of his own hands.
His retreat from the synagogue was hastened by an alarm¬
ing incident. As he was returning home one evening from
the theatre, he was stabbed by a Jew: the wound was
slight, but the attempt naturally led Spinoza to conclude
that the Jews had formed the design of assassinating him.
After leaving the synagogue he professedly became a Chris¬
tian, and frequented the churches of the Lutherans and
Calvinists. He now devoted himself more than ever to his
favourite philosophical speculations; and finding himself
frequently interrupted by the visits of his friends, he left
Amsterdam, and settled at the Hague, where he often con¬
tinued for three months together without ever stirring from
his lodging. During his residence in that city, his hostess,
who was a Lutheran, asked him one day if she could be
saved while she continued in her religion ? “ Yes, replied
Spinoza, “ provided you join to your religion a peaceab e
and virtuous life.” From this answer, it has been conclud¬
ed, that he was a Christian in appearance only, while m
reality he regarded all religions as indifferent. But this
conclusion would be too severe, even if the woman had been a
Mahommedan. His “Tractatustheologico-pohticus (Hamb.
1670, 4to.) is a better proof of his insincerity than a thou¬
sand such conclusions ; for this book contains all those doc¬
trines in embryo which were afterwar ds unfolded in his pos u
. -i i • i   11». ✓-i•»->r>iz 1 ^wzvrl 9C 9 fiVStem
mous works, and which are gene^dly considered as a syste
of atheism. His fame, which had now spread far and wide,
obliged him sometimes to interrupt his philosophical reve¬
ries. Learned men visited him from all quarters.
the prince of Conde commanded the French army in Utrecht,
he intreated Spinoza to visit him ; and though he was a -
sent when the philosopher arrived, he immediately ret
ed and spent a considerable time with him in comk! oj.
The elector Palatine offered to make Spinoza ProJP^
philosophy at Heidelberg; but this offer he thougm it e
pedient to decline. He died of consumpdon at the Hague
on the 21st February 1677, at the age of forty- -
life was a perpetual contradiction to his opinions. ^
temperate, liberal, and remarkably disinterested,
sociable, affable, and friendly. His conversation was ag^
able and instructive, and never deviated from the
P1 Soon'after his death appeared a thick volume entfiled
“ B. d. S. Opera Posthuma.” [ Amstelodami] Ibl l,
A collective edition of his works has been published in
course of the present century: “ Be"edf‘f^Kae-
Opera quae supersunt omnia. Iterum e em a
fationes, vitam auctoris, nec non notitias qua
S P I
S P O 547
al scriptorum pertinent, addidit Henr. Eberh. Gottlob Paulas,
Ph. ac Th. D. hujus Prof. Ord. Jenensis.” Jenae, 1802-3,
s< 2 tom. 8vo. Spinoza has generally been considered as the
'^author of a tract entitled “ Lucii Antistii Constantis de Jure
Ecclesiasticorum liber singularis.” Alethopoli, 1666, 8vo.
It has also been ascribed to Meyer, his friend and physi¬
cian ; but Leibnitz believed the author to have been Van
den Hoof, who wrote “ L’Interet de la Hollande,” and va¬
rious other works.1
SPIRAL, in Geometry, a curved line of the circular kind,
which in its progress recedes from its centre.
SPIRE, or Speyer, a city of Bavaria, in the province of
the Rhine, the capital of a canton of the same name. It
contains no less than fifteen Catholic and two Lutheran
churches, though not more than 740 houses with 3900 in¬
habitants, having greatly declined from its former extent and
celebrity. Here the reformers of Germany, in 1529, en¬
tered a protest against the proceedings of the Diet, and
thus obtained the name of Protestants. Lat. 49. 18.51.
Long. 8. 31. 13. E. The bishopric, which was very rich,
was secularized in 1795, when the French seized the coun¬
try, and occupied it till the general peace in 1814.
Spire, in Architecture, was used by the ancients for the
base of a column, and sometimes for the astragal or tore;
but among the moderns it denotes a steeple that continually
diminishes as it ascends, whether conically or pyramidally.
SPIRIT, in Metaphysics, an incorporeal being or intelli¬
gence ; in which sense God is said to be a spirit, as are
angels and the human soul.
Spirit, in Wiemistry and Pharmacy, a name applied to
every volatile liquid which is not insipid like phlegm or
water; and hence the distinction into acid, alkaline, and
vinous spirits.
SPLICING, in the sea-language, is the untwisting the
ends of two cables or ropes, and working the several strands
into one another by a fidd, so that they' become as strong
as if they were but one rope.
SPLUGEN, a village of Switzerland, remarkable from
its position as the highest inhabited part of the most ancient
road across the Alps, leading into the Austrian part of Italy
from the countries through which the river Rhine passes.
It is in the canton of the Grisons, and in the bailiwick of
Schams. It contains a good hotel, which is also the post-
house, where relays of horses are always to be procured.
It is 5928 feet above the level of the sea, and is surround¬
ed with mountains of which the summits are perpetually
covered with snow. The descent from this spot, on both
sides, excites the admirati#! of all travellers. To the south
the road has been formed by the Austrian government. It
is carried in traverses along the front of the rocky precipi¬
ces, is of great breadth, with a very gradual descent; and
in several parts there are long galleries, covered with bomb¬
proof arches, to prevent the road from being choaked by
avalanches, or by the enormous masses of rocks that some-
tim^are liable to fall from the lofty summits. The road
that i^cends on the northern side has been formed by the
canton of the Grisons, and is tolerably good, but is not equal
to the Austrian portion. The descent to Andeer is made
"ith neither risP nor difficulty, and at that village, where
there is a good hotel and post-house, the most picturesque
scenery commences.^* This road leads to Tussis, through
what from antiquity has received the name of the Via mala.
It follows the course of the Rhine, sometimes far above it,
sometimes close to its gulf, and frequently passing over it
by strongly built bridges. It has two arched passages, cut
with vast labour out of the solid rock. Splugen is sixteen
miles from Chiavinna, in the Austrian territory; and twenty
from Tussis, in the canton of the Grisons.
SPOILS, whatever is taken from the enemy in time of war.
Among the ancient Greeks, the spoils were divided among Spolank
the whole army, only the general’s share was the largest; U
but among the Romans, the spoils belonged to the republic. Sporades,
SPOLANK, a village on the south coast of Java, neai
to which are hot mineral springs, which raise Fahrenheit’s
thermometer to 122°. It is 104 miles south from Samarang.
SPOLETO, one of the delegations into which the do¬
minions of the church in Italy are divided. It extends over
1401 square miles, contains six cities, fourteen towns, and
204 villages, with 102,053 inhabitants. The capital is the
city of the same name, at the foot of a hill, and on a brook
which flows to the Maragia. It is the seat of a bishop, and
likewise of the civil tribunals. Besides a cathedral and
twenty-two parish churches, it contains twenty-two monas¬
teries, with some hermitages and establishments of brother¬
hoods of devotion. The streets are narrow and crooked,
the houses old and many of them dilapidated ; but the city
contains 7000 inhabitants. A magnificent aqueduct sup¬
plies it with water. There are many interesting remains
of antiquity, and among others, a triumphal arch of Hanni¬
bal, ruins of a theatre, of a temple of Concord, of Jupiter,
and of Mars, and of a palace of Theodoric. Lat. 42. 44.50.
Long. 13. 1. E.
SPONDEE, in ancient poetry, a foot consisting of two
long syllables, as omnes.
SPONGIA, Sponge; a genus of animals. It is fixed,
flexible, and very torpid, growing in a variety of forms, com¬
posed either of reticulated fibres, or masses of small spines
interwoven together, and clothed with a living gelatinous
flesh, full of small mouths or holes on its surface, by which
it sucks in and throws out the water. As early as the days
of Aristotle, sponges were supposed to possess animal life;
the persons employed in collecting them having observed
them shrink when torn from the rocks, thus exhibiting symp¬
toms of sensation. The same opinion prevailed in the time
of Pliny; but no attention was paid to this subject till Mar-
sigli examined them, and declared them vegetables. Dr.
Peysonell, in a paper which he sent to the Royal Society
in the year 1752, and in a second in 1757, affirmed they
were not vegetables, but the production of animals; and h(*
has accordingly described the animals, and the process which
liiey performed in making the sponges Mr. Ellis, in the year
1762, was at great pains to discover these animals. For this
purpose he dissected the spongia urens, and was surprised to
find a great number of small worms of the genus of nereis
or sea scolopendra, which had pierced their way through the
soft substance of the sponge in quest of a safe retreat. That
this was reajjy the case he was fully assured, by inspecting
a number of specimens of the same kind of sponge, just fresh
from the sea. He put them into a glass filled with sea¬
water; and then, instead of seeing any of the little animals
which Dr. Peysonell described, he observed the papilla; or
small holes with which the papilla; are surrounded contract
and dilate themselves. He examined another variety of
the same species of sponge, and plainly perceived the small
tubes inspire and expire the water. He therefore conclud¬
ed that the sponge is an animal, and that the ends or open¬
ings of the branched tubes are the mouths by which it re¬
ceives its nourishment, and discharges its excrements.
SPONSORS are those persons who, in the office of
baptism, answer or are sureties for the persons baptized.
SPONTANEOUS, a term applied to such motions of
the body and operations of the mind as we perform of our¬
selves without any constraint.
SPOONING, in the sea-language, is said of a ship which,
being under sail in a storm at sea, is unable to bear it, and
consequently forced to go right before the wind.
SPORADES, among ancient astronomers, a name given
to such stars as were not included in any constellation.
Leibnitz, Essais de Theodicee, p. 371.
548
S P O
S P R
SPORADIC DISEASES, among physicians, are snch as
seize particular persons at any time or season, and in any
place ; in which sense they are distinguished from epidemi¬
cal and endemical diseases.
SPOTSWOOD, John, archbishop of St. Andrews, was
descended from the lairds of Spotswood in the county ot
Berwick, and was born in the year 1565, being the son of
John Spotswood, minister of Calder, and one of the super¬
intendents. He was educated in the university of Glasgow,
and succeeded his father in the parsonage of Calder when
but eighteen years of age. In 1601 he attended Lodowick
duke of Lennox as his chaplain, in an embassy to the court
of France for confirming the ancient amity between the two
nations, and returned in the ambassador’s retinue through
England. When he entered upon the archbishopric of Glas¬
gow, he found there was not a L.100 sterling of yearly le-
venue left; yet such was his care for his successors, that
he greatly improved it, and much to the satisfaction of his
diocese. After having filled this see eleven years, he was
raised to that of St. Andrews in 1615, and thus became
primate and metropolitan of all Scotland. He presided in
several assemblies for bringing the Church of Scotland to
some degree of uniformity with that of England. He con¬
tinued in high esteem with King James VI., nor was he less
valued by King Charles L, who was crowned by him in
1633, in the abbey-church of Holyroodhouse. In 1635,
upon the death of the earl of Kinnoull, chancellor of Scot¬
land, the primate was advanced to that post; but he had
scarcely held it four years, when the confusions beginning
in Scotland, he was obliged to retire into England ; and be¬
ing broken with age, grief, and sickness, died at London on
the 26th of December 1639, and was interred in Westmin¬
ster Abbey. The only work which he is known to have
published bears the title of “ Refutatio Libelli de Regimine
Ecclesiae Scoticanae.” Lond. 1620, 8vo. This was an an¬
swer to a tract of Calderwood, who replied in the Vindiciae
subjoined to his Altare Damascenum. A more consider¬
able w ork was published several years after his death: “ 1 he
History of the Church and State of Scotland, beginning the
year of our Lord 203, and continued to the end of the reign
of James the VI. of ever blessed memory.” Lond. 1655,
fob An Appendix was afterwards added by Thomas Mid¬
dleton.
The character of Spotswood is thus delineated by Laing :
In prosperity his behaviour was without moderation, in
adversity without dignity; but the character ot a leading,
aspiring prelate has either been unduly extolled, or unjustly
degraded. As a scholar and an historian he excelled his
contemporaries; and it was his peculiar felicity, that his
erudition was neither infected with the pedantry, nor con¬
fined to the polemical disputes of the age. His abilities
recommended him first to preferment; but his ambitious
views were chiefly promoted by the supple, insinuative ha¬
bits of craft and intrigue. His revenge was formidable to
the nobility and officers of state, oppressive to the clergy,
and, joined with an inordinate ambition, ultimately ruinous
to his own order.”1
SPRAT, Thomas, bishop of Rochester, was born in 1636
at Tallaton in Devonshire. He received his education at
Oxford, and after the Restoration entered into holy orders.
He became fellow of the Royal Society, chaplain to George
duke of Buckingham, and chaplain in ordinary to King
Charles II. In 1667 he published the History of the
Royal Society, and a Life of Mr. Cowley; who, by his last
will, left to his care his printed works and MSS., which w'ere
accordingly published by him. In 1668 he was installed
prebendary of Westminster ; in 1680, w as appointed canon
of Windsor ; in 1683, dean of Westminster; and in 1684,
consecrated to the bishopric of Rochester. He was clerk
of the closet to King James II.; in 1685, was made dean Sr
of the chapel royal; and the year following, was appointed
one of the commissioners for ecclesiastical affairs. In 1692 V,
his lordship, with several other persons, was charged with^'*
treason by two men, who drew up an association, in which
they whose names were subscribed declared their resolution
to restore King James ; to seize the princess of Orange,
dead or alive; and to be ready with 30,000 men to meet
King James when he should land. To this they put the
names of Sancroft, Sprat, Marlborough, Salisbury, and others.
The bishop was arrested, and kept at a messenger’s, under
a strict guard, for eleven days. His house was searched,
and his papers seized, among which nothing was found of
treasonable appearance, except one memorandum, in the
following words: Thorough-paced doctrine. Being asked
at his examination the meaning of the words, he said, that
about twenty years before, curiosity had led him to hear
Daniel Burgess preach ; and that being struck with his ac¬
count of a certain kind of doctrine, which he said “ enter¬
ed at one ear, and pacing through the head went out at the
other,” he had inserted the memorandum in his table-book,
that he might not lose the substance of so strange a sermon.
His innocence being proved, he was set at liberty, when he
published an account of his examination and deliverance;
which made such an impression upon him, that he com¬
memorated it through life by an yearly day of thanksgiving.
He lived to the seventy-seventh year of his age, and died
May 20, 1713. His works, besides a few poems of little
value, are, “ The History of the Royal Society“ The
Life of Cowley;” “ An Answer to Sorbiere;” “ The His¬
tory of the Rye-house Plot;” “ The Relation of his own
Examination ;” and a volume ot “ Sermons.” Dr. Johnson
says, “ I have heard it observed with great justness, that
every book is of a different kind, and that each has its dis¬
tinct and characteristical excellence.”
SPRAY, the sprinkling of the sea, which is driven from
the top of a wave in stormy weather. It differs from spoon-
drift, as being only blow n occasionaly from the broken sur¬
face of a high wave; whereas the latter continues to fly
horizontally along the sea, without intermission, during the
excess of a tempest or hurricane.
SPRING, in Natural History, a fountain or source ot
water rising out of the ground. Many have been the con¬
jectures of philosophers concerning the origin of fountains,
and great pains have been taken both by the members ot
the Royal Society and those of the Academy of Sciences
at Paris, in order to ascertain the true cause. It was Aris¬
totle’s opinion, and held by most of the ancient philoso¬
phers after him, that the air contained in the caverns ot the
earth, being condensed by cold near its surface, was thus
changed into water; and that it made its way where it
could find a passage. But we have no experience ot any
such transmutation of air into water. . .
Those who imagine that fountains owe their origin to
waters brought from the sea by subterraneous ducts, give
a tolerable account how they lose their saltness by perco¬
lation as they pass through the earth : but they find great
difficulty in explaining by what power the water rises above
the level of the sea to near the tops of mountains, where
springs generally abound ; it being contrary to the laws oi
hydrostatics, that a fluid should rise in a tube above the
level of its source. They have however found two ways
by which they endeavoured to extricate themselves io
this difficulty. The one is that of Des Cartes, who imagine
that after the water has become fresh by percolation, it *
raised out of the caverns of the earth in vapour tov'ar s »
surface ; where meeting with rocks near the tops o m
tains in the form of arches or vaults, its adheres o >
and, like water in an alembic, runs down their si e , ^
1 Laing’s History of Scotland, vol. iii- p. 15 J.
S P R
S P R
549
it meets with proper receptacles, from which it supplies the
^fountains. Now this is a mere hypothesis, without founda¬
tion or probability : for, in the first place, we know of no
internal heat of the earth sufficient to cause such evapora¬
tion ; or if that were allowed, yet it is quite incredible that
there should be any caverns so smooth and void of protuber¬
ances as to answer the ends of an alembic, in collecting and
condensing the vapours together in every place where foun¬
tains arise. Varenius, and others, suppose that the water may
rise through the pores of the earth, as through capillary
tubes, by attraction. But here they show that they are
quite unacquainted with what relates to the motion of a
fluid through such tubes: for when a capillary tube opens
into a cavity at its upper end, or grows larger and larger,
so as to cease to be capillary at that end, the water will not
ascend through that tube into the cavity, or beyond where
the tube is capillary ; because that part of the periphery of
the cavity, which is partly above the surface of the water,
and partly below it, is not of the capillary kind. Nay, if
the cavity is continually supplied with water, it will be at¬
tracted into the capillary tube, and run down it as through
a funnel, if the lower end is immerged in the same fluid, as
in this case it is supposed to be.
It has been a generally received opinion, and much es¬
poused by Mariotte, a diligent observer of nature, that the
rise of springs is owing to the rains and melted snow. Ac¬
cording to him, the rain-water which falls upon the hills and
mountains, penetrating the surface, meets with clay or rocks
contiguous to each other; along which it runs, without be¬
ing able to penetrate them, till, having descended to the
bottom of the mountain, or to a considerable distance from
the top, it breaks out of the ground, and forms springs.
In order to examine this opinion, Mr. Perrault, De la
Hire, and Sideleau, endeavoured to make an estimate of the
quantity of rain and snow that falls in the space of a year,
with the view of ascertaining whether it would be sufficient
to afford a quantity of water equal to that which is annual¬
ly discharged into the sea by the rivers. The result of their
inquiries was, that the quantity of rain and snow which fell
in a year into a cylindrical vessel would, if secured from
evaporating, fill it to the height of about nineteen inches.
This quantity, Sideleau shewed, was not sufficient to supply
the rivers; for those of England, Ireland, and Spain, dis¬
charge a greater quantity of water annually, than the rain,
according to that experiment, is able to supply. Another
observation was made by them at the same time, viz., that
the quantity of water raised in vapour, one year with an¬
other, amounted to about thirty-two inches, which is thirteen
more than falls in rain ; a plain indication that the water of
fountains is not supplied by rain and melted snow.
Thus the true cause of the origin of fountains remained
undiscovered, till Dr. Halley, in making his celestial ob¬
servations upon the tops of the mountains at St. Helena,
about eight hundred yards above the level of the sea, found,
that the quantity of vapour which fell there, even when the
sky was clear, was so great, that it very much impeded his
observations, by covering his glasses with water every half¬
quarter of an hour; and he attempted to determine by ex¬
periment the quantity of vapour exhaled from the surface of
the sea, as far as it rises from heat, in order to try whether
that might be a sufficient supply for the water continually
discharged by fountains. The process of his experiment
"as as follows. He took a vessel of water salted to the
*ame degree with that of sea water, in which he placed a
tiermometer; and by means of a pan of coals brought the
"mT ^°- same ^e£ree °f heat which is observed to be that
0 a'r in our hottest summer; he then fixed the vessel
0 'vater with the thermometer in it to one end of a pair of
scales, and exactly counterpoised it with weights on the
0 cr. At the end of two hours, he found, by the alte-
raion made in the weight of the vessel, that about a
sixtieth part of an inch of the depth of the water was gone Spring,
off in vapour ; and therefore, in twelve hours, one tenth of
an inch would have gone off. Now, this accurate observer
allows the Mediterranean sea to be forty degrees long, and
four broad, the broader parts compensating for the narrower,
so that its whole surface is one hundred and sixty square
degrees; which, according to the experiment, must yield
at least 5,280,000,000 tons of water. In this account no
regard is had to the wind and the agitation of the surface
of the sea, both which undoubtedly promote the evapora¬
tion. It now remained to compare this quantity of water
with that which is daily conveyed into the same sea by the
rivers. The only mode of proceeding was to compare them
with some known river, and accordingly he takes his com¬
putation from the river Thames; and, to avoid all objections,
makes allowances, probably greater than what were abso¬
lutely necessary.
The Mediterranean receives the following considerable
rivers, viz., the Ebro, the Rhone, the Tiber, the Po, the
Danube, the Niester, the Borysthenes, the Tanais, and
the Nile. Each of these he supposes to bring down ten
times as .much water as the Thames, and he thus makes an
allowance for smaller rivers which fall into the same sea.
The Thames, then, he finds by measuration, to discharge
about 20,300,000 tons of water a-day. If, therefore, the
above nine rivers yield ten times as much water as the
Thames, it will follow, that all of them together yield but
1827 millions of tons in a day, which is little more than one-
third of what is proved to be raised in vapour out of the
Mediterranean in the same time. Here, therefore, we have
a source abundantly sufficient for the supply of fountains.
Now, having found that the vapour exhaled from the sea
is a sufficient supply for the fountains, he proceeds, in the
next place, to consider the manner in which they are raised,
and how they are condensed into water again, and convey¬
ed to the source of springs. He considers, that if an atom
of water expanded into a shell or bubble, so as to be ten
times as large in diameter, as when it was water, that atom
would become specifically lighter than air; and therefore
would rise so long as the warmth which first separated it
from the surface of the water should continue to distend it
to the same degree ; and consequently, that vapours may be
raised from the surface of the sea in that manner, till they
arrive at a certain height in the atmosphere, at which they
find air of equal specific gravity with themselves. Here they
will float, till, being condensed by cold, they become spe¬
cifically heavier than the air, and fall down in dew ; or, be¬
ing driven by the winds against the sides of mountains
(many of which far surpass the usual height to which the
vapours would of themselves ascend,) are compelled by the
stream of the air to mount up with it to the tops of them ;
where, being condensed into water, they presently precipi¬
tate, and gleeting down by the crannies of the stones, part
of them enters into the caverns of the hills; which being
once filled, all the overplus of water that comes thither, runs
over by the lowest place, and breaking out by the sides of
the hills, fortns single springs. Many of these running down
by the valleys between the ridges of the hills, and com¬
ing to unite, form little rivulets or brooks ; many of these
again meeting in one common valley, and gaining the plain
ground, being grown less rapid, become a river; and many
of these being united in one common channel, make such
streams as the Rhine and the Danube ; which latter, he ob¬
serves, one would hardly think to be a collection of water
condensed out of vapour, unless we consider how vast a tract
of ground that river drains, and that it is the sum of all those
springs which break out on the south side of the Carpathian
mountains, and on the north side of the immense ridge of
the Alps, which is one continued chain of mountains from
Switzerland to the Black Sea.
Thus one part of the vapours which are blown on the
550
Spring.
S P R
land is returned by the rivers into the sea from whence it
came. Another part falls into the sea before it reaches the
land; and this is the reason why the rivers do not return
so much water into the Mediterranean as is raised in vapour.
A third part falls on the low lands, where it affords nourish¬
ment to plants yet it does not rest there, but is again ex¬
haled in vapour by the action of the sun, and is either car¬
ried by the winds to the sea to fall in rain or dew there, or
else to the mountains to become the sources of springs.
It is not however to be supposed that all fountains can
be referred to one and the same cause. Some proceed from
rain and melted snow, which, subsiding through the surface
of the earth, makes its way into certain cavities, and thence
issues out in the form of springs ; because the waters of
several are found to increase and diminish in proportion to
the rain which falls. Others, again, especially such as are
salt, and spring near the sea-shore, owe their origin to sea¬
water percolated through the earth ; and some to both these
causes ; though without doubt most of them, and especially
such as spring near the tops of high mountains, receive then
waters from vapours, as before explained.
This reasoning of Dr. Halley’s is confirmed by more re¬
cent observations and discoveries. It is now found, that
though water is a tolerable conductor of the electric fluid,
dry earth is an electric per se, consequently the dry land
must always be in an electrified state, compared with the
ocean. It is also well known, that such bodies as are in an
electrified state, whether plus or minus, will attract va¬
pour, or other light substances that come near them.
Hence the vapours that are raised from the ocean must
necessarily have a tendency to approach the land in great
quantity, even without the assistance of the wind, though
this last must undoubtedly contribute greatly towards the
same purpose, as Dr. Halley justly observes. In like
manner, the higher grounds are always in a more electrified
state than the lower ones; and hence the vapours having
once left the ocean and approached the shore, are attracted
by the high mountains ; of which Mr. Pennant gives an in¬
stance in Snowdon. Hence we may see the reason why
springs are so common in the neighbourhood of mountains,
they being so advantageously formed in every respect for
collecting and condensing the vapours into water.
The heat of springs is generally the same with the mean
temperature of the atmosphere. The mean temperature of
the south of England is 48° ; in Scotland, near Edinburgh,
it is 45° ; in the north of Ireland it is 48°, and on the south
coast about 51°. At Upsala, in Sweden, it is 43°, and in
Paris 53°. According to accurate experiments made by
eminent philosophers, the heat of the springs in these dif¬
ferent countries corresponds with the medium temperature.
We have not heard that similar experiments have been
made in other countries, or we should have been careful to
collect them. We do not however doubt but they have
been made in most countries of Europe; yet we suspect
little attention has been paid to this subject within the tro¬
pical regions.
Though this coincidence of the heat of springs with the
mean temperature of the climate where they flow, seems to
be a general fact, yet it admits of many exceptions. In va¬
rious parts of the world there are springs which not only
exceed the mean temperature, but even the strongest me¬
ridian heat ever known in the torrid regions. The follow¬
ing table will give a distinct notion of the degrees of heat
which different springs have been found to possess, accord¬
ing to the experiments of philosophers. It is necessary to
remark that experiments made upon the same springs,
by different persons, vary a little from one another, which
may be owing to many accidents easily accounted for.
Where this is the case, we shall mention both the lowest
and highest degree of heat which has been ascribed to the
same spring, according to Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
s P R
Places.
Springs.
Highest
degree
of heat.
Lowest
degree
of heat.
Bristol, 
Buxton, 
Matlock,  
i Bath, 
Aix-la-Chapelle,..
Barege, 
Pisa, 
Caroline baths in 1
Bohemia, j
Iceland, 
St. Vincent’s or 1
the hot well, J
Gentleman’s bath,....
King’s bath, 
Prudel or furious,....
Geyser, 
84
82
69
119
146
122
104
165
212
76
113
136
Spa
In cold countries where congelation takes place, the heat
of the earth is considerably above the freezing point, and
continues so through the whole year. From experiments
that have been made in mines and deep pits, it appears that
this heat is uniform and stationary at a certain depth. But
as the heat of these springs far exceeds the common heat
of the internal parts of the earth, it must be occasioned by
causes peculiar to certain places ; but what these causes are,
it is no easy matter to determine. We are indeed certain
that hot springs receive their heat from some subterranean
cause ; but it is a matter of difficulty to investigate how this
heat is produced and preserved. Theories have however
been formed on this subject. The subterranean heat has
been ascribed to the electrical fluid, and to a great body of
fire in the centre of the earth ; but we suspect that the na¬
ture of the electrical fluid and its effects are not sufficiently
understood. As to the supposition that the heat of springs
is owing to a central fire, it is too hypothetical to require
anv refutation. From what then does this heat originate,
and whence is the fuel which has produced it for so many
ages ? To enable us to answer these questions with preci¬
sion, more information is necessary than we have hitherto
obtained respecting the structure of the internal parts of the
earth. It is peculiarly requisite that we should be made
acquainted with the fossils which are most common in those
places where hot springs abound. We should then perhaps
discover that hot springs always pass through bodies of a
combustible nature. It is well known to chemists, that
when water is mixed with vitriolic acid, a degree of heat
is produced superior to that of boiling water. It is also an es¬
tablished fact, that when water meets with pyrites, that is,
a mixture of sulphur and iron, a violent inflammation takes
place. If therefore we could prove that these materials
exist in the strata from which hot springs are derived, we
should be enabled to give a satisfactory account of tins cu¬
rious phenomenon. As some apology for this supposition,
we may add, that most of the hot springs mentioned above,
have been found by analysis to be impregnated with sul¬
phur, and some of them with iron. It must however be
acknowledged, that the hot springs of Iceland, which
212°, the heat of boiling water, according to an afu
analysis of their contents by the ingenious Dr. Black, we
neither found to contain iron nor sulphur. It wi
sary that we should wait with patience, and continue to
lect facts, till the sciences of chemistry and minera °gy
be so far advanced as to enable us to form a pe
theory on this subject. . , r
Springs are of different kinds. Some are PC1^ ’ ,
continue to flow during the whole year ; others
during the rainy season ; some ebb and flow. -
there is one of this kind, which ebbs and ow s
inches every hour. There is another near oris ^
which ebbed and flowed three times a-day m tne
Pliny, and continues to do so still. A spring nea
S P R • S P U 551
ng sometimes flows for two years together, and then dries up
for an equal period.
eim. Spring, in Mechanics, denotes a thin piece of tempered
"^steel, or other elastic substance, which, being wound up,
serves to put machines in motion by its elasticity, or endea¬
vours to unbend itself. Such is the spring of a watch, clock,
or the like.
Spring, Ver, in cosmography, denotes one of the seasons
of the year; commencing, in the northern parts of the
world, on the day when the sun enters the first degree of
Aries, which is about the 10th day of March, and ending
when the sun leaves Gemini; or, more strictly and gene¬
rally, the spring begins on the day when the distance of
the sun’s meridian altitude from the zenith, being on the
increase, is at a medium between the greatest and least.
The end of the spring coincides with the beginning of
summer.
SPRIT, a small boom or pole which crosses the sail of a
boat diagonally, from the mast to the upper hindmost cor¬
ner of the sail, which it is used to extend and elevate ; the
lower end of the sprit rests in a sort of wreath or collar,
called the smotter, which encircles the mast in that place.
SPURZHEIM, John Gaspar, the pupil and colleague
of Dr. Gall in the elucidation of the structure and functions
of the brain, was born near Treves, on the 31st of December
1776. His father, who cultivated a farm in that district, at
first intended him for the church; but, after prosecuting
his studies with this view, a change of purpose took place,
and young Spurzheim went in 1799 to acquire a medical
education at Vienna, where he soon became acquainted
with Dr. Gall. The views of that physician concerning
the brain proved so interesting to him, that, after be¬
stowing attention upon them for several years, he at length,
in 1804, became the associate of his master. In the followr-
ing year, when Gall was forced by the Austrian govern¬
ment to leave Vienna (See Gall, F. J.), Spurzheim accom¬
panied him in his travels through Germany, France, and
Denmark. In 1807 they settled in Paris, and next year
presented to the Institute a memoir of their anatomical dis¬
coveries. A committee, of which Cuvier was the leading '
member, was appointed to give an opinion of it: a transla¬
tion of their unfavourable, and, as the phrenologists say, un-
candid report, will be found in the Edinburgh Medical and
Surgical Journal for January 1809- This report being
unsatisfactory to Gall and Spurzheim, they published their
memoir, and a defence of it, under the title of “ Recherches
«ur le Systeme Nerveux en general, et sur celui du Cerveau
en particulier,” 4to, 1809- In 1810 was commenced the
publication of the “ Anatomie et Physiologic du Systeme
Nerveux en general, et du Cerveau en particulier ; par
F. J. Gall et G. Spurzheim,” 4to ; a work which was not
completed till 1819* The third and fourth volumes were
published after Spurzheim’s separation from Gall in 1813,
and bear the name of the latter alone. It is illustrated by
a magnificent folio atlas, containing 100 plates. The phy¬
siological portion of this work was afterwards reprinted in
6 vols. 8vo, by Dr. Gall, with his own name only, under the
title “ Sur les Fonctions du Cerveau.”
Having left Dr. Gall, Spurzheim, after taking his degree
of doctor of physic at Vienna, came over to Britain in
1814, for the purpose of diffusing the new doctrines about
the brain. His first step was the publication of “ The Phy¬
siognomical System of Drs. Gall and Spurzheim,” 8vo, Lon¬
don, 1815; followed by “ Outlines of the Physiognomical
System,” 12mo, 1815, and “ Observations on the Deranged
Manifestations of Mind, or Insanity,” 8vo, 1817. The
anatomical and physiological views expounded in the first
oi these works, having been violently assailed by the late
Dl John Gordon in the 25th volume of the Edinburgh
eview, Spurzheim suddenly made his appearance in the
northern metropolis, and in the lecture-room of his opponent
demonstrated by dissection the accuracy of his anatomical Spurzheim.
assertions. To the hostile article referred to, he also replied
at considerable length in his “ Examination of the Objec¬
tions made in Britain against the Doctrines of Gall and
Spurzheim,” 8vo, Edinb. 1817. After lecturing in London,
Dublin, Edinburgh, and other towns in the United King¬
dom, he returned in 1817 to Paris, where he continued to
lecture and publish till 1825. The works which he pro¬
duced during this period are, “ Observations sur la FWie,
ou sur les Derangemens des Fonctions Morales et Intellec-
tuelles de 1’Homme,” 8vo, 1818; “Observations sur la Phre-
nologie, ou la Connaissance de I’Homme Morale et In-
tellectuel, fondee sur les Fonctions du Systeme Nerveux,”
8vo, 1818; and “ Essai Philosophique sur la Nature Mo¬
rale et Intellectuelle de I’Homme,” 8vo, 1820. His English
work, entitled, “ View of the Elementary Principles of Edu¬
cation, founded on the Study of the Nature of Man,” 12mo,
appeared at Edinburgh in 1821, and was reprinted, with
considerable additions, in 8vo, at London, in 1828. A French
edition was published at Paris in 1822. A prohibition in
1824, by the French government, of the delivery of lectures
without its special permission, obliged Spurzheim to confine
himself to private conversations in his own house, and in¬
duced him in the following year to revisit Britain. While
residing in London, where he gave several courses of lec¬
tures and dissections of the brain, he produced his “ Phre¬
nology, or the Doctrine of the Mind and of the Relations
between its Manifestations and the Body,” and “A View of
the Philosophical Principles of Phrenology,” both 8vo, 1825:
these are extended editions of some of the chapters of the
Physiognomical System. He returned to Paris, but again
visiting England in 1826, lectured to overflowing audiences
in the London Institution, and in the same year published
“ Phrenology in Connexion with the Study of Physiognomy,”
8vo, with 34 plates; also “ The Anatomy of the Brain, with
a General View of the Nervous System,” 8vo, with 11 plates.
Towards the end of this year, he lectured at Cambridge ;
and after expounding his views in Bath and Bristol, deliver¬
ed, in April 1827, a course of lectures to seven hundred
auditors, in the London Institution. His “ Outlines of Phreno¬
logy” were published in the same year, at the close of which
he visited Hull, whence he once more proceeded to Edin¬
burgh, delivering in that city two courses of popular lec¬
tures, besides a professional course on the anatomy, physio¬
logy, and pathology of the brain. From Edinburgh he
proceeded to Glasgow, and afterwards to London, where
he had now fixed his residence. In 1828 appeared his
“ Sketch of the Natural Laws of Man,” 12mo; and on 14th
May 1829, a paper of his on the brain was read before the
Royal Society, into whose Transactions, however, it was re¬
fused admittance. It was published by Dr. Spurzheim as
an appendix to his “Anatomy of the Brain,” along with some
pretty free “ Remarks on Mr. Charles Bell’s Animadversions
on Phrenology.” He this year lectured in many English
towns, and in the following spring accepted of an invitation
to Dublin, where he was created an honorary member of
the Royal Irish Academy. After again lecturing there in
1831, he fixed his residence in Paris, and published in 1832
a small “ Manuel de Phrenologie,” which is the last of his
works. For the twofold purpose of diffusing phrenology
and studying the American character and institutions, he
sailed for the United States on 20th June 1832. Unfor¬
tunately the climate proved detrimental to his constitution,
which was injured still more by over-exertion, and incau¬
tious exposure while lecturing at Boston; the consequence
was a fever, which terminated in his death on the 10th of
November 1832. His remains were honoured at Boston
with a public funeral, at which an oration was delivered by
Dr. Follen, professor of German in Harvard University.
As a phrenologist, Dr. Spurzheim is generally regarded
by his British disciples as having improved the philosophi-
552
S Q U
S Q U
Spy
cal aspect of phrenology, by classifying the facts better than metrical problem, namely, the rectification of the circle, or Sc
Dr. Gall, and also by pursuing them farther into their phi- the finding a straight line equal to its circumference; for'—^
the area of a circle is equal to that of a rectangle contained
by the radius and a straight line equal to half the circumf'e-
therefore, if a straight line exactly equal to the
Squaring. Josophical, moral, and practical results. At the same time,
s^‘V^'/it appears to be the opinion of many, that he sometimes pro¬
ceeded to systematize prematurely, and that in his latter
years he occasionally modified his views rather through
caprice than from reason, or from the accumulation of new
observations. It is justly objected to his writings, in compa¬
rison with those of Gall, that in announcing his discoveries,
he details neither the circumstances in which they were
made, nor the cases by which they are supported. There
has been much controversy on the relative merits of these
two physicians, in extending the boundaries of phrenology,
and elucidating the anatomy of the brain. On this sub¬
ject, the curious reader may consult the Phrenological Jour¬
nal, ii. 185, vi. 307, and xi. 225 ; also the preface to Spurz-
heim’s Anatomy of the Brain.1 (c. f.)
SPY, a person hired to watch the actions, motions, &c.
of another ; particularly what passes in a camp. When a
spy is discovered, he is generally treated without mercy.
SGUADRON, in military affairs, denotes a body of horse
whose number of men is not fixed, but is usually from one
hundred to two hundred.
Squadron of Ships, either implies a detachment of ships
rence
circumference could be found, a rectlineal space precisely
equal to the area might also be found, and the contrary.
But although no perfectly accurate resolution of the pro¬
blem has been obtained under either form, we can always
find approximate values of the area and circumference; and
it is now customary to apply the terms quadrature and
rectification of the circle also to these.
The problem of the quadrature of the circle appears to
have engaged the attention of geometers at a very early pe¬
riod ; for we are told that Anaxagoras, who lived about five
hundred years before Christ, attempted its solution while
confined in prison on account of his philosophical opinions.
We are ignorant of the result of his researches; but al¬
though we cannot suppose they were attended with any
success, we may reasonably conclude that we are indebted
to them for the discovery of some of the properties of the
figure, which are now known as elementary propositions in
geometry.
Hippocrates of Chios was likewise engaged in trying to
employed on any particular expedition, or the third part of resolve the same problem, and it was no doubt in the course
a naval armament.
SQUADS, in a military sense, are certain divisions of a
company into so many squads, generally into three or four.
The use of forming companies into as many squads of in¬
spection as it has serjeants and corporals, is proved by those
regiments who have practised that method ; as by it the ir-
of his inquiries into this subject, that he discovered the
quadrature of the curvilineal space, which is now known by
the name of the Lune of Hippocrates. The nature of this
discovery may be briefly explained as
follows. Let ABCD be a circle, H its
centre, AC its diameter, ADC a triangle
Fig. 1.
regularity of the soldiers is considerably restrained, their inscribed in the semicircle, having its
dress improved, and the discipline of the regiment in gene- sides, AD, DC equal_to one another. On
Every officer should have
ral most remarkably forwarded
a roll of his company by squads.
SQUALL, a sudden and violent blast of wind, usually
occasioned by the interruption and reverberation of the
wind from high mountains. These are very frequent in the
Mediterranean, particularly that part of it which is known
D as a centre, with DA or DC as a ra¬
dius, let the quadrantal arch AEC be
described, then shall the curvilineal
space bounded by the semicircle ABC
and the quadrantal arch AEC (which
by the name of the Levant, as produced by the repulsion triangle ADC.
is the Lune of Hippocrates), be equal to the rectilineal
and new direction which the wind meets with in its passage
between the various islands of the Archipelago.
SQUARE, among Mechanics, an instrument consisting
of two rules or branches, fastened perpendicularly at one
end of their extremities, so as to form a right angle. It is
of great use in the description and mensuration of right an¬
gles, and laying down perpendiculars.
SauARE-Rigged, an epithet applied to a ship whose yards
Although Hippocrates’s discovery has led to no important
conclusion either relating to the quadrature of the circle or
that of any other curve, yet at the time it was made, it
might be regarded as of some consequence, chiefly because
it shewed the possibility of exhibiting a rectilineal figure
equal to a space bounded by curve lines, a thing which we
have reason to suppose was then done for the first time, and
might have been fairly doubted, considering the insuper-
are very long. It is also used in contradistinction to all ves- able difficulty that was found to attend the quadrature of
sels whose sails are extended by stays or lateen-yards, or by the circle or its rectification.
booms and gaffs, the usual situation of which is nearly in Aristotle speaks of two persons, namely, Bryson and An-
the plain of the keel; and hence, tiphon, who, about his time, or a little earlier, were occu-
Square-Sail, is a sail extended to a yard which hangs pied with the quadrature of the circle. The former appears,
parallel to the horizon, as distinguished from the other sails according to the testimony of Alexander Aphrodiseus, to
which are extended by booms and stays placed obliquely, have erred most egregiously ; he having concluded that the
This sail is only used in fair winds, or to scud under in a circumference was exactly 3f times the diameter. And the
tempest. In the former case, it is furnished with a large latter seems to have proceeded in the same manner as Ar-
additional part, called the bonnet, which is then attached to chimedes afterwards did in squaring the parabola, that is, bj
its bottom, and removed when it is necessary to scud. first inscribing a square in the circle, then an isoceles tn-
SQUARING, or Quadrature of the Circle, signifies the angle in each of the segments of the curve, haying for its
finding a square exactly equal to the area of a given circle, base a side of the square ; and next again a series of tnan-
This problem, however, has not been, and probably cannot gles in the segments, having for their bases the sides of the
be, strictly resolved by the commonly admitted principles former series, and so on. This mode of procedure, hov-
of geometry ; mathematicians having hitherto been unable
to do more than to find a square that shall differ from the
area of any proposed circle by as small a quantity as they
please. The problem is of the same degree of difficulty,
and indeed may be regarded as identical with another geo-
ever, was not attended with success, as these spaces do not,
as in the case of the parabola, admit of being absoluteh
summed.
It may be supposed that Archimedes exerted his utmost
efforts to resolve this problem ; and probably it was only
1 Phrenological Journal, vol. viii; Memoir by Carmichael. Foreign Quarterly Review, vol. ii.
S Q U
,ng. after long meditation on the subject that he lost all hopes
'^of success, and contented himself with that approximation
to the ratio of the diameter to the circumference which is
contained in his treatise De Circuli Dimensione. He
found his approximation to the ratio, by supposing a re¬
gular polygon of ninety-six sides, to be described about
the circle, and another of the same number, to be inscrib¬
ed in it, and by shewing that the perimeter of the cir¬
cumscribing polygon wras less than 3|g, or 3A times the
diameter, but that the perimeter of the inscribed figure was
greater than 3}f times the diameter ; now, the circumfe¬
rence of the circle being less than the perimeter of the one
polygon, but greater than that of the other ; it follows that
the circumference must be less than 3 j times the diameter,
but greater than times ; so that, taking the first of these
limits, as being expressed by the smallest numbers, the cir¬
cumference will be to the diameter as 3j to 1, or as 22 to
7 nearly.
Although the ratio found by Archimedes be the oldest
known in the western world, yet one more accurate was
known at a much earlier period in India. This we learn
from the Institutes of Akbar (Ayeen Akberry), where it is
said that the Hindoos suppose the diameter of a circle to be
to its circumference as 1250 to 3927. Now, this ratio
must have required the inscription of a polygon of 768 sides
in the circle, and must have been attended with nine ex¬
tractions of the square root, each carried as far as ten places
of figures.
We learn from Simplicius that Nicomedes and Apollo¬
nius both attempted to square the circle, the former by
means of a curve, which he called the quadratrix ; the in¬
vention of which, however, is ascribed to Dinostratus, and
the latter, by the help of a curve, denominated the sister to
the tortuous line, or spiral, and which was probably the
quadratrix of Dinostratus; the nature of which, and the
manner of its application to the subject in question, we shall
briefly explain.
Let AFB be a quadrant of a circle,
(fig. 2), and C its centre; and conceive
the radius CF to revolve uniformly about
C, from the position CA, until at last
it coincide with CB ; while at the same
time a line DG is carried with an uni¬
form motion from A towards CB; the
former line continuing always parallel
to the latter, until at last they coincide;
both motions being supposed to begin
and end at the same instant; the point E, in which the re¬
volving radius CF, and the moveable line DG intersect one
another, will generate a certain curve line AEH, which is
the quadratrix of Dinostratus.
Draw EK, FL both perpendicular to CB ; then because
the radius AC and the quadrantal arch AFB, are uniform¬
ly generated in the same time by the points D and F, the
contemporaneous spaces described will have to one another
the same ratio as the whole spaces; that is, AD : AF : :
AC: AB; hence we have AC : AB : : DC, or EK : FB.
Now, as the moveable point F approaches to B, the ratio of
the straight lineEK to the arch FBwill approach to, and will
manifestly be ultimately the same as the ratio of the straight
ine LKto the straight line FL, which again is equal to the ratio
0 CE to CF; therefore the ratio of the radius AC to the
quadrantal arch AFB is the limit of the ratio of CEtoCF,and
consequently equal to the ratio of CH to CB, H being thepoint
f[<V.!1CrhAthe (luadratrix meets CB. Since therefore CH :
,y , ’ °y CB : quad, arch AFB, if by any means we
u determine the point H, we might then find a straight
e equal to the quadrantal arch, (by finding a third pro-
L. ,t0 CH and CB)’ and consequently a straight line
noH °i ^16 c(rcumference. The point H, however, can-
e determined by a geometrical construction, and there-
vm*. xx.
S Q U
553
fore all the ingenuity evinced by the person who first Squaring,
thought of this method of rectifying the circle, (which cer-
tainly is considerable), has been unavailing.
The Arabs, who succeeded the Greeks in the cultivation
of the sciences, would no doubt have their pretended squavers
of the circle. We however know nothing more than that
one of them believed he had discovered that the diameter
being unity, the circumternnce was the square root of 10;
a very gross mistake; for the square root of 10 exceeds
3*162 ; but Archimedes had demonstrated that the circum¬
ference was less than 3*143.
It appears that, during the dark ages, some attempts were
made at the resolution of this famous problem, which, how¬
ever, have always remained in manuscripts, buried in the
dust of old libraries. But upon the revival of learning, the
problem was again agitated by different writers, and parti¬
cularly by the celebrated Cardinal De Cusa, who distin¬
guished himself by his unfortunate attempt to resolve it.
His mode of investigation, which had no solid foundation
in geometry, led him to conclude, that if a line equal to the
sum of the radius of a circle, and the side of its inscribed
square were made the diameter of another circle, and an
equilateral triangle were inscribed in this last, the perime¬
ter of this triangle would be equal to the circumference of
the other circle. This pretended quadrature was refuted
by Regiomontanus.
It would be trespassing too much upon the patience of
our readers, were we to mention all the absurd and erro¬
neous attempts which have been made during the last three
centuries to square the circle. In a supplement to Mon-
tucla s Histoire des Mathematiques, we find upwards of forty
pretenders to the honour of this discovery enumerated.
They were almost all very ignorant of geometry; and many
of them were wild visionaries, pretending to discover inex¬
plicable relations between the plain truths of mathematics
and the most mysterious doctrines of religion. From such
persons as have generally pursued this inquiry, no improve¬
ment whatever of the science was to be expected ; al¬
though, in some instances, it has derived advantage from
the labours of such as have undertaken to expose the ab¬
surdity of their conclusions ; as in the case of Metius, who
in refuting the quadrature of one Simon a Quercu, found a
much nearer approximation to the ratio of the diameter to
the circumference than had been previously known in Eu¬
rope, namely, that of 113 to 355.
Among the most remarkable of those who have under¬
taken to resolve this problem, we cannot fail to enumerate
Joseph Scaliger, a man of stupendous erudition. Full of con¬
fidence in his own powers, he believed that, entering upon
the study of geometry, he could not fail to surmount by the
force of his genius, those obstacles which had completely
stopped the progress of all preceding inquirers. He gave the
result of his meditations to the world in 1592, under the title
Nova Cyclometria ; but he was refuted by Clavius, by Vieta,
and others, who shewed that the magnitude which he had
assigned to the circumference was a little less than the peri¬
meter of the inscribed polygon of 192 sides, which proved
beyond a doubt that he was wrong. Scaliger, however, was
not to be convinced of the absurdity of his conclusion ;
and indeed, in almost every instance, pretenders to this dis¬
covery have not been more remarkable for their egregious
errors, than for their obstinacy in maintaining that they
were in the right, and all who held a contrary opinion in
the wrong.
I he famous Hobbes came also upon the field about the
year 1650, with pretensions not only to the quadrature of
the circle, but also to the trifection of an angle, the rectifi¬
cation of the parabola, &e.; but his pretended solutions
were refuted by Dr. Wallis. And this circumstance afford¬
ed him occasion to write not only against geometers, but
even against the science of geometry itself.
4 A
554
S Q U
Squaring. We find it recorded by Montucla, as a sort of phenome-
^«^/~non, that one Richard White, an English Jesuit, having
happened upon what he conceived to be a quadrature ot the
circle, which he published under the title, Chrysaspis, sea
Quadratura Circuit, suffered himself at last to be convinced
bv some of his friends that he was wrong. But a solution
of the same problem, found out by one Mathulen of Lyon,
did not end in so much advantage to its author. I his man
in 1728 announced to the world that he had discovered both
the quadrature of the circle, and a perpetual motion ; and
he was so certain of the truth of these discoveries, that he
he consigned 1000 ecus (about L.125), to be paid to any
one who should demonstrate that he was deceived m either.
The task was not difficult. Nicole of the Academy of
Sciences demonstrated that he was wrong, and he himself
allowed it; but he hesitated to pay the money, which Ni¬
cole had relinquished in favour of the Hotel Dieu of Lyon.
The affair went before a court of justice, which adjudged
the money to be paid, as Nicole had destined it, to the
poor. At a later period, namely, in 1753, the Chevalier de
Causans, a French officer, and a man who was never sup¬
posed to be a mathematician, suddenly found a quadratuie
of the circle in procuring a circular piece of turf to be cut;
and rising from one truth to another, he explained by Ins
quadrature the doctrine of original sin, and the Inmty.
He engaged himself, by a public writing, to deposit with a
notary the sum of 300,000 francs, to be wagered against
such as should oppose him, and he actually lodged 10,000,
which were to devolve to him who should demonstrate his
error. This was easily done, as it resulted from his disco¬
very that a circle was equal to its circumscribing square,
that is, a part to the whole. Some persons came forward
to answer his challenge, and in particular a young lady sued
him at one of the courts of law; but the French king judg¬
ed that the chevalier’s fortune ought not to suffer on ac¬
count of his whim ; for, setting aside this piece of folly, in
every other respect he was a worthy man. The procedure
was therefore stopped, and the wager declared void.
We shall not enter further into the history ot these vain
and absurd attempts to resolve this important problem, but
proceed to state what has actually been done by men ot
sound minds and real mathematical acquirements towards
its solution. And in the first place, it may be observed
that the problem admits of being proposed under two ditte-
rent forms ; for it may be required to find either the area
of the whole circle, or, which is the same thing, the length
of the whole circumference ; or else to find the area ot any
proposed sector or segment, or, which is equivalent, the
length of the arch of the sector or segment. I he former
is termed the definite, and the latter the indefinite quadra¬
ture of the circle. The latter evidently is more general
than the former, and includes it as a particular case. Now',
if we could find by any means a finite algebraic equation that
should express the relation between any proposed arch ot a
circle, and some known straight line, or lines, the magni¬
tude of one or more of which depended on that arch, then
we would have an absolute rectification of the arch, and
consequently a rectification or quadrature of the whole cir¬
cle. We here speak of an analytical solution ; the ancients,
who were almost entirely ignorant of this branch of mathe¬
matical science, must have endeavoured to treat it entirely
upon geometrical principles. It is now well known, how¬
ever, that all geometrical problems may be subjected to
analysis ; and that it is only by such a mode of proceeding
they have in many cases been resolved.
With respect to the definite quadrature of the circle, no
unexceptionable demonstration of its impossibility has hi¬
therto been published. It is true, that James Gregory, in
his Vera Circuli et Hyperbolae Quadratura, has given what
he considered as such a demonstration ; but it was objected
to by Huygens, one of the best geometers of his time. It
S Q U
is certain tnat the ratio of the diameter to the circumference, SqUa.
also, that the ratio of the square of the diameter to the'-^v
square of a straight line equal to the circumference, cannot
be expressed by rational numbers, for this has been strict¬
ly demonstrated by Lambert in the Berlin Memoirs for
1761. A demonstration is also given in Legendres Geo-
metrie. As to the indefinite quadrature, if Newton’s de¬
monstration of the twenty-eighth lemma of the first book of
his Principia, be correct, the thing ought to be absolutely
impossible. For the object of that proposition is to prove,
that in no oval figure whatever, that returns into itself, can
the area cut off by straight lines at pleasure, be universally
found by an equation of a finite dimension, and composed
of a finite number of terms. If this be true, then it will be
impossible to express any sector of a circle taken at plea¬
sure in finite terms. It is however to be remarked, that the
accuracy of the reasoning by which Newton has attempted
to establish the truth of the general proposition, has been
questioned by no less a geometer than D’Alembert; and in¬
deed we know one oval curve, which returns into itself,
and which according to Newton’s proposition ought there¬
fore not to admit of an indefinite quadrature ; yet this is by
no means the case, for it does really admit of such a quad¬
rature. The curve we mean is the lemniscata, whose figure
is nearly that of the numeral character 8. Upon the whole,
then we may infer that an unexceptionable demonstration
of the impossibility of expressing either the whole circle, or
any proposed sector of it, by a finite equation, is still among
the desiderata of mathematics. .
Of the different methods which have been found tor ap¬
proximating to the area or to the circumference, that of
Archimedes is the only one found by the ancients in the
western world that has descended to modern times, and it
appears to have been the most accurate known, untd about
the year 1585, when Metius, in refuting a pretended quad¬
rature, found the more accurate ratio of 113 to 355, as we
have already noticed. About the same time Vieta and
Adrianus Romanus published their ratios, the former carry-
ins the approximation to ten decimals instead of six, (which
was that of Metius’s ratio), and the latter extending it to
17 figures. Vieta also gave a kind of series, which being
continued to infinity, gave the value of the circle.
These approximations, however, were far exceeded by
that of Ludolph Van Ceulen, who, in a work published in
Dutch in 1610, carried it as far as 36 figures, showing that i
the diameter were unitv, the circumference would be greatei
than 3J4159T26535,89793,23846,26433,83279,50238, but
less than the same number with the last figure increased by
an unit. In finding this approximation, Van Ceulen to-
lowed the method of Archimedes, doubling continua y
number of sides of the inscribed and circumscribed po y
o-ons, until at length he found two which differed only by
an unit in the 36th place of decimals in the numbers e -
pressing their perimeters. This was rather a work of pa
tiencethanof genius; indeed the labour mus^ ave
prodigious. He seems to have valued highly this ® g
effort; for in imitation of Archimedes, whose ton
Xkl with a sphere and cylinder he directed that the
ratio he had found might be inscribed on his tomb. ^
Snellius abridged greatly the labour of ^alcul h ’^ed
although he did not go beyond Van Ceuien, jet
his result. Des Cartes also found a ometr(;c^eCOcir,rum.
tion, which being repeated continually, the deduced
ference, and from which he might easi y 0f st.
an expression in the form of a series. cljLeCt • he
Vincent distinguished himself also on th!8 Jha(j dis-
however committed a great error m supposing , j
covered the quadrature of both the circle and hyP^
Gregory’s mistake was the cause of a sha f ^ by
carried on between his disciples on the one ’ and it
Huvgens, Mersenne, and Lestaud, on the othe
S Q U
ng. was this that gave Huygens occasion to consider particu-
w'larly the quadrature of the circle, and to investigate vari¬
ous new and curious theorems relating to it, which are con¬
tained in his Theoremata de Quadratura Hyperboles, El¬
lipsis, et Circuli, 1651; and in his work De Circuli Magni-
tudine inventa, 1654. In particular he showed, that if c
denote the chord of an arch, and s its sine, then the arch
itself will be greater than —s'), but less than c +
— X 3(c—s)1 he also showed that the arch is less than
the sum of f of its sine and ^ of its tangent.
James Gregory, in his Vera Circuli et Hyperbola: Quad¬
ratura, gave several curious theorems upon the relation
of the circle to its inscribed and circumscribed polygons,
and their ratios to one another; and by means of these he
found with infinitely less trouble than by the ordinary me¬
thods, and even by those of Snellius, the measure of the
circle as far as 20 places of figures. He gave also, after
the example of Huygens, constructions for finding straight
lines nearly equal to arches of a circle, and of which the "de¬
gree of accuracy was greater. For example, he found that
if A be put for the chord of an arch of a circle, and B for
twice the chord of half the arch, and C be taken such that
A-j-B : B :: B : C, then the arch itself is nearly equal to
SRI
555
man, as well as by his contemporaries. In particular, James Squaring
Gregory found, that t being put for the tangent, the arch . 8
is expressed by the very simple series Sri Muttra.
t—
+il.
^ 9
&c.
8C+8B—A
15
, but a little less, the error in the case of a
complete semicircle being less than its part; and when
the arch does not exceed 120°, it is less than its 55000 Part»
and finally, for a quadrant the error is not greater than its
355C57 Par*:- And farther, that if D be such that A : B ::
B : D, then the arch is nearly equal to P but
15
a little greater, the error in the semicircle being less than
TSoo Parb and in a quadrant less than its 55005 part.
Dr. Wallis gave, in his Amthmetica Infinitorum, a sin¬
gular expression for the ratio of the circle to the square of
its diameter. He found that the former was to the latter
as 1 to the product
3x3x5x5x7x7x9x9x11 xn^&c.
2x4x4x6x6x8x8xl0x 10x12
the fractions |, f, |, &c., being supposed infinite in num¬
ber. The products being supposed continued to infinity,
we have the ratio exactly; but if we stop at any finite num¬
ber of terms, as must necessarily be the case in its applica¬
tion, the result will be alternately too great and too small,
according as we take an odd or an even number of terms
of the numerator and denominator.
An expression of another kind for the ratio of the circle
to the square of the diameter was found by Lord Brounker.
He showed that the circle being unity, the square of the
diameter is expressed by the continued fraction
1
1 +
2+-
2+
25^
2 +
49
2 -f-, &c.
suPPose^ to go on to infinity, the numerators 1, 9,
& ’ ,1 •; being the squares of the odd numbers 1, 3, 5, 7,
wp’^ali 1 ng tW°’ three’ four’ &c’’ terms °r this fraction,
ternntoi have a senes of approximate values, which are al-
y gi eater and less than its accurate value.
mre^f (Teretl‘e chi«f discoveries relating to the quadra-
others 1 e circ e made before the time of Newton ; many
> low ever, were quickly added by that truly great
By supposing that tz=.\, in which case the arch is one-
eighth of the circumference, we have the corresponding
arch expressed by the series
.r, 11 1 1 1
^ 3 + 5 7 + 9_TT+&C‘)
which was also given by Leibnitz as a quadrature of the cir¬
cle in the Acta Eruditorum in the year 1682, but was dis¬
covered by him 1673. Gregory had however found the
series under its general form several years before. This
series is altogether inapplicable in its present form, on ac¬
count of the slowness of its convergency; for Newton has
observed, that to exhibit its value exact to twenty places of
figures, there would be occasion for no less than five thou¬
sand millions of its terms, to compute which would take up
above a thousand years.
The slowness of the convergency has arisen from our
supposing t—\. If we had supposed t greater than 1, then
the series would not have converged at all, but on the con¬
trary diverged. But by giving to * a value less than 1, then
the rate of conyergency will be increased, and that so much
the more, as t is smaller.
If we suppose the arch of which t is the tangent to be
30°, then t will be and therefore half the cir¬
cumference to radius unity, or the circumference to the dia¬
meter unity, will be
'^l2(l-33 + 95-. —&c0-
Mr. Machin, enticed by the easiness of the process, was
induced, about the beginning of the last century, to con¬
tinue the approximation as far as 100 places of figures, thus
finding the diameter to be to the circumference as 1 to
3.14159,26535,89793,23846,26433,83279,50288,41971,69
399,37510,58209,74944,59230,78164,06286,20899,86280
34825,34211,70680. After him, De Lagny continued it as
far as 128 figures. But he has also been outdone; for in
Radcliffes library at Oxford, there is a manuscript in which
it is carried as far as 150 figures!
Although this last series, which was first proposed by Dr.
Halley, gives the ratio of the diameter to the circumference
wdth wonderful facility when compared with the operose
method employed by Van Ceulen, yet others have been
since found which accomplish it with still greater ease.
W e have given such a method in our treatise on Alge¬
bra, (see article 272.) In the same treatise, (article 273)
we have given a very elementary method, which may be
understood by the mere elements of geometry. For the
analytical methods, see Fluxions.
SR A YANA BALGU1 A, a village of Hindustan, in the
northern province of Mysore, celebrated as the principal
seat of the Jain worship, which at one time prevailed all
over the south of India, but which has now greatly declined
from the influence of the Brahmins. There are two hills
adjoining the town, on one of which, named Indra Betta is
situated the temple; the other is cut into a colossal statue,
seventy feet in height. The village is almost wholly inha¬
bited by Jamas. Long. 76. 43. E. Lat. 12. 45. N.
SRI MUTIR A, a considerable town of Hindustan, pro-
vince of Agra. It is situated on a naked rock of red gra¬
nite, of which material all the houses are constructed. The
streets are very narrow, and the working of the red stone
into slabs furnishes employment to the greater part of the
inhabitants. Long. 77. 20. E. Lat. 26. 41. N.
556
SRI
Sri Perma- SRI PERMATURA, a town of the south of India, in the
tura province of the Carnatic, celebrated as the birth-place ot
0 II Rama Anuja Acharya, the great Brahmin saint and re-
Staffa. f0rmer, and the founder of a sect. He preached success-
''~^~ v_*_ fully against the doctrines of the Jains and the Booahists.
Long. 80. 2. E. Lat. 12. 59. N. * t
STAB AT MATER, a musical composition upon the La¬
tin text of a sacred cantata, beginning with these words.
Pergolesi, Jomelli, and Haydn, have each set these words
to music in an admirable manner. #
STADE, a town of the kingdom of Hanover, in the pro¬
vince of Bremen, of which province it is the capital. It
stands on the river Schwinge, which falls into the Elbe about
one mile below the town, whence large vessels must load
and discharge by the aid of river craft. Stade, which was
once fortified, contains the provincial courts of law and
boards of administration. It contains 5350 inhabitants,
who are occupied as brewers, distillers, manufacturers ot
coarse woollen and hosiery, and in equipping ships for the
whale fishery. Opposite the town a Hanoverian ship ot
war is stationed, which collects a small toll on each vessel
that passes upwards to Hamburg or Altona. Lat. 53. 3b. 5.
Long. 9- 18. 10. E. . . ,q*
STADIUM, an ancient Greek measure, containing
geometrical paces, or 625 Roman feet, corresponding to
our furlono'. The Greeks usually measured distances bv
stadia, which they called o-raStao-/xo?. Stadium also signified
the course on which their races were run.
STADTHOLDER, formerly the principal magistrate or
governor of the Seven United Provinces. This office is
now abolished, and that of king substituted. _
STAFF, an instrument ordinarily used to rest on in walk-
in o-. The staff is also frequently used as a kind of natural
weapon, both of offence and defence, and for several other
PUStaff, a light pole erected in different parts of a ship,
for hoisting the colours. .
Staff, in Music, five lines, on which, with the interme¬
diate spaces, the notes of a song or piece of music are
marked.
STAFFA, one of the Hebrides or Western Islands of
Scotland, remarkable for its basaltic pillars. It was visited
by Sir Joseph Banks, who communicated the following ac¬
count of it to Mr. Pennant: “ The little island of Stafla
lies on the west coast of Mull, about three leagues north¬
east from Iona, or Icolumbkill: its greatest length is about
an English mile, and its breadth about half a one. On the
east side of the island is a small bay where boats generally
land, a little to the southward of which the first appearance
of pillars is to be observed ; they are small; and instead of
being placed upright, lie down on their side, each forming
a segment of a circle. From thence you pass a small cave,
above which the pillars, now grown a little larger, are in¬
clining in all directions: in one place in particular, a small
mass of them very much resembles the ribs of a ship. From
hence having passed the cave, which, it it is not low water,
you must do in a boat, you come to the first ranges of pil¬
lars, which are still not above half as large as those a little
beyond. Over against this place is a small island, called
in Erse Boo-sha-la, separated from the main by a channel
not many fathoms wide. The whole island is composed
of pillars without any stratum above them; they are still
small, but by much the neatest formed of any about the
place.
“ The first division of the island, for at high water it is
divided into two, makes a kind of a cone, the pillars con¬
verging together towards the centre : on the other they are
in general laid dow n flat: and in the front next to the main,
you see how beautifully they are packed together, their
ends coming out square with the bank which they form. All
these have their transverse sections exact, and their surfaces
S T A
smooth, which is by no means the case with the large ones,
which are cracked in all directions. I must question, how- '•«
ever, if any part of this whole island of Boo-sha-la is two
feet in diameter.
“ The main island opposite to Boo-sha-la, and farther to¬
wards the north-west, is supported by ranges of pillars
pretty erect, and though not tall, (as they are not uncover¬
ed to the base), of large diameters ; and at their feet is an
irregular pavement, made by the upper sides of such as have
been broken off, which extends as far under water as the eye
can reach. Here the forms of the pillars are apparent; these
are of three, four, five, six, and seven sides; but the num¬
bers of five and six are by much the most prevalent. The
largest I measured was of seven; it was four feet five inches
in diameter.
The surfaces of these large pillars, in general, are rough
and uneven, full of cracks in all directions; the transverse
figures in the upright ones never fail to run in their true di¬
rections. The surfaces upon which we walked were often
flat, having neither concavity nor convexity; the larger
number, however, was concave, though some were very evi¬
dently convex. In some places, the interstices within the
perpendicular figures were filled up with a yellow spar: in
one place, a vein passed in among the mass of pillars, car¬
rying here and there small threads of spar. Though they
were broken and cracked through in all directions, yet theii
perpendicular figures might easily be traced: from whence
it is easy to infer, that whatever the accident might have
been that caused the dislocation, it happened after the for¬
mation of the pillars.
“ From hence proceeding along shore, you arrive at hin-
gal’s Cave. Its dimensions I have given in the form of a
table:
Length of the cave from the rock without,
From the pitch of the arch, .
Breadth of ditto at the mouth,
At the farther end,
Height of the arch at the mouth,
At the end,
Height of an outside pillar,
Of one at the north-west corner,
Depth of water at the mouth,
At the bottom, . *
Feet. In.
371 6
250
53
20
117
70
39
54
18
9
« The cave runs into the rock in the direction of north¬
east-by-east by the compass.
« Proceeding farther to the north-west, you meet with
the highest ranges of pillars, the magnificent appearance ot
which is past all description. Here they are bare to their
very bases, and the stratum below them is also visible: in
a short time it -rises many feet above the water, and gives
an opportunity of examining its quality. Its surface is roug ,
and has often large lumps of stone sticking in it as it halt
immersed: itself, when broken, is composed of a
heterogeneous parts, which together have very much the
appearance of a lava; and the more so, as ^>any 0
lumps appear to be of the very same stone of which the
pillars are formed. This whole stratum lies in an inc
position, dipping gradually towards the south-east. As here¬
abouts is the situation of the highest pillars, I shafi mentio
my measurements of them, and the different stra a i
place, premising, that the measurements were ^ ""V
line held in the hand of a person who stood at the top ^
the cliff, and reaching to the bottom ; to the lowe
which was tied a white mark, which was observed Y
who stayed below for the purpose: when this mar
off from the water, the person below noted it down, and made
signal to him above, who made then a maik m hi P
whenever this mark passed a notable place, the sam .
was made, and the name of the place noted down as bd
the line being all hauled up, and the distances between
marks measured and noted down, gave, when co p
S T A
S T A
557
ra. with the book kept below, the distances, as for instance in
/■^the cave:
“ No. 1, in the book below, was called from the water to
the foot of the first pillar in the book above ; No. 1 gave
36 feet 8 inches, the highest of that ascent, which was com¬
posed of broken pillars.
“ No. 1. Pillar at the west corner of Fingal’s cave.
Feet. In.
1. From the water to the foot of the pillar, 12 10
2. Height of the pillar, . . . 37 3
3. Stratum above the pillar, . 66 9
“ No. 2. Fingal’s cave.
1. From the water to the foot of the pillar, 36 8
2. Height of the pillar, . . 39 6
3. From the top of the pillar to the top of the
arch, . . . 31 4
4. Thickness of the stratum above, . 34 4
By adding together the three first measure¬
ments, we got the height of the arch
from the water, . . 117 6
“ No. 3. Corner pillar to the westward of
Fingal’s cave.
Stratum below the pillar of lava-like matter, 11 0
Length of pillar, . . 54 0
Stratum above the pillar, . . 61 6
“ No. 5. Another part to the westward.
Stratum below the pillar, . 17 1
Height of the pillar, . . 50 0
Stratum above, . . 511
“ No. 5. Another pillar farther to the west¬
ward.
Stratum below the pillar, . . 19 8
Height of the pillar, . . 55 1
Stratum above, . . . 54 7
“ The stratum above the pillars, which is here mention¬
ed, is uniformly the same, consisting of numberless small
pillars, bending and inclining in all directions, sometimes so
irregular that the stones can only be said to have an incli¬
nation to assume a columnar form ; in others more regular,
but never breaking into or disturbing the stratum of large
pillars, whose tops everywhere keep an uniform and regu¬
lar line.
“ Proceeding now along the shore round the north end
of the island, you arrive at Oua na scarve, or the Corvo-
ranfs Cave. Here the stratum under the pillars is lifted up
very high; the pillars above are considerably less than
those at the north-west end of the island, but still very con¬
siderable. Beyond is a bay, which cuts deep into the island,
rendering it in that place not more than a quarter of a mile
over. On the sides of this bay, especially beyond a little
valley, which almost cuts the island into two, are two stages
of pillars, but small; however, having a stratum between
them exactly the same as that above them, formed of innu-
inerable little pillars, shaken out of their places, and leaning
m all directions.
Having passed this bay, the pillars totally cease; the
rock is of a dark-brown stone, and no signs of regularity
occur till you have passed round the south-east end of the
island, (a space almost as large as that occupied by the pil-
ars), which you meet again on the west side, beginning to
roemse]ves irregularly, as if the stratum had an incli¬
nation to that form, and soon arrive at the bending pillars
where I began.
V which the pillars are formed, is a coarse
via • T ,a^es’ very much resembling the Giant’s Cause-
y m reland, though none of them are near so neat as
e specimens of the latter which I have seen at the British
useum, owing chiefly to the colour, which in ours is a dirty
.• U n’ln *16 Irish a fine black ; indeed the whole produc-
W 8661118 vel7 much to resemble the Giant’s Causeway.”
Views of Fingal’s Cave are given in plates CCCLXIV
and CCCLXV, under the head Mineralogy.
STAFFORD, the county town of Staffordshire, is 135
miles from London. It consists of two parishes, and returns
two members to Parliament. It stands on the river Sow,
and was once fortified. It is now well built. The princi¬
pal buildings are the assize hall, the county jail, and the
infirmary. It has a good free-school, several alms-houses,
and on Saturday a good market, well attended. The canal
encourages some trade ; but the chief occupation of the in¬
habitants is making shoes, and some cloth is also made.
The population was in 1801, 3927 ; in 1811, 4898 ; in 182],
5775; and in 1831, 6998.
STAFFORDSHIRE, an inland English county of an
oblong form. Its greatest length from north-east to south¬
west is about sixty) and its greatest breadth about thirty-
eight, miles. It contains 1148 statute square miles, or
734,720 acres. It is bounded on the north by Cheshire,
west by Shropshire, south by Worcester and Warwickshire,
and east by Derbyshire. The great divisions are five hun¬
dreds ; but as each of these is subdivided into the north and
south portions, there are effectively ten hundreds. These
contain one hundred and eighty-one parishes, twenty-three
market towns, and one city. The whole of the county, with
the exception of two parishes, is within the diocese of Lich¬
field, and comprehended within the archdeaconry of Staf¬
ford.
The population of this county at the four decennial pe¬
riods of enumeration, was found to be as follow: in 1801,
239,153; in 1811, 295,153; in 1821, 341,040; and in
1831, 410,400.
In 1831, the occupiers of land employing la¬
bourers were   3,781
The occupiers not employing labourers  3,649
Labourers employed in agriculture  16,812
Labourers employed in manufactures  26,755
Labourers employed in retail trade or handi¬
craft  24,766
Capitalists, bankers, &c  3,569
Labourers not agricultural  22,690
Other labourers under twenty years of age... 4,245
Males at and above twenty years  101,632
Male servants  1,959
Female servants  12,739
In the same year, the number of families, chiefly employ¬
ed in agriculture, was found to be 18,156; of those chiefly
employed in trade, manufactures, and handicraft, 43,646; and
of those not comprised in either of the preceding classes,
21,789. I he number of inhabited houses was 78,049, oc¬
cupied by 83,593 families. The uninhabited houses were
4088, and those building 573. The annual value of the
real property of the county, as assessed for the purposes of
the property tax in the year 1813, was L.l, 150,285.
The towns and townships within this county, and their
population in 1831, were as follows, but some of them may
be better described as large villages than towns.
Wolverhampton...... 48,184
Stoke-upon-Trent... 37,220
Sedgley  20,577
West Bromwdck...... 15,066
Kingswinford  15,156
Walsall 15,066
Tipton  14,951
Burslem  11,250
Wolstanton 10,853
Leek, the town,  4,374
but the parish  10,780
The middle and southern
interspersed with gentle
Wednesbury  8437
Newcastle-under-Lyne 8196
Stone  6918
Stafford  6998
Darlaston  6647
Lichfield (city)  6499
Handsworth  4944
Uttoxeter  4864
Eccleshall.  4471
Burton-on-Trent  4399
Penkridge  2991
portions are generally level, but
eminences. The northern division
Stafford,
Stafford¬
shire.
558
S T A
Stafford- is oi'an opposite character, the surface being for the most
shire. part bleak and hilly. The general elevation of this district
'above the southern part of the county is about two or three
hundred feet; but some points rise to the height of from
1200 to 1500. Of those the most elevated are Bunster and
the Weever Hills. In the valleys on the banks of the rivers
are some tracks of country equal to the most beautiful parts
of the island. Among these, the district betwixt Lichfield
and Stone, and the picturesque banks of the Dove, espe¬
cially at Ham, are very remarkable.
The soil is various, but the strong clays are the most pre¬
dominant ; next in extent is the sandy soil, chiefly to the
south of the Trent. There is no chalk, and only a small
district is calcareous. The meadows, especially on the
banks of the Trent, are most rich and luxuriant; and, though
on some spots there is much inert peat, yet, when it is pro¬
perly drained, it becomes valuable pasture and meadow land.
The climate is generally raw and moist: the rain that falls
on an average of several years is about thirty-six inches.
The quantity of snow, in the winter on the moorlands, is
very great, which may contribute to the general coldness of
the district. , . , ■ • i
The Trent, the third river in England, is the principal
stream of the county. It rises at Newpool on the confines
of Cheshire, and enters Derbyshire below Burton, after ha¬
ving formed a junction with the Dove. Through the whole
of its course in this county, it is a clear and rather lapid
stream. The Dove is celebrated for the picturesque scenery
through which it flows. In its course it receives the Mani¬
fold and the Hamps, two streams which are lost in subter¬
raneous channels, but again emerge at the distance of some
miles, and rejoin it. The smaller rivers are the Tame, the
Blythe, the Sow, and the Penk, all of which empty them¬
selves into the Trent. No part of Great Britain is so inter¬
sected with navigable canals as Staffordshire, and in no
county have their beneficial effects been so extensively ex¬
perienced. The Grand Trunk was planned and executed
by Mr. Brindley, the most eminent engineer that ever
exerted talent in this peculiar branch of inland navigation.
This canal is about ninety-one miles in length. The fall of
water to the north is 326 feet, and to the south 316 feet. It
is twenty-nine feet wide at the top, and about four feet deep.
It unites by navigation the internal trade of the great marts
of London, Liverpool, Hull, and Bristol. The branches
that extend from it in every direction are very numerous,
and serve to connect the great shipping ports with all those
districts, in the centre of the kingdom, which produce those
heavv commodities of which the weight would make them
almost worthless without the means of cheap conveyance to
distant markets.
That great work, the railroad from Liverpool to Birming¬
ham, has been completed. In proceeding northward it
enters this county about a mile from Birmingham, and con¬
tinues in it for the distance of forty-five miles, when it enters
Cheshire. The whole distance of ninety-seven miles is com¬
monly performed in four hours and a half, including stop¬
pages. The towns which, though not on the immediate
line of the road, are in communication with it, and at only
a few miles distance, are, in this county, West Bromwick,
Walsall, Wolverhampton, Stafford, Stone, Eccleshall, Utto-
exeter, Newcastle-under-Lyne, Stoke-upon-Trent, and the
Potteries. After passing through Cheshire and entering
Lancashire, it separates into two branches at Newton, the
right proceeding to Manchester, and the left to Liverpool,
at&the distance of ten miles from each of these towns.
The chief mineral productions of the county are iron and
coal, and these are so copious that they appear to be almost
inexhaustible. Upwards of 50,000 acres have been already
ascertained to have beneath them beds of coal; and not¬
withstanding the length of time, and the extent to which
they have been worked, it is calculated that not one-tenth
S T A
of their contents has been yet consumed. The strata Staf!
of this mineral, in the mines already worked, vary in thick- sk
ness from twenty-four to thirty-six feet. Every portion of'^'
the coal district abounds in iron ore ; and the strata of that
mineral are generally found beneath a stratum of coal.
Copper and lead are also raised, but not to an extent nearly
approaching that of iron. Limestone, freestone, alabaster,
marble, ochre, gypsum, and clays of various descriptions,
applicable to the purposes of the potteries, are most abun¬
dantly extracted from the bowels of the earth. Though
salt springs are both copious and richly impregnated with
that mineral, no rock salt has yet been discovered; but it
is supposed there are some abundant repositories of it be¬
neath the surface.
The relative proportion of the employment of the seve¬
ral families, shows the great preponderance of manufacturing
labour in this county. The whole of the southern part is
occupied in the different working of metals. Wolverhamp¬
ton is the chief seat of the manufacture of locks, keys,
hinges, bolts, and the heavier kinds of iron ware. Walsall
furnishes buckles, bitts, stirrups, spurs, and all the kinds of
hardware used by saddlers. Wednesbury supplies guns,
iron axle-trees, saws, trowels, hammers, edge tools, and cast-
iron work of every kind. Almost all the villages in the
vicinity of these towns contribute in a greater or less degree
to supply part of the work for which the town nearest to
them is the great mart.
The northern part of Staffordshire is celebrated for the
excellence of its earthenware, with which it supplies the
consumption of the greater portion of the civilized world.
The great extension of this manufacture has been owing to
the scientific skill and persevering energy of one distin¬
guished individual, the late Mr. Wedgewood ; whose com¬
binations of the different earths, and study of the arts of de¬
sign, have given a value to that which before was almost
worthless, and increased to a most wonderful extent the
wealth of his neighbourhood, and the number and comfort
of its inhabitants. By means of the canals, the pipe-clay
from Dorsetshire and Devonshire, and the flints from Kent,
are brought to the spots where the clays and coal abound;
and the finished goods, by the same means, are conveyed
to the great shipping ports, from whence they are distributed
to all parts of the globe. Salt is made from natural springs
at Shirley week, and of late, at Lord 1 albot’s works at In-
gestrie, to such an extent as to supply all those parts of the
middle of the kingdom which are not in more close connec¬
tion with the refineries of Northwich or Droitwich. There
are some respectable establishments at Cheadle for making
brass and copper goods. Shoes are manufactured on an ex¬
tensive scale at Stafford and at Newcastle. At Tam worth
are great works for printing calicoes. Burton has ale-brew-,
cries of great celebrity, with manufactures of hats, and of
several kinds of cotton goods. At Leek there are large and
flourishing establishments for ribbons, handkerchiefs, ferrets,
galloons, and other kinds of silk goods.
In order to exhibit the proportion of employment in
the several branches of industry, we extract the notices
from the returns under the population of 11 Geo. IV.,
cap. 30. “ Eastward of West Bromwich, 1000 males
are employed in the further preparation of iron for the
forges and workshops; 2200 are employed at Tipton,
at Walsall, 740 at Willenhall, 157 at Wednesfield, 444 at
Wednesbury, and 200 at Rowley Regis, in making guns and
other fire-arms, gas-tubes, chains, spades, locks and keys,
&c. &c. &c.; and in producing the more various and com¬
plex aids of human industry, which are comprehen e
under the name of machinery. At the villages of ®mi "
wick and Handworth, near to Birmingham, 150 men are
similarly occupied. Wolverhampton contains 200U J
who, in addition to articles before mentioned, are emP >
in making domestic fire-irons? and turned and japanne
S T A
■d- ware. Sedgley contains 500, and Kingswinford 200 manu¬
facturers of the same kinds of goods. At Tettenhall sixty
,'^'men, and at Brewood 190 men are employed, with 500 in
villages, in the less refined manufacture of stock-locks ; and
in most of the places here enumerated, the more domestic
manufacture of iron nails, furnishes employment to 2500
men, and to a part of their families.
“ The other great manufacturing branch of the county,
the pottery, is spread over the vicinity of Newcastle; in
which the town of Burslem contains 900 men and their fa¬
milies; Shelton, a larger number; Longtown and Lane End,
nearly 1000; Parkhall, 700; Handley, 360; Fenton Cal¬
vert, 300 ; and Sneyd, 150 ; all within the parish of Stoke-
upon-Trent. In the town of Stafford 800 men are employed
in making shoes, and in the district of the potteries is some
cotton trade. The working of the coal mines alone, is a
great source of occupation for men and machinery.”
The cultivated lands of this county are nearly all enclosed
by good hedges, chiefly of the white thorn, in fields of from
twenty to thirty acres. The general rotation of crops in
the clayey soil is, 1st, fallow; 2d, wheat; 3d, oats, after
which they are laid down with clover, trefoil, and rye-grass,
for two or more years. On breaking up an old sward, the
usual course is, 1st, oats; 2d, fallow ; 3d, wheat; 4th, oats;
and then the grasses. On the more friable soils the rota¬
tion is, 1st, fallow; 2d, wheat; 3d, beans, or pease ; 4th,
oats, and then the grasses. On the light soil, the Norfolk
system of turnips, barley, clover, and then wheat, is most
commonly followed.
The black cattle are generally of the long-horned breed,
and of late years have been much improved by the spirited
exertions of some distinguished individuals. The sheep are
of different races; the new Leicesters are said to be the
most predominant. About Cannoch and Sutton Coldfield
they have a breed much resembling the South Downs. On
the moorland there is a breed with white faces, without
horns, and long combing wool. The county is well stocked
with timber, especially on the estates of some of the great
proprietors. The lands in an unimproved state are still es¬
timated to amount to nearly one-tenth part of the whole
county.
The Roman antiquities are the Watling Street and the
Ichnield roads, which pass through the county; and the re¬
mains of ancient stations or encampments. Here the
Saxons have left few remains that merit particular attention.
This county gives titles to the following peers: that of
marquis of Stafford, to the eldest son of the duke of Suther¬
land ; those of earls to Ferrers, Talbot, Harrowby, and
Lichfield. For parliamentary purposes, the county has been
formed into two divisions, distinguished by their position as
North and South ; each of which elects two members to the
| House of Commons. The election for the northern division
is held at Stafford ; and the other polling places are Leek,
Newcastle-under-Lyne, Cheadle and Abbots Bromley. The
election for the southern division is held at Walsall; and the
other polling places are Lichfield, Wolverhampton, Penk-
and Kingswinford. By the Reform Bill, the towns
of Wolverhampton and Stoke-upon-Trent have been en-
titled to elect two members each, and Walsall to elect one.
ihe most remarkable noblemen and gentlemen’s seats
are the following:—Trentham, duke of Sutherland ; Beau-
esert, marquis of Anglesea; Ingestrie, earl Talbot;
oandon, earl of Harrowby ; Sandwell, earl of Dartmouth ;
mvdle, earl 0f Stamford ; Shugborough, earl of Lichfield ;
rothesley, Sir. J. Wrotheslev; Wolsely Hall, Sir Charles
Wolsely; Tixall, Sir T. H. Clifford; Etruria, Josiah Wedge-
°jcl, Esq.; Weston, earl of Bradford,
ee Pfott’s History of Staffordshire ; Pitt’s Agricultu-
S T A 559
ral Survey of Staffordshire; Aikin’s History of Manches- Stage,
ter; Shaw’s History and Antiquities of Staffordshire ; Jack- Stahl,
son’s History of Lichfield; Beauties of England and
Wales.
STAGE, in the modern drama, the place of action and
representation, included between the pit and the scenes,
and answering to the proscenium or pulpitum of the an¬
cients. See Playhouse and Theatre.
STAHL, George Ernest, an eminent German chemist,
was born at Anspach, on the 21st of October 1660, and chosen
professor of medicine at Halle, when a university was found¬
ed in that city in 1694. The excellency of his lectures while
he filled that chair, the importance of his various publica¬
tions, and his extensive practice, soon raised his reputation
to a very great height. He received an invitation to Ber¬
lin in 1716, which having accepted, he was made counsel¬
lor of state and physician to the king. He died in 1734, in
the seventy-fifth year of his age. Stahl is without doubt
one of the greatest men of which the annals of medicine
can boast: his name marks the commencement of a new
and more illustrious era in chemistry. He was the author
of the doctrine of phlogiston, which, though now complete¬
ly overturned by the discoveries of Lavoisier and others,
was not without its use, as it served to combine the scatter¬
ed fragments of former chemists into a system, and as it
gave rise to more accurate experiments and a more scienti¬
fic view of the subject, to which many of the subsequent
discoveries were owing. This theory maintained its ground
for more than half a century, and was received and support¬
ed by some of the most eminent men which Europe has
produced; a sufficient proof of the ingenuity and the abilities
of its author. He was the author also of a theory of medi¬
cine, founded upon the notions which he entertained of the
absolute dominion of mind over body; in consequence of
which he affirmed, that every muscular action is a voluntary
act of the mind, whether attended with consciousness or
not. This theory he and his followers carried a great deal
too far; but the advices at least which he gives to attend
to the state oi the mind of the patient, are worthy of the at¬
tention of physicians.
“ Stahl,” says Dr. Cullen, “ has explicitly founded his
system on the supposition, that the power of nature, so much
talked of, is entirely in the rational soul. He supposes that,
upon many occasions, the soul acts independently of the
state of the body ; and that, without any physical necessity
arising from that state, the soul, purely in consequence of
its intelligence, perceiving the tendency of noxious powers
threatening, or of disorders anyways arising in the system,
immediately excites such motions in the body as are suited
to obviate the hurtful or pernicious consequences which
might otherwise take place. Many of my readers may
think it was hardly necessary for me to take notice of a sys-
sem founded upon so fanciful a hypothesis; but there is often
so much seeming appearance of intelligence and design in
the operations of the animal economy, that many eminent
persons, as Perrault in France, Nichols and Mead in Eng¬
land, Porterfield and Simson in Scotland, and Gaubius in
Holland, have very much countenanced the same opinion,
and it is therefore certainly entitled to some regard.”1
His principal works are, \. Experimenta et Observationes
ChymictB et Physicce, Berlin, 1731, 8vo. 2. Dissertationes
Medico:. Halle, 2 vols. 4to. 3. Theoria Medico vera. 1737,
4to. 4. Opusculum Chymico-physico medicum. 1740, 4to.
5. A Treatise on Sulphur, both Inflammable and Fixed,
written in German. 6. Negotium Otiosum. Halle, 1720,
4to. It is in this treatise chiefly that he establishes his
system concerning the action of the soul upon the body.
7. Fundamenta Chymicc Dogmaticce et Experimentalis.
1 Cullen’s First Lines of the Practice of Physic, vol. i. p. 12.
560
S T A
8. A Treatise on Salts, writ-
Staindrop Niirnberg, 1747, 3 vols. 4to
U ten in German.
Stamina. STAINDROP, a town of Darlington ward in the coun-
ty of Durham, 246 miles from I,ondon. It had once a mar¬
ket, which of late years has been disused. Near to it is the
splendid mansion of the Duke of Cleveland, Raby Castle,
built by John de Neville in 1378. The inhabitants of the
town were, in 1801, 1156; in 1811, 1087; in 1821, 1273;
and in 1831, 1478. _ _
STAINES, a town in the hundred of Spelthorne and
county of Middlesex, seventeen miles from London. It is
on the left bank of the Thames, over which a stone bridge
has recently been erected. Just above the bridge is the
termination of the boundary of the London corporation on
the river, marked by a stone, formerly by stones, fiom
which the town takes its name. There is a good corn mar¬
ket on Friday, and several posting houses. The inhabi¬
tants were, in 1801, 1750; in 1811, 2042; in 1821, 1957,
and in 1831, 2486. . , J u
STAIRCASE, in Architecture, an ascent inclosed be¬
tween walls, or a balustrade consisting of stairs or steps,
with landing places and rails, serving to make a communi¬
cation between the several storeys of a house. See Arciix-
TECTURE.
STALACTITES, in Mineralogy, crystalline spars form¬
ed into oblong, conical, round, or Irregular bodies, compos¬
ed of various crusts, and usually found hanging in form ot
icicles from the roofs of grottoes, &c.
STALBRIDGE, a town of the hundred of Brownshall
and the division of Sherborne, in the county of Dorset,
112 miles from London. It lias some trade in making
stockings, and much good stone is found near to it. The
market is on Tuesday, but thinly attended. The inhabi¬
tants were, in 1801, 1254; in 1811, 1421; in 1821,15/1;
and in 1831, 1773. .
STALE, among sportsmen, a living fowl put in a place
to allure and bring others where they may be taken. For
want of these, a bird shot, his entrails taken out, and dried
in an oven in his feathers, with a stick thrust through to
keep it in a convenient posture, may serve as well as a live
STAMFORD, a town of Lincolnshire, in the hundreds
of Ness and of Kesteven. It is eighty-five miles from Lon¬
don, on the river Willand, which divides Lincolnshire from
Northamptonshire; and one of the parishes of the town, St.
Martin’s, is in the latter county, and called the out-parish.
There are five parish churches, several of which have lofty
spires. Two of them are so close together, as to resemble
one building. St. Martin’s church contains some curious
ancient monuments. In that parish stands Burleigh Hall,
the magnificent residence of the marquis of Exeter. This
town was in former times a more extensive place than it is
at present, and contained fourteen churches, besides many
religious houses; but it suffered severely by the wars be¬
tween the houses of York and Lancaster, and has never re¬
covered from those ravages. It is by no means well built,
though of late its appearance has been improved. Being
in a rich district, it has good markets on Monday and Fri¬
day, and several fairs. The population was, in 1801, 4012 ;
in 1811, 4582; in 1821, 5050; and in 1831, 5837.
STAMINA, mBotany, are those upright filamentswhich,
on opening a flower, we find within the corolla surrounding
the pistillum. According to Linnaeus, they are the male
organs of generation, whose office it is to prepare the pol¬
len. Each stamen consists of two distinct parts, viz. the
filamentum and the anthera.
Stamina, in the animal body, are defined to be those
simple original parts which existed first in the embryo or
even in the seed; and by whose distinction, augmentation,
and accretion by additional juices, the animal body at its
utmost bulk is supposed to be formed.
S T A
STAMPHALIA, one of the islands of Greece, in the 3t»i, t)
Archipelago, about twenty-seven square miles in extent. *
The surface consists of a single bare mountain, from which Suu" e.
numerous springs issue, that render the lower parts ca- *
pable of cultivation, and some spots are highly fertile.
It contains about 800 inhabitants, who raise sufficient bar¬
ley, wine, and fruit, for their consumption, and a large quan¬
tity of onions, which is the principal source of their trade.
In a small island close to it are the remains of an ancient
temple of Apollo. The number of partridges is so conside¬
rable, that to prevent their increase, from 10,000 to 12,000
of their eggs are taken every Easter. In the island there is
a small town of the same name. Lat. 36.35. Long.28.37.E.
STANCHIONS, a sort of small pillars of wood or iron,
used for various purposes in a ship, as to support the decks,
the quarter-rails, the nettings, the awnings, &c. The first
of those are two ranges of small columns fixed under the
beams, throughout the ship’s length between decks; one
range being on the starboard and the other on the larboard
side of the hatchways. They are chiefly intended to sup¬
port the weight of the artillery.
STANDON, a town in the hundred of Braughen and
county of Hertford, twenty-seven miles from London. It
is on the river Kib, on the ancient Roman road, called Er¬
mine Street. The parish church has an ancient altar, raised
nearly ten feet above the level of the floor. On Friday
there is a market, tolerably well attended. The population
was, in 1801, 1846; in 1811, 1889; in 1821, 2135; and in
1831, 2272.
STANDRA, a village of Asiatic Turkey, on the western
coast of Anatolia. Long. 27. 18. E. Lat. 36. 54. W.
STANHOPE, Philip Dormer, the fourth Earl of
Chesterfield, was born at London, on the 22d ot Sep¬
tember 1694. He was the son of Philip, the third earl, by
his wife, Lady Elizabeth Savile, daughter of George, mar¬
quis of Halifax. At the age of eighteen he was sent to
Trinity Hall, Cambridge, where he studied assiduously, and,
according to his own account, became an absolute pedant.
In 1714 he quitted the university, and travelled on the con¬
tinent, where a familiarity with good company soon con¬
vinced him he was totally mistaken in almost all his notions;
and an attentive study of the air, manner, and address of
people of fashion, soon polished a man whose prominent de¬
sire was to please, and who, as it afterwards appeared,
valued exterior accomplishments beyond any other human
acquirement. While Lord Stanhope, he obtained an early
seat in parliament; and in 1722, succeeded to his fathers
estate and titles. In 1728, and in 1745, he was appointed
ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary to Hollanc.
This high character he supported with the greatest dig¬
nity, serving his own country, and gaining the esteem 0
the States-General. Upon his return from Holland, he was
sent as lord- lieutenant of Ireland; and during his administra¬
tion there, gave general satisfaction to all parties. 1 e e
Dublin in 1746, and in October succeeded the earl of Har¬
rington as secretary of state, in which post he officiated un¬
til February 6, 1748. In 1752, being seized with a deaf¬
ness which incapacitated him for the pleasures of society, he
from that time led a private and retired life, amusing im-
self with books and his pen; in particular, he engaged large¬
ly as a volunteer in a periodical miscellaneous paper ca
The World, in which his contributions have a distmguis
degree of excellence. He died on the 24th of March im
leaving a character for wit and abilities that had feu q
He distinguished himself by his eloquence m par^ame
many important occasions, of which we have * c ter
tic instance of his own relating. Fie was an active p ^
of the bill for altering the style ; and on this ofc^o , ^
he himself writes in one of his letters to his son, ,
eloquent a speech in the house, that every one wa P . »
and said he had made the whole very clear to the ,
S T A
S T A
561
.jope. says he, “ God knows, I had not even attempted it. I could
‘■^just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as as¬
tronomy; and they would have understood me full as well.”
Lord Macclesfield, who was considered as a great mathema¬
tician, and who had a principal hand in framing the bill,
spoke afterwards, with all the clearness that a thorough
knowledge of the subject could dictate; but not having a
flow of words equal to Lord Chesterfield, the latter gained
the applause which was more justly due to the former. The
high character which Lord Chesterfield supported during
life, received no small injury soon after his death, from a
fuller display of it by his own hand. He left no issue by
his lady, Melosina de Schulenburg, countess of Walsingham;
but he had a natural son, Philip Stanhope, Esq., whose edu¬
cation was for many years a close object of his attention, and
who was afterward envoy extraordinary at the court of Dres¬
den, but died before him. After Lord Chesterfield’s death,
Mr. Stanhope’s widow published a series of letters, written
by the father to the son, filled with instructions suitable to
the different gradations of the young man’s life to whom
they were addressed. These letters contain many fine ob¬
servations on mankind, and rules of conduct; but it is ob¬
servable that he lays a greater stress on exterior accom¬
plishments and address than on intellectual qualifications
and sincerity; and allows a much greater latitude to fashion¬
able pleasures than good morals will justify. These Letters
to his Son, so discreditable to the memory of the writer, ap¬
peared in 1774, in 2 vols. 4to. This publication was fol¬
lowed by a collection of his Miscellaneous Works, 1777, 2
vols. 4to. A thii’d volume was added in 1778 ; but his lord¬
ship’s works do not appear to have attracted much attention.
Stanhope, Charles, Earl Stanhope, born in 1753,
was the eldest son of Philip, the second earl, a man equally
remarkable for his mathematical talents, and his liberal po¬
litical opinions. The subject of this notice succeeded to
the peerage in 1786, and died in 1816. By his first mar¬
riage he became the brother-in-law of Pitt; and on the mo¬
ther’s side he was closely allied to the Scotish earls of Had¬
dington. This eccentric but public-spirited and most in¬
ventive man, while he divided his attention among a va¬
riety of inquiries, sufficient to have prevented excellence
in any, had the rare merit of excelling in several most im¬
portant pursuits, while in more than one he has bequeathed
to the world discoveries that have proved most extensively
useful. In politics he was a decided Whig, an assertor of
religious toleration, and of non-intervention in the internal
affairs of foreign states. Sometimes, however, he carried
out the principles of his party with a boldness which other
minds scrupled to follow ; and in the latter years of his par¬
liamentary life, Earl Stanhope used to be called “ the mi¬
nority of one.” His political works were a refutation of
Price’s scheme of the sinking fund, an answer to one of
Burke’s invectives on the French Revolution, and an essay
on juries. But his inventions in mechanical science are
those by which he has secured the gratitude of posterity.
They are too many to be here so much as completely
enumerated. The principal of them, the Stanhope press,
has been described in our article Printing, where notice
has also been taken of his exertions for improving the pro¬
cess of stereotype. He was an early student of Franklin’s
theory of electricity, to which he contributed several va¬
luable observations. Another of his most useful inventions
was one for improving the locks of canals; and more cu-
nous ones were his two calculating machines, one of which
performed addition and subtraction, the other multiplication
and division.
Stanhope, George, an eminent divine, was born at
ertishorn in Derbyshire, in the year 1660. His father
"as rector of that parish, vicar of St. Margaret’s at Leices-
tei, and chaplain to the earls of Chesterfield and Clare. His
giandfather, Dr. George Stanhope, was chaplain to James I.
VOL. xx.
and Charles I.; had the chancellorship of York, where he Stanhope,
was also a canon residentiary, held a prebend, and was rec-
tor of Weldrake in that county. For his loyalty he was
driven from his home with eleven children, and died in 1664.
The son was sent to school, first at Uppingham in Rutland,
then at Leicester; he was afterwards removed to Eton, and
thence chosen to King’s College in Cambridge, in the place
of W. Cleaver. He took the degree of A. B. in 1681, and
of A.M. in 1685; was elected one of the syndics for the
university of Cambridge, in the business of Alban Francis,
1687 ; minister of Quoi near Cambridge, and vice-proctor,
1688. He was that year preferred to the rectory of Tring
in Hertfordshire, which after some time he quitted. In
1689 he was presented to the vicarage of Lewisham in Kent
by Lord Dartmouth, to whom he had been chaplain, as well
as tutor to his son. He was also appointed chaplain to King
William and Queen Mary, and continued to enjoy that ho¬
nour under Queen Anne. He commenced D. D. July 5,
1697, performing all the exercises required to that degree
publicly and with great applause. He was made vicar of
Deptford in 1703; succeeded Dr. Hooper as dean of Can¬
terbury the same year; and was thrice chosen prolocutor
of the lower house of convocation. His uncommon dili¬
gence and industry, assisted by his excellent parts, enrich¬
ed him with a large stock of polite, solid, and useful learn¬
ing. His discourses from the pulpit were equally pleasing
and profitable ; a beautiful intermixture of the clearest rea¬
soning with the purest diction, attended with all the graces
of a just elocution. In him were happily united the good
Christian, the solid divine, and the fine gentleman. His
conversation was polite and delicate, grave without precise¬
ness, facetious without levity. His piety was real and ra¬
tional, his charity great and universal, fruitful in acts of
mercy and in all good works He died March 18, 1728,
aged sixty-eight years; and was buried in the chancel of
the church at Lewisham. The dean was twice married;
first to Olivia Cotton, by whom he had one son and four
daughters. His second lady, who was sister to Sir Charles
Wager, survived him, dying October 1, 1738, aged about
fifty-four. One of the dean’s daughters was married to a
son of Bishop Burnet. Dr. Moore, bishop of Ely, died the
day before Queen Anne; who, it has been said, designed
the dean for that see when it should become vacant. “ The
late Dean of Canterbury,” says Dr. Felton, “ is excellent
in the whole. His thoughts and reasoning are bright and
solid. His style is just, both for the purity of the language
and for the strength and beauty of expression ; but the pe¬
riods are formed in so peculiar an order of the words, that
it was an observation, nobody could pronounce them with
the same grace and advantage as himself.” His writings,
which are considered as a treasure of piety and devotion,
are, A Paraphrase and Comment upon the Epistles and
Gospels. 1705, 4 vols. 8vo. Sermons at Boyle’s Lectures.
1706, 4to. Fifteen Sermons. 1700, 8vo. Twelve Sermons
on Several Occasions. 1727, 8vo. A Translation of Thomas
a Kempis. 1696, 8vo. Epictetus’s Morals, with Simplicius’s
Comment, and the Life of Epictetus. 1700, 8vo. Parson’s
Christian Directory. 1716, 8vo. Rochefbueault’s Maxims.
1706, 8vo. A Funeral Sermon on Mr. Richard Sare, book¬
seller, 1724; two editions 4to. Twenty Sermons, publish¬
ed singly between the years 1692 and 1724. Private
Prayers for every Day in the Week, and for the several
Parts of each Day; translated from the Greek Devotions
of Bishop Andrews, with Additions, 1730. In his transla¬
tions, it is well known, Dr. Stanhope did not confine him¬
self to a strict and literal version; he took the liberty of
paraphrasing, explaining, and improving upon his author,
as will evidently appear (not to mention any other work)
by the slightest perusal of St. Augustin’s Meditations, and
the Devotions of Bishop Andrew's.
STANISLAS Leckzinski, king of Poland, was born at
4 B
562
S T A
Stanislas, Lemberg, the capital of Red Russia, on the 20th of Octo-
1 her 1677. His father was a Polish nobleman, distinguish¬
ed by his rank and the important offices which he held, but
still more by his firmness and courage. In 1704 Stanislas
was sent ambassador, bv the Assembly of Warsaw, to
Charles XII. of Sweden, who had conquered Poland. He
was at that time twenty-seven years old, was general ot
Great Poland, and had been ambassador extraordinary to
the Grand Signior in 1699. Charles was so delighted with
the frankness and sincerity ot his deportment, and with the
firmness and sweetness which appeared in his countenance,
that he offered him the crown of Poland, and ordered him
to be crowned at Warsaw in 1705. He accompanied
Charles into Saxony, where a treaty was concluded with
King Augustus in 1705, by which that prince resigned the
crown, and acknowledged Stanislas king ot I oland. H'6
new monarch remained in Saxony with Charles till 1707,
when they returned into Poland and attacked the Russians,
who were obliged to evacuate that kingdom 708. But
Charles being defeated bv Peter the Great in 1709> Augus¬
tus returned into Poland," and being assisted by a Russian
army, obliged Stanislas to retire first into Sweden, and af¬
terwards into Turkey. Soon after, he took up his residence
at Weissenburg, a town in Alsace. Augustus dispatched
Sum his envoy to France to complain of this ; but the duke
of Orleans, who was then regent, returned this answer :
. “ Tell your king, that France has always been the asylum
of unhappy princes.” Stanislas lived in obscurity till 1725,
when Louis XV. espoused the princess Mary his daughter.
Upon the death of King Augustus in 1733, he returned to
Poland, in hopes of remounting the throne ot that kingdom.
A large party declared for him ; but his competitor, the
young elector of Saxony, being supported by the emperor
Charles VI. and the empress of Russia, was declared king,
though the majority was against him. Dantzig, to which
Stanislas had retired, was quickly taken, and with great
difficulty the unfortunate prince made his escape in disguise,
after hearing that the Russians had set a pi ice upon his
head. In 1736, when peace was concluded between the
emperor and France, it was agreed that Stanislas should
abdicate the throne, but that he should be acknowledged
kino- of Poland and grand duke of Lithuania, and continue
to bear these titles during life ; that all his effects and those
of the queen his spouse should be restored ; that an amnesty
should be declared in Poland for all that was past, and that
every person should be restored to his possessions, rights,
and privileges; that the elector of Saxony should be ac¬
knowledged king of Poland by all the powers who acceded
to the treaty ; that Stanislas should be put in peaceable
possession of the duchies of Lorraine and Bar, but that im¬
mediately after his death those duchies should be united for
ever to the crown of France. In Lorraine Stanislas suc¬
ceeded a race of princes, who were beloved and regretted;
and his subjects found their ancient sovereigns revived in
him. He then tasted the pleasure which he had so long de¬
sired, the pleasure of making men happy. He assisted his
new subjects; he embellished Nancy and Luneville; he
formed useful establishments; he founded colleges, and
built hospitals. He was engaged in these noble employ¬
ments, when an accident occasioned his death. His night¬
gown caught fire, and burnt him so severely before it could
be extinguished, that he was seized with a fever, and died
the 23d of February 1766. He was a protector of the arts
and sciences. He wrote several works of philosophy, po¬
litics, and morality, which were collected and published at
Paris in 1763, in 4 vols. 8vo., under the title of “ Oeuvres
du Philosophe bienfaisant.” An octavo volume, ornament¬
ed with engravings, was published in 1825, under the title of
“ Giuvres choisies de Stanislas, Roi de Pologne, Due de
Lorraine et de Bar ;” to which an historical notice was pre¬
fixed by Madame de Saint-Ouen.
S T A
STANISLAWOW, a circle of the Austrian princi¬
pality of Gallicia, extending over 1495 square miles. It
comprises five cities, thirteen market towns, and 264 vil¬
lages, with 186,400 inhabitants. The capital is the city of'-
the same name, between two branches of the river Wistrica.
It is well built, and contains Catholic, Greek, and Armenian
churches, with 370 houses, and 6880 inhabitants. The
Jews and Armenians are the principal traders. Lat. 43.
56. Long. 24. 38. E.
STANLEY, Thomas, a very learned writer, was the son
of Sir Thomas Stanley of Laytonstone in Essex, and Cum-
berlow in Hertfordshire, by his second wife Mary, the
daughter of Sir William Hammond of St. Alban’s-court.
He was descended from a natural son of Edward earl of
Derby. He was born in the year 1625, and received a do¬
mestic education under the tuition of William the son of
Edward Fairfax, the well-known translator of Tasso. In
1639, he became a fellow-commoner of Pembroke Hall,
Cambridge, where he distinguished himself by his progress
in classical learning. After having travelled on the conti¬
nent, he resided for some time in the Middle Temple.
Here he lived on terms of particular intimacy with his cou¬
sin Edward, afterwards Sir Edward Sherburne, who culti¬
vated similar studies, and who dedicated a volume of Poems
to this learned kinsman. Stanley published Poems and
Translations in 1619, 8vo. They were reprinted, with ad¬
ditions, in 1651. But his principal work was his “ History
of Philosophy, containing the Lives, Opinions, Actions, and
Discourses of the Philosophers of every Sect.” Of the ori-
o-inal edition, printed in folio, the first part appeared in
1655, and the third in 1660. The work is dedicated to his
uncle-in-law, Sir John Marsham, author of the Canon Chro-
nicus, who first suggested the undertaking. There are fom
editions of the History, the last and best being that of L43,
4to. The author has displayed solid as well as extensive
erudition, but his valuable materials are not disposed to the
best advantage. The reputation of his work extended to
the continent; and a Latin translation of it by Oleariuswas
published at Leipzig, in quarto, in the year 1711. The part
relating to the history of oriental philosophy had been trans¬
lated into the same language by Le Clerc, and published
at Amsterdam in 1690, with a dedication to Bishop Burnet.
This version he afterwards inserted in the second volume
of his “ Opera Philosophica.” Stanley next prepared h.s
elaborate and valuable edition of vEschylus. Lond. IbbJ,
fol. Some copies of the same impression bear the date ot
1664. This edition, which includes the fragments and
the Greek scholia, and is accompanied with a commentary
and a Latin version, was of great importance when it first
appeared; but since the death of the learned editor, so
much has been effected by Schiitz, Wellauer, and othe
scholars, that it has lost a great portion of its original value.
The best of all possible editions of TEschylus has for ma y
years been expected from Hermann ; but those who have
sufficient means of ascertaining his present views and occu¬
pations, have at length begun to despair of its ever makin&
its appearance. It was thought expedient to rePnnt bt* ,
-’sedition, with the commentary, corrected and enlarged
Stitj,
w
Stu,
ley s ecuuon, wnu me j, , . p-
from his papers preserved in the university library a
bridge. The charge of this edition was committed to a
competent scholar, Samuel Butler, afterwards promoted ^
the bishopric of Lichfield; who, with the ac. 1 1 .oqq
own annotations, published it at Cambridge in ie
in 4 vols. 4to, and in 8 vols. 8vo. Some notes on De^
thenes, ascribed to Stanley, have recently been p
the ninth volume of Dobson’s Oratores Athci. ,
lodgings in Suffolk-street,in the parish of St. Martin-
Fields^ on the 12th of April 1678. He had mamed Doro^
thy, the daughter and co-heiress of Sir Jamt ^ ^
Flower in Northamptonshire, Bart. He a 7 peB1.
bore his own name, and, like himself, was educa
S T A
S T A
563
•ies broke Hall. At a very early age, he published “ Aelian’s
Various Histories, translated into English.” Lond. 1665,8vo.
STANNARIES, the mines and works where tin is dug
lWand purified ; as in Cornwall, Devonshire, &c.
STANNARY Courts, in Devonshire and Cornwall,
for the administration of justice among the tinners. They
are held before the lord-warden and his substitutes, by
virtue of a privilege granted to the workers in the tin-
mines there, to sue and be sued only in their own courts,
that they may not be drawn from their business, which is
highly profitable to the public, by attending their law-suits
in other courts.
STANOVOI, a chain of mountains in Asiatic Russia,
forming a part of the great northern chain which crosses the
breadth of that continent. It is of considerable height, and
continues uninterrupted, though with some diminution of
magnitude, to Cape Tchontchi, at the north-eastern ex¬
tremity of Asia ; and the Aleutian and Fox Islands may be
considered as in some degree a continuation of it. This
chain turns to the north near the source of the Aldane,
whence it runs parallel to the eastern sea or gulf of Ok¬
hotsk, a narrow plain only intervening. Granite and por¬
phyry are the chief materials of which these mountains con¬
sist, though there are some of green jasper.
STANSTEAD, a town in the hundred of Braughen, and
county of Hertford, sixteen miles from London. It stands
in a valley near the river Lea, two miles from Hoddesdon.
In this parish is the Rye-house, remarkable for the suppos¬
ed plot in the reign of Charles the Second, for the assassi¬
nation of that monarch. The population was, in 1801, 861 ;
in 1811, 832; in 1821,950; and in 1831, 966.
Stanstead-Mountfitchet, a small town in the county
of Essex and hundred of Uttlesford, thirty-four miles from
London. It derives its name from an ancient castle, built
on an artificial mount about a quarter of a mile from the
church, some relics of which are still visible. The hamlet
of Bentfield is comprehended in the parish, and their united
population was, in 1801, 1285; in 1811, 1334 ; in 1821,
1518; and in 1831, 1560.
STANZA, in Poetry, a number of lines regularly ad¬
justed to each other; so much of a poem as contains every
variation of measure or relation of rhyme used in that poem.
STAPLE primarily signifies a public place or market,
whither merchants, &c. are obliged to bring their goods to
be bought by the people. The merchants of England were
formerly obliged to carry their wool, cloth, lead, and other
like staple commodities of this realm, in order to expose
them by wholesale ; and these staples were appointed to be
constantly kept at York, Lincoln, Newcastle upon-Tyne,
Norwich, Westminster, Canterbury, Chichester, Winches¬
ter, Exeter, and Bristol; in each of which a public mart was
appointed to be kept, and each of them had a court of the
mayor of the staple, for deciding differences, held according
to the law-merchant, in a summary way.
STAR, in Astronomy, a general name for all the hea¬
venly bodies, which, like so many brilliant studs, are dis¬
persed throughout the whole heavens. The stars are dis¬
tinguished, from the phenomena of their motion, &c., into
fixed, and erratic or wandering stars. These last are again
distinguished into the greater luminaries, viz. the sun and
moon; the planets, or wandering stars, properly so called,
and the comets ; which have been all fully considered and
explained under the article Astronomy. As to the fixed
stars, they are so called, because they seem to be fixed, or
perfectly at rest, and consequently appear always at the
same distance from each other.
Falling Stars, in Meteorology, fiery meteors which dart
through the sky in the form of a star.
Star, in Fortification, denotes a small fort, having five
01 more points, or salient and re-entering angles, flanking
ene another, and their faces ninety or a hundred feet long.
Star-Chamber, Court of, (Camera Stcllata), a famous, Star-cham-
or rather infamous, English tribunal, said to have been so ber
called either from a Saxon word signifying to steer or go- II
vern; or from its punishing the crimen stellionatus, or co- _^"c ‘
senage ; or because the room in which it sat, the old coun-
cil-chamber of the palace of Westminster, was full of w in¬
dows ; or, (to which Sir Edward Coke, 4 Inst. 66. accedes),
because haply the roof thereof was at the first garnished
with gilded stars. This was a court of very ancient origi¬
nal ; but new-modelled by statutes 3 Henry VII. c. 1, and
21 Henry VIII. c. 20, consisting of divers lords spiritual
and temporal, being privy-councillors, together with two
judges of the courts of common law, without the interven¬
tion of any jury. Their jurisdiction extended legally over
riots, perjury, misbehaviour of sheriffs, and other notorious
misdemeanours, contrary to the laws of the land. Yet this
was afterwards, as Lord Clarendon informs us, stretched
“ to the asserting of all proclamations and orders of state ;
to the vindicating of illegal commissions and grants of mo¬
nopolies ; holding for honourable that which pleased, and
for just that which profited ; and becoming both a court of
law to determine civil rights, and a court of revenue to en¬
rich the treasury: the council-table by proclamations en¬
joining to the people that which wras not enjoined by the
laws, and prohibiting that which was not prohibited ; and
the star-chamber, which consisted of the same persons in
different rooms, censuring the breach and disobedience to
those proclamations by very great fines, imprisonments, and
corporal severities : so that any disrespect to any acts of
state, or to the persons of statesmen, was in no time more
penal, and the foundations of right never more in danger to
be destroyed.” For these reasons, it was finally abolished
by statute 16 Car. I. c. 10, to the general joy of the whole
nation.
Star-Board, the right side of the ship when the eye of
the spectator is directed forward.
SrAR-shot, a gelatinous substance frequently found in
fields, and supposed by the vulgar to have been produced
from the meteor called a falling-star; but, in reality, it is the
half-digested food of herons, seamews, and the like birds ;
for these birds have been found, when newly shot, to dis¬
gorge a substance of the same kind.
STARAJA-RUSSA, a city of Russia in the province of
Moscow and government of Novogorod, the capital of a
circle of the same name. It is 206 miles from Petersburg,
on the river Polesta. It is an ill-built place, containing
1048 houses, many of them of wood, and 6200 inhabitants.
There is a copious brine spring, from which about 100,000
bushels of culinary salt are annually made, and this is the
chief trade of the place. Lat. 57. 51. Long. 32. 54 . 25. E.
STARCH, a fecula or sediment, found at the bottom of
vessels in which wheat has been steeped in water. Of this
fecula, after separating the bran from it, bypassing it through
sieves, they form a kind of loaves, which being dried in the
sun or an oven, is afterwards cut into little pieces, and so
sold. The best starch is white, soft, and friable, and easdy
broken into powder. Such as require fine starch, do not
content themselves, like the starchmen, with refuse wheat,
but use the finest grain. The process is as follows. The
grain, being well cleaned, is left to ferment in vessels full
of water, which they expose to the sun while in its greatest
heat; changing the water twice a-day, for the space of eight
or twelves days, according to the season. When the grain
bursts easily under the finger, they judge it sufficiently fer¬
mented. The fermentation being perfected, and the grain
thus softened, it is put, handful by handful, into a canvass-bag,
to separate the flour from the husks; which is done by rub¬
bing and beating it on a plank laid across the mouth of an
empty vessel that is to receive the flour. As the vessels
are filled with this liquid flour, there is seen swimming at
top a reddish water, which is to be carefully skimmed off
564
S T A
Stark.
Stargard, from time to time, and clean water is to be put in its place,
!l which, after stirring the whole together, is also to be strain¬
ed through a cloth or sieve, and what is left behind put into
* the vessel with new water, and exposed to the sun for some
time. As the sediment thickens at the bottom, they drain
off the water four or five times, by inclining the vessel, but
without passing it through the sieve. W hat remains at bot¬
tom is the starch, which is cut in pieces to be taken out, and
is left to dry in the sun. When dry, it is laid up for use.
STARGARD, a city of the Prussian province of Pome¬
rania in the government of Stettin, the capital of the circle
of Saalzig. It stands on the navigable river Ihna, in afer-
tile district, is surrounded with walls, and contains 1164
houses, with 9050 inhabitants, who are employed in making
linen and woollen goods, hosiery, hats, leather, soap, and
tobacco, and in brewing and distillation. It was formerly
the capital of Pomerania. Lat. 52.20. 42. Long. 15.13. L.
STARITZA, a town of Russia, in the province of Mos¬
cow and government of Twer. It is the capital of a circle
of the same name, containing seventy-seven parishes, with
83,800 inhabitants. It is 378 miles from Petersburg, and
stands on the river Wolga, where the river Staritza joins that
stream. It contains six churches, 650 houses, and 3860 in¬
habitants, whose chief trade is in hemp sent to Petersburg,
and in making shoes and gloves. Lat. 56.48. Long. 35.22. E.
STARK, William, was born at Manchester in the
month of July 1740 ; but the family from which he sprang
was Scotish, and respectable for its antiquity. One of his
uncles, John Stark, was minister of Lecropt in Perthshire;
and it was under the care of this gentleman that he receiv¬
ed the rudiments of his education, which, when we consi¬
der the character of the master, and reflect on the relation
between him and his pupil, we may presume was calculated
to store the mind of the latter with those virtuous prnciples
which influenced his conduct through life. From Lecropt
young Stark was sent to the university of Glasgow, where,
under the tuition of Dr. Smith and Dr. Black, with other
eminent masters, he learned the rudiments of science, and
acquired that mathematical accuracy, that logical precision,
and that contempt of hypotheses, with which he prosecuted
all his future studies. 'Having chosen physic for his pro¬
fession, he removed from the university of Glasgow to that of
Edinburgh, where he was soon distinguished, and honour¬
ed with the friendship of the late Dr. Cullen ; a man who
was not more eminently conspicuous for the superiority of
his own genius, than quick-sighted in perceiving, and liberal
in encouraging, genius in his pupils. Having finished his
studies at Edinburgh, though he took there no degree, Mr.
Stark, in the year 1765, went to London, and devoted him¬
self entirely to the study of physic and the elements of sur¬
gery ; and looking upon anatomy as one of the principal
pillars of both these arts, he endeavoured to complete with
Dr. Hunter what he had begun with Dr.Monro; and under
these two eminent teachers he appears to have acquired a
high degree of anatomical knowledge. He likewise entered
himself, about this time, a pupil at St. George’s hospital ;
and with what industry he prosecuted this plan, with what
success his labours were crowned, may be seen in a series
of Clinical and Anatomical Observations, which were made
by him during his attendance at the hospital, and were pub¬
lished after his death by his friend Dr. Carmichael Smyth.
In the year 1767 he went to Leyden, where he took the
degree of M.D., publishing an inaugural dissertation on the
dysentery. On his return to London, he recommenced his
studies at the hospital; and when Dr. Black was called to
the chemical chair in Edinburgh, which he long filled
with so much honour to himself and credit to the university,
Dr. Stark was solicited, by several members of the univer¬
sity of Glasgow, to stand as a candidate for their professor¬
ship of the theory and practice of physic, rendered vacant by
Dr. Black’s removal to Edinburgh. This, however, he de-
St ,,
S T A
dined, being influenced by the advice of his English friends, Str;j
who wished to detain him in London, and having, likewise, l
some prospects of an appointment in the hospital. In 1769
he commenced a series of experiments on diet, which he
was encouraged to undertake by Sir John Pringle and Dr.
Franklin, whose friendship he enjoyed, and from whom he
received many hints respecting both the plan and its exe¬
cution. These experiments, or rather the imprudent zeal
with which he prosecuted them, proved, in the opinion of
his friends, fatal to himself; for he began them on the 12th
of July 1769 in perfect health and vigour, and from that
day, though his health varied, it was seldom if ever goodwill
the 23d of February 1770, when he died after suffering
much uneasiness.
STARKENBURG, a province of the Grand Duchy of
Hesse Darmstadt, in Germany. It is situated on the right
bank of the Rhine, in contact with Nassau on the north, with
Hesse Casel on the north east, with Bavaria on the east,
with Baden on the south, and on the west with the Darmstadt
dominions to the west of the Rhine. It is 1102 square miles
in extent, and contains thirty-six cities and towns, and 811
villages, with about 235,000 inhabitants, nearly one-half of
whom are Lutherans, two-fifths Catholics, and theremainder
Calvinists, Menonites, and Jews. I he eastern part con¬
tains the mountainous forest country called the Odenwald;
but the western part is a level and fertile country, well cul¬
tivated, and yielding good crops ot corn, fruit, potatoes, flax,
hemp, and tobacco. It also produces good wine and abun¬
dance of cider. The chief occupation, except agriculture,
is spinning flax and hemp, and in converting the trees of
the forests into woodware. The province is divided into
thirty bailiwicks, and the capital is that of the principality,
the city of Darmstadt.
STARLINGS, or Stekltxgs, the name given to the
strong pieces of timber which were driven into the bed of
the river to protect the piles, on the top of which were laid
the flat beams upon which were built the bases of the stone
piers that support the arches of London bridge. In general,
starlings are large piles placed on the outside of the founda¬
tion of the piers of bridges, to break the force of the water,
and to protect the stone work from injury by floating ice.
They are otherwise called jettes, and their place is often
supplied by large stones thrown at random round the piers
of bridges, as may be seen at Stirling bridge when the river
is low ; and as was done by Mr. Smeaton’s direction round
the piers of the centre arch of London bridge, when it was
thought in danger of being undermined by the current.
STATES, or Estates, a term applied to several orders
or classes of people assembled to consult of matters for the
public good.
STATICS, a term which the modern improvements in
knowledge have made it necessary to introduce into physico-
mathematical science. It was found convenient to distri¬
bute the doctrines of universal mechanics into two classes,
which required both a different mode of consideration and
different principles of reasoning.
Till the time of Archimedes little science of this kuict was
possessed by the ancients, from whom we have received the
first rudiments. His investigation of the centre ot gravi y,
and his theory of the lever, are the foundations of our know¬
ledge of common mechanics ; and his theory of the equi i-
brium of floating bodies contains the greatest part ot ou
hvdrostatical knowledge. But it was as yet l*mlte 0 ,
simplest cases ; and there were some in which Archune
was ignorant, or was mistaken. The marquis Guido U >
in 1578, published his theory of mechanics, in whlC
doctrines of Archimedes were well explained and conf'
ably augmented. Stevinus, the celebrated Dutc eno* j-
published about twenty years after an excellent s>s fcf
mechanics, containing the chief principles wine ™ .
the science of equilibrium among solid bodies. P
S T A
S T A
]ar, he gave the theory of inclined planes, which was un¬
known to the ancients, though it is of the very first impor¬
tance in almost every machine. He even states in the most
express terms the principle afterwards made the foundation
of the whole of mechanics, and published as a valuable dis¬
covery by Varignon, viz. that three forces, whose directions
and intensities are as the sides of a triangle, balance each
other. His theory of the pressure of fluids, or hydrostatics,
is no less estimable, including every thing that is now re¬
ceived as a leading principle in the science. When we con¬
sider the ignorance, even of the most learned of that age,
in mechanical or physico-mathematical knowledge, we must
consider these performances as the works of a great genius ;
and we regret that they are so little known, being lost in a
crowd of good writings on those subjects which appeared
soon after.
Hitherto the attention had been turned entirely to equili¬
brium, and the circumstances necessary for producing it.
Mechanicians indeed saw, that the energy of a machine
might be somehow measured by the force which could be
opposed or overcome by its intervention : but they did not
remark, that the force which prevented its motion, but did
no more than prevent it, was an exact measure of its energy,
because it was in immediate equilibrio with the pressure
exerted by that part of the machine with which it was
connected. If this opposed force was less, or the force act¬
ing at the other extremity of the machine was greater, the
mechanicians knew that the machine would move, and that
work would be performed ; but what would be the rate of
its motion or its performance, they hardly pretended to con¬
jecture. They had not studied the action of moving forces,
nor conceived what was done when motion was communi¬
cated.
The great Galileo opened a new field of speculation in
his work on local motion. He there considers a change of
motion as the indication and exact and adequate measure of
a moving force; and he considers every kind of pressure as
competent to the production of such changes. He con¬
tented himself with the application of this principle to the
motion of bodies by the action of gravity, and gave the
theory of projectiles, which remains to this day without
change, and only improved by considering the changes which
are produced in it by the resistance of the air.
Sir Isaac Newton took up this subject nearly as Galileo
had left it. For, if we except the theory of the centrifugal
forces arising from rotation, and the theory of pendulums,
published by Huygens, hardly any thing had been added to
the science of motion. Newton considered the subject in
its utmost extent; and in his mathematical principles of
natural philosophy he considers every conceivable variation
of moving force, and determines the motion resulting from
its action. His first application of these doctrines was to
explain the celestial motions ; and the magnificence of this
subject caused it to occupy for a while the wdrole attention
of the mathematicians. But the same work contained pro¬
positions equally conducive to the improvement of common
mechanics, and to the complete understanding of the mecha¬
nical actions of bodies. Philosophers began to make thes,e
applications also. They saw that every kind of work which
is to be performed by a machine may be considered abstract¬
edly as a retarding force; that the impulse of water or
wind, which are employed as moving powers, act by means
of pressures which they exert on the impelled point of the
machine ; and that the machine itself may be considered as
an assemblage of bodies moveable in certain limited circum¬
stances, with determined directions and proportions of velo-
city. From all these considerations resulted a general ab¬
stract condition of a body acted on by known powers. And
they found, that after all conditions of equilibrium were sa¬
tisfied, there remains a surplus of moving force. They
could now state the motion which wall ensue, the new resis¬
tance which tnis will excite, the additional powrer which this Stafirs.
will absorb ; and they at last determined a new kind of equi-v'^^^^
librium, not thought of by the ancient mechanicians, be¬
tween the resistance to the machine performing work and
the moving power, which exactly balance each other, and is
indicated, not by the rest, but by the uniform motion of the
machine. In like manner, the mathematician was enabled
to calculate that precise motion of water which would com¬
pletely absorb, or, in the new language, balance the supe¬
riority of pressure by which water is forced through a sluice,
a pipe, or canal, with a constant velocity.
Thus the general doctrines of motion came to be con¬
sidered in two points of view, according as they balanced
each other in a state of rest or of uniform motion. These
two ways of considering the same subject required both dif¬
ferent principles and a different manner of reasoning. The
first has been named statics, as expressing that rest which is
the test of this kind of equilibrium. The second has been
called Dynamics or Universal Mechanics, because the
different kinds of motion are characteristic of the powers or
forces which produce them. A knowledge of both is indis¬
pensably necessary for acquiring any useful practical know¬
ledge of machines ; and it was ignorance of the doctrines
of accelerated and retarded motions which made the pro¬
gress of practical mechanical knowledge so vqry slow and
imperfect. The mechanics, even of the moderns, before
Galileo, went no further than to state the proportion of the
power and resistance which would be balanced by the inter¬
vention of a given machine, or the proportion of the parts
of a machine by which two known forces may balance each
other. This view of the matter introduced a principle,
which even Galileo considered as a mechanical axiom, viz.,
that what is gained in force by means of a machine is exact¬
ly compensated by the additional time ichich it obliges us
to employ. This is false in every instance, and not only
prevents improvement in the construction of machines, but
leads us into erroneous maxims of construction. The true
principles of dynamics teach us, that there is a certain pro¬
portion of the machine, dependent on the kind and propor¬
tion of the powder and resistance, which enables the machine
to perform the greatest possible work.
It is highly proper therefore to keep separate these two
ways of considering machines, that both may be improved
to the utmost, and then to blend them together in every
practical discussion.
Statics therefore are preparatory to the proper study of
mechanics; but they do not hence derive all their importance.
They are the sole foundation of many useful parts of know¬
ledge. This wrill be best seen by a brief enumeration.
1. They comprehend all the doctrines of the excitement and
propagation of pressure through the parts of solid bodies, by
which the energies of machines are produced. A pressure
is exerted on the impelled point of a machine, such as the
ffo^t-boards or buckets of a mill-wheel. This excites a
pressure at the pivots of its axle, which act on the points of
support. This must be understood, both as to direction and
intensity, that it maybe effectually resisted. A pressure is
also excited at the acting tooth of the cog-wheel on the same
axle, by which it urges round another wheel, exciting simi¬
lar pressures on its pivots, and on the acting.tooth perhaps
of a third wheel. Thus a pressure is ultimately excited in
the working point of the machines, perhaps a wiper which
lifts a heavy stamper, to let it fall again on some matter to
be pounded. Now statics teach us the intensities and
direction of all those pressures, and therefore how much re¬
mains at the working point of the machine unbalanced by
resistance.
2. They comprehend every circumstance which influences
the stability of heavy bodies ; the investigation and proper¬
ties of the centre of gravity ; the theory of the construc¬
tion of arches, vaults, and domes ; the attitudes of animals.
to
566
STATISTICS.
Stationary, 3. The strength of materials, and the principles of con-
Statistics. struction, so as to make the proper adjustment of strength
'^*^V-^’/and strain in every part of a machine, edifice, or structure
of any kind. Statics therefore furnish us with what may
be called a theory of carpentry, and give us proper instruc¬
tions for framing floors, roofs, centres, &c.
4. Statics comprehend the whole doctrine of the pressure
of fluids, whether liquid or aeriform, whether arising from
their weight or from any external action. Hence theiefore
we derive our knowledge of the stability of ships, or their
power of maintaining themselves in a position nearly up¬
right, in opposition to the action of the wind on the sails.
We learn on what circumstances of figure and stowage this
quality depends, and what will augment or diminish it.
STATIONARY, in Astronomy, the state of a planet
when, to an observer on the earth, it appears for some time
to stand still, or remain immoveable in the same place in
the heavens. For as the planets, to such an observer, have
sometimes a progressive motion, and sometimes a retrograde
one, there must be some point between the two where they
must appear stationary.
STATISTICS. The term statistics naturally sug¬
gests the object to which the science applies. It is derived
from the word state, or, according to others, the German
word Staat, signifying a body of men living together in
social union; and it comprehends all the details connected
with their condition. There cannot be a more interesting
subject of speculation than the structure of society; and if
we are anxious to trace, by laborious research, the laws of
the material world, no less important is it to asceitain the
moral laws by which society is upheld, and on which de¬
pend the character, condition, and happiness of man. But
neither this nor any other branch of philosophy can be ex¬
plained without a suitable collection of facts. In those
sciences which regard merely the properties of matter, ex¬
periments can be made at pleasure, and facts abundantly
obtained. But we cannot make experiments on society;
and we must therefore rely on observation for the facts by
which principles are to be illustrated. As the astronomer,
in deducing the laws which regulate the solar system, pa¬
tiently surveys the structure and movements of the heavens,
in like manner the political philosopher must watch the
progress of society, under all its various aspects of prospe¬
rity and decay, of happiness and misery, from the stagna¬
tion of trade, from famine, from disease, or any other of the
long catalogue of evils to which man is subject. We cannot
expound by a priori reasonings the wonderful economy of
human society; we cannot find our way through those in¬
tricate speculations without the light of facts; and hence
the importance of this science, which does not consist in
reasoning, but in collecting materials for reasoning, which it
is the business of the philosopher to arrange under general
principles, and thus to place every fact in its just place in
the great system of knowledge. Facts are the only true
foundation of philosophy. This is the true mode of philo¬
sophising by experiment recommended by Bacon, or by ob¬
servation, which, to the political inquirer, must supply the
place of experiment. Those sketches of society which are
merely speculative, however ingenious and amusing, carry
no conviction to the mind, and may be supported by other
theories equally plausible. But no sophistry can shake the
solid array of facts, and their legitimate conclusions, of
which all valuable knowledge may be said to consist.
Hence the importance of statistics, which supply the raw
material, to be afterwards fabricated by the delicate hand
of science into those fine but not flimsy speculations, which
give importance to the most trifling circumstances, by shew¬
ing how they bear on great principles; and hence, by the un¬
expected analogies which they often disclose in the practice
and policy of nations, a new light is reflected on the his¬
tory of mankind.
It is not, however, from a mere barren collection of facts Statin
that instruction can be derived. The statist must be so far,
trained in the school of philosophy, as to be able to cull out
what is instructive, and cast aside what is useless. He must
not be a mere collector of unconsidered trifles. There
are many uninteresting facts from which no conclusion can
ever spring. A collector of information is not in this view
merely a pioneer to the philosopher. He must be qualified
for his task by previous knowledge. He must know what
questions to ask, into what useful channel to guide his re¬
searches, otherwise he would waste his labour in the vain
accumulation of useless details, which would rather be an in¬
cumbrance than an aid to scientific inquiry. A brief enu¬
meration of the chief facts connected with the different sub¬
jects of political science may serve more clearly to explain
our views. Every subject to which the statist directs his
attention has its appropriate facts. Thus, the ratio in which
population and subsistence respectively increase, and the
condition of the people in different countries, can only be
illustrated by an accurate census at different periods, by the
proportion of marriages to the whole population, and of
births to deaths; and the same facts will indicate the healthi¬
ness or unhealthiness of the different countries; the popula¬
tion slowly increasing where the deaths are few, and being
renewed more rapidly by frequent marriages, where there
is a greater mortality.
In giving an account of the commerce of a country, the
facts sought after must chiefly be, the amount of its exports
and imports ; the general rate of wages; a copious list of
prices ; the state of the currency ; of what it consists, whe¬
ther of gold, silver, or of paper; and if of the latter, the
number of banks, the amount of the circulation, the price
of gold and silver, and such other facts as may throw light
on the difficult subject of those mercantile convulsions, and
of other causes, with which we are now unfortunately so fa¬
miliar.
In an investigation of the revenue, its amount fora series of
years must be ascertained ; the different taxes, with the an¬
nual products of each ; the time when they were imposed;
their increasing or decreasing amount; by which a judg¬
ment may be formed of their productiveness, and of the con¬
dition of the country in which they are imposed.
The state of a community in respect to crime is a subject
of deep importance; and the facts naturally sought aftermost
be the number of criminals tried, the nature of their offences,
the number condemned, the punishment inflicted, the state
of the prisons; whether there are any penitentiaries, and
by what rules conducted; by which the inquirer, be he
statesman or philosopher, will be able to appreciate the in¬
fluence of the penal code on the morals of the country, am
whether it tends to one of its great ends, namely, the refor¬
mation of the criminal, as well as his punishment.
The produce of the soil, in all its various departments,
with the laws by which it is distributed among the other
classes of the community, opens a wide field of inquiry,
and the facts which throw light on these subjects are o
great value, and must chiefly be, the amount of the produce
in different years, whether scarce or abundant; the prices
in these different years, and the amount of importation or
exportation, with the fluctuations of price that may occur in
different periods of the same season.
The mineral riches of a country, its fisheries, either on tne
shores or in the rivers, its climate, the diversity of its sur
face, and the variety of its vegetable produce on the moun¬
tains and in the plains, are all the legitimate subjects o s
tistics, which, it will be thus seen, has a wide range,
connected with various sciences; 1st, with mineralogy,
mistry, and mechanics, because of the importance o ~
sciences in the extraction of metals from the earth, i
fining the ore from the dross by the most econormca m ’
and in protecting those subterranean regions from the
STATISTICS.
567
cs. dations of water, from the corruption of the air, or from the
falling of the superincumbent masses under which the work
is carried on ; 2d, with meteorology, from the influence of
the atmosphere on the soil; from the variation of the cli¬
mate, according to the altitude, and the varieties of the ve¬
getable tribes which are found at different heights, all which
are important facts in the statistics of every country; and,
3d, with zoology, from the necessity of ascertaining the dif¬
ferent breeds of the domestic animals, and their qualities,
and how far they can be made subservient to the purposes
of man. How curious it is to contemplate the varieties of
these animals in different climates and countries: how in
Asia the elephant, whose gigantic strength could crush its
masters in the dust, is yet, by the ingenuity of man, re¬
duced to one of the humblest of his drudges ; the camel in
like manner to be a pattern of patient service; and the swift
dromedary, and the wild ass, with its indomitable spirit, bro¬
ken to the yoke, though in the eastern countries still retain¬
ing its native fire; while in Europe man depends upon an en¬
tirely different class of animals, whose properties are of the
highest importance in reference to the various duties to
which they are appointed, and form, therefore, the proper
subject of statistical inquiries, to which zoology contributes
its aid.
The moral and religious condition of the people is a sub¬
ject of still greater importance, which cannot be under¬
stood without knowing the nature and extent of the re¬
ligious establishments and seminaries of education; the
funds that are appropriated for these purposes, and their
efficiency for their proposed ends; from what source they
are derived; whether they are large or small; the num¬
ber of churches and schools, as compared with the popu¬
lation ; the nature of the different seminaries; what are
the sciences taught; the pay of the teachers, civil as well
as religious; the different sects ; the number of each ; the
proportion of those teachers who are paid by the state to
those who depend on the voluntary contributions of their
flocks. All these facts are necessary to be known in order
to decide on the great questions which will ever agitate the
world on the subject of religion, namely, whether any par¬
ticular form ought to be encouraged by the state; whether
it is not the better policy to leave religion to its own native
and divine strength ; to give protection to all, but encou¬
ragement to none ; a fair field and no favour ; whether re¬
ligion is more effectually promoted by a largely endowed
ministry, or by one more humble and industrious, depend¬
ing for their subsistence on the good will of their people;
whether large pay may not be a source of corruption and a
bribe to indolence; or whether such a class of luxurious
priests may not be necessary to propagate religion among
the rich. It is by inquiries into facts such as we have enu¬
merated that these important questions can be best eluci¬
dated ; and it is to these objects, therefore, of which we
have given an imperfect enumeration, that the statistical in¬
quirer ought to direct his attention, with a view of clearing
away all obstructions from the paths of science.
The study of statistics has only been of late years syste¬
matically prosecuted. It makes no part of the early history
of nations. The glare of battles, and of political commo¬
tions w'hich fix the destiny of nations, alone attracts the no¬
tice of the historian; and for these, the more precious details
of domestic history are thrown into the shade, and finally
lost. It is only, therefore, that portion of human affairs,
which, though more striking, is the least valuable, that his¬
tory embalms, while it casts aside as useless those import¬
ant facts which illustrate the progress of society, in arts, in
literature, and in science; in wealth also, in population, and
m commerce, by new and more ingenious modes of indus-
try> which shew the changes of manners that follow increas¬
ed wealth, the state of the public revenue, with various other
topics equally interesting to the statesman as well as the
philosopher. The ancient history of Greece and Rome is Statistics,
eminently deficient in those details. The writers of those
times appear to be extremely loose in their facts; and they
very seldom refer to the authority of any original document.
In the ancient republics of Greece and Rome, every thing
was subservient to war; and the accounts that were from
time to time taken of the male population, were with a
view to ascertain the military strength of the state. Rut
little reliance can even be placed on these accounts. The
ancient historians were rather intent on general descrip¬
tion, often vigorous and eloquent, than in any accurate ap¬
peal to facts. There was no accurate census of the Ro¬
man empire after it had attained to the height of its power ;
and the Roman historian, admitting that the number of sub¬
jects cannot now be fixed “ with such a degree of accuracy
as the importance of the object would deserve,” is reduced
to little better than conjecture, when he estimates the num¬
ber of persons under the imperial sway at 120 millions ; “ a
degree of populousness,” he adds, “ which possibly exceeds
that of modern Europe the vague manner of his expres¬
sion truly intimating the imperfect data with which he was
furnished. In other departments the statistics of Rome are
still more deficient in facts. The relative proportions of
births, deaths, and marriages, are never so much as pointed
at in any historical work; and the accounts that remain of
the state of commerce and manufactures are meagre in the
extreme. A list is no doubt given of articles of luxury im¬
ported into Rome, and of the trade to India and Arabia; in
which Pliny complains of the unfavourable exchange, a
modern complaint, also, in this country, and of the drain of
gold which it occasioned, there being no other equivalent with
which the rare luxuries ofthose countries could be purchased.
(See the article Arabia.) But we have no account of the
state of wages, of the value of the exports or imports, nor
any very accurate account of the currency, or of the pub¬
lic revenue. The modern historians of Rome, gleaning a
few scattered facts which shed an incidental light, from the
works of the classical writers, are reduced, by the help of
their own conjectures, to form them into a specious, but
often doubtful hypothesis. What a meagre account, ac¬
cordingly, does the illustrious Gibbon, not less noted for
eloquence and fancy, than for accurate research, give of the
revenues of Rome. He begins with lamenting the want of
any authentic document. “ History,” he observes, “ has ne¬
ver perhaps suffered a greater or more irreparable injury than
in the loss of the curious register bequeathed by Augustus
to the senate, in which that experienced prince so accu¬
rately balanced the revenues and expenses of the Roman
empire.” And when groping his way, by the imperfect
light w hich history supplies, he estimates that 20,000 pounds
weight of gold were annually received from the provinces of
Austria, Gallicia, and Lusitania, he adds, “ we want both
leisure and materials to pursue this curious inquiry through
the many potent states that were annihilated in the Roman
empire.” After stating the incidental circumstance of Au¬
gustus having once received a petition from the inhabitants
of Gyarus, a solitary and desolate isle, for a remission of
their annual duties, which only amounted in value to L.5
sterling, and naturally inferring, if such severe attention was
directed to the abodes of sterility, that much larger contribu¬
tions would be levied in the seats of population and of wealth,
he adds, “ from the faint glimmerings of such doubtful and
scattered lights, we should be inclined to believe, that with
every fair allowance of times and circumstances, the gene¬
ral income of the Roman provinces could seldom amount to
less than L.15,000,000or L.20,000,000of our money.” Such
is all the information which the most diligent research could
collect from any extant record concerning the revenues of
Rome. What a contrast does this present to the enlighten¬
ed science of modern times, and to the more accurate do¬
cuments prepared by authority in the great states of Europe,
568
STATISTICS.
appeared. The work is useful as a memorial of the condi¬
tion of the country at that period, and as an illustration
of domestic history. The great improvements which have
taken place in the country, have now rendered obsolete most
of the information which it contains; but a new work on
the same plan is now in the course of publication at Edin-
counts with the most perfect confidence. They are the so¬
lid materials of philosophy, the original sources from which
are drawn those unerring conclusions concerning the laws
and structure of society which nothing can reverse; which
equally survive the tempests of revolution, and the change of
manners. On important subjects, the British Parliament often
appoints a select committee of members to make inquiry, and
to prepare a report. They have authority to summon wit¬
nesses, and to collect evidence from every quarter. The
diligence and ability with which those committees have ex¬
ecuted this task, is attested by the long and elaborate re¬
ports which are among the parliamentary papers on the re¬
venue, on trade, on agriculture, on banks and paper currency,
and on almost all the different manufactures which are car-
comparatively uttie aticutiun. j ^ ™    - - -
of Price, Arthur Young, and Playfair, on population, com- ried on in the country; such as glass, soap, starch, paper,
^ . i. .x i • * 1_1 :  /lIoflllotirvrA nT cniritc tVlP HrPwinO’ nf hpPT. and
malt, the distillation of spirits, the brewing of beer, and
others of less moment. It is of great importance that the
accuracy of these, and the accounts which they contain,
should be undisputed, or otherwise their effect would rather
be to mislead than to inform.1 The information that is now
merce, and agriculture, though evincing laborious research,
are liable to the same objection. Dr. Smith was the first
writer who laid open the philosophy of commerce, and the
publication of his work was an era in the science. It at¬
tracted universal attention; and carried conviction wherever ~v.      . . .
it was studied, by the force and the extreme simplicity of called for by Parliament, is much more extensive than in
its reasonings. The far-reaching view's of the author into former times, and relates to matters that were formerly
all the complicated relations of society, are not more strik- thought to be of the most private nature. Prior
ing than the perfect plainness with which he lays open pension of cash payments by the Bank of England m l/y/,
its hidden structure. There is a peculiar force and pro- nothing was known of its circulation or of its operations,
priety in his style, which, repudiating the use of ornament, and Dr. Smith, however justly he expounds the nature ot
possesses a weight and brevity which is quite remarkable, money and of paper currency, had no knowledge w a ever
It is the pure ore of expression, refined from all those in¬
convenient accessaries of speech wdfich encumber the mo¬
dern languages. His argument often appears to consist of a
series of insulated propositions, yet they are linked toge¬
ther into so fine a logical chain, that the mind is carried on
step by step to the grand and striking conclusion. Since
the publication of Dr. Smith’s work, statistical knowledge
has been more and mdre sought after, and many valuable
of the amount that circulated in the country. No accounts
of this nature were published at that time. These were
official secrets, which were to be rigidly kept from the
eyes of the profane. The catastrophe which befel the
bank in 1797, broke the spell of secrecy; the various
committees which have been appointed to inquire into the
affairs of the bank, namely, the Lords’ committee of se¬
crecy in 1797, in 1810, and in 1819, and the committee
1 We think it necessary to give this caution, as we entertain doubts of the accuracy of an important table insei ted in e ® ^
port of the Commission of Excise Inquiry, in which is given the amount and progressive increase of the duties on spin s c ,
the quantity, as far as can be ascertained, annually brought to account. It is stated in the report, that the mode ot o arg g r-
Sal ofVSl-oonteM was discontinued in Scotland in 1802, and, in the table, the highest amount of duty on the cute contents of te st,
in the Lowland district, is stated to he L.64, 16s. 4d., whereas the 46 Geo. III. c. 102, passed In 1806,
the cubic contents of the still to L.108, and adds the war-duty of L.54, to continue till six months after the f■ re*t3L r‘te 0f
It was not till the year 1814 that the duties were transferred from the cubic contents of the still to the wash and p * act&of
Is. on the former, and 2s. KM. on the latter. See 54 Geo. III. c. 172. The facts given m the table are at variance witn
Parliament which we have quoted.
Statistids. and in America, in which their respective revenues and ex- works have been published on the subject. Among these Static
xi^-N^Wpenditure are detailed with arithmetical accuracy; not only may be mentioned the Statistical Account of Scotland, tdW*
the general result, but also the amount of the duty on such which the clergymen throughout the country contributed
separate articles for a series of years, from which we are each the account of his own parish. The design of the work,
enabled to draw important conclusions as to the nature and which was begun about the year 1791, and was suggested
policy of different taxes, as to the general effect of taxation, by Sir John Sinclair, to whom the accounts were sent, and
and the condition of the country, whether, as indicated by who superintended the publication, is extremely judicious,
the state of its revenue, it is advancing or going back. and the execution is in general useful and accurate. In
Under the imperial government of Rome the land was these volumes was accumulated, in respect to Scotland, a
accurately measured by surveyors, who reported its produce, greater portion of correct information than had ever before
whether arable or pasture, vineyards or woods, what was
the number of slaves or cattle; and an average estimate was
made of its produce for five years, on which a fixed propor¬
tion was exacted by the state. But nothing remains of the
records to point out the state of property in this great em¬
pire, the chief seat of wealth and civilization in the ancient   r      i .  
world; and it is lamentable to reflect, that most of those burgh; and so far as it has proceeded, it appears to be
inquiries by government were instituted, not with any executed with judgment and care, and to contain an ample
view of promoting science, or of benefiting the people, but store of statistical information.
rather of plundering them: their rulers inquired into their But those publications, valuable as they are, fall short of
means that they might know how heavily they might be the important documents which are now annually laid be-
burdened. This was probably the origin of that exact sur- fore the respective legislatures of different countries. Great
vey of the lands of England which took place by order of Britain, France, and the United States, possess, in these pub-
William the Conqueror, which was finished in six years, lie accounts and papers, a valuable mass of political informa-
and was entered into the register called Doomesday-Book ; tion, and the most authentic details on all the important sub¬
net onlv a relic of antiquity, but a statistical document jects of commerce, agriculture, finance, the moral instruction
equally valuable and curious, more especially considering of the people, and on every other branch of domestic history,
the rude age in which it was produced. Neither in that And the great advantage is, that we can appeal to these ac-
early age, however, nor in much later times, are there any
materials for domestic history; and accordingly the Eng¬
lish historian, in describing the progress of manners, is re¬
duced, like the historian of Rome, to draw his imperfect con¬
clusions from the few facts which are scattered through the
pages of the early writers.
When the progress of political science became more ra¬
pid, the facts on which that science was founded, were in¬
vestigated with redoubled assiduity. Towards the close
of the seventeenth century, several treatises were pub¬
lished on the subjects of commerce, manufactures, circu¬
lation, and finance, by Reynolds, Child, and Petty. But
they were deficient in comprehensive views, and attracted
comparatively little attention. The more recent works
S T A
the Commons in 1832, have both laid open the transac-
.‘■''tions and policy of the bank ; and a quarterly account
is now ordered to be published in the Gazette of its circu¬
lation, its deposits, its liabilities, and the average amount of
its stock of gold. Such information gives to the political
inquiries of modern times an incalculable advantage. The
progress of freedom in Europe also conduces to the ex¬
tension of statistical knowledge. Where popular assemblies
are established, with the right of free discussion, inquiries
into all the branches of the public service will naturally fol¬
low. Papers and accounts will be called for; no longer
will the transactions of statesmen be shrouded in darkness;
they will be dragged into light; and the people formerly re¬
probated by the tyrant Henry VIII. as brutes, who were no
more judges of these high matters than a blind man of colours,
will insist, in their boldness and presumption, to know how
their money is spent. Thus will be obtained the financial ac¬
counts of the kingdom, and those of commerce, and other
public matters will follow in due course. Publicity is the
true corrective of corruption; and in the pure administration
of free states, the ruler will rather court than shun inquiry,
being conscious of nothing that will not bear the light. Ac¬
cordingly, in 1832, a statistical office was established in the
department of the board of trade, for the purpose of collect¬
ing, arranging, and publishing statements relating to the
condition and the various interests of the British empire.
The volumes to which this arrangement has given birth,
are annually printed and laid before Parliament, and con¬
tain an ample store of the most satisfactory details. Seve¬
ral societies have since been formed for prosecuting sta¬
tistical inquiries. In 1833, a statistical section was form¬
ed in the British Association for the advancement of
Science during the period of its meeting at Cambridge; and,
before the close of the year, the Manchester Statistical So¬
ciety was established. The Statistical Society of London,
which had been projected at Cambridge, was established in
1834, and has published a monthly journal, which contains
much useful information. Statistical societies have been
formed in other populous towns, in Liverpool, in Bristol,
and in several towns in Ireland, and promise, by their in¬
dustry, to add largely to the existing stock of useful know¬
ledge. Many important publications have of late years
issued from the press, on the condition and resources
ot the country; on its commerce, its agriculture, its cur¬
rency, as well as on the state of education, which tend to
promote, and greatly to aid statistical inquiries. The most
important of these is Macculloch’s Dictionary of Commerce,
a work which combines extensive research, and the most co¬
pious details, with the spirit of philosophy. Other statistical
works are, the Statistical Account of the British Empire, by
the same author; Statistical Accounts of part of Ireland, by
the Officers of the Irish Ordnance Survey; Milburn’s Orien-
al Commerce ; Macgregor’s Statistics of Nations ; Porter’s
mgressof the Nation; Martin’s Colonial Magazine, and his
hntish Colonial Library, an elaborate account of the colo¬
nies. An instructive and useful w'ork has lately been pub-
isoed by Mr. A. Trotter on the Commerce and Banking
}stem of the United States, which is a compendium of im¬
portant statistical information. With all these aids, politi-
I cal science will undoubtedly advance, and may be expected
ln tmie t0 attain to more certain results in all those im-
I portant inquiries which relate to the actual condition and
Moral improvement of mankind.
TAPIUS, Publius Papinius, a celebrated Latin poet,
' jo was born at Naples, a.d. 61. His father was of a
U nornn family, but being poor, he maintained himself
r caching rhetoric, first at Naples, and afterwards at
ome. I he emperor Domitian is said to have been one
the I8 ^Upils* He was a master of Greek as well as
If w a^*ni !onSue> and wms a poet as well as a rhetorician.
e could rely on the statements of his son, he was little
''OL. xx.
S T A
inferior to Homer in poetical genius; but as his contempo¬
raries have nowhere noticed him, it may fairly be presumed,
that his affection for his father blinded the son’s judgment.
Statius received his education at Rome, and married at
an early age (a.d. 81) a widow named Claudia, whom he
frequently mentions in his verses. He was distinguished
by his powers as an improvvisatore, which seem to have
been very considerable, and he often appeared before the
public in the poetical contests of the age. In these he was
not unfrequently victorious; yet though crowds flocked to
hear the recitation of his Thebais, Juvenal, Sat. vii. 87,
remarks, that he would have perished from hunger, if he
had not been able to sell to the principal actor of the day
his tragedy of Agave, which is now lost. His high re¬
putation however excited against him many enemies, and
among others Martial, who, it is observed, never took any
notice of Statius. The principal poem of Statius is entitled
Theba'is; it is an epic poem in twelve cantos, and a work of
considerable merit. It relates to the Theban war under
the sons of GEdipus, and is in reality, like that of Silius Ita-
licus, an historical poem, the materials for which have been
drawn principally from Greek sources, more particularly
from the Thebais of Antimachus. He has taken for his
model Virgil’s TEneid, but has not been very successful
in his imitation. Another of his poems is entitled Achil-
leis, being intended to exhibit a detailed account of the
life and deeds of Achilles, from the moment of his birth;
but the author did not live to complete his plan, and only
two books remain, the last of which is imperfect. This
portion contains only a small part of the life of Achilles.
jYVe have besides a collection of thirty-two poems, divided
into five books, and bearing the title of Silvae. They
are mostly in hexameter, but some few in Alcaic, Sapphic,
and Phaleucian verse. Having fallen into a feeble state of
health, he ictiieu to Naples in the hope of deriving some
benefit from his native air. Here he laboured at his Achil-
leis; but death arrested his progress before he had com¬
pleted the thirty-sixth year of his age.
The poems of Statius exhibit nearly the same faults as are
to be found in the works of Silius Italicus, and Valerius Flac-
cus. He possesses the rhetorical spirit of his age, which,
disregarding the beauties of simplicity, aimed at effect by
ingenious turns of expression, and a display of great learn¬
ing. His language is sometimes bombastic. His works were
at one period, not of the most refined taste, held in as great
estimation as those of Virgil. T.he first collective edition
of his poems appeared at Venice in 1483, folio. They had
been sepaiately piinted at an earlier period. The subse¬
quent editions are sufficiently numerous. Among the more
elaborate of the early editions, we must mention that of
Lindenbrog, Paris. 1600, 4to. It includes the scholia
of Lactantius, or Lactatius, on the Thebais and Achil-
lei's- Nor must we omit the accurate edition of Gro-
novius, Am it. 16o3, 12mo. Ihe same able critic had pre¬
viously published “ In P. Papinii Statii Silvarum libros v.
Diatribe.” Hagae Com. 1637, 8vo. An edition of Statius
was not.longafterwardspublished with the very elaborateand
learned commentary of Barthius, Cygnae, 1664, 2 tom. 4to.
I he commentator was then dead, and the edition wxas su¬
perintended by Daumius. Considerable additions were here
made to the ancient scholia formerly printed. Another
critic to whom this poet has many obligations, is Markland,
who published, with notes and emendations, a separate edi¬
tion of the “ Silvarum libri quinque.” Lond. 1728, 4to.
Among the attempts at English translation, we may men¬
tion Lewis’s version of “ The Thebaid of Statius,” Oxford
1767, 2 vols. 8vo.
S I A1 UARY, a branch of sculpture, employed in the
making of statues. See Sculpture,
AT UE, is defined to be a piece of sculpture in full
relievo, representing a human figure. See Sculpture.
4 c
569
Statuary,
Statue.
570
STEAM.
Steam.
The articles Steam and Steam-engine in the third
edition of the present work were originally written by
Dxt Robison, and were long the standards of reference
upon these subjects. The rapid progress of science and
of the mechanical arts during the present century, has
now rendered it necessary to substitute for these articles
those maturer results of recent research, to the attain¬
ment of which the original papers were themselves the
means of very materially conducing. The value of these
original researches was further enhanced by passing
through the hands of the man of all others the most ca¬
pable of appreciating their value, and the best qualified
to increase it by his contributions. It was the early friend
and companion of Professor Robison, Mr Watt himself,
who, towards the close of his life, and notwithstanding
the laborious nature of the undertaking, agreed to revise
those articles for republication, so as to present them to
the public with somewhat of that greater completeness
which it is to be presumed their author would himself have
conferred upon them, had he lived to see the investigations
which he had begun, carried forward and completed. Mr
Watt was, however, prevented by the weakness of increas¬
ing years from doing more than adding notes to these
articles, and they were accordingly printed in that form;
but they contain a most interesting chapter of the history
of inventive genius, for they give us, in Watt’s own words,
the history of the progress and consummation of his own
noble inventions, and display the efforts of genius work¬
ing its way through the obscurities of imperfect knowledge
to the discovery of pure truth and the achievement of the
most exquisite combinations.
While, therefore, it was impossible to retain the articles
themselves, it was highly desirable that all that had ren¬
dered them valuable should be retained, and more espe¬
cially such portions as serve to record the state of the
mechanics and physics of steam at that time, and the pro¬
gress of the invention; and these, together with the
notes of Mr Watt, it has been thought better to give in the
precise words of the original, than to transpose them into
language which could neither be more clear nor more ap¬
propriate than that with which their authors had invested
them. Such portions of the articles on steam and the
steam-engine, as have been in this manner retained, are
distinguished by an appropriate mark. Paragraphs from
the pen of Dr Robison have a star * placed at their com¬
mencement ; those of Mr Watt, in like manner, have a
cross 1. To all that was interesting and valuable in the
original articles, an attempt has been made to superadd
whatever subsequent labour and research may have
brought to light. These remarks apply to the articles
Steam and Steam-Engine. Steam Navigation is en¬
tirely new.
Section I.—considerations of a generab nature
REGARDING THE FROPERTIES, PHENOMENA AND APPBI-
CATIONS OF STEAM.
Origin cf 1. * Steam is the name given in our language to the
Steam. visible, moist vapour which arises from all bodies which
contain juices easily expelled from them by heats not suffi¬
cient for their combustion. Thus we say, the steam of
boiling water, of malt, of a tan-bed. It is distinguished
from smoke by its not having been produced by combus¬
tion, by not containing any soot, and by its being conden¬
sible by cold into water, oil, inflammable spirits, or liquids
composed of these.
2. * We see it rise in great abundance from bodies
when they are heated, forming a white cloud, which diffuses
itself and disappears at no very great distance from the
body from which it was produced. In this case the sur¬
rounding air is found loaded with the water or moisture
which seems to have produced it, and the steam seems to
be completely soluble in air, composing, while thus united,
a transparent elastic fluid.
3. * But, in order to its appearance in the form of an
opaque white cloud, the mixture with or dissemination in
air seems necessary. If a tea-kettle boils violently, so that
the steam is formed at the spout in great abundance, it
may be observed, that the visible cloud is not formed at
the very mouth of the spout, but at a small distance before
it, and that the vapour is perfectly invisible at its first
emission. This is rendered still more evident by fitting
to the spout of the tea-kettle a glass pipe of any length,
and of as large a diameter as we please. The steam is
produced as copiously as without this pipe, but the vapour
is transparent and colourless throughout the whole of the
pipe. Nay, if this pipe communicate with a glass vessel
terminating in another pipe, and if the vessel be kept
sufficiently hot, the steam will be as abundantly produced
at the mouth of this second pipe as before, and the vessel
will remain quite transparent. The visibility, therefore,
of the matter which constitutes the steam is an accidental
circumstance, and appears to require its dissemination in
the air ; and we know that one perfectly transparent body,
when minutely divided and diffused among the parts of
another transparent body, but not dissolved in it, makes a
mass which is visible. Thus oil beaten up with water
makes a white opaque mass.
4. If the column of steam which ascends from a boiler
that is suddenly opened, be observed in a clear dry day,
when the sun is shining, the column of vapour, gradually-
widening as it rises, will be observed to be of a very bril¬
liant silvery white, and will cast a strong dark shadow
upon the objects which it intercepts from the direct rays
of the sun : but, if the observer be placed in this shadow,
the sun will appear to him to be of a strong tawny, or
fiery red colour, or, if the column be very dense, the sun
will be invisible. These appearances closely resemble
some phenomena of the clouds, which we know are com¬
posed of watery vapour, and which sometimes appear of a
fleecy white, again of a fiery red or a burnished gold
colour, or again of a dappled grey, down through every
degree of darkness, until the vapour become so dense and
opaque as altogether to obscure the light of the sun by a
thick black cloud. These appearances have been satisfac¬
torily accounted for. Steam, in its attenuated state, is a
transparent, invisible, colourless gas. When disseminate
through the air, in excessive quantities, small globules are
formed, of a film of water, enclosing light vapour. es®
globules, floating thickly in the air, form an aggregation
of minute films of fluid, capable of reflecting and trans
mitting light. When we are so placed that the light may
be reflected to us, and when the cloud is so thick as o
reflect it completely, we have the same brilliant w ^ i e
which results from the comminution of glass, rosin, ice,
and other transparent media; and, at the same time, an
observer, placed on the opposite side of the cloud, sees i a
a dense black opaque mass, because the light being to a y
St ,
U.J
Colcilf
Steu
STEAM.
in. reflected, none of it can be transmitted to him. The richer
>mJ colours transmitted bj thinner strata of vapour are thus
noticed by M Leopold Nobili of Reggio. “ The tints
exhibited by the clouds in every variety of aspect are al¬
most all comprised in Sir Isaac Newton’s first ring (the
white, yellow', orange, red ; or the blood, tawny, copper,
ochre, and fire red, and vialaceous red, or No. 1-12 of
Mr Nobili’s scale). Tints of this kind do not arise from
refraction and diffraction, they are produced only by means
of thin plates. Now the measurements of Sir Isaac New
571
tpp nt
miil !.-
iteai
ton have shown what are the dimensions of the layers of
air, of water, and of glass, which produce the colours of
the several rings; and, as we know that the vesicular
vapours are formed of v-ater, and that they do not reflect or
transmit any other tint, we may conclude that their exter-
nal film is in. no case thicker than ten millionth parts of
an inch. This result appears to me to be so decidedly cer¬
tain as to be entitled to a place m science.” It was to the
effect of thin plates on light that Newton referred the
colours of all bodies ; and the accounting for the rich
golden hues of the clouds, and the fiery red colour of light
passing through dispersed steam, by the effect of the thin
plates of water enclosing the vapoury spheroids of pure
steam, must be regarded as one of the most satisfactory
applications of his theory. (See article Optics.)
5. A very singular phenomenon takes place, if the flame
of a candle or lamp be held below a jet of steam, as it
issues from the mouth of a small pipe ; the steam instantly
ceases to be visible. In this case, one of two changes
may be conceived to take place, either or both of which
account for the permanent invisibility of the vapour : the
intense heat of the flame may disperse the particles to
such a distance, that there does not remain in a given
space a sufficient number to form a vesicle of vapour, and
it therefore remains diffused in combination with the air,
which alwmys holds a large quantity of invisible vapour,
especially at high temperatures; or the vapour may be
decomposed by the flame into the permanent and invisible
g.ases, of which it consists, which may again become com¬
bined, to a certain extent, with the burning substance, and
support the flame.
• 6. * .When steam is produced, the water gradually
wastes in the tea-kettle, and will soon be totally expended
u we continue it on the fire. It is reasonable, therefore,
to suppose that this steam is nothing but water, changed
by heat into an aerial or elastic form. If so, we should
expect that the privation of this heat would leave it in the
form of water again. Accordingly, this is fully verified
by experiment; for, if the pipe fitted to the tea-kettle be
surrounded with ice, or any cold substance, no steam will
issue., but water will continually trickle from it in drops:
and if the process be conducted with the proper precau¬
tions, the water which we thus obtain from the pipe will
be found equal in quantity to that which disappears from
the tea-kettle. Steam is therefore the matter of water,
’ondij C01lVeiQtec* bJ beat into an elastic vapour.
• 13 • Steam, water, and ice, are three conditions of the
wren stance, which it assumes under different circum-
tea® *1ancej.°J beat ancl of external pressure. In each condition it
eys different laws ; as a solid, ice obeys the laws of the
anies of solid bodies: in Russia it is quarried like
c , and is used for building houses and paving ways ; it
cast into moulds for domestic purposes, like iron or lead;
r Sfair,f;ed like alabaster, and chiselled like marble : as a
all fl’7ater is the exemPlar of tbe hydrostatical laws of
and ,U1 S' aSi a vaPour5 it obeys the laws of aerostatics ;
its on e70W Cnow that steam is, in all respects, similar in
or ™7tltU7°n and phenomena to all other elastic fluids
it Pvno Sj ,.,We aPP1J heat to a bar of extremely cold ice,
in? w.uA hke other solids with heat, gradually elongat-
& cn its increased temperature, its particles receding
from one another by the repulsive action induced between Steam,
the particles by the entrance of caloric between them, the 's«3»v^.
cohesion of the particles becoming less and less, until at
last, if the heat be continually thrown in, the cohesion of
the particles is altogether overcome, they lose their ag¬
gregation, they become separable without effort, and, fail¬
ing to pieces, the bar of ice loses its form and subsides
into water. When thus melted, the water being placed
m a vessel,, and having heat applied to it, will, like other
fluids, continue to expand from its point of greatest den¬
sity, and will increase in bulk nearly one-twentieth by
about 172.°, but at last the entrance of so large a quantity
of heat will produce a repulsive force between the par¬
ticles so strong as to cause them suddenly to spring apart
from one another, so as to recede to a distance twelve
times as far asunder as in the state of water, and they
have now assumed the aerial condition of gas or vapour,
and constituting steam, occupy 1728 times their origi¬
nal space. The ice passing into the condition of water,
is said to be liquefied, and the heat necessary to convert
ice into water is called the caloric of liquidity of ice,
or the caloric of condition of water ; when water is con¬
verted into steam, the quantity of caloric necessary for this
purpose is called the caloric of vaporization of water,
or the caloric of elasticity of steam, and the water
is then said to boil or evaporate. This process may be
reversed.. If the steam have been collected in a close re¬
ceptacle., it may be squeezed by external compression into
its original bulk, or by cooling the outside so as to
withdraw the caloric of elasticity from between the par¬
ticles, they may be allowed to come together by the at¬
traction of cohesion, and resuming their original proxi¬
mity to each other, appear once more in their former
condition of water, and in this case the vapour is said to
be condensed ; and if the process of abstraction of caloric,
with sufficient pressure, be continued, the liquid particles
approaching each other, will gradually contract the bulk
of. the mass, and at a certain point will take again the
original character of ice, and the liquid is then said to
be congealed or frozen. The same particles of matter do
“ thus in turn play many parts.”
Ice melts and becomes water by increment of heat.
Water evaporates into steam by increment of heat.
Steam is condensed into water by decrement of heat.
Water congeals into ice by decrement of heat.
(8.) These phenomena are not confined to one sub- Steam -re
stance : many substances, apparently the most refractory, of the ' ’
have been melted and again congealed, while other suh- Gases,
stances which had never been observed in any other form
than that of transparent air or invisible gas, have been
condensed by the expedients of modern artifice into liquids
heavier than water, and have even been congealed into
hard and strong solids. To so great an extent has this
taken place, that, we are now almost warranted in deduc-
Horn a wide induction of facts, the following generali¬
zation.; that all bodies assume the solid, liquid, or gaseous
condition, according to the accidents of temperature and
pressure under which they happen to be placed ; and that
it is merely from the circumstance of their being more
ordinarily found, at the present temperature of the earth
and under the weight of our present atmosphere, in one of
these states rather than another, that some substances
have been characterised and distinguished, and classed as
permanent solids, liquids, or airs. We now speak of ice
only as frozen water ; but had we lived under a tempera¬
ture such as that which the inhabitants of the planet
Jupiter, at their distance from the sun, may be conceived
to endure, we should have spoken of swallowing melted
ice as we now speak of molten lead, and a separate name
for melted ice would have remained unknown ; or, if we
conceive, in like manner, our air to be withdrawn, and the
572
STEAM.
Steam.
temperature of the earth raised above 212 , we should
then have moved under an atmosphere of steam of the
same pressure as at present, transparent and colouiless,
and might only have heard of water as a curious substance
obtained from the compression of the air. The phenomena
of steam are much simplified and more perfectly explained
when we take this enlarged vie w of its analogy with other
kinds of matter. _ .
Phenome- 9. We are most familiar with steam, when m the act
r.aofEbul- rising violently from heated water in the piocess of
lition- ebullition. The history of steam at this crisis.is highly
instructive, and its phenomena may be studied with advan¬
tage by examining it in a glass vessel placed over a strong,
lamp. When heat is first applied, a rapid circulation ot
the fluid ensues. The water on the bottom, being rst
heated and expanded, becoming lighter than the rest, rises
to the top, and is replaced by the current of colder water,
descending to receive in its turn a further accession ot
heat. By and by, small globules of steam, formed on the
bottom and surrounded by a film of water, are observed
adhering to the glass ; as the heat increases they enlarge,
several of them unite, form a bubble laigei
Sounds of
Simmer¬
ing and
Ebullition.
in a short time several of them unite, form a bubble larger
than the others, and, detaching themselves from the glass,
rise upwards in the fluid. But they never reach the.sur-
face ; they encounter currents of water still comparatively
cold, and descending to receive from the bottom their sup¬
ply of heat; and encountering them, the bubbles are robbed
of their heat, shrivel up into their original bulk, and are lost
among the other particles of water. In a short time the
mass of the water becomes more uniformly heated, the
bubbles, becoming larger and more frequent, are con¬
densed with a loud crackling noise, and at last, when the
heat of the whole mass reaches 212°, the bubbles from the
bottom rise without condensation through the water, swell
and unite with others as they rise, and burst out upon the
air in a copious volume of steam, of the same heat as the
water from which they are formed, and pushing aside the
air, make room for themselves. In this process, by con¬
tinuing the application of heat, the whole of the water
may he “ boiled away” or converted into steam.
10. The singular sounds produced from a vessel ol
water exposed to heat, previously to boiling, have at¬
tracted attention; the water is then vulgarly said to be
simmering or singing; and, when this takes place, it is
because the vessel is boiling at one place and compara¬
tively cold at another. This noise is most distinctly heard
when the fire or flame applied is small, and its heat in¬
tense, when the vessel is large and the water deep , foi in
that case the entrance of the caloric will take place more
rapidly than the circulation can convey it to the remote
particles of fluid, and so hubbies of steam will form rapidly
at one place and be rapidly condensed at another; the de¬
gree of velocity with which such bubbles succeed will de¬
termine the pitch of the singing tone. We have observed
this phenomenon in greatest perfection when we have at¬
tached a slender pipe to a close boiler producing steam,
and carried its open mouth, of the diameter of ^ or ^ of an
inch, down below the surface of cold water in a glass
jar. When the mouth of the steam-pipe is held just below
the surface of the water, the steam issues with great
rapidity in small hubbies, producing an acute tone ; and,
the other hand, when the pipe is held at a con¬
siderable depth, the concussions become more violent and
louder, their intervals of succession greater, the tone is
lowered, and finally, the shocks become detached, and so
violent as to shake the glass and surrounding objects
with much force. On this subject Professor Robison
observes, *that a violent and remarkable phenomenon, ap¬
pears, if we suddenly plunge a lump of red-hot iron into
a vessel of cold water, taking care that no red part be
near the surface. If the hand be now applied to the
side of the vessel, a most violent tremor is felt, and Sv,,
sometimes strong thumps ; these arise from the collapsing
of very large bubbles. If the upper part of the iron be
too hot, it warms the surrounding water, so much, that
the bubbles from below come up through it uncondensed,
and produce ebullition without concussion. 1 he great
resemblance of this tremor to the sensation which we ex¬
perience during the shock of an earthquake, has ltd many
to suppose that the latter is produced in the same way;
and their hypothesis, notwithstanding the objections which
we have elsewhere stated to it, is by no.means unfeasible.
Any obstruction on the bottom of a boiler, on the inside,
as a piece of metal or stone introduced among the water,
may produce a succession of smart concussions by the
sudden condensation of gas collected under it.
11. The permanence of the boiling point.is one of the Pen;
most remarkable of the phenomena of ebullition. When nei
water has once been brought to boil in an open vessel, it™
is not possible to make the water sensibly hotter, however = nt'
strongly the fire may be urged or its intensity increased.
This circumstance is very striking, because we know that
heat continues to be thrown in exactly as fast as before
the boiling point, and that in that case the heat rose
rapidly, whereas now it has altogether ceased to increase.
If a thermometer of mercury, air, oil, or metal be placed
among the water, the temperature will constantly increase,
and expand the matter of the thermometer, until the water
boils, and then, whether it boil slowly or rapidly, with a
strong fire or a gentle one, the thermometer will continue
to stand at the same point. This point is so well defined,
as to furnish our standard for the comparison of tempera¬
tures, and is the same on all thermometers, being called
the boilino- point, although it is differently numbered on
each, being called 212° on our common thermometer or
Fahrenheit’s, 80° on Reaumur’s, and 100° on the centigrade
thermometer. , f
It is also to he remarked, that the temperature ot the
steam issuing from boiling water is the same with the tem¬
perature of the water itself, and remains equally invariable;
so that all the steam produced from water boiling at 212
is itself at 212°. This remark will assist us m accounting
for the disposal of the heat which the fire gives out during
the time of ebullition; for it is manifest that the heat is
all the while carried off by the large volumes of steam, at
a temperature of 212°, that are diffused through the air ;
and so it happens that an increase of heat m the tire,
instead of increasing the heat of the. water, only increases
the volumes of the steam thrown off, and the. quantity 0
heat carried away. This view of the subject is confirmed
by a simple experiment. Take a strong glass flask, place
water in it and a thermometer among the water, and
it be held over a lamp until the water boil, and the th
mometer will he observed rising till it reach 2 ,
the steam will begin to escape rapidly from the neck 0
the flask. Let it now be corked tightly, andtheheat
tinually applied; and it C
meter does not now stand at 212 , bu . P / ^
that point up to 220° and 230°, showing that the ire
escape of the steam into the open air is necessary to the
permanence of the boiling point. If the heat be tiU ap_
plied, the experiment may be rendered still more ^
tive, by suddenly pulling out the cork 0 , ’ an(j
the vapour will instantly rush out m a that alj the
the thermometer sink down to. 212 > sn0" fa int0
excess of heat has been carried off by the
the air. , Peat k-11
12. We have thus seen that a large quan Y ,pe
ive thus seen that a large quau^, ~ fHe
may be given out to the.particles aJc®rt+a^n^ +pe tper-
may be given out to tne.parucies ui - , t the tper.
water, converting them into steam, an y .
mometer shall afford no indication o. us q 212°;
soon as water boils, the whole mass is heated up to
STEAM.
573
Capty
of I
for
-I
ton
Fig. 1.
am. and although the same heat that produced the ebullition
V be still continually applied, and although we know that
this heat must be continually entering into the water, still
it is not detected, or in any way exhibited by the thermo¬
meter. On this account, the heat given to water during
ebullition is said to become latent, or lie hid from the
thermometer; and, indeed, the thermometer merely in¬
dicates the intensity of heat, the calorimeter alone can
measure its quantity. The quantity of heat given out to
water after it has begun to boil, is more than live-fold that
which is sufficient to bring it from the freezing up to the
boiling point; for, if we continue the fire with the same
intensity that was used in bringing it to boil, it will require
more than five-fold that duration and quantity of fuel to
boil all the water away, or convert it all into steam of 212°
of heat. Thus the sensible heat, added from 32°, will be
180°, and that latent in the steam is more than five-fiold ;
or, in other words, the insensible caloric in steam is five¬
fold its sensible heat; or the same quantity of matter in
the condition of steam at 212°, and of water at 212°, will
hold different quantities of caloric, in the proportion of
about 6 to 1. This is called the greater capacity of steam
for caloric than of water for that substance ; and it is in
part accounted for, by the greater distances of the par¬
ticles of the matter of steam and water from each other
in the former than the latter condition ; for when the
distances of the particles are increased 12 times, the
spheres of caloric around each atom may be much larger,
without increased elasticity of the calorific fluid. Dr
Black was the discoverer of the admirable doctrine of
latent beat.
13. Dr Dalton has thus illus¬
trated the doctrine of latent heat,
loric and of the increased capacity of a
-I Dal-Uq^ for holding caloric, when
" it passes into the condition of va¬
pour. The liquid and its vapour
may be considered as two reser¬
voirs of caloric, capable of hold¬
ing different quantities of that
fluid. Let figure 1. represent to
us such an arrangement; the in- “a'
ternal cylinder of smaller capa¬
city, the external one of enlarged
capacity surrounding and ex¬
tending far above it, and a small
open tube of glass, communicat¬
ing freely at the bottom with the
inside of the cylinders. Let us
now conceive water to be poured
into the internal cylinder, the water will manifestly flow
into the slender tube till it stand on the same level in the
tube as in the cylinder. If any additional quantity be now
poured into the internal cylinder, the rise of water in the
slender glass tube will serve as an index of the quantity
ot added fluid; and when it is filled to the top, the fluid
will stand at the height marked 212°, and will still be a
correct index of the addition of fluid. But if more water
e now added to it, it will not make its appearance in the
s ender tube, but will simply overflow from the internal
cylinder over into that of enlarged capacity, so that, while
a large, quantity is passing into the vessel and gradually
UP to 212°, no additional rise takes place until
. of the outer cylinder become filled to that
point, after which any further addition will again become
sensible, by a corresponding rise in the tube. This pro¬
cess is in precise analogy to the succession of circumstances
H' seating a liquid, and converting it into steam. The
internal, cylinder represents the liquid, the external one
ie vapour of greater capacity, and the slender glass tube
e side the thermometer placed in communication with
them. When heat flows into the liquid, it passes equally Steam,
into the thermometer; and each increment of the one 'Wy-w'
produces an equal increment in the other, until the liquid
reaches the limit of its capacity, when it suddenly begins
to enlarge its bulk and take the form of steam; but the
quantity of heat required to fill up this enlarged capacity
is so great as to require about 5^ times as much to fill it
as was contained in the whole liquid before, so that all this
time the thermometer is standing still, and it is not until
the whole of the steam is thus supplied with 212° of caloric,
that the thermometer will begin to show any further ele¬
vation ; after which, any increment of heat thrown into
the steam will make its appearance on the thermometer,
and proceed as formerly, by simultaneous increments. *
14. It appears, therefore, that the cause why water Ebullition
boiling under the open air does not reach a higher tern- in vacuo—
perature than 212°, is, that the steam which is raised by Dr Dalton
any additional heat, carries that additional quantity of
heat along with it into the air. But here a question
occurs at once to the enquirer into these phenomena, viz.
Why does water require to be heated up to 212° before
it will throw off its increments of heat and vapour into the
air ? Why does not steam rise equally strongly from water
at 200° or 180° ? The categorical reply is, that the elastic
force of the heat is not sufficient to enable the steam to
force its way against the pressure of the air until it reaches
this point. In order to understand the means by which
we arrive at this conclusion, it is necessary to know that,
when the pressure of air on the surface of the water is
artificially diminished, the steam does actually rise, and
the water bubbles and boils with great violence, at tem¬
peratures far below 212°. It is only when the surface of
the water is exposed to the full pressure of the air in a
common vessel that it is prevented from rising in vapour,
at temperatures lower than the usual boiling point. If
the surface of the hot water be protected from the pressure
of the air, by being placed under a glass shade, and the
air removed from the inside of it by an air-pump, the water
may be made to boil at all temperatures below 212°. The
following table contains the results of a series of experi¬
ments made, with great care, by Dr Dalton, towards the
end of last century, in order to ascertain how much of the
whole pressure of the air it was necessary to remove, in
order to make water boil at a given temperature. In order
to understand the
way in which this ✓
table was form¬
ed, the reader
must conceive a
vessel of water
first of all boiling-
at 212° in the
open air, as the
vessel A in figure
2, the thermo¬
meter I being
placed in it.
After allowing
the water to cool
to 200°, let the
vessel of water
and the im-
merged thermo¬
meter be now
placed on the
plate stand P of an air-pump, and covered over with a
strong glass receiver R ; and let a portion of the enclosed
air be now withdrawn by the pump from the inside of the
receiver by. the pipe F ; and suppose that there are in all
30 cubical inches, or other volumes, of air in the receiver
at first, then the water being at 200°, when about 7
574
STEAM.
Steam.
out of the 30 parts of the air have been withdrawn, very limited height to which air in a dense state covers Ste5
leaving only about 23 parts out of 30 pressing on the the earth, the whole atmosphere being equivalent to not 'w,„
water, it will be observed instantly to commence giving more than 5 miles in depth of such air as we breathe;
and it is hence obvious, that after a vertical ascent of a
mile to the top of a mountain, there would be only about
| of the atmosphere remaining above the person on its
summit. One of the highest of the Andes has been
off steam in rapid ebullition. If next the process be
repeated, only allowing the water to cool to 190°, the
ebullition will not commence in this lower temperature
till about 12 out of the 30 volumes of air have been with¬
drawn ; and if, in a third experiment, the water be cooled ascended to such a height, that there remained only ^ of
down to 180°, the elastic force communicated by this de-  ^ — ^
gree of heat will not be capable of overcoming the resist
ance arising from the pressure of the air, until one half of the
original pressure of 30 has been removed. To this pro¬
cess there is no limit; for as we go on lowering the tem-
the whole atmosphere above the observer. Now, in this
case, the barometer, instead of being sustained at 30
inches, its usual height, had fallen to 13 inches, because,
according to the constitution of the barometer (See Arts.
Barometer and Pneumatics), the height of the column
perature, we can always find a point at whichthe water of mercury in it is proportional to the quantity of air
will boil, provided the counteracting pressure be sufii- resting above it. Hence, a barometer being carried up
ciently diminished. The following is Dr Dalton’s table, a mountain by an observer, falling as he ascends, en-
containing the results of his experiments, as given in his ables him to ascertain the height of his ascent. This he
Meteorology, in 1793:
Heat of the Water when boiling
under diminished Pressure.
Quantity of Pressure of Air
remaining on the Fluid.
212°
200
190
180
170
160
150
140
130
120
110
100
90
80
30-0
22-8
18-6
15-2
12-2
9-45
7-48
5-85
4-42
3-27
2-52
1-97
1-47
1-03
Effect of
Baro¬
metric
15. In vacuo, therefore, or under a rarificd atmosphere?
the boiling point of water is lower than 212°. Now, the
changes on barometer informs us, that the pressure of our atmosphere
Ebullition is not constantly the same ; it has normal and abnormal
—Sir John variations, it has horary, and menstrual, and annual varia-
Robison. tions. It frequently stands at 30 inches, sometimes at 31
inches ; and on the morning of the 7th of January, 1839?
it was observed at Edinburgh, by Sir John Robison, to
be as low as 27 inches and six-tenth parts. Now, on that
morning, water would have been found to boil in the open
air at about 208°, instead of 212; and for every depres¬
sion of the barometer, there is a corresponding depression
of the boiling point. This variation of the boiling tem¬
perature with the variation of the barometer, and of the
corresponding density of the air, is important: and the
following short table shows the changes which take place
within the limits of the usual variations of the weather :
When the barometer stands at SI’S, water boils at 215°
 31-2, 214
When the barometer falls to
.30-6, 213
.30* inches, 212
29*4, 211
.28-8, 210
.28-2, ' 209
.27-7, 208
27'2, it would boil at 207
does with perfect precision, so as to determine accurately
the height of any point of the mountain to which he has
ascended, and where he has noticed the foil of the baro¬
meter from the point where it stood when at the bottom,
by means of an allowance of nearly 100 feet of height for
every tenth part of an inch that the barometer has fallen,
as explained more fully under the heads Barometer and
Atmosphere.
The steam of water may be rendered the means of de¬
termining the height of a mountain, on the principle of
diminished atmospheric pressure, so as to act as a substi¬
tute for the barometer. We have just seen that water
gives off steam by ebullition, above or below the tempera¬
ture 212°, according as the pressure of the atmosphere is
greater or less than the standard pressure which sustains
the barometer at 30 inches. And we have already given
a table (Arts. 14 and 15), showing how much the boiling
point was raised or depressed by diminishing the pressure
of the atmosphere. On consulting Dr Dalton’s table, we
see that, when ^ of the air were removed, water boiled
at so low a temperature as 180°. This, therefore, would
show that, if water boiled on the top of any mountain at
180°, the barometer would stand there at a height of little
more than 15 inches ; and if at the bottom of the moun¬
tain water boiled at 212°, showing the barometer to be
then at 30 inches, a similar allowance of height being
made, viz. about 1000 feet for each inch, or 15,000 feet,
would be a rude approximation to the true height. The
table at the end of the third section, and the rules under the
head Barometer in this work, wull enable any one who
studies this subject to form rules for closer approxima¬
tion ; but the following table will be of use to those who
may merely wish to put it in practice.
Rule for finding heights by boiling water.—Boil pure To (Ip
water in an open vessel at the bottom of the elevation, ,
and observe on the thermometer the point at which it
boils. Boil it again at the top of the mountain, and oh-bythe|i,
serve with the thermometer the height at which it now^gpo
boils: the difference of temperature, multiplied by 530ofwat
feet, will give a close approximation to the height of the
upper above the lower station.
This will give an approximation ; but, if greater ac¬
curacy be required, it will further be necessary to correct
for the difference of the temperature of the air at the two
stations, in the following manner. Add the temperatures
of the air at the stations, and subtract 64 from their sum,
multiply the remainder by one-thousandth part of the
And at
But these extremes are probably greater than have ever
been observed on the ordinary level of this country.   rv *    ~j   * ,
Ebullition 16. There is yet another variation of circumstance height found ; and this will be the correction to be adde
on moun- which affects the point of ebullition, and that is, distance to the height formerly found. The result thus found w
tains and from the centre of the earth and height above the level of still require a slight correction for the figure of the cart
in mines. bpe ge£U jq well known, that, on the summit of a moun- and latitude of the place ; but this does not amount to
tain, the pressure of the air is less than on a plain, and more in our latitude than an addition of about two feet m a
still less there than at the bottom of a pit or deep valley, thousand, which forms a second correction. Tins.met o
It is now equally wTell known, that the cause of this is the is, however, to be regarded only as an approximation,
S T E AM.
for which all the corrections given under the head Baro-
METER would be necessary, in order to render it equally
perfect with observations by that instrument. In short,
this method may be considered as a telltale on the baro¬
meter, showing where the barometer would stand if placed
in its position. Thus, if water boil at 200° on the top of a
mountain, that is merely to be considered as indicating
that the barometer, if placed there, would stand at 22.8;
after which, the process of deducing the height remains
the same. 1 o illustrate the mode of deducing heights
from the boiling point, as we have given it, we take the
following example.
Water boils on the top of Ben Nevis at 203-8°, while
at the side of the Caledonian Canal it boils at 212°, the
temperature being 30° on the summit of the mountain, and
35° below. In order to determine the height,
From 212°
expand out of the bulb, between 320 and the lowest tem¬
perature at which the mercury is likely to boil at such
altitudes as it will be used to measure. It is this which
renders the instrument compact; because, if it be not
taken out of the British islands, it will never, in all pro-
Fig. 4.
Take 203-8°
There remains 8-2°
Multiply by 530
246-0
410
To
Add
Sum
Subt.
30°
35°
65°
64°
4346 first approx.
4 first correct.
4350 second approx.
9*7 second correct.
Remain 1° mult, by 4-346
Latitude 56° nearly
Mult. 4-350
by 2-
9.700
Th e'
Mi.
Wq;.
ton
Calc, height, 4359*7 third approximation.
4358- true measured height—the difference beinu- less
than 2 feet. °
This method, however, is seldom susceptible of so high
a degree of accuracy, even with the most carefully con¬
ducted experiments. J
17. This method of determining heights by the ebulli¬
tion of water is not a recent invention. It was suggested
ton Dpa.0pKnallyrbyz^r Fahrenheit> ^ the 33d volume of the
rati Philosophical fr am actions,, in a, paper entitled “Baro-
mtn Novi Description The subject was further matured
by Cavallo, who has written concerning it in the 71st
volume of the same Transactions ; and the method has
hnally received from the Rev F. J. H. Wollaston the
highest degree of perfection of which it seems to be
rS8 p1aper’ read before the R°yal Society on
the fth of March, 1817, and afterwards published in the
mosophical Transactions of that year, gives an account
o the very beautiful and ingenious apparatus which he
as contrived for facilitating the procedure of taking the
observations with the requisite precision. Fig. 4,&is a
view of the whole apparatus, consisting principally of a
tripod stand, surrounded by a sort of tent cover, which is
quite essential for the protection of the lamp from the
strong winds generally encountered at considerable alti-
u es. Ihe lamp acts on a small tin vessel, which is a
cy mder 5J inches deep and Ij- in diameter, the sides
ot which are double, leaving an interstitial space of confined
u o prevent cooling. Above this vessel is a circular
Py e o metal G H K, to which the thermometer is to be
w ’i.- , scaR and neck of the thermometer are seen
thprnC ^ ab°Veitbe stand- A (%• 3) represents the
hermometer made use of, which it is desirable to have
while and asi C0™Pact a construction as possible,
5 f 6 saiPe ^lme? its degrees should range as ex-
coni? VS P°rs®ibR- These desiderata are attained in his
thick ? i'0?' * 16 bulb one incb in diameter, is blown
in di'n.? saon8>’ on the end of a tube about of an inch
out t?^ : C °-Se ab°Ve tbe bulb’ is a cavity R> swelled
such a size as to contain whatever mercury will
bability, boil at less than 2009; and thus the whole length
of the stalk is left for a range of 12° or 15° of the ther¬
mometer. In the instrument figured, the scale R is 5
inches long, of an inch wide, and a length 4-15 inches
is divided into 100 parts, which, by a vernier reads off to
1000 parts, being 241 parts to an inch ; so that 1° Fahr.
corresponds to 233 parts on the scale, or to 530 feet.
Each part of the scale, as read by the vernier, will there¬
fore correspond to 2-275 feet, being about half the degree
of minuteness of the mountain barometer divided into
thousandths, each of which is nearly equivalent to one
foot of height. The accuracy, however, of this scale is
probably greater than the degree of accuracy of which
the method of observation is itself capable.
Whether an observer have or have not the means of Directions
obtaining such an instrument as this, it will be, in manyto travel-
cases, useful to travellers to be provided with means, more lers-
or less accurate, of making observations of this nature, on
the summit of such mountains as they may have the oppor¬
tunity of visiting. For this purpose, the most convenient
is a small cooking apparatus, such as will supply the wants
of a traveller ; consisting of a round tin stand," protecting
a lamp, in which a small quantity of the traveller’s supply
of spirituous liquid may be burnt, so as to boil some of the
water of a small bottle, which he has also carried with
him, or perhaps a little melted snow. An umbrella or
waterproof cloak will screen the whole from the wind;
and a thermometer should have been procured, with a
stem as minutely divided as possible, and should be insert¬
ed, by means of a small cork, in an aperture of the lid left
on purpose. The quantity of the water may be small, and
it will serve a culinary purpose immediately after the oper¬
ation is completed. The thermometer should be inserted
only among the steam. The traveller must take great
precautions for striking a light, as he will find this much
more troublesome in the cold rarified air of a mountain
summit than below.
18. Distillation is a method of separating a liquid from
extraneous matter, by first of all converting it into steam,
576
STEAM.
Steam.
The Pulse
Glass.
and then condensing that steam so as to form the liquid.
Different substances take the liquid form at various tem¬
peratures ; and, therefore, the heat may be so regulated
that only one substance of a mixture shall take the form
of vapour, and being conveyed by a pipe through a vessel
of cold water, or otherwise exposed to the cooling process,
the vapour being condensed will give the pure liquid. . A
great improvement upon the process of separating liquids
has been successfully introduced by Mr. Howard. It
consists of distillation or evaporation in vacuo, and has
been most usefully employed in the refining process of
sugar. When sugar is dissolved in water, it requires a
much higher temperature than 212° to boil the mixture,
or to convert the water into steam and separate it from
the solid; and as the process goes on, and the solution
comes to hold less and less water, the requisite degree of
heat is further augmented, until the temperature be¬
comes so high as to injure the colour and otherwise
deteriorate the article of merchandise in its crystallized
state. Instead of this increased temperature, Mr Howard
places the syrup in vacuo, and thus boils it at a low anc
innoxious heat. This he accomplishes by pumping out
the air and vaporized water from the close boiler, by means
of a large air-pump driven by machinery. The process
has produced a great improvement on this article of com¬
merce, and has remunerated its inventor with an ample
fortune. . .
Distillation in vacuo is peculiarly adapted to obtaining
those delicate extracts and essential oils from vegetable
substances, which are apt to suffer deterioration from the
usual high temperatures.
19.* The pulse glass, an
invention attributed to Dr
Franklin, is an apparatus il¬
lustrating beautifully the
process of ebullition in vacuo
at low temperatures. If two
glass balls, A and B (fig. 5),
Fig. 5.
be connected by a slender tube, and one of them, A,, be
filled with water, a small opening or pipe b being
left at the top of the other, and this be made to boil, the
vapour produced by it will drive all the air out of the
other, and will at last come out itself, producing steam
at the mouth of the pipe. When the ball B is observed
to be occupied by transparent vapour, we may conclude
that the air is completely expelled. Now, shut the pipe
by sticking it into a piece of tallow or wax, the vapour in
B will soon condense, and there will be a vacuum. Ihe
flame of a lamp and blow -pipe being directed to the little
pipe b, wall immediately cause it to close and seal her¬
metically. We have now a pulse glass. Grasp the ball
A in the hollow of the hand; the heat of the hand will
immediately expand the bubble of vapour which may be
in it, and this vapour will drive the water into B, and then
will blow up through it for a long while, keeping it in a
state of violent ebullition, as long as there remains a drop
or film of water in A. But care must be taken that B is
all the while kept cold, that it may condense the vapour
as fast as it rises through the water. Touching B with
the hand, or breathing warm on it, will immediately stop
the ebullition. When the water in A has thus been dis¬
sipated, grasp B in the hand; the water will be driven
into A, and the ebullition will take place there as it did in
B. Putting one of the balls into the mouth will make
the ebullition more violent in the other, and the one in
the mouth will feel very cold. This is a pretty illustra¬
tion of the rapid absorption of the heat by the particles
of water which are thus converted into elastic vapour.
We have seen this little toy suspended by the middle of
the tube like a balance, and thus placed in the inside
of a window, having two holes, a, b, cut in the pane, in
such a situation, that, when A is full of water and prepon¬
derates, B is opposite to the hole b. Whenever the room Stes
became sufficiently warm, the vapour was formed in A and ^ j
immediately brought the water into B, which was kept
cool by the air coming into the room through the hole b.
By this means B was made to preponderate in its turn,
and A was then opposite to the hole a, and the process
was now repeated in the opposite direction. This amuse¬
ment continued as long as the room was warm enough.
Instead of water, alcohol or ether may be substituted, and
will act more readily.
20. The follow- Fig. 6.
ing experiment,
where ebullition
is produced by
the application
of cold, is in¬
structive. A Flo¬
rence flask F, is
about ^ full of
water, and is pla¬
ced over a lamp
E until the water
boils; and when
the steam has
been rising for a
short time vio¬
lently from the
neck of the vessel, the cork S is to be applied as a
stopper, and must fit with great accuracy.^ The flask
thus closed is to be set aside for a few minutes till it
have cooled considerably, and is then to be suddenly
placed on a stand in the cold water W, contained in the
glass reservoir R. The ebullition in the flask will recom¬
mence with a degree of violence proportioned to the cold¬
ness of the water W. .
The theory of this action is simple. When the flask is
plunged in the cold water, f of its contents are steam:
the chill water condenses it into water, it shrinks up into
1-1728th part of its bulk, and would leave 1727 parts out
of 1728 vacuous; but the warm water being now 111 vacuo,
throws up in rapid ebullition (according to Art. ^ y cc?
pious volumes of vapour of its own temperature, which is
again, by coming into contact with the sides of the vessel,
and by directly giving off its heat to the water, chilled into
water, and so in succession all the vapour thus sent up is
in turn reconverted into water, and the vacuum sustame ,
until at last, the equilibrium between the temperature 0
the water, within and around the flask, having een es
tablished, the interchange of caloric ceases; and even now,
if the flask were plunged into freezing water, the ebulli¬
tion would recommence as violently as before. , f
21. We have already noticed (Art. 11.) the fact that, M
when water is confined in a close vessel, and heat is ap
fined
plied to it, the water will not boil even at a temperature cl(rfe
of 212°. If heat be continually thrown into the water nisek
this state, the particles will acquire a very high tempera
ture ; and, at the same time, the tendency of the enclosed
fluid to burst the vessel will become very great- i
following experiment upon this subject is one of the m
interesting and the earliest of which we aie ^ P®ssess
It was published in 1663 by the Marquis of Worceste ,
and we give it in his own words. “ I have t.men a p
of a whole cannon, whereof the end was burs , an
it three quarters full, stopping and screwing UP
broken end, as also the touch-hole, and making a cc ^
fire under it; within twenty-four hours it burst, and
a rTs in virtue of the great elastic force by which water,
when heated, tends to expand into 1728 times i s ’
the form of steam, that this element has becomei, re
nical mover, subject to the control of mam ^
two great principles upon which such mac in
STEAM.
m. structed; the one commonly called high-pressure steam-
engines, and the other low-pressure steam-engines.
I;a. In a high-pressure steam-engine, the principal source
f of motion is the elastic Jvvce of steam, formed by water,
» raised to a high temperature in confined vessels, and
tending to escape from them with such force, as to im-
r0 part motion and movement to solids or fluids, ingeniously
' arranged to receive from it velocity or direction required
for the accomplishment of some end.
res- In a low-pressure steam-engine, the principal source of
fin- power is derived from using steam merely for the purpose
' of forming a vacuum. For this purpose steam is admir-
En’ ably calculated. It is only necessary to allow the steam
of a liquid to enter any vessel filled with air ; and if there
be left an aperture of escape, the steam, entering in abun¬
dance, will push the air out before it. When the air has
wholly escaped, it only remains necessary to close all the
openings of the vessel, and allow it gradually to cool down,
when the steam will be condensed, will shrivel up in the
form of water into the 1728th part of its bulk, leaving the
other 1727 parts vacuous. The mechanical force of a
vacuum on the earth’s surface is well known : it will raise
water to a height of more than 30 feet, and support 15
lbs. on every square inch of surface exposed to it. What¬
ever, therefore, the formation of a vacuum on the earth’s
surface can effect, of that is the force of steam capable at
low pressure, scarcely exceeding the temperature of 212°.
Hence the low-pressure engine is sometimes called the
condensing engine, because it acts principally by conden¬
sation of steam to form a vacuum. The high pressure of
577
steam, and its vacuum-forming power, are frequently used Steam,
in combination. v ^
22. There are other properties of steam, besides its Warming,
mechanical force, that render its use of great practical Boiling,0
value. Its great capacity for heat enables it to take up, Distilling,
at one time, and in one place, a large quantity of heat, by
which it may be employed as a vehicle to transfer, at a k4®3,111,
subsequent period and at a distant point, to some other
substance. It is thus rendered an economizer and distri¬
buter, a reservoir of heat derived from the combustion of
fuel. In this view it has great value as an agent in dis¬
tributing the heat used for warming buildings, heating
baths, evaporating solutions, distilling, brewing, drying,
dyeing, and even for dqmestic cookery, and tlu! means of
extracting wholesome and nutritious food from most un¬
promising and unpalateable materials.
In order, however, to its successful application as a
mechanical power, and its profitable use in each of the
various functions which it is capable of performing, it is
necessary to study its various phenomena in greater de¬
tail ; to obtain an intimate acquaintance with its proper¬
ties ; to determine its laws in the various relations of
space, time, and quantity; how much heat it requires,
what fuel it consumes, what force it exerts, how fast it
will move, how it will condense, expand, and contract, and
what relation it bears to the different fluids from which it
may be derived. Each of these enquiries, and the man¬
ner in which each of these objects may be most satisfac¬
torily attained, is the subject of one or other of the
following sections of this article.
Fean ,3nri SECT. II.-
Zieg is
Exp< 1
Bent
-EXPERIMENTAL RESEARCHES CONCERNING
ELASTIC FORCE OF STEAM AT DIFFERENT TEMPERATURES.
23. The earliest researches
we have met with into the
phenomena of steam, under¬
taken with the philosophical
purpose of obtaining experi¬
mental data for the scientific
investigation of its properties
and relations, are to be met
with in a scarce work, printed
at Basle in 1769, and entitled,
“ Specimen physico-chemi-
cum deDigestore Papini;pri-
mitias experimentorum no-
vorum circa jluidorum a calo-
re rarefactionem et vapoream
elasticitatem exhibens, fyc.
Auctore Jo. Henrico Zieg¬
ler.” His experimental boiler
consisted of a copper vessel
(fig. 7) A A, silvered inter¬
nally, and belted externally
wdth massive iron hoops
BB. A strong frame-work
of iron, attached to the upper
hoop, gives support to the
circular cover B, (fig. 8,) in
which there are an opening
P for admitting water, an¬
other D into which an elaterometer is inserted, consist¬
ing of a bottle G, containing mercury, and a glass tube
c c cased in iron, open at both ends, and immersed in
the mercury at the bottom ; the third or central aperture
E being occupied by a copper tube F, closed below, and
containing oil or other viscid liquid, to act as a bath for
the bulb of the thermometer F and its protector from the
pressure of the vapour. The method of using this appa¬
ratus was as follows. The digester being partly filled
with water, closed and placed on the fire, the generation
of the steam would raise the oil or mercury in the bath
4 D
VOL. XX.
578
Sfeeam.
M. Betan¬
court’s Ex¬
periments.
STEAM.
(E) to the temperature of the water and steam within, so
as to give to the thermometer F an indication of the tem¬
perature ; and, at the same time, the elastic force of the
steam flowing or moving by would raise it in C to a cer¬
tain number of inches, so as to cause the corresponding
pressure. This apparatus is both appropriate and ingenious,
and indicates considerable mechanical knowledge in its
inventor, a physician of Winterthour in Switzerland. Un¬
happily he lived too remote from the scene of the philo¬
sophical discoveries of that period, to adopt the precau¬
tions necessary to give value to his experiments. He
allowed atmospheric air to mingle with the steam to such
an extent as greatly to vitiate his results.
24. M. Betancourt visited England about the end of
last century; and having been employed to select ma¬
chines, models, and drawings for the Spanish government,
made himself acquainted with the use of steam in Great
Britain at that period. On his return, he immediately
undertook a series of experiments on the force of the
vapour of water, alcohol, and other liquids, at various
temperatures. His apparatus is tolerably perfect; and
the precautions which he adopted for the removal of at¬
mospheric air from intermixture with the vapour, give his
experiments considerable value and precision. Some of
his experiments were made in vacuo ; and he seems to
have been one of the first philosophers who examined the
production of steam at temperatures below the ordinary
point of ebullition, under the pressure of the atmosphere
His experiments extend from 32° up to 279°? being 67°
above the ordinary boiling point.
His apparatus (Fig.9) con- Fig 9*
sisted of a spheroidal copper
boiler A, about eight inches
in diameter, fifteen inches
high, and a tenth of an inch
in thickness ; a flat cover was
soldered on the top of it, and
three apertures were formed
into which were inserted a
thermometer EC, a glass tube
D, and a plug B for admit-
branches of the recurvation at the bottom. The boiler ^'i.
was provided with a stop-cock b, by which the air was J
extracted from the boiler previous to experiment, byM l n.
means of an air-pump TV, communicating with W ; andcour’ *
when this w as accomplished so as to obtain a vacuum on110111 tSi
both ends of the mercurial column, the mercury stood, as
in the figure, on nearly the same level in both its branches.
The fire was instantly applied, and the crackling noise
which followed informed him that the ebullition had com¬
menced, and the steam in the boiler pressing on that end
of the mercurial column nearest to it, raised the other in
the vacuum a certain quantity above its outer level, indi¬
cating its elastic force, which gradually increased until it
became at the usual heat of boiling water, equal to twenty-
eight French inches, the mean pressure of the atmosphere.
The following table will enable us to estimate the value
of these experiments ; it is given in degrees of Reaumur’s
thermometer, of which 0° coincides with 32° of our com¬
mon scale, and 80° with our boiling point 212° Fahren¬
heit, each degree of Reaumur being equal to of our
scale. The pressure is in French inches of mercury:—
Degrees of
Fahrenheit.
32°
43-25
54-50
65-75
77-00
88-25
99-50
110-75
122-00
133-25
144-50
155-75
167-00
178-25
189-50
200-75
212-00
223-25
234-50
245-75
257-00
268-25
279-50
Reaumur’s Scale.
0°
5
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
105
110
First Series of
Observations.
Inches of Mercury
0-0
0-05
0-17
035
0-62
1-00
1- 50
2- 12
2-90
4- 00
5- 50
7-55
10-10
13-25
17-50
22-35
28-60
37-00
47-20
58-20
72-40
84-90
98-00
Second Series of
Observations
Inches of Mercury.
0-0
0-02
0-15
0-35
0-65
1-05
1- 52
2- 15
2-92
3- 95
5-35
7-32
9-95
13-20
16-90
21-75
28-00
36-45
46-40
57-80
71-80
86-80
98-00
ting water. The glass tube being bent downwards at F,
w-as recurved upwards at G, leaving an upright stem,
ten feet high, and hermetically sealed at the top, so as
to leave a perfect vacuum in that end of the tube, over
a column of mercury of about 30 inches in the two
The slight deviation of these experiments from each
other indicates considerable accuracy of experiment; and
the slight excess in the former of the two series is attri¬
buted to the formation of a less perfect vacuum at the
commencement of the observations, arising from the
smaller quantity of water in the boiler when the experi¬
ments were made.
It should, however, be noticed, that there is one omis¬
sion of some importance in the experiments of M. Betan¬
court. He inserts the bare bulb of his thermometer into
the reservoir among the water, so as to suffer all the
variations imposed on it by the varying elasticity of the
steam. By following the method adopted by his prede¬
cessor, M. Ziegler, of inserting a metallic tube to sustain
the pressure of the steam, and forming it into a mercuria
bath for containing the thermometer, and so transmitting
the heat of the steam to it without exposure to varia e
pressure, a source of considerable error might have been
avoided. This precaution is essential to a good set o
experiments on steam; for a very slight pressure, even o
the finger, on the bulb of a thermometer will raise i
cpvpvnl Hprrrpp*;.
25. Of British philosophers, Dr Robison was one of the
first to make accurate and systematic experiments on ■
STEAM.
k-
ants.
phenomena of the temperature and elastic force of steam.
They appear to have been made in 1778. His apparatus
is represented in the accompanying figure.
* ADCD (Fig. 10.) Fi 10
is the section of a small s
digester made of copper.
Its lid, which was fas¬
tened to the body with
screws, was pierced with
three holes, each of which
had a small pipe solder¬
ed into it. The first
hole was furnished with
a brass safety-valve V,
nicely fitted to it by grinding. The area of
this valve was exactly ^th of an inch. There
rested on the stalk at the top of this valve the arm
of a steel-yard carrying a sliding weight. This
arm had a scale of equal parts, so adjusted to the
weight, that the number on the scale corresponded
to the inches of mercury, whose pressure on the
under surface of the valve is equal to that of the
steelyard on its top; so that when the weight was
at the division 10, the pressure of the steelyard
on the valve was just equal to that of a column of
mercury 10 inches high, and ^th of an inch base.
The middle hole contained a thermometer T firmly   
fixed into it, so that no vapour could escape by its sides.
The ball of this thermometer was but a little way below
the lid. The third hole received occasionally the end of
a glass pipe SGF, whose descending leg was about 36
inches long. When this syphon was not used, the hole
was properly shut with a plug.
* The vessel was half filled with distilled water which had
been purged of air by boiling. The lid was then fixed
on, having the third hole S plugged up. A lamp being
placed under the vessel, the water boiled, and the steam
issued copiously by the safety-valve. The thermometer
stood at 213°, and a barometer in the room at 29>9 inches.
The weight was then put on the fifth division. The ther¬
mometer immediately began to rise; and when it was at
220, the steam issued by the sides of the valve. The
weight was removed to the 10th division ; but, before the
thermometer could be distinctly observed, the steam was
issuing at the valve. The lamp was removed further from
the bottom of the vessel, that the progress of heating
might be more moderate; and when the steam ceased to
issue from the valve, the thermometer was at 227. The
weight was now shifted to 15 ; and, by gradually ap¬
proaching the lamp, the steam again issued, and the ther¬
mometer was at 232^. This mode of trial was continued
all the way to the 75th division of the scale. The expe¬
riments were then repeated in the contrary order ; that
is, the weight being suspended at the 75th division, and
tie steam issuing strongly at the valve, the lamp was
withdrawn, and the moment
the steam ceased to come out,
the thermometer was obser¬
ved. The same was done at
the 70th, 65th division, &c.
These experiments were sev¬
eral times repeated both
ways; and the means of all
the results for each division
are expressed in the subjoin¬
ed table, where column 1st
expresses the elasticity of the
steam, being the sum of 29.9;
and the division of the steel¬
yard, column 2d, expresses
the temperature of the steam
corresponding to this elasti-
city.
Elasticity.
35 inches.
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
105
Temperature.
209°
226
232
237
242
247
251
255
259
263
267
2701
2741
278
281
* A very different process was necessary for ascertaining
the elasticity of the steam in lower temperatures, and
consequently under smaller pressures than that of the
atmosphere. The glass syphon SGF was now fixed into
its hole in the lid of the digester. The water was made
to boil smartly for some time, and the steam issued co¬
piously both at the valve and at the syphon. The lower
end of the syphon was now immersed into a broad saucer
of mercury, and the lamp instantly removed, and every
thing wms allowed to grow cold. By this the steam was
gradually condensed, and the mercury rose in the syphon,
without sensibly sinking in the saucer. The valve and all
the joints were smeared with a thick clammy cement,
composed of oil, tallow, and rosin, which effectually pre¬
vented all ingress of air. The weather was clear and
frosty, and the barometer standing at 29.84, and the ther¬
mometer in the vessel at 42°. The mercury in the
syphon stood at 29-7, or somewhat higher, thus showing
a very complete condensation. The whole vessel was
surrounded with pounded ice, of the temperature 32°.
I his made no sensible change in the height of the mer¬
cury. A mark was now made at the surface of the mer
cury.. One observer was stationed at the thermometer,
with instructions to call out as the thermometer reached
the divisions 42, 47, 52, 57, and so on by every five de¬
grees till it should attain the boiling heat. Another
observer noted the corresponding descents of the mercury
by a scale of inches, which had its beginning placed at
29-84 from the surface of the mercury in the saucer.
* The pounded ice was now removed, and the lamp placed
at a considerable distance below the vessel, so as to warm
its contents very slowly. These observations being very
easily made, were several times repeated, and their mean
results are set down in the following table i only ob¬
serve, that it was found difficult to note down the descents
for every fifth degree, because they succeeded each other
so fast. Every 10th was judged sufficient for establish¬
ing the law of variation. The first column of the table
contains the temperature, and the second the descent (in
inches) of the mercury from the mark 29.84.
Dr Robi¬
son’s Ex¬
periments.
Temperature.
32
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
Elasticity.
0.0
0.1
0.2
0.35
0.55
0.82
1.18
1.61
2.25
3.00
Temperature.
130
140
150
160
170
180
190
200
210
Elasticity.
3.95
5.15
6.72
8.65
11.05
14.05
17.85
22.62
28.65
Four or five numbers at the top of the column of elas¬
ticities, are not so accurate as the others, because the
mercury passed pretty quickly through these points. But
the progress was extremely regular through the remain-
ing points; so that the elasticities corresponding to tem¬
peratures above 70° may be considered as very accurately
ascertained.
* Not being altogether satisfied with the method em¬
ployed for measuring the elasticity in temperatures above
that of boiling water, a better form of experiment was
adopted. Indeed it was the want of other apparatus
which made it necessary to employ the former. A glass
tube was procured of the form represented in Fig. 11,
having a little cistern L, from the top and bottom of
which proceeded the syphons K and MN. The cistern
contained mercury, and the tube MN was of a slender
bore, and was about six feet two inches long. The end
K was firmly fixed in the third hole of the lid, and the
long leg of the syphon was furnished with a scale of in¬
ches, and firmly fastened to an upright post.
580
STEAM.
Steam. The lamp was now applied at such a distance
from the vessel as to warm it slowly, and make the
Dr Robi- water boil, the steam escaping for some time through
sou’s Ex- the safety-valve. A heavy weight was then sus-
periments. pen(led on the steelyard; such as it was known that
the vessel would support, and, at the same time, such
as would not allow the steam to force the mercury
out of the long tube. The thermometer began im¬
mediately to rise, as also
the mercury in the tube
MN. Their correspon¬
dent stations are marked
in the following table.
Temperature.
212°
220
230
240
250
260
270
280
Elasticity.
0.0
5.9
14.6
25.0
36.9
50.4
64.2
76.0
Temperature.
32c
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
150
Elasticity.
0.0
0.1
0.2
0.35
0.55
0.82
1.18
1.6
2.25
3.0
3.95
5.15
6.72
Temperature.
160
170
180
190
200
210
220
230
240
250
260
270
280
Elasticity.
8.65
11.05
14.05
17.85
22.62
28.65
35.8
44.5
54.9
66.8
80.3
94.1
105.9
ments;
This form of the experiment is much more susceptible
of accuracy than the other, and the measures of elasticity
are more to be depended on. In repeating the expert'
ment, they were found much more constant; whereas, in
the former method, differences occurred of two inches and
upwards. . , . .
* We may now connect the two sets of experiments into
ne table, by adding to the numbers in this last table the
constant height 29-9, which was the height of the mer¬
cury in the barometer during the last set of observa¬
tions.
ments.
Mr Watt’s 26. In the mean time, however, Mr Watt had been
Experi- led, in the course of his invention of the steam-engine^ to
make experiments on the elastic force of steam, of which
he has given the following account, and which was an¬
nexed by himself to Dr Robison’s original article in this
work. .
fin the winter of 1764-5,1 made experiments at Glas¬
gow on the subject, in the course of my endeavours to
improve the steam-engine, and as I did not then think of
any sivti'p^G method of trying the elasticities of steam at
temperatures less than that of boiling water, and had at
hand a digester by which the elasticities at greater heats
could be tried, I considered that, by establishing the ratios
in which they proceeded, the elasticities at lower heats
might be found nearly enough for my purpose. I there¬
fore fitted a thermometer .to the digester, with its bulb in
the inside, placed a small cistern with mercury also within
the digester, fixed a small barometer tube with its end Stes
in the mercury, and left the upper end open. I then
made the digester boil for some time, the steam issuing Mr V' >s
at the safety-valve, until the air contained in the digester Exper
was supposed to be expelled. The safety-valve being
shut, the steam acted upon the surface of the mercury in
the cistern, and made it rise in the tube. When it reached
to 15 inches above the surface of the mercury in the cis¬
tern, the heat was 236°; and at 30 inches above that
surface, the heat was 252°. Here I was obliged to stop,
as I had no tube longer than 34 inches, and there was no
white glass made nearer than Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I
therefore sealed the upper end of the tube hermetically,
whilst it was empty, and when it was cool immersed the
lower end in the mercury, which now could only rise in
the tube by compressing the air it contained. The tube
was somewhat conical; but, by ascertaining how much it
was so, and making allowances accordingly, the following
points were found, which, though not exact, were tolerably
near for an apergu. At 29^ inches (with the sealed
tube) the heat was 252°, at 75-| inches the heat was
264°, and at 110^ inches 292°. (That is, after mak¬
ing allowances for the pillar of mercury supported,
and the pillar which would be necessary to compress
the air into the space which it occupied,
these were the results). From these ele- Fig. 12.
ments I laid down a curve, in which
the absciss® represented the tempera¬
tures, and the ordinates the pressures,
and thereby found the law by which
they were governed, sufficiently near
for my then purpose. It was not till
the years 1773-4, that I found leisure
to make further experiments on this sub¬
ject, of which, though I do not consider
the results as accurate, I shall give an
account here, as they were in point of
date prior to any others that I was then
acquainted with.
f A tin pan, of about five inches in
diameter and four inches deep, had a
hole made in its bottom, near one side,
and in this hole wms soldered a socket
somewhat conical, which nearly fitted a
barometer tube writh which the experi¬
ments were to be made. This tube was
about 36 inches long, and had a ball at
one end about 1-^ inches diameter, the
contents of which were nearly equal to
those of the stem of the tube; some paper
was lapped round the tube near the ball,
and it was forced tight into the conical
socket of the pan, so that the ball was
w'ithin the latter, at such a height that it
might be immersed in water. The tube
and pan were then inverted, and the
ball was filled with clean mercury, and
the stem with distilled water fresh
boiled. The tube was re-inverted, so
that the ball and pan were uppermost; the lower end
of the tube being shut by the finger, the water ascene
into the ball, and the mercury occupied the tube. Hie
lower end of the latter being then placed in a cistern o
mercury, and released from the finger, the mercury an
water descended, and the ball was left partly empty. ein£>
agitated in this position, and let stand some time, muc i air
was extricated from the water ; the tube was incline fn>
much as it could be, and again inverted, the air et on >
and its place supplied with boiling water. It was again
placed with the ball uppermost, the end of the tube siOp
ped, the pan filled with hot water which was made
boil by means of a lamp, the lower end of the tube emg
Table No. III.
STEAM.
Es]
mei
n. placed in the cistern, and released from the finger, the
^ iJ mercury descended into the cistern, but upon the water
tt’sinthepan being suffered to cool, partly rose again into
- the tube. Much air was thus liberated, and more was
got rid of by agitation, in the manner of the water-
hammer, and by leaving it standing for some time erect,
until at last I got it so free from air, that when I raised it
upright, it supported a column of mercury 34 inches high;
and no vacuum was formed until it was violently shaken,
when it fell down suddenly and settled at 28.75 inches,
but upon being inclined, a speck of’ air always remained,
though, when it was expanded by a pillar of mercury 27
inches high, this speck was not larger than a pin’s
head.
f In this state, when the tube was perpendicular, I
found the mercury to stand at 28.75 inches, the column
of water above it was about inches, = half an inch of
mercury. The whole then being 29.25 inches, when the
stationary barometer stood at 29.4, the difference, or
pillar supported by the elasticity of the steam = 0.15
inch. The water in the pan was then heated exceedingly
slowly by a lamp, and stirred continually by a feather to
make the heat as equal as possible. The results are
shown in the following table :—
Table No. I.
55'
74
81
95
104
118
128
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
0.15
0.65
0.80
1.30
1.75
2.68
3.60
135°
142
148
153
157
161
164
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
4.53
5.46
6.40
7-325
8.25
9.18
10.10
167°
172
175
177.5
180
182.5
185
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
11.07
11.95
12.88
13.81
14.73
15.66
16.58
187°
189
191
193.5
196.5
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
17.51
18.45
19-38
20.34
21.26
At this time (It 74) I tried a set of experiments in
the same manner on a saturated solution of common salt.
When this solution was perfectly saturated by boiling,
and was put into the tube, it precipitated a quantity of
salt which disturbed the experiment. I was therefore
obliged to take it out, and filter it, during which process
it attracted moisture from the air, and appeared, bv its
boiling point, not to be perfectly saturated. Though it
was more free from air than water is, yet it parted from
what it contained with great difficulty, and would part
with none when shaken as a water-hammer, though it
opened in all parts of the liquor. The result of this ex¬
periment is contained in the annexed table :—
Table No. II—Stationary Barometer, 29.5.
Heats. Elastici¬
ties.
46 ‘
76
85
92
113
129
139
147
Inches.
0.01
0.36
0.58
0.81
1.72
2.63
3 54
4.45
154'
160
165
169
173
177
180
183
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
5.36
6.27
7.2
8.12
9.03
9-94
10.85
11.76
Heats. Elastici- Heats Elastici
ties. ties.
187°
193.5
195.5
198.5
201.5
203.5
205.5
207
Inches.
12.67
14.5
15.34
16.25
17.16
18.1
19.03
19-94
208°
210
212
214
216
218
220
Inches.
20.86
21.8
22.74
23.66
24.6
25 52
26.5
581
Steam.
34'
40
67
84
95
103
110
114
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
0.22
0.929
1.897
2.806
3.744
4.728
5.63
6.58
120°
124.5
128
132
135
139
141.5
144
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
7.12
8.46
9.4
10.34
11.32
12.21
13.15
14.1
Heats.
146.5'
148.5
151
152.5
155
157
160
162.5
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
15.03
15.974
16.908
17.85
18.8
19-75
20.71
21.65
164c
166
167
168
169
171
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
22.59
23.53
24.47
25.4
26.35
27.3
Stat. Bar. 29.4
Mr Watt’s
Experi¬
ments.
Upon considering the probable cause of the difference,
especially in the lower heats, between my experiments
and those of Mr Southern, related in his letter annexed to
this essay, I can only reconcile them by supposing that
the stationary barometer, with which the comparison was
made, had its scale placed 0.2 of an inch too low, and by
adding that quantity to the elasticities in table 1st, they
approach nearly to Mr Southern’s experiments.
If that conjecture is adopted, the same addition will
be necessary to tables 2d and 3d, as they were conxpared
with the same stationary barometer.
To determine the heats at which water boils when
pressed by columns of mercury above 30 inches, a tube of
5o inches long was employed; one end was put through
a hole in the cover of a digester, and made tight by being
lapped round with paper, and within the digester the end
of the tube was immersed in a cistern of mercury. A
thermometer was fixed in another opening, so that the
bulb was in the inside of the digester, and the stem and
scale without; and the bulb was kept half an inch from
the cover of the digester by a wooden collar. The cover
being fixed on tight, and the digester half filled with
water, it was heated by means of a large lamp.
f T he air in the upper part of the digester expanding
by heat, the column of mercury in the tube was consider¬
ably raised by that expansion before the water boiled.
T he air wras let out, and the water heated to boiling ; still,
however, some air remained, for the mercury stood at
213|-0. I hat deduction being made, the following table
shows the heats and corresponding elasticities.
Heats.
213°
215
217
219
220.5
222
223.5
225
226.5
Elasti¬
cities.
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
Heats.
228°
229.5
231
232.5
234
235
236.5
237.5
238.5
Elasti¬
cities.
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
Heats.
240°
242.5
244.5
247
248.5
250.5
252.5
255
257
Elasti¬
cities.
49
50
52
54
56
58
60
62
64
Heats.
259°
261
262.5
264.5
266.5
268
269.5
271
Elasti¬
cities.
66
68
70
72
74
76
78
80
272.5 I 82
• s^Tne manner I tried a set of experiments upon
an'1 °j w,lne’ ^le results of which are contained in the
annexed table
In making these experiments, the digester was heated
very slowly, and the heat was kept stationary as much as
was possible at each observation, so that the whole series
occupied some hours. The degrees of elasticity were
observed by my friend Dr Irvine, whilst I observed those
of the thermometer in all these experiments.
With the whole of the observations, I was, after all,
by no means satisfied, as I perceived there were irregu¬
larities in the results which my more urgent avocations
did not permit me to explore the causes of and to
correct.
The matter remained in that state till 1796, when I
requested Mr Southern to try them over again, in the
582
Steam.
Mr Watt’s
Experi¬
ments.
Mr South¬
ern’s Ex¬
periments.
STEAM.
performance of which he was assisted by Mr William
Creighton. The results of these observations are con¬
tained in Mr Southern’s letter to me, which follows this
memoir; and, from the very great care with which the
experiments were made, the known accuracy of both Mr
Southern and Mr Creighton, and the agreement of the
experiments with one another, I have reason to believe
them as nearly perfect as the subject admits of. 1 he
method he adopted of trying the elasticities above the
temperature of boiling water by a piston, accurately fitted
to a cylinder, is much to be preferred to that adopted by
Dr Robison, and is more manageable under great elasti¬
cities than that of a long pillar of mercury.
27. The reference which is here made applies to the
following letter from Mr Southern* to Mr Watt :—
“ Dear Sir,—The experiments of which the particular
circumstances are hereafter related, were made in 1803,
with the view of ascertaining chiefly the density of steam
raised from water under different pressures above that of
the atmosphere, an apparatus having then been made for a
different purpose, which seemed pretty well adapted to
this object.
« Besides the experiments now to be related, in which
the temperature of steam raised under high pressures was
observed in 1803, others had been made some years before,
in 1797 and 98, for that purpose only ; and, as they were
made with the greatest circumspection, both the manner
of making them and their results may be here described,
as may also the results of other experiments, made with
equal care, to ascertain the temperature of steam raised
under lotv pressures.
“ The instrument used in the former was a Papin’s
digester, similar to what you had used ; the leading differ¬
ences being in adapting a metallic tube to it to con¬
tain the thermometer, or rather as much of it as con¬
tained mercury, in the manner mentioned in the beginning
of this letter, and instead of a valve, by the load on which
to measure the elasticity of the contained steam, a nicely
bored cylinder was applied, with a piston fitting it, so as
to have very little friction, and to the rod of this was
applied a lever, constructed to work on edges like those
of a scale-beam, by which the resistance against the
elastic force of the steam could be accurately determined ;
and at your suggestion, to be assured that no inaccuracy
had crept into the calculation, by which this resistance,
through the medium of the lever, was ascertained, an
actual column of mercury of 30 inches high was substi¬
tuted, and the correspondence was found to be within
-jly of an inch.
“ The observations at each of the points of pressure noted
were continued some minutes, the temperature at each
being alternately raised and lowered, so as to make the
pressure of the steam on the under side of the piston
alternately too much and too little for the weight with
which it was loaded ; and thence a mean temperature was
adopted, the extremes of which were, as well as I now
recollect, not more than half a degree on each side of it.
The load on the piston, including its own weight, &c.,
&c., was calculated to be successively just equal to 1,2, 4,
and 8 atmospheres of 29.8 inches of inercury each, and
the temperature of the steam was varied as above tiff
that of each point was determined ; the results were
thus:—
Atmospheres.
Pressure in
inches of
Mercury.
29.8
59.6
119.2
238.4
Temperatures.
212°
250 3
293.4
343.6
“ The experiments for ascertaining the temperature of Stt
steam below the atmospheric pressure were made with an ^
apparatus essentially similar to that which you originally jjrj,
used, and with scrupulous care and attention: and I met era’s
with the same incidents as you had done ; such as, the peril;
production of a bubble of air whenever, after any experi¬
ment, the tube was inclined to refill the ball; and also the
extraordinary suspension of a column of mercury of 35
inches vertical height, and of 7 inches of water above
that, although the counterpoise was only that of the at¬
mosphere, then under 30 inches. I found also that the
tube required a considerable degree of tabouring or
shaking to make the column subside and leave a space in
the ball. This phenomenon was not produced till after
much pains taken in inverting and re-inverting the tube
again and again, nor till it had been suffered, after these
operations, to stand for three or four days undisturbed in
the exhausting position, and then discharging the air that
had been accumulating in the interval.
“ The results to be found in the table below, were de¬
duced from the observations as you had done—viz., by
adding to the height of the column of mercury in the tube
(ascertained by a gauge floating on the surface of the
mercury in the basin), that of the water above it, or rather
of an equivalent column of mercury, and subtracting their
sum from the height of the common barometer at the time.
All these results were taken from observations made after
the apparatus had been so perfectly exhausted of air as to
produce the phenomenon just mentioned.
Temperature.
52<>
62
72
82
92
102
112
122
132
142
152
162
172
182
Elasticity.
1st Set.
Inches.
0.
0.53
0.73
1.03
1.42
1.98
2.67
3.58
4.68
6.05
7.86
9.98
12.54
16.01
2d Set.
Inches.
0.42
0.52
0.73
1.02
1.41
1.92
2.63
3.54
4.65
6.00
7.80
996
12 72
15.84
3d Set.
Inches.
0 40
0.52
0.73
1.02
1.42
1.95
2.66
3.58
4.72
6.14
7.89
10.04
12.67
15.88
Mean.
Inches.
0.41
0.52
0.73
1.02
1.42
1.95
2.65
3.57
4.68
6.06
7-85
9-99
12.64
15.91
“ The following formula will be found to give the elas¬
ticity belonging to a given temperature, and vice veisa,
with a sufficient degree of accuracy for most purposes,
within the range of the experiments, at least, from uhich
they have been formed.
Let t — temperature, e — elasticity, in inches of mercury,
T = * + 52, and E=e—J-0, 94250,000000;
Then
T5.il
    -E
m
5.14 
V Em — T
“ But as the calculation is most easily performed y
logarithms, let L signify the logarithm of the quantity o
which it is prefixed :
Then 5.14 LT—10.97427=LE
LE+10.97427
5.14 . . •
“ The following table shows the observed elasticities,
those derived from calculation by the formula, and the
differences of the two, which appear to me to e as
as can be expected, taking a general view.
-LT.
In all these experiments Mr Southern was assisted by Mr William Creighton.
s IP-
STEAM.
583
Tempera¬
ture,
tith-
its.
32o
42
52
62
72
82
92
102
112
122
132
142
152
162
172
182
192
202
212
250.3
293.4
343.6
Observed
Elasticities.
0.52
0.73
1.02
1.42
1.95
2.65
3.57
4.68
6.06
7-85
9.99
12.64
15.91
29.80
59.60
119.20
238.40
Calculated
Elasticities.
Inches.
0.18
0.25
0.35
0.50
0.71
1.01
1.42
1.96
267
3 58
4.74
6.20
7-99
10.19
12.86
16.08
19.91
24.45
29.80
59-69
118.32
23760
Differences.
—0.02
—0.02
—0.01
0.00
+ 001
+ 0.02
+ 0.01
+ 0.06
+ 0.14
+ 0.14
+ 0.20
+ 0.22
+ 0.17
0.00
+ 0.09
—0.88
—0.80
“ I believe it is now generally considered that the tem¬
perature 212° is that of water boiling when the baro¬
meter is at 30 inches instead of 29.8 ; and if, in the above
algebraic expressions, the following alterations be made,
the results from the formuke will correspond with the
adjustment of that point, and fully as well with the ex¬
periments generally.
“ Let T=< + 51.3 ; the index of the power and of the
root be 5.13, instead of 5.14 ; and 87344,000000. So
the two last equations will be: 5.13 LT—10.94123=LE;
j LE+10.94123 T„
,,lJ —5.13-—=LT-
“ The table will stand as follows, supposing the thermo¬
meter had been graduated for 212° to correspond with 30
inches of the barometer:—
Temp.
32
42
52
62
72
82
92
102
112
122
132
Observd.
Elastici
ties.
Inches
*0.16
*0.23
*035
0.52
0.73
1.02
1.42
1.96
2.66
3.58
4.71
Calcul.
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
0.18
0.25
0.35
0.50
0.71
1.01
1.42
1.97
2 68
3.60
4.76
Differ¬
ences.
+0.02
+0.02
0.00
—0.02
—0 01
—0 01
0.00
+ 0.01
+ 0.02
+ 0.02
+ 0.05
Temp.
142°
152
162
172
182
192
202
212
250.3
293.4
143.6
Observd.
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
6.10
7-90
10 05
12.72
16.01
30.00
60.00
120.00
240.00
Calcul
Elastici¬
ties.
Inches.
6 22
8 03
10.25
1294
16.17
20.04
24.61
30.00
60.11
119.17
239-28
Differ¬
ences.
Inche
+ 0.12
+ 0.13
+ 0.20
+ 0.22
+ 0.16
+ 0.11
—0.3
—02
“ I remain, with the greatest esteem and respect, Dear
Sir,Your very obedient Servant,
“ Oakun, mh March, 1814.” « JOHN SOUTHERN.
“ To James Watt, Esq., Heathfield.”
28. In the Memoirs of the Royal Academy of Berlin
mr 1782, there is an account of some experiments made
by M. Achard on the elastic force of steam, from the
temperature 32° to 212°. They agree extremely well
with those mentioned here, rarely differing more than two
or three-tenths of an inch. He also examined the elasti-
cjty of the vapour produced from alcohol, and when the
elasticity was equal to that of the vapour of water, he
ound that the temperature was about 35° lower. Thus,
"hen the elasticity of both was measured by 28.1 inches
of mercury, the temperature of the watery vapour was Steam.
209°, and that of the^spirituous vapour was 173°. When
the elasticity was 18.5, the temperature of the water was Achard’s
189.5°, and that of the alcohol 154.6°. When the elasticity Experi-
was 11.05, the water was 168°, and the alcohol 134.4° ment*.
Observing the difference between the temperature of
equally elastic vapours of water and alcohol not to be con¬
stant, but gradually to diminish, in M. Achard’s experi¬
ments, along with the elasticity, it became interesting to
discover whether, and at what temperature, this difference
would vanish altogether. Experiments were accordingly
made by the writer of this article, similar to those made
with water. They were not made with the same scrupu¬
lous care, nor repeated as they deserved, but they fur¬
nished rather an unexpected result. The following table
will give the reader a distinct notion of them. 
i emperaturt
Mastieity.
32°
40
60
80
100
120
0.0
0.1
0.8
1.8
3.9
69
Temperature.
140
160
180
200
220
240
stieity.
12.2
21.3
34.
52.4
78.5
115.
29- Dr Dalton appears to have been the first to escape Dr Dal-
from the natural enough error of assuming that the va- ton’s Ex¬
pour of water at 32° would be = 0. His apparatus is periments.
the most simple and refined of any that have been em¬
ployed for temperatures below 212°, and his experiments
are those which, to the present day, have the greatest
authority. Dr Dalton’s first experiments were published
in 1793, in his Meteorological Essays ; afterwards, when
more extended, in the Manchester Memoirs, 1802 ; then
in the first volume of his System of Chemistry, 1808;
and finally in the second volume of the same work, 1827.
The following is the account given by himself, of his
early experiments, in the Manchester Memoirs.
“ My method is this: I take a barometer tube AB, (Fig.
13,) perfectly dry, and fill it with mercury just boiled,
marking the place (30) where it is stationary; then, having
graduated the tube, I pour a little water, or any other
liquid, the subject of experiment, into it, so as to moisten
the whole inside : after this I again pour in mercury, and
carefully inverting the tube, exclude
all air; the barometer, by standing Fig. 13.
some time, exhibits a portion of water
of £ or -Jjjth of an inch, W, on the top
of the mercurial column; because, be¬
ing lighter, it ascends by the side of the
tube, which may now be inclined, and
the mercury will rise to the top, mani¬
festing a perfect vacuum from air. I
next take a cylindrical glass tube CD,
open at both ends, of two inches dia¬
meter and fourteen inches in length,
to each end of which a cork is adapted,
perforated in the middle, so as to admit
a barometer tube to be put through,
and to be held fast by them; the upper
cork, C, is fixed two or three inches be¬
low the top of the tube, and is one-half
cut away, so as to admit water, &c., to
pass by, its service being merely to keep the tube steady.
Things being thus circumstanced; water of any tem¬
perature may be poured into the wide tube, and thus made
to surround the upper part or vacuum of the barometer,
and the effect of temperature in the production of vapour
within can be observed from the depression of the mer¬
curial column at the top. In this way I have had water as
high as 155° surrounding the vacuum; but as the higher
temperatures might endanger a glass apparatus, instead
of it I used the following :—
1 hese are inserted ftom dimerous experiments made by Mr W. Creighton.
584
STEAM.
Steam-
Fig-. 14.
Having procured a tin tube CD, four in-
ches in diameter, and two feet long with a
Dr Dal- circular plate soldered to one end, having a
'-on’s Ex- round hole in the centre, like the tube of a
penments. reflecting telescope, I got another smaller
tube of the same length soldered into the
larger, so as to be in the axis or centre of it;
the small tube was open at both ends, and on
this construction water could be poured into
the large vessel to fill it, while the central
tube was exposed to its temperature. Into
this central tube I could insert the upper
half of a syphon barometer, and fix it by a
cork, the top of the narrow tube, also, being
corked—thus the efiect of any temperature,
under 212° could be ascertained, the depres¬
sion of the mercurial column being known
by the ascent in the exterior leg of the
syphon. The force of vapour from water
between 80° and 212°, may also be determined by means
of an air-pump, and the result exactly agrees with those
determined as above.”
“ After repeated experiments by all those methods,
and a careful comparison of the results, I was enabled to
digest the following :—
Table of the Force of Steam from Water in the tempe¬
ratures from 32° to 212° (1802.)
Tem¬
pera¬
ture.
32°
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
34
65
36
37
88
69
/0
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
Force of
Vapour
in inches
of Mer¬
cury.
.200
.207
.214
.221
.229
.237
.245
.254
.263
.273
.283
.294
.305
.316
.328
.339
.351
.363
.375
.388
.401
.415
.429
.443
.458
.474
.490
.507
.524
.542
.560
.578
.597
.616
.635
.655
.676
.698
.721
.745
.770
.796
.823
.851
.880
.910
Tem¬
pera¬
ture.
78°
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
Force of
Vapour
in inches
of Mer¬
cury.
.940
.971
1.00
1.04
1.07
1.10
1.14
1.17
1.21
1.24
1.28
1.32
1.36
1.40
1.44
1.48
1.53
1.58
1.63
1.68
1.74
1.80
1.86
1.92
1.98
2.04
2.11
2.18
2.25
2.32
2.39
2.46
2.53
2,60
2.68
2.76
2.84
2.92
3.00
3.08
3.16
3.25
3.33
3.42
3.50
Tem-
pera-
tu. e.
123°
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
Force of
Vapour
in inches
of Mer¬
cury.
3.59
3.69
3.79
3.89
4.00
4.11
4.22
4.34
4.47
4.60
4.73
4.86
5.00
5.14
5.29
5.44
5.59
5.74
5.90
6.05
6.21
6.37
6.53
6.70
6.87
7.05
7.23
7.42
7.61
7.81
8.01
8.20
8.40
8.60
8.81
9.02
9.24
9.46
9.68
9.91
10.15
10.41
10.68
10.96
11.25
pera-
ture.
168°
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
Force of
Vapour
in inches
of Mer¬
cury.
11.54
11.83
12.13
12.43
12.73
13.02
13.32
13.62
13.92
14.22
14.52
14.83
15.15
15.50
15.86
16.23
16.61
17.00
17.40
17.80
18.20
18.60
19.00
19.42
19.86
20.32
20.77
21.22
21.68
22.13
22.69
23.16
23.64
24.12
24.51
25.10
25.61
26.13
26.66
27.20
27.74
28.29
28.84
29.41
30.00
Fig. 15.
n
Hr'
Dr Dalton afterwards resumed the experimental ex- S*;
amination of this subject, and was induced to modify these
numbers slightly, as will be seen from our final table.
30. Passing over the experiments of Schmidt, Goldner
and others, as presenting no important differences from
some of these we have already noticed, we come to those
of Dr Ure, published in the Philosophical Transactions
of 1818, and made at Glasgow during 1817. The ad¬
joining figures represent his apparatus.
Fig. 15. represents the construction used
for temperatures under and a little above
the boiling point. Figs. 16. and 17. are
those used for higher temperatures, the
last being the more convenient of the two ;
each was suspended from a lofty window
ceiling, and placed in a truly vertical posi¬
tion, by means of a plumb line. Dr Ure
gives the following account of his mode of
experimenting. “ One simple principle
pervades the whole train of experiments
—which is, that the progressive increase
of elastic force developed by heat from
the liquid, incumbent on the mercury at
L l', is measured by the length of column
which must be added over L, the primitive
level below, in order to restore the quick¬
silver to its primitive level above, at l.
These two stations or points of departure
are nicely defined by a ring of fine pla-
tina wire, twisted firmly round the tube.
“ At the commencement of the experi¬
ment, after the liquid, well freed from air,
has been let up, the quicksilver is made
a tangent to the edge of the upper ring,
by cautiously pouring mercury, in a slen¬
der stream, into the open leg of the sy¬
phon B, the level ring below is then care¬
fully adjusted.
“ From the mode of conducting my ex¬
periments, there remained always a quan¬
tity of liquid in contact with the vapour, a circumstance
essentia-l to accuracy in this research.
“ Suppose the temperature of the water or the oil in A
to be 32° Fahrenheit, as denoted by a delicate thermo¬
meter, or by the liquefaction of ice; communicate heat to
the cylinder A, by means of two argand flames, playing
gently on its shoulder at each side. When the thermo¬
meter indicates 42°, modify the flames, or remove them
so as to maintain a uniform temperature for a few
minutes. A film or line of light will now be perceived
between the mercury and the ring at l, as is seen under
the vernier of a mountain barometer, when it is raised a
few feet off the ground; were the tube at l and L, of
equal area, or were the relation of the areas experiment¬
ally determined, then the rise of the quicksilver above L
would be one-half, or a known submultiple of the total
depression, equivalent to the additional elasticity of the
vapour at 42° above that at 32°. Since the depressions,
however, for 30 or 40° in this part of the scale are ex¬
ceedingly small, one-half of the quantity can scarcely be
ascertained with suitable precision, even after taking the
above precautions ; and besides, the other sources of error,
or at least embarrassment, from the inequalities of the
tube, and from the lengthening space occupied by the
vapour, as the temperature ascends, render this method of
reduction very ineligible.
“ By the other plan we avoid all these evils ; for what¬
ever additional elasticity be communicated to the vapour
above l, it will be faithfully represented and measured by
the mercurial column, which we must add over L, in order
to overcome it and restore the quicksilver under l, to
its zero or initial level, when the platina ring becomes
once more a tangent to the mercury. At E, a piece of
B go
STEAM.
585
cork is fixed between the parallel leg's of the syphon to
sustain it, and to serve as a point by which the whole is
steadily suspended. For temperatures above the boiling
point, the part of the syphon under E is evidently su¬
perfluous, merely containing in its two legs a useless
weight of equipoised mercury. Accordingly, for high
heats, the apparatus, Figs. 16 or 17, is employed, and the
same method of proce- Fig. ig. Fig. 17.
dure is adopted ; the ap¬
erture at O, Fig. 17, ad- B
mits the bulb of the ther¬
mometer, which rests as
usual on V. The recur¬
ved part of the tube is
filled with mercury, and
then a little liquid is
passed through it to the
sealed end. Heat is now
applied by an argand
flame to the bottom of
C, which is filled with oil
or water, and the tem¬
perature is kept steadily
at 212° for some mi¬
nutes. Then a few drops
of quicksilver may be re¬
quired to be added to D',
till L and V be in the
same horizontal plane.
The further conduct of
the experiment differs in
no respect from what has
been already described—
the liquid in C is progressively heated, and at each stage
mercury is progressively added over L to restore the initial
level or volume at by equipoising the progressive elas¬
ticity. The column above L being measured, represents
the succession of elastic forces: when this column is wished
to extend very high, the vertical tube requires to be placed
for support in the groove of a long wooden prism.
“ The height of the column in some of my experiments Steam,
being nearly twelve feet, it became necessary to employ
a ladder to reach its top. I found it to be convenient, in Dr Ure’s
this case, after observing that the column of vapour had Experi-
attained its primitive magnitude, to note down the tern- ments.
perature with the altitude of the column, then imme¬
diately to pour in a measured quantity of mercury nearly
equal to three vertical inches, and to wait till the slow
progress of the heating again brought the vapour in
equilibrio with this new pressure, which at first had
pushed the mercury within the platina ring at l. When
the lower surface of the mercury was again a tangent to
this ring, the temperature and altitude were both instantly
observed.
“ This mode of conducting the process will account for
the experimental temperatures being very often odd and
fractional numbers. I present them to the public, as they
were recorded on the instant in that particular repetition
of the experiment which I consider most entitled to con¬
fidence. To trim and fashion the results into an orderly
looking series, would have been an easy task; but, in my
opinion, this is a species of deception very injurious to the
cause of science, and a deviation from the rigid truth of
observation, which ought never to be made for any hypo¬
thesis : we shall afterwards have ample opportunities of
exposing the fallacy of such premature geometrical re¬
finements.
The thermometers were constructed by Creighton with
his well-known nicety, and the divisions were read off with
a lens, so that y^th of a degree could be distinguished.
After bestowing the utmost pains in repeating the experi¬
ments, during a period of nearly two months, I found that
the only way of removing the little discrepancies which
crept in between contiguous measures, was to adopt the
astronomical plan of multiplying observations, and deduc¬
ing truth from the mean. It is essential to heat with
extreme slowness and circumspection the vessels A, B, C.
One repetition of the experiment occupies on an average
seven hours.
“ The apparatus employed in obtaining these results, has
The Elastic Force of the Vapour of Water in inches of Mercury, obtained from Experiments by Dr Ure.
Temp.
Force.
Temp.
Force.
24
32
40
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
105
110
0'170
0-200
0-250
0-360
0-416
0-516
0-630
0-726
0-860
1-010
1-170
1-360
1- 640
1-860
2- 100
2-456
115°
120
125
130
135
140
145
150
155
160
165
170
175
180
185
190
2-820
3-300
3- 830
4- 366
5- 070
5- 770
6- 600
7- 530
8- 500
9- 600
10-800
12- 050
13- 550
15- 160
16- 900
19-000
Temp.
195°
200
205
210
212
216-6
220
221-6
225
226-3
230
230-5
234-5
235
238-5
240
Force.
21-100
23-600
25-900
28-880
30-000
33-400
35- 540
36- 700
39- 110
40- 100
43-100
43-500
46- 800
47- 220
50- 300
51- 700
Temp.
242°
245
245-8
248-5
250
251-6
254-5
255
257-5
260
260-4
262-8
264-9
265
267
269
Force.
53-600
56- 340
57- 100
60- 400
61- 900
63-500
66-700
67.250
69-800
72-300
72-800
75-900
77- 900
78- 040
81-900
84-900
Temp.
270°
271-2
273-7
275
275-7
277-9
279.5
280
281-8
283-8
285-2
287-2
289
290
292-3
294
Force.
86-300
88 000
91-200
93- 480
94- 600
97-800
101-600
101-900
104-400
107-700
112-200
114-800
118-200
120-150
123-100
126-700
Temp.
295-6°
295
297- 1
298- 8
300
300-6
302
303-8
305
306-8
308
310
311-4
312
312
Force.
130-400
129-000
133-900
137-400
139- 700
140- 900
144-300
147-700
150-560
154-400
157-700
161-300
164- 800
167-000
165- 5
die peculiar advantage, over all others, that the mercurial
column is never heated. It is the concurrent opinion of
. chemical philosophers, that caloric travels downwards
Jn liquids with extreme slowness and difficulty. Indeed,
Oount Rumford’s experiments led him to infer, that heat
could not descend in fluids at all.
“ It is evident that, in my constructions, figures 15, 16,
aila only that small portion of quicksilver within the
V0L. XX.
vessels A, B, and C, will be affected by the heat, but the
measuring column is beyond the reach of its influence.”
31. A series of experiments on high-pressure steam was Taylor and
subsequently made by Mr Philip Taylor, but he has not Arsber-
described his apparatus. A similar series was also made ger’s Ex-
by Professor Arsberger of Vienna. As their results may Pcriments.
be useful for comparison, we have united them in the fol¬
lowing table:—
586
Steam.
Taylor’s
and Ars-
berger’s
Experi¬
ments.
STEAM,
Taylor’sand Arsfyerger’s Experiments on High-Pressure
Steam.
Temperature
212°
220
230
232
240
249
250
260
270
274
280
290
293*4
300
320
322
372
432
Taylor.
30-0
34-9
41-5
50-0
59-1
70-1
82-5
»
97-7
114-5
120-4
133 7
179-4
Arsberger.
44-4
59-1
88-9
176-0
325-0
620-0
Experi. 32. We now come to the most imposing series of expe-
ments of riments hitherto conducted. In 1823, the government o
the French prance having resolved to legislate on the means for ob-
Academy. taining seCurity in the use of steam-engines, consulted the
Academy of Sciences, upon the mode of most effectually
promoting the public safety, without placing useless re¬
straints on commercial enterprise and manufacturing in¬
dustry. The examination into the state of knowledge con¬
cerning the phenomena of vapour at elevated temperatures,
which resulted from this application, having brought the
imperfections of this part of science prominently into no¬
tice, the Academy were induced to undertake a long and
laborious enquiry, not entirely free from personal danger,
into the law connecting temperature with the pressure ot
steam. The commission consisted of the illustrious mem¬
bers of the Academy, Baron de Prony, Arago, Girard,
and Dulong ; and the results of their investigation, finish¬
ed in 1829, are given in the tenth volume of the Memoirs
of the Academy of Sciences, printed in 1831. These ex¬
periments, conducted principally by the MM. Arago and
Dulong, were on a scale of magnitude and expense suited
to the munificence of the French government and the re-
During the process of proving the boiler by a hydrau¬
lic pump, the common safety-valve, when used as an in
strument for measuring with precision the pressure of the
fluid in the boiler, was observed to give very erroneous
indications, and the necessity of a more delicate apparatus
was demonstrated. The improved index of pressure, made
use of in the experiments, is shown in fig. 18. I'or
measuring the great pressures to be used, a tube of mer¬
cury, 80 feet high, would have been requisite; but there
was used, as a substitute for it, a glass tube z z, closed at
the upper end, filled with dry atmospheric air, and having
a length of only five feet seven inches, and an interna
diameter of \ of an inch, and of a thickness nearly equal
to its diameter. It was so arranged as to furnish a con¬
venient manometer, capable of giving the same indications,
by the contraction of the contained air, as would iave
been given in similar circumstances, by a column of mer¬
cury of the height due to the diminished volume of the air.
The graduation of this manometer, however, presen e
new difficulties. ,, ,
These difficulties were successfully encountered by um
skill and ardour of the academicians. Every one 0
that it is impossible to obtain a glass tube COI^1i eltijr
length and magnitude which shall have a tolerably cy
drieal interior ; and that there are a number o Prac
sources of the Academy. The precautions adopted to en- Ste,
sure minute accuracy, entitle them to confidence, no less 'W j
than the names of two philosophers, so well versed in ex- Expc
periments of a similar nature. They were carried as high merit;
as to the twenty-fourth atmosphere of pressure. the F -t,
The experiments were made in one of the courts of the Acati .
Observatory. Fig. 18 represents a section of the prin¬
cipal portions of the apparatus. The boiler a consists of
a cylindrical body, having its axis vertical; the two ends
forming top and bottom are spherical segments, strongly
riveted to the body, the whole being made of the finest
plate iron. The material of the cylindrical part is half an
inch thick, the top and bottom being considerably thicker.
The aperture at the top, six inches in diameter, was closed
by a plate of wrought iron, an inch and three-quarters
thick, overlapping the hole, about two inches all round,
and having on its lower surface a projecting ring, adapt¬
ing it to a groove on the upper side of the top of the
boiler : between these two surfaces was interposed a thick
ring of lead, and the cover was then strongly screwed
down by six steel bolts, the nuts of which had head-wash¬
ers, so that, on screwing the whole together, the coyer
became hermetically closed. This experimental boiler
was built in a furnace of considerable size and mass,
intended to produce a temperature of the requisite con¬
stancy ; x x are bars upon which the fire rests; y is
the flue leading to the chimney.
The other parts of the apparatus connected with the
boiler are h b, & lever, safety-valve, and weights ; y y (fig,
19) the thermometer scales; and w w reservoirs of cold
water, for maintaining uniform temperatures on the ver¬
tical parts of the instruments.
1 ? r
S T E A M,
587
i
the
Ac
,m. difficulties, which render it impossible to obtain even such
a tube as that of a common thermometer, which shall pos¬
sess the uniformity necessary to a good instrument. To
of make the proper allowance for this inevitable imperfection,
'neh t}ie academicians easily might have adopted the same me-
“y- thod as that used in the case of thermometer tubes, by
determining the volume of successive small portions of its
interior ; but even this would have furnished a very partial
remedy for the evil, because it had not been ascertained
that the space occupied by the air in the manometer would
diminish in bulk exactly in the proportion of the increase
of compressing force, or of the corresponding increase in
the height of the equivalent column of mercury. Two
problems were therefore to be resolved at once, the elimi¬
nation of the error of the tube, and the determination of
the elasticity of air under high pressures. Both of them
were satisfactorily accomplished, by the following labori¬
ous research.
As a preliminary measure, it was resolved to graduate
the manometer, and determine the law of the elastic force
of air under high pressures, by direct comparison with a
column of mercury, from 75 to 80 feet in height. Such
an experiment required a suitable locale and a stupendous
apparatus. Among the buildings of the Royal College of
Henri Quatre, there may be observed an old square tower,
sole relic of the ancient church of Sainte Genevieve: there
exist still in the interior three vaulted floors, pierced in the
centre, and affording the very supports that were required
for the erection of this stupendous mercurial gauge. In the
centre of this opening there was raised a squared tree of the
required height, and to this it was determined to attach
the glass tube of 80 feet in height. To form a single
glass tube of so great length was impossible; its own
weight, when constructed, under the pressure of the mer¬
cury, would have endangered its existence. The glass
column was built of separate portions, united in mastic,
with great care, in viroleS of steel. Each portion of tube
was suspended in the air by an exact counterpoise, acting
over pulleys fixed to the tree ; and the whole of the parts
were so united in equilibrio, that each sustained only its
own weight, and the pressure of the mercury due to the
height of the superior portion of the column. A homo¬
geneous metallic scale was attached, and its divisions read
by a vernier, as in the common barometer.
The manometer to be graduated, and this column of
mercury, were both connected by tubes with a strong cy¬
lindrical vaseyj holding about 1Q0 lbs. of mercury. When
thus placed in communication, a column of water w as forced
into the vase above the mercury by a hydraulic pump, and
the pressure thus produced raised the metal with equal
force up into the glass tube column on the one hand, and
into the manometric tube on the other. The point to
which the air was compressed was read off by a vernier,
and the corresponding height of the mercury having been
determined, it was manifest that the same degree of com-
pression of the less instrument would ever after serve
as the index of an equivalent column of mercury. In this
manner the whole tube was graduated by careful experi¬
ment. The result of this graduation was satisfactory and
very instructive. In forming the scale of the manometer,
no room was left for errors of practical execution ; and the
comparison of the volume of the air with the height of the
mercurial column demonstrated the diminution of the
volume of the air to be precisely in the ratio of the pres¬
sure, so that the law of Marriotte is rigidly correct, even
>'hen extended to the extreme case, where the air is re-,
auced to less than ^ part of its usual volume.
. s Preliminary process having been successfully ter-
mmated, the enormous column of glass was now laid aside,
an e manometer, with its reservoir of mercury, trans¬
ported to the court of the Observatory, for the purpose of
cmg attached to the experimental boiler. Figure 18
*> ows the manometer in situ. An iron tube d d', g', com¬
posed of gun barrels welded together, connects the cover Steam,
of the boiler a, with the reservoir of the manometer
J, so as to conduct the pressure of the steam to the Experi-
surface, which formerly had sustained the mercurial ments of
column. The vacant space above the mercury was filled tl*6 French
with water, which, by condensation from a stream of water -Academy,
on the outside, was kept full to the constant height v.
A column of water contained in the glass tube z z, and
constantly replenished, preserved the column of air, and
other parts of the apparatus, at a constant temperature,
indicated by a thermometer. A tube o p, of glass, commu¬
nicating with the reservoir of mercury above and below,
indicates, on the scale l, m, the variation of level arising
from the recession of the mercury into the manometer tube.
To as certain the temperature of the water and steam of the
boiler, it had been considered sufficient in the ruder expe¬
riments of earlier observers to insert thermometers directly
into the boiler itself. Every one who has an acquaintance
with these instruments knows, that any difference of pres¬
sure on the glass produces a false indication of the instru¬
ments, so that even the few inches of mercury in the in¬
strument itself, when inverted, alter its indications, and a
slight pressure of the finger would raise it a degree ; the
inaccuracy of the old method, when used under a pressure
of 70 or 80 feet of mercury, or 450 pounds on every inch
of the immersed surface of the instrument would have been
great. The French academicians avoided this error, by
immersing strong iron tubes t t, (figs. 18 and 19,) in the
water and steam, in which the thermometers, surrounded
by liquid metal, were kept in close communication with
the heat of the fluids, without exposure to their force.
By adopting only very slow variations of temperature, the
error arising from the motion of heat was rendered insen¬
sible.
The following Table contains the results of Thirty of the
most unexceptionable Experiments :—
1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Smaller
Centigrade
Thermo¬
meter.
122-97
132-58
132-64
137-70
149-54
151-87
153-64
163-00
168- 40
169- 57
171-88
180-71
183-70
186-80
188-30
193-70
198-55
202:00
203-40
206-17
206- 40
207- 09
208- 45
209- 10
210-47
215-07
217- 23
218- 3
220-4
223-88
Larger
Centigrade
Thermo¬
meter.
123-7
132- 82
133- 3
138-3
149-7
151-9
153-7
163-4
168- 5
169- 4
172-34
180-7
183-7
187- 1
188- 5
193-7
198-5
201-75
204-17
206-10
206-8
207- 4
208- 9
209- 13
210- 5
215-3
217- 5
218- 4
220-8
224-15
Elastic
Forcemeters,
in feet of
Mercury at 32
degrees.
1- 62916
2.1767
2- 1816
2- 5386
3- 4759
3-6868
3- 881
4- 9383
5- 6054
5- 7737
6- 151
7- 5001
8- 0352
8-6995
8- 840
9- 9989
11- 019
11-862
12- 2903
12- 9872
13- 061
13-1276
13-6843
13- 769
14- 0634
15- 4995
16- 1528
16- 3816
17- 1826
18- 1894
In Atmo¬
spheres of 76
degrees.
2-14
2- 87
2-88
3- 348
4- 584
4- 86
5- 12
6- 51
7- 391
7- 613
8- 114
9- 893
10-6
11-48
11-66
13- 19
14- 53
15- 65
16- 21
17-13
17.23
17.3
18.05
18.16
18.55
20- 44
21- 31
21-6
22- 66
23.994
Condition
in which
the Ob¬
servation!
were
made.
max.
a
p.max.
a
max.
a
a
max.
max.
a. s.
a
p.max.
a
a. s.
max.
a
a. s.
a
a. s.
a
max.
p. max
a
a
p.max
a
a
p.max.
a
max.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
588
Steara.
Experi¬
ments of
the Ame¬
rican Com¬
mittee.
S T E A M.
A table of temperatures, from 1 to 50 atmospheres, cal¬
culated in coincidence with the experiments of the French
academicians, and adapted to English measures, is given
by us in Article 57, for the purpose of convenient prac¬
tical reference. _ . -
33. The latest series of experiments on the elastic torce
of high-pressure steam, we owe to America. At the re¬
quest of the Hon. S. D. Ingham, Secretary of the Trea¬
sury of the United States, a committee of the branklin
Institute, of the State of Pennsylvania, was appointed “ to
examine into the causes of the explosions of the boilers
used on board of steam-boats, and to devise the most ef¬
fectual means of preventing the accidents, or of diminis. -
ing the extent of their injurious effects.” Among other
subiects, such as the strength of boilers, the construction
of safety-valves, to which we shall refer in another place,
this committee took into consideration the elastic force of
high-pressure steam at different temperatures. Funds
were placed at their disposal by the House of Represen¬
tatives, and the committee consisted of such a combination
of scientific and practical men, as to give high authority
to their results. On the 1st day of November, 1830, the
subiect was placed in the hands of the following gentle¬
men Professor Alex. Dallas Bache, Mr Benjamin
Reeves, Mr W. H. Keating, Mr M. W. Balwin, Mr S.
Berrick, and Isaiah Sukens. _ .
We shall enter more fully on the description of their
apparatus of experiment than we should otherwise have
done, because we shall have frequent reference to make to
the whole of their experiments, not only in this article,
but in our article on the Steam-Engine, where we treat of
explosions of boilers and their causes. _ .
The boiler used by the committee is represented in
figs. 20, 21, 22. It is a cylinder, twelve inches in
internal diameter, two feet ten inches and. a quarter in
length within, and a quarter of an inch thick, of rolled
iron, with the ends rivetted in the usual manner. Fig. 21
is a side view. Figs. 20 and 22 are end views of the boiler,
Fig. 20.
opening, closed m the usual manner, and left the furnace St&:
through a flue placed at one end and side of the boiler. W, I
In fig. 20, A is the ash-pit door, B the furnace door, and Expei
in 2? and 22, C is the furnace chimney. ments
the A;
rican u
mitte.
In order to examine, readily, the interior of the boiler
during the progress of the experiments, each end was
provided with a glass window (D, figs. 20 and 22). The
glass used was three-eighths of an inch thick. The open¬
ings in the ends, which were rectangular, were two and a
half by one and three quarters inches wide.
Three gauge cocks xvere placed in the front end of the
boiler ; their positions will be particularly stated hereafter;
they are shown in figs. 20 and 21, at a, b, and c.
to the same end and by the side of the gauge cocks,
a glass water gauge (w, x, figs. 20 and 21) was attached,
a particular description of which will be given in tie
detail of experiments made to compare its performance
with that of the gauge cocks. . VVI
To supply the boiler with water, a forcing pump EE
Fsri
Fi-. 22.
and of the apparatus connected with it. The boiler was
placed horizontally in a furnace, the fire surface extend¬
ing about halfway round the cylinder. The furnace was
arranged for a charcoal fire, the grate bars extending the
whole length of the boiler, and the fire being applied
nearly the whole length. The draught entered by an
STEAM.
589
S !«•
Ex; -
nei
;he
an
nit
Dotjis of
the :pa-
ratui
FG, %s. 21 and 22, was placed near the back end. This
pump was of the ordinary construction, with a solid plunger
and conical valves ; the diameter of the pump was one inch,
and the play of the piston one inch and three-quarters.
The diameter of the pipe F G, by which the water was
conveyed from the pump to the boiler, was three-hun¬
dredths of an inch. By a coupling screw, this pipe could
be connected with either of the stop cocks d e, fig. 22,
in the back end of the boiler : the opening of these cocks
was two-hundredths of an inch in diameter.
To ascertain the elasticity of the steam within the
boiler, a closed steam gauge (H, figs. 21 and 22), was used,
a particular description of the construction, &c. of which
will be given. This instrument was placed upon the same
stand (I, figs. 21 and 22) which supported the pump, so that
the same experimenter could observe its indications and
attend to the working of the pump. The cistern of the
gauge was connected by a flexible pipe f g, with the
upper part of the boiler.
The safety-valve is shown on the top of the boiler (K,
fig. 21), midway between the ends. The graduation of
it required much pains, and will receive a separate dis¬
cussion.
Near the safety-valve is represented (at L, fig. 21,) the
fusible plate apparatus, consisting of a sliding plate of iron,
moved by a lever. On the other side of the safety-valve
are the thermometers (M and N, fig. 21) plunged into
iron tubes to give the temperature of the steam and water
within the boiler. Above this appears the reservoir O,
containing the water intended to maintain the scales of
the thermometers at a constant temperature. All these
parts require a more detailed description.
The steam gauge consisted of a glass tube closed at the
upper, and open at the lower end, which passed steam-
tight into a reservoir for mercury: when this reservoir
was connected with the boiler the pressure of the steam
raised the mercury into the gauge tube, compressing the
air which the tube contained. The first mercurial gauge
which was made, was broken by a sudden access of sur¬
charged steam, in the experiments upon that subject, and
was replaced by a second one. The method of gradua¬
tion, and in general the description of the second gauge,
will serve also for the first; the details, only varied slightly.
The glass gauge tube was 26.43 inches in length. To
the lower end was connected an iron ferule, terminated
above by a projecting ring. This ring was pressed upon
the upper end of the pipe h, by a coupling screw, which
served to form a tight juncture between the gauge and
the cistern. The cistern i was a cylindrical vessel of cast
iron, having the two projecting tubes h and k, upon which
screws were cut: the first of them has been alluded to as
giving a passage to the glass tube of the gauge; the
second was coupled, by the pipe f g, to the boiler.
The gauge tube was not of precisely equal diameter
throughout, and it was judged more accurate to graduate
small portions of it into equal volumes. This was done
by introducing equal measures of air from the point of a
sliding-rod gas measure (Hare’s) ; this operation was per¬
formed repeatedly, and by multiple measures, to verify
the results, until the marks made for the equal volumes,
on a paper scale attached to the tube, coincided, in the
various trials. The lengths of the spaces occupied by the
equal volumes were then carefully measured upon the
brass scale to be used with the gauge. The slight differ¬
ences between the lengths given by adjacent parts of the
fube, showed that it might be considered as divided into
so many small portions of uniform diameter. The mer¬
cury rising into the gauge tube from the cistern when
pressure is applied, the level of the cistern is necessarily
(ePressed; the amount of the correction for this depends
upon the relation between the areas of the cistern and
tube, supposed uniform. The areas of the cistern were
ound to be, within the limits of its use, sensibly the same ;
Steam.
can Com¬
mittee.
those of the tube might be so assumed for such a purpose :
the ratio was therefore found by filling the gauge tube
with mercury, and pouring this into the cistern, noting the Experi-
rise produced; comparing this with the mean length of ments of.
of the tube, the ratio of depression in the gauge for ele_ the Amen
vation in the tube was found to be as .01 to 1. The air
within the tube was next carefully dried by the introduc¬
tion of a receptacle of chloride of calcium, of the same
length with the tube ; the air having been in contact with
this substance for a sufficient time, the receptacle was
withdrawn through the mercury over which the drying
had been effected; the tube was next placed over a dish
of mercury, in the receiver of an air-pump, and the air
withdrawn, until, on re-admitting air to the receiver, the
mercury rose in the tube above the iron ferule.
The gauge tube was next introduced into the cistern,
the level of which, corresponding to the zero of the brass
scale was then arranged, and the point of the scale at
which the mercury stood was ascertained, the barometer
and thermometer being noted.
It was intended in the experiments to keep the pipe
from the gauge to the boiler cool, so that it might contain
water, and thus give a nearly constant pressure upon the
mercury of the cistern, besides preventing the exposure
of the apparatus to heat; the height of this column, above
the level of the cistern, was therefore ascertained, after
the gauge was put in its place by screwing the cistern i to
the stand.
All the elements for calculating the elasticity of the
steam within the boiler, from the height of the mercurv
of the gauge, were thus known; the temperature of the
apparatus being supposed constant.
The elastic force of the steam within the boiler, together
with the column of water in the steam-pipe, balances the
elasticity of the compressed air within the guage, together
with the column of mercury above the level of that in the
cistern. This level is not the original zero, but lower
than that, by the depression produced by the rise of mer¬
cury in the gauge tube. The depression of the mercury
changes the level above which the pressure of the column
of water in the steam-pipe is measured, but the change in
the pressure, by the column of water, is altogether incon¬
siderable. The law of the elastic force of dry air, which
has been recently shown, by Dulong and Arago, to be
accurate, at pressures from one to fifty atmospheres, was
made use of in determining the elasticity of the air in the
gauge: this elasticity is inversely as the space occupied
by the air. From the data already obtained, and upon
the principles just stated, a table was calculated, by which
the observed heights of the gauge were converted into the
corresponding pressures in inches of mercury or in at¬
mospheres. The calculations were rendered rather tedious
by the unequal diameter of the bore of the tube, on ac¬
count of which equal lengths did not correspond to equal
volumes. The usual method of calculation was resorted
to, namely, to determine, by rigid calculation, the pres¬
sures, for points sufficiently near each other, and then to
interpolate for intermediate heights.
The foregoing remarks take for granted that the tem¬
perature of the air in the gauge, as well as that of the
mercury, remains constant; to secure this, an arrangement
was adopted similar to that employed by Dulong and
Arago for the same purpose. The gauge and scale were
surrounded by a glass tube l, cemented below into
a brass cap m, which had an opening in the side,
communicating with a discharge pipe ?i, fig. 21. The
tube was attached above, by an air-tight juncture, to
a tin vessel P, of considerable capacity, compared with
the tube. Water being introduced into the glass tube
surrounding the gauge, the flow through this tube was
regulated by a stop-cock o, placed at the end of the dis¬
charge pipe, the cistern above being filled with xvater.
To ascertain the temperature of the column of water
590
Steam.
Experi¬
ments of
the Ame¬
rican Com¬
mittee.
S T E
surrounding" the gauge, a thermometer (/), fig. 22). with a
very small bulb, was attached to the scale at the middle of
its height: by this instrument, the flow of water through
the casing of the gauge was regulated so as to keep the
temperature nearly constant, and any deviations from a
constant temperature were ascertained and noted, that
the proper correction might be applied. The correc¬
tion for the expansion of the air in the gauge, by a rise
in its temperature during the progress of the experiments,
was made according to the rules furnished by^ the rate of
expansion of the gases, as determined by Gay Lussac,
extended to compressed air by the experiments of Davy.
The correction for the changes of height of the mercurial
column, within the range to which the temperature was
suffered to increase, could not have been appreciable if
acting entirely, and the counteracting effect of the expan¬
sion of the glass further justified its being neglected.
For similar reasons no reference was made to the effects
of heat on the mercury in the cistern i, on the cistern
itself, and on the water within the pipe communicating
with the boiler. _
In most of the researches of the committee, refinements
in the mode of using the common thermometer would have
been out of place. Results which might be obtained with
little additional labour, and which would be interesting
in both a practical and scientific point of view, were not
to be neglected, and to some of them great accuracy was
essential. In the questions of the first class, the thermo¬
meters were provided with wooden scales, and were gia-
duated by immersion up to the point at which the scale
commenced, the scale and upper part of the tube being
exposed to the air : this was proper, as they were intended
to be immersed in mercury nearly up to the scale. These
instruments were examined after coming from the maker’s
hands, and the instrumental error ascertained. The tubes
in which the thermometers were placed, and which con¬
tained mercury, were at first placed horizontally in one
of the ends of the boiler ; this had the advantage of ren¬
dering the tube for indicating the temperature of the
water3 entirely independent of the steam, and thus any
difference between the temperature of one and the other
might be more effectually ascertained, than when the tube
giving the temperature of the water passed through the
steam. The position of these instruments interfered so
much with other parts of the apparatus, and so much in¬
convenience and danger of error was experienced from
the separation of the column of mercury in the thermo¬
meter, that these tubes were not used after the first weeks
of experiment, and two vertical tubes, placed as already
shown, were substituted for them.
A M.
The thermometers used, when the relation between the Ste?
temperature of the steam and water, and the elasticity of ^ ,
the steam were to be observed in conjunction with some Expe-
of the subjects more directly under the cognizance of the meats:
committee, had much pains bestowed upon them. theA i.
The scales (M and N,) were metallic, and surroundedcan C;
by glass tubes, fitting into a cup a', through the bottommitte;
of which the stem of the thermometer passed water tight;
a pipe 1/ c, fig. 20, from the side of each cup, and pro¬
vided with a stoprcock d, regulated the flow, of water
through the enveloping tubes : a tight connexion above
with a reservoir (O) served, as in the case of the
gauge, to supply the tubes with water. Small thermo¬
meters on the back of the scale of the large ones,
showed the temperature of the water which surrounded
them. The enveloping tubes being filled with water
at 60°, the position of the boiling point of water and
of the fusing point of tin, were used, to verify th.e accu¬
racy of graduation. The latter point, which is high
upon the scale of the thermometer, having been very
accurately determined, and being easily and with certainty
ascertainable, serves as an excellent check upon the gra¬
duation. The greatest error within the limits just stated,
was in one instrument, three-fourths of a degree, and in the
other one degree of Fahrenheit. The scales were gra¬
duated from two to two degrees, one quarter of a degree
being readily estimated upon them. The corrections
required by this examination were made through the
medium of a table prepared for the purpose. In order to
call the attention to the temperature of the water sur¬
rounding the scales, this temperature was recorded from
time to time, when the height of the thermometers was
observed, At no time did the rise of temperature, per¬
mitted in the water, make it necessary to apply a cor¬
rection for the expansion of the scale. None was required
for the cooling effect of the water around the stem upon
the mercury, owing to the method of verifying the scale.
The other parts of the apparatus, less general in their
use, as the water-gauge, safety-valve, fusible plate appa¬
ratus, &c., will be more conveniently described in con¬
nexion with the experiments for which they were devised.
34. With this apparatus, and these precautions, a series
of experiments were made, the results of which are con¬
tained in the following tables :—
The Table, No. 1, contains the temperature observed by
the thermometer in the water, corrected for the error of the
graduation; the temperature of the scale of the thermo¬
meter, with a view to show that it was not allowed to vary
too considerably ; the observed height of the mercury in
the gauge, reduced to its mean height; the temperature
Temperature
of steam.
Fah. °
2621
2681
2751
2861
2961
2981
302
3051
3131
317|
320f
327|
333f
lemp.
of scale
of ther¬
mometer.
63
71
73
76
79
80
Table, No. I Of the Elastic Force of Steam at different Temperatures.
Height of
mercury in
air gauge.
Inches.
3.99*
15.04
16 34
17 34
18.94
19-94
20.11
20.44
20.79
21.39
21.64
21.79
22.24
22.69
Tempera¬
ture of
air in
gauge.
Fah. o
62
74
75
76
V olume of
air at ob¬
served tem¬
perature.
Vols.
8.33
393
3.43
3.05
2.44
2.05
1.99
1.86
1.73
1.50
1.405
1.347
1.176
1.004
Volume of
air at 48 °
Fahrenheit-
Elasticity of
air in inches
of mercury.
8.101
3.737
3.259
2.898
2.319
1-948
1.891
1.767
1.641
1.422
1.332
1.275
1.113
0.950
Inches.
27.26
59-09
67-76
76.20
95.23
113.36
116.76
124.98
134.57
155.30
165.79
173.20
198.41
232.46
.01 Height
of gauge.
Height 4" .01
height.
.04
.15
.16
.17
.19
.20
.20
.20
.21
.21
.22
.22
.22
.23
Height -(- .01
height—1.29
inches.
Inches.
4.03
15.19
16.50
17.51
19*13
20.14
20.31
20.64
21.00
21.60
21.86
22.01
22.02
22.92
Total elasti¬
city in inches
of mercury.
Inches.
2.74
13.90
15.21
16.22
17.84
18.85
19 02
19-35
19.71
20.31
20.57
20.72
20.73
21.63
Was tic lorce
in atmos¬
pheres of 30
inches.
Inches.
30.00
72.99
82.97
92.42
113.07
132.21
135.80
144.33
154.28
175.61
186.36
193-92
219-14
254.09
* This observation shows the height of the gauge before the experiment;
f Mean oi four observations t Mean of two observations.
corrected for the height of the harometer.
§ Mean of two observations.
1.00
2.43
2.76
3.08
3.77
4.41
4.53f
4.84
5.14
5.85§
6.21
6.46
7.30
8.47
STEAM.
i. of the air am the gauge ; its volume at the observed tem-
perature ; the volume reduced to 48°, the temperature of
graduation of the gauge at which the column of mercury,
f equivalent to an atmosphere, is very nearly 30 inches;
e- the elasticity of the compressed air, in inches of mercury;
the correction in the height of the column of mercury,
for the depression produced in the cistern, below ; the
height thus corrected : the height, after subtracting the
sensibly constant number for the column of water be¬
tween the level of the steam-pipe from the boiler and the
cistern pf the gauge; the total elasticity in inches of
mercury; the elasticity in atmospheres. The first line of
numbers in the table is merely introduced for the conve¬
nience of presenting certain data required for subsequent
calculation; it gives the height of the mercury in the
gauge before beginning the observations, after correct¬
ing for the height of the barometer.
A curve traced to represent these observations, the
ordinates representing1 the pressures, and the abscissa; the
591
temperatures, is quite regular, until the temperature cor- Steam,
responding to eight atmospheres is attained, when it rises
abruptly. This fact was explained, by examining the Experi-
gauge; it was found that the cement usi d in attaching ments of.
the glass tube to its ferule had become sof tened, and hadthe ^meri-
permitted the tube to rise. This defect was remedied
and its recurrence prevented. It was then determined to
repeat the entire series of observations, and to carry them
as high as could be done, with reasonable convenience,
aiming particularly, to embrace the range of working,
pressures of the American engines.
The results are contained in the following table in
which the observed data, and calculated numbers, are
arranged as in the last table. This table extends to 9.91
atmospheres, and to the temperature of 352° Fahrenheit.
Care was taken that the elasticities were increased not
too rapidly, and the last numbers obtained, were verified
by keeping the temperature sensibly constant for a con¬
siderable time.
Tempera¬
ture of
Steam.
Fah. 0
2481
2691
2841
2891
2941
299|
3041
3101
314f
319f
329f
3341
338f
345
348
350
352
346
Tempera¬
ture of
thermo¬
meter
scale.
Fah. c
54
58
66
Fable No. II.—Of the Elastic Force of Steam at Different Temperatures.
Height of
mercury in
air gauge.
Inches.
5.56*
14.04
17.34
19.64
20.06
2056
21.04
21.34
21.64
22.04
22.34
22.84
22.94
23 04
23.24
23.34
23.44
23.50
23.28
Tempera¬
ture of
air in
gauge.
Fah. °
48
53
52
53
54
541
55
551
56
57
57i
58
62
Volume of
air at ob¬
served tem¬
perature.
Vols.
7.695
4.32
3.05
2.17
1.99
1.82
1.63
1.52
1.405
1.25
1.14
0.95
0.92
0.887
0.82
0.787
0.752
0.733
0.807
Volume of
air at 48 °
Fah.
7.695
4.277
3.026
2.152
1.974
1.802
1.611
1.500
1.382
1.233
1.124
0.937
0.904
0.870
0.805
0.771
0.737
0.719
0.785
Elasticity
of air in
inches of
mercury
Inches.
25.67
46.19
65.29
91.76
100.05
109-63
122.66
131.66
142.94
160.26
175.86
210.84
218.60
226.92
245.44
256.05
267.97
274.92
251.78
.01 Height
ofgauge
.06
.14
.17
• 19
.20
.21
.21
.21
.22
.22
.22
.23
.23
.23
.23
.33
.23
.23
.23
Height +
.01 height.
5.84
14.18
17.51
19.83
20.26
20.77
21.25
21.55
21.86
22.26
22.56
23.07
23.17
23.29
23.47
23.57
23.67
23.73
23.51
Height+
.01 height
— 1.29
inches.
Inches.
4.55
12.89
16.22
18.54
18.97
19.48
19.96
20.26
20.57
20.97
21.27
21.78
21.88
22.00
32.18
22.28
22.38
22.44
22.22
Total elas¬
ticity in
inches of
mercury.
Inches.
30.00
59.08
81.51
110.30
119.02
129.11
142.62
151.92
163.51
181.23
197.13
232.62
240.48
248.92
267.62
278.33
290.35
297.36
274.00
Elastic force
in atmos¬
pheres of 30
inches.
Atmos.
1.00
1.97
2.72
3.68
3.97
4.30
4.75
5.06
5.45
6.04
6.57
7.75
8.02
8.30
8.92
9.28
9.68
9-91
9.13
* This observation shows the corrected height of the gauge before the experiments.
Tkere is one observation, namely, that at 329f which
is certainly recorded erroneously ; but omitting this one,
the rest which are given, present a very tolerable regu¬
larity in the curve traced to represent them. For the
sake of adding to the force of these results, the scattered
observations of temperatures and pressures incidentally
made during the other experiments of the committee, are
brought together in the annexed table.
A column is added to the table, to show the number
of observations employed in obtaining the results.
Tempe¬
rature of
Steam.
Fah. o
Ii empera
ture of
thermo-
j meter
i scale.
"Tah.“<=~
234
2391
24.51
2501
2561
262f
27]
278
288|
291
2921
300'
3031
54
62
68
70
73
77
70
75
75
76
65
73
Table No. Ill—Of the Elastic Force of Steam at Different Temperatures.
Height of
mercury
in air
gauge.
Inches.
~379l*~
8.80
9-94
11.16
12.54
13.88
15.14
16.34
17.44
18.74
19.14
19.44
20.12
20.54
V olume of
air at ob¬
served tem¬
peratures.
Vols.
8.35
6.39
5.94
5.46
4.92
4.38
3.89
3.43
3.01
2.50
2.36
2.25
1.98
1.82
V olume
of air at
48° Fah
8.169
6.301
5.788
5.300
4.776
4.243
3.768
3.316
2.882
2.403
2.282
2.184
1.494
1.756
Elasticity
of air in
inches of
mercury.
Inches.
27.34
35.45
38.59
42.14
46.77
52.64
59.27
67.35
77.49
92.94
97.88
102.26
117.33
127.27
+ .01
Height of
gauge
Inches.
~4)4~
.09
.10
.11
.12
.14
.15
.16
.17
• 1.9
.19
.19
.20
.20
Height
of gauge
+ .01
height.
Inches.
T95
8.89
10.04
11.27
12.66
14.02
15:99
16.50
17.61
18.93
19.33
19.63
20.32
20.74
Height +.01
height—1.29
inches.
Inches.
2766
7.60
8.75
9-98
11.37
12.73
14.00
15.21
16.32
17.64
18.04
18.34
19.03
19.45
Elasticity of
steam in
inches of
mercury.
Inches.
30.00
43.05
47.34
52.12
58.14
65.37
73.27
82.56
93.81
110.58
115.92
120.60
136.36
146.72
Slastic force
in atmos
pheres.
Atmos.
~Toir
1.43
1.58
1.74
1.94
2.18
2.44
2.75
3.13
3.69
3.86
4.02
4.55
4.^9
No.
of ob¬
serve ■
tions.
* This observation shows the corrected height of the gauge before the experiments.
^2
Steam.
Experi¬
ments of
the Ameri-
ean Com¬
mittee.
S T E A M.
This table enables us to go as low as 1.43 atmospheres’
and is strikingly accordant with the two others as far as
they extend in common.
A curve which would be traced by the following table,
1 which may be considered to represent the mean of the
foregoing, would differ little more than one-tenth of an
atmosphere in any part of the range, from the observa¬
tions, omitting one noticed in the first, and another no¬
ticed in the second table ; the pressures in general differ¬
ing less than one-tenth of an atmosphere from the observed
pressures.
than the pressures indicated by the gauge. From these St ;,
independent experimental data we have then an evidence j
that our results are, probably, not too high.”
Sect, hi ox the mathematical law which con¬
nects THE ELASTIC FORCE OF VAPOUR WITH ITS
TEMPERATURE.
* 35. An inference which may be drawn from all these Dr ] i.
experiments is, that Nature seems to affect a certain law8011 ■
Table of the Elastic Force of Steam from One to Ten
Atmospheres.
Pres¬
sure.
li
2Jr
Ob-
served
Temp.
212
235
250
264
Pres-
sure.
3
3i
4
Ob
served
Temp
Fab. 0
(275
284
2914
41
298|
Pres- ^ 1 Pres- , Pres-
Iserved served
sure.  sure.
iTemp.
Atmo. Fall. ° Atmo
°2
61
304i
310
3151
321
7
71
12
8
Temp.
326
331
336
3401
10
Ob¬
served
Temp
345
349
3521
To compare our results xvith those given by the
committee of the French Academy, we have traced a
curve, from the above table, and another from those of
the thirty observations, selected by the committee of the
Academy, from their experiments which are below ten
atmospheres. The curve of our observations, passes at low
pressures nearer to the line AB than that of the Fiench
experimenters, and after coinciding at the medium pres¬
sures of the table, crosses the latter, differing at 10 at¬
mospheres 5 degrees, or at 352-^ degrees .65 of an atmos¬
phere.
The difference here noticed is too considerable to be
admitted as within the limits of errors in the apparatus
or in observation. Having an authority of so much weight
against them, the committee have been driven to examine
their results very closely. The care employed in the
graduation of the gauge seems to exclude the idea of
error from it 5 the upper portion of the scale was divided
to .05 of an inch, and could easily be read to half of that
distance, making about .1 of an atmosphere at the highest
pressure attained. A specific correction for capillarity
was ascertained and employed. In one point of manipu¬
lation, namely, the method employed to dry the air, the
committee differed from what was usual, and though
they think there is reason to confide in that method,
they have examined what effect would be produced if
air were saturated with moisture. Recent experiments
on the passage of gases, out and into vessels placed over
mercury, and observations connected with them, warrant,
moreover, a suspicion, that dry air standing^ in a glass
vessel over mercury, the surface of which is covered
by water, may become impregnated with vapour. T he
effect of such a source of error they have calculated in
the highest and lowest results of table No. II. and find it
to be as follows :—
For 248x° the tension of the vapour is 1.96 instead of 1.97,
and 352 ,, , 9-78 „ 9.91.
Differing from the numbers given in table No. II. by
.01 and .13 of an atmosphere.
This supposition is thus shown to be inadequate to
explain the discordance, and must, in fact,Jiq deemed, to
a certain extent, gratuitous.
The committee have next compared “the results fur¬
nished by the safety-valves graduated independently of the
gauge, and these, as has already been shown, gave calcu¬
lated pressures four per cent and ten per cent higher
in the dilatation of aeriform fluids by heat. They seem to™stl
be dilatable nearly in the proportion of their present dila-tlou
tation. For, if we suppose the vapours to resemble air
in having their elasticity in any given temperature pro¬
portional to their density, we must suppose that if steam
of the elasticity 60, that is, under a pressure of 60 inches
of mercury, were subjected to a pressure of 30 inches,
it would expand into twice its present bulk. The aug¬
mentation of elasticity, therefore, is the measure of the
bulk into which it would expand, in order to acquire its
former elasticity. Taking the increase of elasticity,
as a measure of the bulk into which it would ex¬
pand under one constant pressure, we see that equal
increments of temperature produce nearly equal multi¬
plications of bulk. Thus, if a certain diminution of
temperature, diminishes the bulk of steam f another equal
diminution will very nearly diminish this new bulk A.
Thus, in our experiments (Art. 25), the temperatures
being in arithmetical progression, having equal differ¬
ences, we see that the corresponding elasticities are very
nearly in the continued proportion of \ to 2, thus :
Temperatures 110° 140° 170° 200° 230°
Corresponding ) 2 25 5J5 1L05 22.62 44.7.
Elasticities, J
Now, although extreme temperatures differ consider¬
ably from this law, still we see that there is a consider¬
able approximation to it; and it will frequently assist us,
to recollect that within these limits an increase of 30° ot
temperature nearly doubles the elasticity and bulk of
watery vapour.
This law obtains exactly in air and other gases, ail ot
which are subject to the Boylean law, or law of Marriotte,
as it is called, and have their elasticity proportional to
their bulk inversely. If the bulk were always augmented
in the same proportion by equal augmentations of tem¬
perature, the elasticities would be accurately represented
by the ordinates of a logarithmic curve, of which the tem¬
peratures are the corresponding absciss* ; and we might
contrive such a scale for our thermometer, that the tem¬
peratures would be the common logarithms of the elasti¬
cities, or of the bulks having equal elasticity; or, with
our present scale, we may find such a multiplier m, tor
the number t degrees of our thermometer (above the
temperature where the elasticity is equal to unity), that
this multiple shall be the common logarithm of the elas¬
ticity F ; so that
Log. V — m    A. _ . i). a-
36. As Dr Dalton was one of the earliest to investigate r
the properties of steam by well-contrived expenmen, ^ ^
he has likewise been the most successful in obtammg pr-ti0[
found and accurate views of those general relations wi
connect this with co-ordinate branches of p iysma
ledge. His experimental researches have been the m
of imitation to all subsequent investigators. His appa
tus was simple, his artifices were highly refine ,
processes elegant and precise; and, consequen y>
results of his labour were immediately transferr
Avorks of highest philosophical character on ^
tinent and at home, and became part of t e p ^
accurate science. But his philosophical viewswe
so readily and widely received, and the fault P
with their author himself. He had overreached the
STEAM.
i. isting condition of the other branches of contemporaneous
science; and in taking for granted the accuracy of the
pr [_ existing state of knowledge, he proceeded to raise a theo-
ton > retical structure on ground not yet sufficiently ascertained
and determined. The result has been, as might have been
anticipated, that now, when the progress of accurate
knowledge has altered the conditions on which his system
was based, his theory, becoming inapplicable to the facts,
has been thrown aside, and, instead of having been modi¬
fied, as it ought to have been, in conformity with the ad¬
vancement of science, it has been hastily abandoned or
undeservedly neglected.
From an extensive and laborious review of all that has
since been added to the stores of our experimental facts on
the properties of vapour, we have been conducted to this
conclusion, that of all the views that have been taken of
the constitution and laws of vapour, Dr Dalton’s are those
from which we may gain the clearest and most adequate
conceptions ; and therefore we have undertaken the task
of reviewing the subject, and of making those changes
and modifications which are now required to represent
with fidelity and precision the advanced state of our know¬
ledge.
If we examine any series of even the earlier experiments
on the vapour of water (such as those in Art. 27), we
cannot fail to recognise a certain degree of regularity in
the progress of the increasing force of the vapour as the
temperature is successively augmented. At the temper¬
ature of freezing water, the force of its vapour being-
taken at two-tenths of an inch, we see that it becomes
more than doubled by raising the temperature 22'j° : this
again is rather more than doubled at 221° of additional
heat; and this is again exactly doubled by a third addition
of 22|°. But another addition of 22^° of heat scarcely
doubles the pressure ; and 22±° more fall still further
short of producing that effect; so that, while the increase
of the force of the steam takes place rapidly, with equal
additions of heat, the rapidity of the increase does not
maintain a constant proportion, but slowly diminishes as
the temperature ascends. This will be plainer in the fol¬
lowing table:—
Temperature
of the Vapour,
32°
541
77
99i
122“
1441
167
1891
212
Pressure on
Mercury.
0-200 )
0-445 /
0-910
1-820
3-500
6-450
11-250
18-800
30-000
Proportion of
Increase.
^ — Too
2 — loo
O J2 3
Z   100
9   _4_L
z — 100
Decrease of
Proportion.
from this simple collocation of results, a principle of
progression is manifested. The number of degrees in the
nrst column increases at each step by 221 degrees, and the
num er in the second column on the same line is nearly
ou e every step. At first, as the third column shows,
1 ii> more than doubled by next time it is more than
on e y and next it is doubled exactly; after this,
owever, it falls jtLy short of being doubled, next time by
r ijCe | Ui^ quantity, and so on, till we find at last that it
rL nr, r °f (louljlin8' everJ time by about 8 or 9 hum
mav A °r ?Vei7 1H degrees. Although, therefore, we
tin ^ rS^ disappointed in finding that the reduplica-
ture ni n°- pr0?eed with tIie regularity of a law of na-
tlm *S1 ^ ^ satis6aetory to know that the deviation from
law i* itself the subject of a tolerably simple
’ S° as to enable us to predict, with some measure of
VOL. XX.
accuracy, what would take place if we were to add another
increment of 22^ degrees. We should then diminish the
number in the third column by y|L, and by doubling the
pressure, and having regard to this diminution from the
preceding numbers, 2—ymy we should have at
> 2341° 45.00 2.-25o°o —9
And again at
257 63.90 2.—-4$. —8
It was in this way that Dr Dalton examined his expe¬
riments, and proceeded to form his tables, so as to include
not only those points which he had already examined by
experiment, but to fill up the vacancies, and extend them
beyond the range which his actual observation had reach¬
ed. He thus completed the table which we have already
given. This was much more accurate than any previous
table, and, being more extensive, formed a valuable ad¬
dition to our knowledge.
This simple method of interpolation by which Dr
Dalton constructed his table, although it suited perfectly,
the limited object which he at that time had in view-, and
coincided with the limited range of his observations, was
not of a sufficiently general description to stretch far be¬
yond that sphere. It is obvious, that if his progression
were continued much further, it would come to an end of
itself; because the constant diminution of the proportion
in the third column would bring it down to nothing, and
so the march of the method would close and retrograde,
and would thus bring the method of the formation into
opposition with the march of the fact, for the force of the
vapour continues to increase. Dr Dalton was himself
the first to recognise the limited applicability of his method
of interpolation to wide ranges of temperature ; and, ac¬
cordingly, in his lectures on heat, delivered at Edinburgh
and Glasgow in 1807> and in his JYew System of Chemistry,
published 1808, he developed those larger and more ma¬
tured viewrs which had grown up in his mind during a
longer and more thorough investigation of the subject.
It does not belong to this article to consider the nature,
and decide on the merits of Dr Dalton’s theory of
temperature; nor is a perfect acquaintance with that
theory of any further use in understanding his views of
the constitution of vapour, than to enable us to perceive
how he was led from the former to the latter. For the
validity of his views regarding steam, it is indeed of no
consequence whether the theory of temperature from
which it was originally deduced, be true or erroneous.
The general laws which he has determined for elastic va¬
pours, form the well-settled foundation on which any theory
of temperature, true or false, must in some measure ulti¬
mately rest.
The only circumstances in regard to temperature which
it is proper to keep in view, are these : that the present
thermometer used to indicate temperature is not to be
regarded as an exact measure of the quantity of heat pro¬
ducing that temperature. This is shown from the cir¬
cumstance, that the same quantity of fuel which heats
water 10° from 180° to 190°, will not heat it from 80° to
90°, an equal interval. From considerations of this nature
it was evident that the divisions of the common scale were
too large near the bottom, and too small in the higher
portions ; and Dr Dalton evinced this difference to be so
great, that 72° of the common scale below the freezing
point of water down to the freezing point of mercury,
were to be reckoned as equivalent to as many as 207° of
Dalton’s scale. Proceeding on this view, it was necessary
to find the ratio of these two series of indications, the
indications of Dalton’s and of Fahrenheit’s scale ; and he
accordingly found that the progression of Fahrenheit’s
scale was in a high geometrical proportion to the incre¬
ments of true temperature of the new one. On this prin¬
ciple he proceeded to construct his new scale of tempera¬
ture—-of which the following is a specimen.
4 F
593
Steam.
Dr Dal¬
ton’s In¬
vestiga¬
tion.
594
Steam.
Dr Dal¬
ton’s In¬
vestiga¬
tion.
M. de Pro
ny’s For-
mulse.
STEAM.
Fahrenheit’s Scale. _ Dalton's Scale.
 40° (Freezing point of Mercury), —175°
(Freezing point of water), + 32
(Middle of scale), 122
(Boiling point of water), 212
 ’..'.....1...    302
  342
32
110
212
296
342.7
409-8
perature centigrade, and At, py p,; equidistant S: m,
constants derived from experiment.—For water, these ^
values are:—
—0.0000000196 p=l.136006
520.3   402
600.7     422
By this new scale of temperature it was found that
many of the apparent anomalies in the effects of heat were
resolved, and the complex relations of its phenomena ren¬
dered very simple. Amongst others, the most important
were the phenomena of vapours, as it was found that, on
the new scale of temperature, the elastic force of dif¬
ferent vapours increased almost exactly in a uniform
ratio to equal increments of heat.
But the further progress of experimental science soon
raised up serious grounds of objection to this view. It
was found that Dr Dalton had rated the inaccuracies of
the present scale somewhat too high. His results were
thus rendered inapplicable to the advanced state of some
branches of thermal science; and his theory, instead of
being modified and improved, was first hastily discredited
and then summarily dismissed. Unable to follow the
theory to its whole extent, it was abandoned even when
it had furnished a safe guide thoroughly to explicate the
intricacies of obscure truth.
It is now, therefore, necessary to examine the views of
those who have endeavoured to form adequate represen¬
tations of the mathematical law which connects the elas¬
tic force of vapour with its temperature. We shall first
of all examine the methods and views which they have
adopted, and then consider whether there may not be
deduced from the clear theoretical views of Dr Dalton,
tested and modified by the results of modern experiment,
mathematical expressions of a character, at once less em¬
pirical, and more closely in accordance with observed
phenomena
p= +0.023403
tf
p= —0.023403
p= 1.038037
p=1.022490
and hence he has formed the numbers which we have
united in a subsequent table.
M. de Prony’s formula for the vapour of alcohol is—
z=P fx +1* p* +i* p* +!*;
the constants being
l*= —0.000058
p=1.090391
fc= +0.024669
tf
fi= +0.005677
p= 1.045453
«
p=0.836030
1“=
(r‘+r+ti\
l / ft w I
= —0.030288
These numbers refer to the centigrade thermometer,
and to an atmosphere of 0.7577 metres in height.
These formulae indicate some singular phenomena at
high temperatures, which have not been observed in re¬
cent experiments, and may therefore be deemed anomalies
of the formulae themselves rather than the legitimate re¬
sults of the experiments they were intended to represent.
The formulae are, besides, much too operose to be useful.
38. The experiments of Dr Dalton are adopted by La- Laj ce
place in the fourth volume of the Mechanique Celeste, F iu
where we find him applying them to the calculation of
the influence of the aqueous vapour of the atmosphere
upon astronomical refractions. As an empirical formula
agreeing sufficiently with Dr Dalton’s experiments, he
adopted the following approximation :—
f zz p no)” 0 0154547—n9'0-0000625826  C.
37. M. de Prony was the first to represent, hy a purely f ,• •'”he ^ temperature n of the centesimal
empirical formula, the law which governs the relation »ecli0ncd from the point of ebullition, and p the
pressure of the atmosphere nr 0.76 metres; or that we have
only to add to the log. of 0-76 the quantity 72.0.0154547
.—w2.0.0000625826 and we have the log. of the common
tabular logarithm of the corresponding elasticity at n cen-
tisimal degrees of temperature—Mech. Cel. iv. 273.
These numbers agree very well with the observations
between the temperature and the elasticity of aqueous
vapour. It was derived by him, in 1796, from the expe¬
riments of M. de Betancourt, and constructed according
to a method of interpolation, which he afterwards pre¬
sented to the Academy of Sciences, and which they have
placed among the Memoires des Savans Etrangers.
The Formula which he has thus obtained is
y=eP + Xx —e + e <7vr—P + e ;
y being the height of the mercurial column of pressure.
x the temperature.
e the base of the common log. . . =10.
p. an empirical co-efficient,
they were intended to represent, from 0° to 100° centigrade;
but are found inaccurate above and below these points
U Vy ~     A # # ,
39. M. Biot, adopting still the methods and experiments Bn1)
= 0.068831
= 0.019438
= 0.013490
= 0.058576
= 0.049157
of Dr Dalton, found it necessary to modify the formula in
order to obtain a closer approximation to truth. Using
the notation in which we have expressed Dr Daltons
method of calculation, Biot considers
fn=p.an , ■
as a first approximation ; of which the logarithmic torn i
Log./ = log. 30. + n log. a;
The same formula holds in the case of alcoholic vapour,
the numerical co-efficients being changed, and a constant
quantity A= 1.126447 subtracted from the result.
fc= —0.04853, a=0.02393, <r=0.0467, p=2.60249
p'= —0.63414, V= 0.09653, ^'=0.0294, (>'=1.64909
This formula was afterwards improved by its author,
and presented in the following more elegant and con¬
venient shape.
+(* p* +p4  B.
= 4.686080 which would always give the logarithm of the elastic
= 3.932560 force, provided the ratio were accurately constant ; but, a»
it is variable in Dr Dalton’s observed numbers, it would
be convenient to represent the variation of the logarit m
of the elastic force thus :—
Log./, = log. 30. + «?2 -f- /3 ?22 + y n3, &c.
Ct, P, y, being constants derived from experiments thus—
and setting out from 100° cent, as the zero— .
If n = 0° the number given by exp. is F0 = 30. h4-
—  F0< = U.25U
72 = 25
72 = 50
72 = 75
Fl5= 3.500
F75= 0.910
Where z is the mercurial column of pressure, x the tem-
By substituting successively these values in the formula
we get
!,m.
STEAM.
p, sila-
— 0.4259687 = 25a + 625/3 + 15625.y.
— 0.9330519 — 50a -j- 2500/3 + 125000.y.
— 10.5180799 = 75a + .5625/3 + 4-21875.y.
From these three equations we can readily obtain the
three values wanted of a, /3, and y, and which we find to be
a = — 0.01537419550
/3 z= — 0.00006742735
y = + 0.00000003381
and hence the whole equation
Log. 30./„ = log. 30. + a n + /3 «2 4. y n3
is now determined in English inches for the centigrade
thermometer ; and in order to compare it with the French
observations, it is only necessary to remember that
30. in. =: 0.7679 French metres, and to transform it thus :
Log. Fn = log.0'«.76199 — 0.00112919957 — 0.01537278757...N,
— 0.00006731995N* + 0.00000003374N3
and in the common table of logarithms
Fn =; Om-76.1 0 + BN" + CN4
t being reckoned above 212 Fahr. and F being the force
in inches of mercury. Hence we get inversely :
or,
Ito: ;
For' .a.
Log. Fn - T.8808201 + AN + BN2 + CN3
which are almost identical with Laplace’s formula (C),
the degrees being reckoned positively from 100° cent,
downwards, and negatively upwards.
In degrees Fahrenheit and English inches, the formula
in this shape becomes—
Log. F/ - 1.4771213T 0.00854121972/
— 0.00002081091/2 + 0.00000000580/3...D.
These formulae are far from representing the results of
late experiments at high temperatures, although, with in the
limits of one atmosphere, they accord pretty closely with
Dr Dalton’s early observations.
40. In the first volume of the new series of the Philo¬
sophical Magazine, Mr Ivory has given a formula con¬
structed to represent empirically the experiments of Dr
Ure. It is—
.0029
For very small changes of temperature. Dr Young’s for¬
mula becomes
t = 1.642*
e being the corresponding slight variation of pressure from
30 inches, which corresponds, within three-thousandth
parts, with the mean between Deluc’s correction 1.598,
and Shuckburg’s 1.70, or 1.645*.
Notwithstanding the simplicity of the form of this ex¬
pression, and the facilities which it presents for ready
calculation, it is impossible to adopt it, as it deviates
widely and rapidly from the results of observation when
extended to high temperatures. Induced, however, by the
simplicity of the expression, and not a little influenced, it
may be, by the high authority of a name that will ever be
distinguished among the most distinguished of those who
have contributed immortal truths to the treasures of phy¬
sical science, the example of Dr Young has drawn after it
many followers. Southern, Creighton, Coriolis, Tredgold,
Arago, and Dulong, have successively attempted to modify
the formula of Young, so as to twist it into some measure
of conformity with observed phenomena—we shall see
with how little success.
Dr
Y oung’s
Formula.
45, Mr Creighton adopted a similar formula to repre- Creigh-
sent L re ^experiments, only changing the constant expon- ton’s For-
ent from / to 6 ; so that, making F the force of steam in mula.
inches of mercury — 0.09, and the temperature of Fahren¬
heit -f 85° = t, we have
t
=( i_y
\168.878/
.K.
Log. A — .0087466#—000015178 4.000000024825#3 E.
Stln
m.r
The application of this formula is laborious. It is of
exactly the same nature with that of Laplace and Biot,
and only represents the observations of Dr Ure within
their narrow limits ; extended to higher temperatures, it
seems to deviate considerably from the truth, as may be
seen from our table (Art. 57.)
t’s 41. Schmidt and Soldner, reviewing Dr Dalton’s expe-
(l- nments, have each constructed a formula to represent
t- them:
Schmidt’s is—F — #U363 + .002i*    
Soldner’s formula is—
(662—t) (212—#)
168.878;
Log. F = (Log. # —2.22679)6
46. Mr Southern represented his experiments bv the o ,
formula J Southern’
P_(<+51.3)^3 t
87344.000000.    
Or,
Log. (1.1F) = 5.13 Log. (#4-51.3)—10.94123
And,
Log. ^+fil ■il-L°g-(F + 0-l)+10-94123
5.13
F = Log. 30.13
52042
.G.
42. In the Edinburgh Journal of Science for 1829, Mr
Tregaskis has given a theorem, which furnishes a rough
■ approximation to experiment. It is this : that 4 of the
temperature above 32°, added to vapour, will double its
elasticity.
’s 43. M. Roche, Professor of Mathematics at Toulon,
sent to the Academy of Sciences, in 1828, a memoir on
this subject, in which he proposes a formula, deduced from
general principles. This formula is—
F = 760 4-10—--—  H
This formula agrees closely with the French experiments.
44. Dr Thomas Young invented a species of formula
entirely new. Abandoning altogether the formula in
which one of the variables is involved as an exponent,
and abandoning altogether the views from which formula!
b,. is kind had been derived, he assumed an expression
''him is apparently perfectly arbitrary, and which has
T' (.'n aclapted empirically to the experiments of Dr Dalton.
«is this:
47. Mr Tredgold simply reinstated Creighton’s expo- „
nent, altering the co-efficient to bring it nearer to those i,red£®ld
experiments with which he was acquainted when his work imU a'
was written ; but it is inaccurate at high temperatures,
and like that of Creighton.
■p  100 \ ®
Mttt-)   
48. To adapt the formula to more recent experiments,
M. Coriolis (in his work l)u Calcul de VEffet des Ma- I9orioli1s’s
chines^ 4to, 1829) changed the exponent to 5.355, making1 ormu u-
it in French measures,
p/14-0.01878 A
\ 2.878 /
5.355
• N.
reckoning from 0° cent, in atmospheres of 0.76 metres of
mercury.
49- The French Academy of Sciences have finally re¬
duced the index to 5.; finding that number, represent their Formula
experiments at high temperatures, they adopted the fol- °Jthe.
lowing expression : .1 e ,
t-, , Academy.
F = (14.0.7153#)5   o.
to give the elasticity in atmospheres of 0.76 metres, the
temperature being in centesimal degrees, of course
1
t =
*1-
F = (i q. 0.0029.U7    I.
0.7151
50. In conclusion, the committee of the Franklin Insti-
596
STEAM.
Steam.
tute have found it necessary to reinstate the index 6, of
Creighton, only modifying Dr Young’s constant multiplier,
Formula so as to obtain
 P.
of the
Franklin
Institute.
F = (0.00333^+1 )6  
51. It may he useful to collate these formulae, and for
this purpose they are assimilated in notation as follows
F being the elastic force due to a certain temperature t.
Robison’s Formula.
Log. J?t — mt  .......A.
Prony’s Formula.
F* = f* p« + p* + f4 + &c 
Laplace’s Formula.
F< =T 0.m 76.(10)*-0-0154547 — t4*0,0000625826.,. C .
Biot’s Formula.
Ft = Om.76, (io)A* + Bt2 + c<*  D*
Ivory’s Formula.
F/ = 30. (0.0087466# — 0.000015178#2
-p. 0.0000002483#3)   E.
Schmidt’s Formula.
F< = ^1.163 + 002K   ,...F.
Soldner’s Formula.
Roche’s Formula.
Ft = 760. 10 m f
H.
Fe
S’
114-0.03#
Dr Thomas Young’s Formula.
F( = (0.0029# +l)7  *  L
Creighton’s Formula.
F, = (‘X  K.
\l6.57l
Southern’s Formula.
F; rr (<+51'3^5—4-0.1  E.
87344,000,000
Tredgold’s Formula.
F, =    «•
Coriolis’ Formula.
^ /0.01878#4-1\5,355 TM
F‘ = \ 2^878 /    -
Commission of the French Academy.
F/=(0.7153#4-1)5     O,
Committee of the Franklin Institute.
Ft = (0.00333# 4-1)6  P*
Examina- 52. From his earlier experiments Dr Dalton constructed
tion of the a scale 0f true temperature, in which the point of freezing
Law of the mercury is placed at 175°, and in the method he there
/orefof adopts, the increments of the scale of true temperature are
Stein as the square roots of the corresponding expansions of the
mercury from its point of maximum density. A his scale
was soon made the subject of a close experimeqfel scru¬
tiny by Messrs Dulong and Petit, and afterwards of less
accurate, though more acrimonious, strictures by Dr
Ure. . ,
This scale was, in fact, slightly inaccurate, because
it was founded on the comparatively incorrect data of
the experimental physics of that date. It is, however,
scarcely fair to institute a comparison between the re¬
sults of a theory based on certain phenomena and the
results of experiments which the improvement of our
knowledge has entirely altered. It were less unjust to
the theory, and more wise as regards the interest of
philosophy, first to examine how far it would have been
modified by recent discoveries and then to compare its
#
r
then since (5)
Log. a -f log. m.n = log./
or making a the unit of pressure, for simplicity, we ge
_ log-/
log. m
whence by substitution in 5 when q-=n, that is, whe"
elastic force is that which corresponds to the temper
q, we get
log-/
r ~~ P log. w......
therefore
and
Log.J = -]^-log./+log.».
° loer. m
results with the legitimate consequences of the data on Su,
which it rests. It ought also to be recorded, that Dr ^ ^
Dalton published, in the third part of his Chemical Exc na.
Philosophy in 1827, the corrected experimental results to tion: th9
which he had been conducted by the improved methods of Lav the
observation, and the increased experience of thirty years E io
which had elapsed from his first experiments, while
modern writers continue to use the old numbers which
should have been altogether discarded.
Adopting, then, Dr Dalton’s recent experiments helow
the point of ebullition of water, and the experiments of
the French and American Institutes above that point
to 24. atmospheres, let us see what theory the views of
Dr Dalton would conduct us to, setting out from these
improved data.
Now, Dr Dalton found that, in his experiments, a certain
progression of temperatures was accompanied by a certain
progression of elastic force ; but his range of experiment
being too small, he adopted an erroneous progression, by
which, reckoning this progression as. rising from the
freezing point of mercury, and proceeding as the square
roots of the equal expansions of mercury above that point,
gave 175° as the point corresponding to the zero of the
scale and the origin of his progression.
53. In examining this subject again, I have found that
this gradation of temperatures, though not exact in
truth, is analogous to one which may be deduced^ from
the best experiments—and equally from Dr Dalton s and
those of the French Academy. The law at which I have
arrived is this—that if we reckon the temperatures from
the point of congelation of mercury in a logarithmic
series, the elastic force of steam forms a similar geome¬
tric series to these intervals of temperature. This would
indicate that equal intervals of temperature are those
which expand the substance of the thermometer through
equal fractional parts of its bulk, instead of equi-diiferen-
tial parts as at present, so that, instead of the common
arithmetical series as at present, viz.,
C4-^4-2f#4-3rf4-4^4-.... nd. •••*
we should have the temperatures represented by the geo¬
metrical series
(C-M). (14-d24-cZ34-d*4- vvvdn) ;r./3
and then the corresponding elasticities would be the
geometrical series
(F + h). (14-Zi24-&34-/i4 + fc”)- 
54. Let us, therefore, endeavour to obtain the values of
two such series, so as to coincide with the best experi¬
ments. For this purpose we pat the series y into the
form „ 5
a mn=f.     ®
and the series representing the progression of tempera¬
tures into the form
STEAM.
597
i Log./ = (log. i—log. ti) -?0g'm t
log. p
f iina- ° r
ti f the When, therefore, p and r are determined for a given
l fth® value of m, the relative is obtained. If we take the
value to =2 2, and if we take from the experiments of the
jn. Frcneh Academy and Franklin Institute, values of t and
f above and below 30 inches, or unity, which is the value of
m, and let these values be if, t", f, f; then from (£) we
have
and
Jog. log./' —log. log./" = 0 i
We have only, therefore, to assume r so as to satisfy
these conditions, Now,
t _ ;Fahr._|_c
r ~~ 212-Fc
that is to say, if we reckon temperature from some given
point c above or below the usual zero, viz. at the freezing
point of mercury, like Dr Dalton’s scale of temperature,
and use the elastic force at 212° as our unit of pressure,
we have then only to take /' and /" from the tables of
experiment, and give such a value to c as will satisfy the
conditions. But as Dr Dalton places that zero at 175°
we get
i _ fFahr- + 1759
r ~ 387 *
We have still to find p the index of progression, cor¬
responding to the values of f and/" in the experiments.
If we take the value of m zz 2, then since by £
log, m
tog./*——
P
r W, . Fr?m tho French experiments we get /?= 1.103, whence
4 ul% substitution, r being=387°, 1.102, to^.2, we have
387° = (1.103)..   R.
from Dr Dalton’s experiments we get
r = 387°, p — 1.1320, to - 2.602,
whence
log. F«
log. 2.602
#+175^ = (1.1320) ,   S.
387°
From the combination of Dr Dalton’s experiments
below 30 inches, with the mean between those of the
French Academy and the Franklin Institute, we get
r =; 330°, ' p =-1.11401, to =2.0,
whence
log f.
log. 2
^+121° =(1.11401) T.
333°
It is from equation S and equation T that we have con-
sj'ruct®<l ll16 large table (Art. 56) in which the results of
t ese formulae are compared with experiment; the formula
”r lugh-pressure steam being compared with the mean of
the French and American experiments ; but, as they do not
extend below 212°, that part is compared with Dr
Ualton’s table. The coincidence of these formulae with
-P-u-t turns out to be much closer than could pos¬
sibly have been expected where the discrepancies of
experiments from each other are so great. The experi¬
ments of Dr Ure deviate from those of Dr Dalton, below
the pressure of the atmosphere, as much as .33, and the
greatest deviation of the formulae is .08. At pressures
above the atmosphere the maximum deviation in the first
ten atmospheres between the French and American
experiments amounts to 6.4°, while the maximum deviation
of the formulae is only 1.1®.—
It is, however, remarkable, that in all the experiments
hitherto made, the law of elasticity below the atmospheric
pressure appears to deviate considerably from that above
the atmosphere—perhaps it may arise from the circum¬
stance that the experiments below atmospheric pressure
have been made with different apparatus, having errors of
a different kind from those made at high pressures above
the atmosphere.
From these equations we easily deduce the following
formulae in a shape convenient for calculation.
Log. F = 7.71307 (log. — 2.587711)
Log. t = 0.12965.log. F + 2.587711
when f=fFahr- 4-175.®
Log. F=6.42 (log. *—2.5224442)
Log. *=0.1557634. log. F-{-52244422.
when *=*Fahr. -J- 121.®
These formulae converted into rules are as follows: 
To find the pressure corresponding to any given tem¬
perature of steam above 212°—.
Rule. To the temperature add 121®, find the logarithm
of that sum, subtract from this logarithm the number
2.5224442, and multiply the remaining number by 6.42,
the product is the logarithm of the pressure in atmos¬
pheres of 30 inches of mercury.
To find the temperature of steam, having any given
pressure greater than that of the atmosphere 
Rule. Find the logarithm of the pressure in atmospheres,
multiply it by 0.1557634, add to the product 2.5224442;
the sum is the logarithm of the temperature, from which,
if 121° be subtracted, the remainder will be the tempera¬
ture on the common scale.
Example. To find the temperature at which high pres¬
sure steam will exert a force greater than the atmosphere
by 195 lbs. on the inch—
195. lbs. = 390. inches of mercury,
390. inches of mercury = 13. atmospheres,
14 atmospheres = total elastic force of the steam.
Logarithm of 14...,..1.1461280
.1557634
11461280
5730640
573064
80227
6876
342
44
.17852473
Add 2.5224442
502.306 is the number of which 2.7009689~is the log.
121. being subtracted
381.306° is the temperature on Fahrenheit’s scale at which
the elastic force of steam has a pressure of 14
atmospheres; an elastic force of 13.Xl5- lb.
excess of pressure above the atmosphere on each
square inch, = 195. lbs.
To find the pressure corresponding to any given tem¬
perature of steam below 212°—
Rule. To the temperature add 175°, find the logarithm
of that sum, subtract from this logarithm the number
Steam.
New
Formulas.
New
Rules.
STEAM.
598
Steam.
New
Rules.
2.587711, and multiply the remainder by 7-71307; the
product is the logarithm of the pressure in decimal parts
of an atmosphere; which, if multiplied by 15. will give
pounds on the square inch, and by 30. inches of mercury.
To find the temperature at which steam will have a
given elastic force less than that of the atmosphere —
Rule. Find the logarithm of the pressure in decimal
parts of an atmosphere, multiply it by 0.U965, add to the
product 2.5877110 ; the sum is the logarithm of the tem¬
perature which will be expressed in degrees of Fahrenheit s
scale, if 175. he subtracted from it.
Example. To find the pressure of steam at 175 •
To 170°
Add 175°
The sum is 345°, of which the log. 2.5378191
subtract 2.5877110
the remainder 1.9501081
multiplied by 7-71307
6.6507567
6650756
95010
28503
6650
—(7.71307)
The next No. is 0.412837, its log. 1.6157786
30
12.384 inches of mercury is the pressure;
being 17.616 inches of mer. below the atmos.
30.000
By these rules the following table is calculated.
Table of the Elastic Force of Vapour in inches of Mer¬
cury, at different temperatures, according to our For¬
mula: S2 below 212° and T2 above it.
104° 10.75
165 11.01
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
11.28
11.56
11.85
12.05
12.36
12.66
12.96
13.26
13.56
13.86
14.16
14.47
14.78
15.09
15.41
15.73
16.06
16.40
16.75
17.10
17-46
17-83
18.21
18.60
19-00
19.42
192°
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
*212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
19-86
20.30
20.74
21.19
21.64
22.11
22.57
23.04
23.52
24.00
24.50
25.00
25.52
26.05
26.59
27.14
27.69
28.25
28.83
29.40
30.00
30.61
31.24
31.89
32.56
33.24
33.93
34.63
220° 35.35
221 36.08
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
337
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
36.80
37-54
38.31
39.11
39-94
40.70
41.66
42.55
43.46
44.29
45.14
45.95
46.78
47.58
48.39
49-21
50.04
50.86
51.70
52.53
53.37
54.22
55.07
55.93
56.73
57.60
248°
249
294.7
250.
274.1
291-9
306.8
319-2
329-9
339-3
348.8
355.6
363.0
369-4
375.5
381.3
387-0
391.9
396.7
401.3
405.8
410.0
444.6
470.5
491.4
58.48
59.37
60.00
60.27
90.00
120.00.
150.00
180.00
210.00
240.00
270.00
300.00
330.00
360.00
390.00
420.00
450.00
480.00
510.00
540.00
570.00
600.00
900.00
1200.00
1500.00
St k
i ■
Tio.
55. The formulaj thus given are in such perfect accor¬
dance with our best experimental knowdedge, that we can¬
not withhold our assent from the correctness of the prin-
eiples from which they have been deduced. At the same time,
we desiderate very much a better series of experiments
than we yet possess, as the range of doubtful temperature
above 212° is far wider than the present perfect state of
experimental science, and our improved means of observ¬
ing, can at all warrant. The discrepancies between the
experiments above and below 212° show, that the two series
should if possible be performed with identical apparatus.
The formula; we have obtained have been founded on the
hypothesis, that bodies expand nearly equal proportions
of bulk in equal intervals of true temperature; and we
have found that the elastic force of steam increases m
equal proportions, from equal increments of temperature,
reckoned in true intervals from the bottom of the scale.
Our formula should, however, be capable of being' re¬
duced into a form closely resembling those which have
preceded it, in so far as these have represented approxi¬
mately the experiments they were made to represent;
thus the formula of Laplace and his followers is of the orm
P  Q, m t + rn t2 m + Ssc‘ infinit.
So, in like manner, we should obtain from Equation T the
f0U0WingV Act
Log-. 2 X ' 2 log c—log.(''—;°) I' (-+-+■'+&C
•< 2log.c—log.(c—f°)—k\ .
i ^ c2 2c4 3c6
—log-C —log. (1.11401) log-F = 0
which is easily presented in a form absolutely the same.
In like manner, it may be presented at once in the tom
adopted by Dr Thomas Young and all his followers, viz.
for, if we take our formula S2
Log. F=7.71307 (log. £—2.587711)
we get, resuming the natural number,
p _ /£ + 175\7,715
V 387 J
53‘
Or, if we take formula T2, we get
p^Ct^T’42 Ty
We thus find, that the old formula; have all apf™x''
mated in a greater or less degree to the repi esen a
STEAM.
am- the very hypothesis on which ours has now been formed.
They thus £uld greatly to the probability of its truth,
ula- We do not, however, mean to assert," that the zero of
ital the mercurial thermometer is absolutely at 175° or 121°
ipk below the present 0. or that the progression of the tem¬
peratures has been fixed accurately for mercury or for
vapour. On the contrary, we have seen that the discre¬
pancies of the results ob tained by different physical expe¬
rimenters are great, and do not admit of obtaining un¬
599
changeable numerical indices of progression, either of the Steam,
temperatures or the corresponding elastic force. The 'wy-w'
existence of these two progressions, and their character, Compara-
has, we think, been established, and our research has the tive Tables
effect of confirming, the profound views of Dr Dalton, of Elastie
which have, we think, been ill understood and insuffi- Force<
ciently appreciated.
56. The following table exhibits some formulae and
experiments collated:
i. | il
Tempera¬
ture. | Dalton.
Fahrenheit.'
Table of the force of Steam at different temperatures from 0° to 500°.
0°
10
20
S2
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
150
160
170
180
190
200
210
212
220
230
240
0.08
0.12
0.17
0.26
0.34
0.49
0.65
0.87
1.16
1.59
2.12
2.79
3.63
4.71
6.05
7.73
9.79
12.31
15.38
18.98
23.51
28.82
30.00
35.18
44.60
53.45
III.
Ure.
0.20
0.25
0.36
0.52
0.73
1.01
1.36
1.86
2.45
3.30
4.37
5.78
7.53
9.60
12.05
15.16
19.00
23.60
28.88
30.00
35.54
43.10
51.70
IV.
Youn?.
0.11
0.18
0.20
0.36
0.53
0.75
1.05
1.44
1.95
2.62
3.46
4.54
5.88
7.55
9.62
12.14
15.23
18.96
23.44
28.81
30.00
35.19
42.47
51.66
V.
Ivory.
0.36
6.73
1.36
2A6
4.41
7.42
12.65
18.93
28.81
30.00
42.63
Tred-
gold.
0.17
0.24
0.37
0.55
0.78
1.11
1.53
2.08
2.79
3.68
4.81
6.21
7,94
10.05
12.60
15.67
19.00
23.71
28.86
30.00
34.92
42.00
50.24
South¬
ern
0.16
0.22
0.33
0.48
0.68
0.95
0.34
1.84
2.56
3.46
4.43
5.75
7.46
9.52
12.14
15.20
30.00
VIII
Robison
0.00
0.10
0.20
0.35
0.55
0.82
1.18
1.60
2.25
3.00
3.95
5.15
6.72
8.65
11.05
14.05
17.85
22.62
28.65
30.00
35.8
44.5
■34.9
IX.
Watt.
0.77
1.55
5.14
8.92
11.37
14.73
19,00
29,40
33.65
40.-1-
49,0
Frank.
Inst.
XI.
New
For¬
mula.
0.07
0.10
0.15
0.24
0.32
0.45
0.64
0.88
1.20
1.61
2.15
2.83
3.69
4.78
6.15
7.80
9.85
12.38
15.41
18.90
23.52
28.82
30.00
35.10
42.60
51.42
XII.
Diff.Dalt
Sc Ure’s
Expts,
— .06
— .09
— .13
— .13
— .14
— .16
— .23
— .24
— .34
— .33
— .34
— .27
— .20
— .19
— .26
— .28
.12
.09
.07
0.00
0.36
1.50
1.75
XIII.
Diff
Acad.
Inst.
I.
Pressure in
Atmos¬
pheres.
1st At.
2d At.
3d At.
4th At.
5th At.
6th At.
7th At.
8th At.
9th At.
10th At.
Uth At.
12th At.
13th At.
14th At.
15th At.
16th At.
17th At.
18th At.
19th At.
20th At.
30th At.
10th At.
50th At.
French
Acad.
212.00
250.5
275.2
293.7
308.8
320.4
331.7
362.0
374.8
358.9
366.8
374.0
380.6
386.9
392.8
398.5
403.8
408.9
413.9
418.5
457.2
466.6
510.6
III.
Dr Ure.
212o
250-0
275-0
291.5
304.5
315.5
325.5
336.0
345
Table of the Force of Steam at different Temperatures (continued).
XIV.
Diff.
Tred. &
Dalton.
— .09
— .10
— .11
— .10
— .09
— .05
— .06
— .04
— .00
— .05
.10
.16
--.21
--.26
.29
--.29
--.02
— .20
04
+ .00
-.26
2.13
3.21
xv.
Diff. New
Formula
& Dalton.
— .01
— .02
— .02
— .02
— .02
— .04
— .01
--.01
--.04
--.02
--.03
.04
--.06
--.07
--.08
.07
.06
.07
+ .03
.02
.01
.00
0.00
— .15
-2.00
2.03
XVI,
Tempera¬
ture.
Fahrenheit
0o
10
20
32
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
150
160
170
180
190
200
2l0
212
220
230
240
IV.
Young.
V.
Ivory,
2120
240-3
271
288
302
2120
249
290
337
VI.
Tredgi
212o
250+
274--
294- -
309—-
322.—
VII.
South,
342+34
372.-
414
VIII.
Robison,
212o
7
IX.
Watt.
o
Franklin New
Institut. Form.
212o
250.0
275.2
291.5
304.5
315.5
326.5
336.0
345.0
352.5
383,8
405
The first and last columns contain the successive tem¬
peratures, as far as 240°, and after that the number
0 atmospheres of pressure ; and their reference ex
tends wholly across the table.
ol. II. contains the later experiments of Dr Dalton,
interpolated, where necessary, down to 24()o ; the
remainder of that column is from the experiments of
the French Academy,
2120
249.7
274.1
291.9
306.8
319.2
329.9
339.3
348.8
355.6
363.0
369.4
375.5
381.3
387.0
391.9
396.7
401.3
405.8
410.
444.6
470.5
491.4
XII
Diff. Dr
Uro’s F.x-
perimts
0.00
XIII.
Diff.
Acad.
Inst.
000.2
— 0.5
— 0.2
— 2.2
— 4.3
— 4.9
— 5.7
— 6.0
— 5.0
— 6.4
— 9.0
XIV.
Diff.
Tred. &
Dalton
i
0.00O
1.4
■3.7
■4.0
^XV. XVI
Diff New Pressure
Form & Atmos-
Ac. Inst. pheres.
+3.3
+3.0
— 13.,
+2.3
0.00
— 0.55
— 1.0
— 0.7
— 0.1
+ 1.2
+ 11
+ 0.3
4-0.9
0.1
•0.3
— 1.7
1st At
2d At
3d At
4th At.
5th At
6th At.
7th At.
8th At.
9th At.
10th At.
11th At.
12th At.
13th At.
14th At.
15th At.
16th At.
17th At.
18th At.
19th At.
20th At.
30th At.
40th At.
50th At.
Col. III. contains the experiments of Dr Ure.
Cols. IV. V. and VL contain the formula of Dr Young-,
Mr Ivory, and Mr Tredgold.
Cols. VII. \ III. IX. and X. contain the experiments of
Southern, Robison, Watt, and the Franklin Institute.
Col. XI contains the numbers given by our formulm.
Col. XII. exhibits the differences between the experi¬
ments of Drs Dalton and Ure.
600
Steam.
Compara¬
tive Tables
of Elastic
Force.
Constitu¬
tion of
Steam.
Capacity
for Calo¬
ric.
STEAM.
Col. XIII. exhibits the differences between the experi¬
ments of the French Academy and the Franklin In¬
stitute.
Col. XIV. exhibits the deviations of Tredgold’s formula
from Dalton’s experiments, down to 240° ; and be¬
low that point, from the mean of the experiments^ of
the French Academy and the Franklin Institute, in¬
terpolated where required.
Col. XV. exhibits the difference between our formulae
and the best experiments, Dr Dalton’s being taken
down to 240° ; and the mean between those of the
French Academy and the Franklin Institute from that
point to the end of the table—interpolations being
used when necessary.
Section iv.—on the constitutional caloric op
STEAM, ITS DENSITY AND VOLUME AT DIFFERENT TEM¬
PERATURES, AND ITS GENERATION AND CONDENSA¬
TION.
greatest, and that the specific caloric, in equal volumes of St h
these substances, are nearly ^
Water, 1.000; oil, 0.450; mercury, 0.550.
The capacities for heat, and the specific caloric of dif¬
ferent substances, may be determined by cooling as well Spi
as heating them. An ounce of ice thrown upon a pound u(i
of mercury will cool it or an equal weight of oil much
more than water ; and, in general, the quantity of ice, or
of cold water, or of cold air, or any other fluid required to
cool a body, will exactly correspond to the quantity of
caloric required to heat it to the same degree of tempe¬
rature. A calorimeter measures the quantity of ice which
must be melted in cooling different substances, and is de¬
scribed in our article “ Heat.” The following are the
results of such of the most valuable experiments upon this
subject as are appropriate to our present enquiry :
Table of the specific Caloric in different substances.
Equal Equal
Weights. Volumes.
57. Having now ascertained the force that may he given
to steam by heating water in a confined space, so that we
can always obtain any force we desire by raising it to the
proper temperature, we have next to enquire what quantity
of heat is necessary to produce steam of that temperature
and force. The answer to this question is, to determine
the quantity of fuel necessary to generate steam of a given
power, and direct the economic application of that power.
The quantity of caloric necessary to transform a given
quantity of water into steam of the same temperature, is
called the caloric of elasticity of that substance. The
quantity of heat which it will contain at any given tem¬
perature is called its capacity for heat; and the relation
which subsists between the quantity of heat which some
well-known body, such as water or air, gives out or ac¬
quires, in a given change of temperature, and that which
any other substance will give out qr acquire in the same
circumstances, is called the specific yaloric of that sub¬
stance.
58. Of the quantity of the caloric of elasticity of any sub¬
stance, of its capacity for containing heat, and of its spe¬
cific caloric, the thermometer gives us no information.
An instrument for doing so may be called, as a distinction,
the calorimeter. Thus the thermometer measures the in¬
tensity of heat—the calorimeter its quantity.
If in three several vessels there be contained, at the
temperature of 32°, a pound weight of three different
fluids, water in one, mercury in the second, and oil in the
third ; and if the heat of an alcohol lamp be applied, first
of all to the mercury, then to the water, and next to the
oil, a thermometer being inserted in each, it will re¬
quire much longer time to heat the waiter to 212° of the
thermometer than the mercury, twenty-five times as
much alcohol being burnt in the process; whereas the oil
will be warmed to the same temperature on the thermo¬
meter, by half the quantity of caloric which is necessary
to heat the water to 212o. Therefore, the capacity of
water for heat is said to be twenty-five times as great as
that of mercury, and twice as great as the capacity of oil;
and the specific heats of these substances, in relation to
water, are thus represented :
Water, 1.000; oil, 0.520; mercury, 0.040 nearly.
If, instead of taking equal weights of these substances, we
had filled equal vessels with them, and then applied the
quantity of water necessary to heat them to equal tempe¬
ratures, we should have had the capacities and specifiq
heat of equal volumes, instead of equal masses as formerly ;
and it would have been found, that the quantity of alco¬
hol required to heat them to the same temperature, was
only half as much for the mercury as the water, and
greater for the water than the oil, in the proportion of 20
to 9 i showing that the capacity of water was still the
1.000
0.033
0.700
0.660
0.520
Water, . . .
Mercury, . . .
Alcohol, . . .
Sulphuric ether,
Spermaceti oil,
Olive oil, . . .
Sulphuric acid,
Nitric acid, . . . 0.620
Muriatic acid, . . 0.600
Sol. of salt (1.197) 0.780
Sol. of sugar (1.117) 0.770
Ice, ..... 0.900
Coal, ..... 0.280
Flint glass, . . . 0.190
Iron, 0.110
Copper, .... 0.095
Lead, 0.040
Tin, 0.070
Zinc, 0.100
Silver, . .
Gold, . . .
Platina, ....
Atmospheric air,
Hydrogen gas,
Oxygen gas, . .
Nitrogen gas,
Nitrous oxide gas,
Olefiant gas, . .
Carbonic oxide gas,
Carbonic acid gas,
1.000
0.470 Dulong and Petit.
0.570 Dalton.
0.500 Dalton.
0.450 Dalton.
0.309   Lavoisier & Laplace.
0.350 0.650 Dalton.
0.870 Dalton.
0.700 Dalton.
0.930 Dalton.
0.900 Dalton.
0.830 Dalton.
0.360 Dalton.
0.550 Dalton.
0.880 Dulong and Petit.
0.850 Dulong and Petit.
0.450 Dalton.
0.510 Dalton.
0.690 Dalton.
0.055   Dulong and Petit.
0.029   Dulong and Petit.
0.335   Dulong and Petit,
. 0.267 1.000* 1.000*
. 3.294 12.340 8.903
. 0.236 0.885 0.976
. 0.275 1.032 1.000
. 0.237 0.888 1.350
. 0.420 1.576 1.553
. 0.288 1.080 1.034
. 0.221 0.828 1.258
'd
p
a
rP ^
o d
o ^
69> Besides the capacity of different bodies for heat, and
the specific heat of each at given temperatures, there is
another condition of heat still more striking, and of
which the thermometer gives no indication. It is this:
that the same substance, at different times, may contain
different quantities of caloric, and yet the thermometer in
both cases give the same indication of temperature. Ice
at 32°, which is in the process of melting, and while its
bulk is diminishing by one-tenth part, receives as much
caloric as would raise its temperature, when melted, to
172° ; and after having received it all, remains still at the
same temperature as before, indicating 32° on the thermo¬
meter. In like manner, when the particles of the water ha've
acquired so much sensible heat as to raise its temperature
to 212°, it may receive as much more heat as would have
raised its temperature 950° or 960°, if it had continued to
be shown by the thermometer; but the water now assum¬
ing the state of steam, the thermometer indicates no ac*
cession, but remains in the water or in the steam still a
the temperature of 212°. In these two conditions, there-
* In these two columns air is assumed as unity, the first being the specific
heat under equal weights, and the second under equal volumes.
S T E
lam. fore, when the particles of ice are leaving the solid and
A M.
taking the liquid form, and again passing out of the liquid
intn flip vnnnrnns
:iiic
into the vaporous state, a large accession of caloric passes
into the substance without being’ detected by the thermo¬
meter ; this heat, insensible to the thermometer, and ma¬
nifested only by the calorimeter, is called latent heat.
The doctrine of latent heat was discovered by Dr Black.
The quantity of heat thus latent in the mass of a solid,
when it assumes the liquid state, is called the caloric of
fluidity. The latent caloric of a liquid passing into va¬
pour is called the caloric of elasticity or vaporization.
Caloric of Fluidity.
Sulphur,
Spermaceti, . ,
Lead,
Bees’ wrax, .
Zinc, .
Tin, .
Bismuth,
Ice,
144°
145
162
175
493
500
550
140
Caloric of Vaporization.
Water,
Alcohol,
Ether,
Petroleum, .
Oil of turpentine,
Nitric acid,
Liquid ammonia,
Vinegar,
967°
442
302
178
178
532
837
875
60. The determination of the latent heat of ordinary
steam is a pmoblem of considerable practical difficulty.
It may be obtained rudely by very simple contrivances.
If a lamp, which burns with tolerable uniformity, be ap¬
plied to a vessel containing cold water, at the temperature
of 32°, so long as to heat it to 212°, the boiling point, and
if the lamp be then weighed and the consumption of oil
ascertained by the loss of weight; and if the lamp be still
applied to the boiling water so as to keep it constantly in
ebullition until the whole has been converted into steam;
the steam passing off at the same temperature as the
water, it will be found, when the whole water has been
boiled away, or converted into steam, that 6 times as
much oil has been consumed, or that 6 times as much
heat has been employed in the conversion of the water
into steam as was required formerly to heat the water from
32° to 212°, or to give it 180° of temperature ; so that 6
times 180° or 1080°, will appear to have been absorbed
or carried off in the steam of 212°—that is, the latent
heat of steam is 1080°.
Otherwise, the same determination may be obtained, if
the steam, when passing off from the boiling water, be
led carefully in a pipe to a vessel of cold water, so as to
take from it the heat which it has thus carried off; if the
"ater to which the heat of the steam is given out be at a
temperature of 32° and of 6 times the quantity of the
water from which the steam was formed, the whole of it
will be heated by the caloric of the steam to 212°, show’-
ing that the quantity of caloric of the steam amounts to
what gives 180° to 6 times the quantity of water ; giving-
as formerly, 6 times 180° or 1080° as the amount of the
latent heat of the steam.
It is to Mr Watt that we owe the earliest determina¬
tion of the latent heat of steam. Dr Black endeavoured
to ascertain this point by the first of the methods we have
pointed out, by comparing the time of raising the tem-
perature of water a certain number of degrees, with the
une of boiling it off a certain number of degrees ; but his
result was not correct, being only 800° Mr Watt’s re-
IVT™6 ^atent ^eat steam was 1006° 79.
Mr Southern’s experiments were made in 1803 ; and he
was assisted in them by Mr William Creighton, and com-
mcated them to Mr Watt for an appendix to this article,
e obtained the number 950°. The thermometers employ-
in his experiments were made and graduated with the
^ eatest care, the tubes having been accurately measured
° _ e proportional capacity of their different parts.
hvAiTr.frie? of exPeriments was afterwards made
Jk„,„?chm!dtLw.ll° determined the heat latent in steam
to bp -To . LUtJ neat latent m steam
300. °at0 5,d3 tunes that necessary to heat water from
04 to 212° — K QQ    1 ono _ _
to 21^° = 5.33 times 180° or 960 nearly.
'ol. xx. J
Count Rumford determined the latent heat of steam
by condensing it in a calorimeter formed by pushing a long
spiral steam pipe through a vessel of cold w-ater, by
which he obtained 1040.8 as the latent heat of steam of
water.
M. Despretz in the Annales de Chimie et Physique,
gives 955.8° as the result of his experiments on the latent
heat of steam.
Lavoisier and Laplace make the latent heat of steam
1000.°
From the experiments of Gay Lussac and of MM.
Clement and Desormes, the number 990° is generally
used by the French to represent the latent heat of steam.
1 he diversity of the results obtained from experiments
made by so many excellent experimenters, with so much
precaution, is remarkable—to eliminate from them the pre¬
cise truth with certainty is not within our present resources
of analysis. There is high probability in favour of the
numbers 990. or 1000., as representing nearly enough
the latent heat of steam, being 5.555 times the caloric of
boiling water, its whole caloric reckoned from 32° being
6.666 times that of boiling w’ater.
61. A doctrine of great simplicity is now pretty gene¬
rally held as expressing with an accuracy quite within
the limits of experimental precision, the result of our
knowledge of the heat latent in steam. It is found that
in steam of great elasticity and of corresponding high
temperature, the heat latent is in quantity less; and that,
on the contrary, when steam is of lower elastic force and
of lower temperature that at 212°, its latent heat is greater
than at 212°. And it appears that we are warranted in
the conclusion first suggested by Mr Watt and afterwards
by Dr Dalton, that the whole amount of caloric in a given
quantity of elastic vapour remains the same at all tempe¬
ratures and under all pressures. When the volume of
the vapour is great the greater is its capacity and the
less its temperature; while, by compressing it into
smaller space, its elasticity is encreased and its temper¬
ature raised. The doctrine is thus expressed, that the
sum ofl the sensible and latent heat of vapour is a con¬
stant quantity. M. Despretz has extended this to the
vapours of several other fluids.
There is another expression for the law of the constitu¬
tional heat of the vapour, which is, in the language of the
Atomic Theory, that every atom of a fuid in the state of
vapour possesses, under every degree of elasticity and
pressure, the same quantity of caloric '. This doctrine
leads to very important consequences both of a theoretical
and practical nature.
It follows immediately from this doctrine, that if a
quantity of vapour have once been formed by adding to the
liquid the quantity of caloric necessary to the constitution
of the vapour, the same particles of matter surrounded by
the same spheres of caloric may pass through all grada¬
tions of density, and through all gradations of tempera¬
ture, without either parting with caloric or obtaining
fresh supplies. Vapour of the temperature of 212°, as it
rises from water boiling in the open air, may be collected
in a vessel and compressed by the force of 30 inches of
mercury into-half its bulk, it will become steam of a higher
temperature, viz., 250° from the increased quantity of
caloric in the diminished volume, and in this case the
latent heat will only be 970° instead of 1000°. If com¬
pressed still further into again one half of that bulk, the
temperature will rise to 292°, and leave only 920° latent.
Compressed still further into half of the last-mentioned
space, that is into ^ of its original bulk, the temperature
is raised to 339°, leaving only 873° latent; and another
step would raise the temperature to 392°, leaving only
820> latent; less than seven steps more would bring the
steam into less than its original bulk of water, with a tem¬
perature of between 900° and lOOOo of sensible heat, and
4 G
Latent
Heat.
602
STEAM.
Steam.
Latent
Heat.
Specific
gravity.
an amount of latent heat not much greater than its origi¬
nal proportion of sensible heat, or 212°. In this case, w e
should have steam as heavy as water and as hot as flame.
If, on the contrary, this process were reversed, and the
steam produced at 212° under the pressure of an atmo¬
sphere permitted to expand in vacuo to double its bulk, a
portion of the sensible heat would become absorbed into
the spheres of caloric around the atoms of water, increasing
the latent heat by 32°, and diminishing the sensible heat
to 180°. The bulk being again doubled, and the steam
expanded to four times its original bulk, the temperature
would sink to 150°, and three more repetitions of the ex¬
pansion would give a vapour of 71° temperature, and 1141°
of latent heat. _
This expansion and contraction of the steam, accompa¬
nied by diminished temperature, is exactly what would
exist if our atmosphere, instead of oxygen and nitrogen,
were wholly composed of vapour of water. Suppose the
temperature of the ocean to be 1000 , an atmosphere of
vapour would be raised of 2000 times the weight of the
present atmosphere: the under part of this atmosphere,
compressed by the superincumbent weight, would be oi
great density, but in ascending, the diminished pressure
would be attended with diminished temperature, until at
last a cloud of white ice would be seen floating on the
surface. Must not the sun, from his intense heat, be a
body of this nature, having an atmosphere of enormous
depth, on the summit of which the beautifully crystalline
and sparkling crust is continually preserved by its diminish¬
ed temperature in a state of renewed whiteness?
62. The specific gravity, density, and volume occupied
graviuy, py steam at different temperatures, have been correctly
density, determined by experiment; and it has been ascertained
and volume that the expansion 0f vapour follows the law of the expan-
ol steam, ^ ^ other gases by }ieat. viz., the law of Dalton and
Gay Lussac, that all gases expand from l.to 1.375 in bulk,
by 180° of temperature, or for each degree of Fahren¬
heit; and, secondly,that steam obeys the law of Boyle and
Mariotte, contracting in volume proportionally to pressure.
It is first of all necessary to know what, bulk a given
quantity of water converted into steam will occupy at a
given pressure, and the application of these laws will
determine the specific gravity, density, and volume at all
other pressures and temperatures.
Gay Lus- 63. The experiments of Gay Lussac
sac’s expe-upon this subject are simple, elegant,
riments, aT1d satisfactory. His apparatus is as
follows :—A chauffer, F, contains burn¬
ing fuel, by which heat is communi¬
cated to B C, a bath of mercury. A
spherule A, of thin glass, hermetically
closed, contains a given weight of
water. G is a glass tube of consider¬
able diameter, filled with pure dry
mercury, and inserted in the bath, after
which the spherule, A, containing the
water, is allowed to ascend to the top
of the mercury, and is then broken by
concussion, so that a given quantity of
water is thus placed in the Torricellian
vacuum at the top of the mercury. By
the fuel in F heat is then communicated
upwards, by the fluids, to the whole ap¬
paratus, and to the water in the summit
of the tube G; and the mercury de¬
scends until the whole of the water is
converted into steam, after which it
ceases to descend in the same rapid
proportion to the increase of tempera¬
ture. This change shows that the whole of the water is
evaporated, and the heat must again be allowed gradually
to diminish, until the depression of the mercury corre-
Force. The capacity of the tube, G, is shown by divisions
on its surface previously fixed, and the height of the mer¬
curial column by a graduated rule and vernier r r, sup¬
ported on the edge of the bath. The thermometers, h h,
indicate the temperature of the fluids.
By means of this apparatus, Gay Lirtssac has deter¬
mined the specific gravity of steam, to be .625, air being
1000.; that is to say, steam from boiling water is lighter
than common air in the proportion of 5. to 8.
64. Dr Dalton’s recent experiments make the weight of a
cubic foot of air at 60° = 535.68 grains; therefore a cubic
foot of common steam weighs 334.8 grains at 60°, under
a pressure of 30 inches of mercury; but as this pressure
would convert it into water, the true weight will be found,
by the law of Mariotte, thus:
30 in. : .065 :: 334.8 : 7-254
sdl
'Wv J
Den; 0f
Stea>
Dr 1,
tonVfb.
rime.:
the true weight, in grains, of a cubic foot of steam at 60°,
and under the former pressure due to its own elasticity in
vacuo ; but if we wish to know the weight of a cubic foot
of steam at 212°, we must use the law of Gay Lussac and
Dalton, thus:
(212°—60°) or 152° j . j . . 334>8 . 254.3
480
Fig. 23.
254.3 grains is, therefore, the weight of a cubic foot of
steam, as it passes off from water boiling in the air at 212°.
But the weight of one cubic inch of water at 60° is 253
grains ; therefore, the weight of a cubic inch of water at
60° is almost exactly equal to one cubic foot, or 1728
cubic inches, of steam.
Hence we find, that the particles of water, when they
form steam, are so much repelled by their spheres, of ca¬
loric, as to be kept at twelve times their original distance
from each other ; that, in this gaseous state, water is 1728
times rarer than when liquid; and that one gallon of v a-
ter, with the requisite supply of caloric, will make 1728
gallons of steam.
65. The source from which caloric is obtained for theFue, ■
conversion of water into steam, is either the . heat of thepk) M
sun, the central heat of the earth, or of artificial fires. It
is upon the intensity and quantity of this heat that the
elastic force, temperature, density, and volume of the steam
obtained for any particular purpose must depend; and it
is therefore an important point to determine how it is to
be obtained.
The most important and common sources of heat for
the production of steam, are the combustion of coal, char¬
coal, wood, resin, and oil. Many experiments have been
made upon the quantities of caloric given out during their
combustion ; but the results vary much with the methods
of applying the heat. The six following are some of the
results of Dr Dalton’s experiments ; the rest are selected
from the best authorities :
One lb. of Hydrogen, burnt with 7 lbs. oxygen, produces
8 lbs. of water, and raises 250 lbs. of water 180°.
Charcoal, 2.8 3.8 carbon, acid, 31 lbs.
‘ 4.5 water and carb. ac., 81
46.4
5. water and carb. ac. 66
4.5 water and carb. ac.67
73
90
54
76
57
51
22
55.5
11
3.5
Oil, wax, tallow,
Oil of turpentine,
Carburettedhydrogen, 4.
Olefiant gas,
Naphtha,
Rape oil,
Caking coal,
Olive oil,
Charcoal,
Coke,
Peat,
Newcastle coal,
Culm,
3.5
3.20
uvj    —r ~  ~ «/
spends to the temperature indicated in our table of Elastic
The numbers in the last column represent the num
pounds of water at 32°, which will be heatec ® ’
when the fuel is applied in the most economical mann ,
and hence the quantity of fuel to heat any ot er q
STEAM.
603
pro
d41 b.v
0f water any number of degrees, can be found by the
common arithmetical rules of proportion.
The quantity of water at 212°, which will be converted
into steam, may be found, by dividing the number of
pounds of water in the table by 5.55. Thus, from the
table—
1 lb. of Newcastle coal gives 180° to 55.5 lbs. of water.
Therefore, 1 lb. of Newcaede ) 5W _ 101bs_ofwatci%
coal converts into steam, J 5.55
This is to be taken as the effect that may be produced
if there be no material loss of heat; and in the Cornish
engines I find that even 10.5 lbs. are actually accom¬
plished.
In general, however, for the purposes of ordinary ma¬
nufactures, in Lancashire, Staffordshire, and the vicinity
of London, it appears that not more than 6.6 lbs. of water
are converted into steam by one pound of coal; so that
not more than 33.3 lbs. of water are heated with ordinary
boilers from 32° to 212°. The following table may be
taken as the numbers usually given to represent the
actual state of practice. But a late investigation by Mr
Parkes shows, that in the best constructions of boilers
now used in Cornwall, Warwickshire, and elsewhere,
these effects are nearly doubled:
1 lb. of the best coal is generally required to heat
33.3 lbs. of water from 32° to 212°.
1 lb 6.6 lbs. of water at 212° into steam.
and 1 lb 5.5 lbs. of water at 32° into steam.
2 lbs. nearly one cubic foot of water from 32° to
212
11 lbs. nearly one cubic foot of water at 212° into Steam.
steam.
13 lbs. nearly one cubic foot of water at 32° into Steam pro¬
steam. duced by
Now, as a gallon contains ten pounds of water, it fol¬
lows that
1 lb. of coal will raise 35- gallons of water from 32° to
the boiling point.
5 lbs. of coal will convert 3^ gallons of water at 212° into
steam.
6 lbs. of coal will converts^ gallons of water at 32° into
steam.
We have given these approximate numbers for practical
use, in the application of steam to some of the ordinary
purposes and processes of art and domestic use, upon
which we are about to enter ; and they are such as may,
with very ordinary care, be safely calculated on. But for
a full exposition of the processes, and principles, and me¬
chanical arrangements connected with the best methods of
generating steam from fuel, we must refer to the article
“ Steam-Engine,” where the generation and condensa¬
tion of steam find their most important uses.
It may perhaps be proper to remark, that a boiler,
which is there called a boiler of one, two, or three horses’
power, is one which is capable of raising one, two, or
three cubic feet of water into steam in an hour. Whatever,
therefore, be the application for which steam is wanted,
if twenty cubic feet of water per hour are required to be
converted into steam, a twenty horse-power boiler is that
tyof
m.
Dr DaltorCs Table of the Density of Air and Steam.
100 cubical inches of air under 30 in. Barom. and fi0° Fahrenheit, being 31 grs.
Tempe¬
rature.
Fahr
32°
34
36
38
40
42
44
46
Vol. Air.
under 30 in.
480
482
484
486
488
490
492
494
Weight of 100
cubic inches
of steam.
.178 grs.
.191
.203
.206
.229
.245
.267
.284
Elasticity
of steam.
0.26
0.28
0.30
0.32
0.34
0.37
0.40
0.43
Tempe¬
rature.
Fahr.
48°
50
52
54
56
58
60
62
Vol. Air.
under 30 in.
496
498
500
502
504
506
508
510
Weight of 100
cubic inches
of steam.
.303 grs.
.323
.341
.366
.384
.402
.420
.444
Elasticity
of steam.
0.46
0.49
0.52
0.56
0.59
0.62
0.65
0.69
Tempe¬
rature.
Fahr.
64°
66
68
70
72
74
76
78
80
Vol. Air.
under 30 in.
512
514
516
518
520
522
524
526
528
Weight of 100
cubic inches
of steam.
.468
.492
.521
.551
.580
.610
.645
.680
.721
Elasticity
of steam.
0.73
0.77
0.82
0.87
0.92
0.97
1.03
1.09
1.16
Gay Lussac’s Table if the Density and Volume of Steam.
Water at 32° being the unit of Density and Volume.
Temp.
Fah. cent.
32.o O'
35.6 2
39.2 4
42.8 6
46.4 8
50.0 10
53.6 12
57.2 14
60.8 16
64-4 18
68. 20
71-6 22
75-2 24
78.8 26
82.4 28
86. 30
Density.
0.00000540
609
686
772
869
974
0.00001092
1224
1372
1534
1718
1914
2133
2376
2643
2938,
182323
164332
145886
129587
115305
102670
91564
81686
72913
65201
58224
52260
46877
42084
37838
34041
Temperat.
Fah. cent
89.6° 32°
93.2 34
96.8 36
100.4 38
104. 40
107.6 42
111.2 44
114.8 46
118.4 48
122. 50
125 6 52
129 2 54
132 8 56
136 4 58
140. 60
143.6 62
Density
0.00003263
3619
4017
4442
4916
5418
6023
6585
7242
7970
8753
9606
0.00010525
11523
12599
13760
Vol.
30650
27636
24897
22513
20343
18659
16805
15185
13809
12546
11424
10410
9501
8680
7937
7267
Temperat.
Fahr. cent.
147.2° 64°
150.8 66
154.4 68
158. 70
161.6 72
165-2 74
168.8 76
172.4 78
176. 80
179.6 82
183.2 84
186-8 86
190.4 88
194. 90
197.6 92
201.2 94
Density.
0.00015010
16356
17797
19355
21013
22794
24702
26739
28889
31195
33637
36237
38984
41891
44956
48201
Vol.
6662
6114
5619
5167
4759
4387
4048
3741
3462
3206
2973
2760
2565
2387
2224
2075
Temperat.
Fah.
204.8°
208.4
212.
250 5
275.2
293.7
307.54
320.3
331 9
341.7
358.8
418 4
457 1
478 6
cent.
96o
98
100
121.4
135.1
145 4
153.8
160.2
166.5
172 1
181.6
214.7
236.2
265.9
Density.
0.00051613
55191
58955
0.0011147
16150
20997
25763
30402
34911
39434
48226
89863
00129030
203060
Volume.
1938
1812
1696
897.09
619-19
476.26
388.16
328.93
286.12
253 59
207.36
111.28
77 50
49.315
Density of
Steam.
604
Steam.
Applica¬
tion of
Steam.
Warming
by Steam.
S T E
which must be procured for the purpose——and of course
from 220 to 260 pounds of the best coal will be consumed
in that time.
Section v.—The application op ouk knowledge
OP THE PROPERTIES, PHENOMENA, AND LAWS OP
STEAM, TO PRACTICAL AND ECONOMICAL PURPOSES.
1. Warming apartments and buildings by steam. 2.
Heating greenhouses &c., by steam. 3. Evaporating
solutions, drying fabrics, paper, gunpowder, grain, &c.,
by steam. 4. Warming baths, boiling liquids, and
distilling by steam. 5. Preparation and economy of
wholesome food by steam. 6. The steam-engine.
1. Warming Apartments by Steam.
66. One of the most important applications of steam
in the economy of fuel, is its employment as a vehicle for
“vansferring to a distance, and distributing uniformly, the
/ieat of a fire for the purpose of warming an apartment or
building. Its great efficiency for this purpose arises from
the largeness of its capacity for caloric, because, as it
holds a quantity of caloric equal to 1000 degrees, it will
communicate as much heat as a mass of red hot iron;
and it will have this advantage over the iron, that it
can carry this heat to a distance without a similar loss ;
because, the heat being latent, will not be given out until
it arrive at its destination and become condensed, when
the whole of its 1000° will be usefully applied.
The manner in which warming by steam is to be
effected, is this. At a convenient part of the building, and
as low as possible, there is to be placed a close steam
boiler of the ordinary construction. From this boiler a
small steam pipe is to be carried to the part of the
building which is to be warmed. This small pipe should
be pretty thick, and carefully rolled round with a fillet of
flannel to a quarter of an inch thick, and the boiler
should be wholly covered with bricks and plastered over
to keep it warm. This smaller steam pipe should have
an area of one square inch for every six gallons of water
that the boiler can boil off in an hour. Pipes of a larger
size are to be laid round the room above the floor, or
under the floor if apertures be left to allow a free circu¬
lation of warmed air to enter the room; but the best
method we have seen is, to make the surbase, which passes
round the room of thin iron plate or copper having the
external figure of the surbase, and sufficiently strong to
withstand the pressure of the steam, which strong tin
plate or copper of lb. to the foot will sufficiently effect,
if the surbase be not more than about 4 inches square.
Into these larger pipes the steam is to be conducted, and
in them the steam will be condensed into water, and will
give 1000° of heat to the colder air of the room which is
in contact with the outside of these pipes. In doing so
the steam being condensed into water, small pipes of lead
or tin must be provided, for the purpose of bringing
back this condensed water into the boiler; and, in order
that they may act well, care is to be taken that a gentle
slope, of about an inch in 20 feet, be given to all the pipes.
The condensed water being thus conducted back to the
bottom of the boiler, it will there be replenished with heat,
and in the form of steam will again carry up its supply of
1000° to the apartment, again to be given off as formerly
to the room, and then returning once more to the boiler,
a continual circulation of the same particles of water,
giving out in each circuit a quantity of heat equal to red
hot iron, is uniformly and gently imparted to and diffused
equally over the apartment. The pipe which brings the
steam from the boiler may be called the feeding pipe, the
pipes which give off the heat the radiating pipes, and the
pipes which lead back the water to the boiler the return
pipes. We have already given dimensions for the feed
, A M.
pipe. The return pipes need not be more than of the Ste
diameter of the feed pipe, but an increase of size could j
do little harm, and may have the effect of preventing Wan ,
accidental obstruction : the boiler will require to have a by St {
pint of water added now' and then to supply accidental
waste ; and a safety-valve on the boiler is indispensable.
A self-regulating feeder, such as that mentioned in the
article Steam-Engine, among the apparatus of boilers, is
also to be recomended where it can be readily attained. It is
necessary, however, to give directions at greater length
for the dimensions of the warming or radiating pipes, as
it is upon their proper construction and arrangement that
the efficiency of the apparatus entirely depends; and the
apparatus has frequently failed from the want of proper
precaution. The radiating pipes in the room are gener¬
ally too small. It is their extent of surface, and the free
circulation of air round them, which determines how
much of the heat will be given out, and how rapidly.
From very accurate experiments I am induced to conclude,
that a room containing 500 cubic feet of air, and exposing
400 feet of surface, may be maintained at a temperature
of 20° above that of the air without—that is to say, at
60° in the inside of the room when the atmosphere is at
40o without—for a space of twelve hours, by the evapora¬
tion of 2 gallons of winter, and at the expense of about
three pounds of coal of the value of one farthing.
But this supposes that there is no ventilation, and that
the air of the room is never changed; whereas, the pre¬
sence of one individual would render it necessary to intro¬
duce nearly 400 cubic feet of external air every hour.
Now, the heat of 20° given to 400 cubic feet of air would
require the evaporation of 3 gallons of water; and, therefore,
the evaporation of 3 gallons of water would be required for
such a room, and 3 gallons for every person in it, if properly
ventilated, and for every 2 gallons there should be at
least one square foot of radiating surface ; so that such
a room, occupied by one person, would require a surface of
warming pipe equal to 2^ square feet, and so on for every
such room and occupant, for a space of 12 hours in the
day.
Thus, the evaporation of 1 gallon per day for every 400
feet of surface, with a difference of temperature of 20
from the external air, and 1 ^ gallons per day for each
person, and 1 square foot of radiating surface, is a stan¬
dard from which we easily calculate.
A room 30 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 10 feet high,
has a surface of 2200 feet, which would require 5| gal¬
lons ; six people would require 9 gallons; therefore, 142
gallons of water and 7 4, feet of radiating surface will heat
the well-ventilated room 12 hours for 6 persons at an
expense of 25 lbs. of coal, or about threepence per day;
or a whole house, occupied by 6 persons, may be warmed,
if 30 feet high, 30 feet wide, and 30 feet deep, at tenpence
a-day, the price of coals being twenty shillings a-ton. _
It is scarcely necessary to add, that the radiating pipes
may be best constructed of thin copper, and ought to
be roughened and blackened on the outside.
In the same way the calculation may be made for any
other room, building, and number of occupants.
For more extensive and minute information on t e
subject of Warming, the reader is requested to consu
the article “ Warming and Ventilation,” m t e
Encyclopedia. .. .
The form in which the radiating surface may be distri¬
buted admits of variety. . ,
Provision must be made for the expansion and co
traction of the pipes. _ + + he
The arrangement of steam in the apartmen 0
heated is of some consequence. It is, we have a rea y
stated, sufficiently out of the way in the surbase, u ,
that case, much heat passes out into the walls an fl'°
It may stand on the hearth like a stove, and co
STEAM.
605
of concentric cylindric Fig. 24
J chests within each other
ng (fig. 24), filled with
ol steam, and allowing air
to ascend by the sides
and through the inter¬
vening spaces, so as to
be made warm, and
the outer surface radia¬
ting directly on the sur¬
face exposed. It may be
tubular, and coiled in
a large quantity in a
small box fitted up exter¬
nally in the appearance
of a cabinet or pedestal
in the apartment, thus:
(Figs. 25 and 26) ; the
feed pipe commencing
at the top of the coils,
and the return pipe pass¬
ing off from the bot¬
tom. As the conducting
power of tin is nearly
equal to that of iron,
a quantity of tin pipe
will suffice, and be more
economical than iron
or copper. This coil
may be placed in a cabi¬
net or pedestal of the
form of Fig. 26, and
the warm air will have free egress through the wire
work of the panel.
Fig. 26.
Fig. 27.
Fig. 25.
The next diagram (Fig. 27,) shows an arrangement of
copper steam-vessels, by which an extensive surface is
very efficiently exposed to the air, the condensed water
being drawn off at the bottom.
There is one case in which warming by steam may
be employed with especial advantage, and where it is fre¬
quently neglected—where the power of steam is already
emp oyed to drive machinery. Let the engine employed
e what is called high-pressure, or non-condensing, in
^ ic the steam escapes from the engine and is passed off
^ o the air ; and, instead of the common plan, let the
S eam ^rora bfi0 engine be conveyed in pipes through the
apartments to be warmed, and let the diameter of the pipe
Steam.
Warming
by .Steam.
gradually increase towards the end of its circuit, and finally
terminate in a hot-water pipe, which may also circulate in
the building and there will be given out the whole original
heat of the steam after having done its work in the steam-
engine, and that as effectually as if there had been no
steam-engine at all, and the whole power of the engine
will thus be clear saving. This will be the case to a still
greater extent if the steam-engine work expansively, and
may further be increased if the pipes be so formed as to
constitute an aerial condenser. For further information
on this subject see article Steam-Engine.
2. Warming Hothouses, Greenhouses, fyc. by Steam.
67- The principles which regulate this application of Green-
steam are similar to those mentioned already in Art. 66, houses, &c.
and steam possesses the same advantages in the distribu- warmed by
tion of heat for this purpose, which it does in the cases
already mentioned. The warmth thus distributed is freed
from those risks of injury to the vitality of the plants,
which accompany the old method of warming by hot air
flues, in which a contaminated and unwholesomely dry air
and unequable temperature were inevitably produced, and
an occasional annoyance from smoke. The warmth given
out by the steam is of uniform intensity throughout the
whole length of the glass; it occupies very small space
•—one furnace and chimney is all that is required for any
extent of range of glasshouses, as the steam may be con¬
veyed to any usual distance in well swathed pipes without
sensible loss. The saving thus effected by the concentra¬
tion of the fire, and by its equable distribution, has been
found to produce an economy of more than one-third of the
fuel commonly used. At Sion House, the seat of the Duke
of Northumberland, there are nearly a thousand feet in
length of glasshouses heated by one such apparatus. The
boiler and chimney may also be placed at a convenient
distance from the houses—a circumstance which contri¬
butes much to the beauty of this arrangement.
Those who wish to study the details of this subject are
referred to Mr Loudon’s Horticultural Works, and to the
article “ Horticulture,” in this Encyclopedia. The fol¬
lowing are the mechanical principles and arrangements
that belong exclusively to this article.
Our first subject of enquiry, is into the amount of heat
requisite to sustain the glass at a given temperature
higher than that of the external air ; if we take the tem¬
perature of the atmosphere at 35°, and that of the hot¬
house at 65°, giving 30° of difference, we shall have a case
approaching near to that of a glasshouse in winter. In
order to determine this question, which can only be as¬
certained by experiment, the author has examined a case
upon a large scale, which may furnish a standard of com¬
parison.
STEAM.
Green¬
houses, &c.
warmed by
Ste*m.
The large palm house of the Botanic Garden of Edin¬
burgh is an octagonal structure, 60 feet m diameter, and
45 feet high. Excepting stone pillars at the angles, and
between the windows, of about three feet wide, the whole
building is glass, presenting a surface, of almost exactly
5000 square feet of glass. The quantity of fuel required
in a cold atmosphere, having a mean ot 35 , is 1J44
pounds for 24 hours ; being at the rate of 269 lbs. of coal
for every 1000 feet of glass in a day, or 11.2 pounds an
hour for 1000 feet, or .0112 of a pound per hour for each
foot. . _ , ,
To confirm this observation, it was thought proper to
examine another house of different dimensions. I he
eastern wing of the great range of houses is warmed by a
fire, which consumes half that quantity of coals, of about
half the value, being dross of a bad quality; so that its
consumption is about £ of the other in real value, being
about 672 lbs. of dross, equivalent to 336 lbs. of good coal
in 24 hours. Now, the exposed glass of this wing amounts
to about 1376 square feet, being at the rate of 243 lbs. to
1000 feet a result which is sufficiently near to the other,
to allow us to assume 250 or 260 lbs. of fuel in 24 hours
for each thousand feet, as a standard of tolerable accuracy
in such cases. It may be useful to add, that these houses
are intolerably sheltered situations, and that the glass
faces in every direction, so as to be acted on with toler¬
ably uniformity.
Hence we have the following results:
Temperature of the air 35°—temperature of the hot¬
house 65°. „ „ ^ ^ r
Heat sustained 24 hours, by 250 lbs. of good coal, for
1000 square feet of glass.
Heat sustained 1 hour,by 10.4 lbs. of good coal for 1000
feet of glass. _
Heat sustained 1 hour, by 0.0104 lbs. of good coal, tor
one foot of glass.
To find what amount of steam will be required to warm
such a house, we have only to apply the calculations of
Art. 66; 10.4 lbs. of good coal will convert seven gallons
of water into steam; therefore, a boiler, of one horse’s
power is necessary to evaporate a sufficient quantity of
water for the supply of steam for each 1000 feet of glass ;
that is to say, for the palm-house alone, a boiler of five
horses’ power would be required to furnish steam ; and
this supposes the hot water of the condensed steam to be
returned into the boiler immediately ; and if this were not
the case, six horses’ power would be the size of boiler
ordered for this purpose : hence—
To warm a hothouse by steam, there is required the
boiler of a steam-engine, reckoned at one horse’s power for
every thousand feet of glass.
The method of distributing the heat through the rooms
of the hothouse, is not a matter of so nice calculation as
in a common apartment. There is much greater conve¬
nience for this purpose in a greenhouse than a common
room, on account of the necessary vacuities under the
ranges and beds. In general, a single circuit of steam-pipe
four inches in diameter, round the apartment, with a re¬
turn pipe of equal dimensions laid parallel to it, is sufficient.
It is, however, of great importance to provide a remedy
for one of the practical inconveniences of steam. When
the fire is not very carefully tended, as during the night,
the steam in the boiler falls below the proper point, and
the supply instantly ceases. This is remedied by the
following method. Cast iron boxes, a foot square and
five or six feet deep, are filled with stones, and ranged
round the forcing rooms—a pipe passing into each of them
communicates a supply of steam to them, and the stones
they contain. The caloric entering first of all with rapi¬
dity into the stones, is afterwards given out gradually by
them to the house ; and the advantage of this arrangement
is, that even if neglect or accident were to occasion a tem¬
porary cessation of the supply, this heat would still continue Ste*
to be given out from the matter of the boxes for several hours ''•y,
until the defect might be remedied. These boxes of stones Green
perform the same function for caloric that a fly-wheel houses,
does for mechanical power—absorbing it when in excess, warm«
and giving it out again when deficient. . Steam:
It is a valuable hint to economy, which Mr Macnab
has put in execution in his houses at the Botanical Gar¬
den, that the boiler flues should be extended to the green¬
house after they have left the boiler ; the remaining heat
is thus given out to the hothouse, and the last degree of
saving accomplished. With this arrangement a smaller
boiler will suffice, but it will not always be convenient;
neither can a greater length than about 30 feet of flue be
advantageously used in this wmy.
3. On Evaporating and Drying Solutions, Cloths,
Paper, Grain, Gunpowder, §c., hy Steam.
68. We have already observed how well the peculiar- Evapi
ities of steam enables us to make use of it as a vehicle ingt>"
for the collection, transference, and distribution of heat. SteaL
In addition to the facility with which it may be carried
to a distance, and the uniformity of temperature resulting
from it, we have this further adaptation to the purposes
now under consideration, that the temperature can at no
time become so great as to produce injury, or deteriorate
the substances to which it is applied. Hence it follows
that thickened liquids, strong solutions, and any porous
solid matter impregnated with fluid may be evaporated,
and wholly separated from the fluid, without incurring
the danger and suffering the deterioration resulting from
direct application of the fire. And, further, by the proper
application of steam, as a conductor of heat, liquids may
be warmed, evaporated, and even boiled in vessels of wood,
which is in some cases, as in brewing and delicate distri¬
butions, a matter of much importance.
When any mixture or solution of a solid in water is to
be evaporated by steam, it may be done in some of the
following ways.
(1.) The vessel containing the solution may have
two bottoms, the interval between them being filled
with water and steam, and the solution resting on the
upper one, the fire is applied to the under one ; thus the
steam and water intervening between the solution and
the fire, the latter is protected, as well as the vessel
itself, from being burnt when the process has nearly
attained the necessary degree of dryness ; and the process
of communicating the heat from the fire to the water
takes place in the following manner; the fire generates
in the water bubbles of steam, which ascend from the
lower to the higher bottom of the vessel, which is in
contact with the solution and acquires its temperature,
and, giving off their heat to the upper bottom, are condensed,
and fall down again to the lower bottom to acquire the
accession necessary to rise, once more, in steam to the
top. This plan has been successfully used in making sa ,
and it is necessary to have a safety and an atmosp eric
valve attached to the space between the lower and upper
bottoms. The quantity of heat required for the purpose
of evaporating the water of the mixture is nei er
increased sensibly, nor diminished by the intervention o
the steam between the bottoms ; the number of ga ons. o
water to be evaporated from the solution will determine
the quantity of heat by Art. 66. . .
(2.) A second method of producing evaporation is oin
duce among the mixture a steam pipe, so as to w m am0I1»
it either in the form of a helix, like a cork-screw or wo
of a still, or to perform such a circuit as sha exP
large quantity of surface, with tolerable umformi
fluid for the absorption of heat from the steam. PP
is the best material for the tubes, and wooden an s
with lead or tin will contain the mixture. e
3.X
Ste
STEAM.
607
G -
required for evaporation will be 5 lbs. for every 3^ gallons of coal, value sixpence. Besides this, the sides of tbe bntb Steara-
of water to be evaporated, and the steam boiler must if made hollow, maybe warmed by the introduction of
have one horses power for every 6 gallons to be evapora- steam between the lining and the outside ^1^™ Warming
ted in an hour. time that the water is warmed * and tliA + ' Baths by
(3.) A third method is the invention of Mr Goodlet of Leith, further be heated with steam pines from £ tment ma^ Steam.
The substance to be evaporated is forced by means of a pump ratus. P P r0m the Same aPPa'
into a long copper pipe, which enters a close steam boiler, The most effectual method of communieatW the heat
and after winding through it so frequently as to expose a of steam to water is to pass the open end of fhe steam
sufficient surface for a sufficient length of time to acquire pipe from the boiler directly into the water to be helted^
the necessary supply of heat from the boiler, again passes so as at once to mix with 1+ 1 r • ’
out from the boiler and discharges its heated contents into properly regulated by a stopeoek ahouid enter atTe
an appropriate reservoir, again, if necessary, to be passed bottom, and be directed from one end of the bTth Iw
once more through the same process by the force pump, one side towards tlm ntlmr. .u • 1 a,l0”o
In this case the substance is brought to the steam boiler for steam on entering will commnnw T imPetus oP the
evaporation instead of having the steam brought to it, and lation highly conductive to an emnhl a/}rcu'
tkus^oss of beat during tbe transit o/the steam is A ver* si^—fTs'^
A steam Hn for drying grain has been used with togTd f
fa^Zron^ria^m^r'i^ Stp^ S b^m^^ 7
rated with a multitude of small openings, or formed of a should first be matted wiTh^ndT ^ TilthG fteaij P/P6
very fine grating ; immediately under" the floor steam stitched with canlass pffinted fro^ th b"^61’ ^
pipes of 6 inches diameter lie parallel to each other at it enters the bath. 1 ’ th b0ller t0 W lere
small intervals apart, and radiate heat directly to the floor In establishment* .i, , ,
and the grain, and also to the surrounding air, which in voir at the ton of the 1 •pr"1'0 are baths’ a rescr-
thishot state ascends through the grain; numerous large filled with water readv to <1^ ktpt ^onstantly
ventilators being provided for the escape of the vapour reservffir beW supnhed ^ the
thus impregnated with moisture, after it has ascended a boile" placfdTthe
through the gram. This method has been found effectual, suitable phice It is to bo roo °u °ther
and U attended with less risk of injury than tbe ordinary must be what is called a one, t™, olYhrSie
h. the processes of drying and printing cloths and hunSergSoTpe^hX areScd"'^''?^11’/1'tllree
fabrics of various kinds, rapid and complete drying is of additional hundred gallons of f"' eVeI7
much importance. Th,s is effected principally in what is ture-one horse power of boitefor one hundred oT™'
called a drying frame: this consists of a dozen of tin The same process muv bo r n ^ g,l onS* Boiling
cylinders, afoot in diameter and 6 or 8 feet long; these for boiling a liquid or solution in whiob ^ Liqui(^
cylinders are closed completely by two hemispherical ends, result from adding the steam of ^00^1 o^ W1 ^ Steaia‘
and are placed upon an axis in a frame, so as to revolve in the liquid. In a dve work or n bo ^ ^
contact with each other. Steam is conducted into all boiling and manv solution* H W°r^ ^bere much
these cylinders by a pipe passing through the axis, which manner is a process of m ° 5 m ^
is hollow, and the joint is made steam-tight by a stuffing- The vessels containimr A S l convenience and value,
box similar to that of the cover of a steam-engine cylinder leys and solution* of ? ^ of, various including
Apiece of cloth dripping from the dye-fat is mssed Yarns H cloths’
through the frame once and is then perfectly dry Of are r’ano-ed around J,ari°US. materials are *0 be boiled,
course, the quantity of steam required for thl process is apartmefit attached to?baC10Un aPartlInent- Ground this
proportional to the number of pounds of water to be eva- two inches diameter H Wa\clrculates a Steam of
porated from each piece, that it, the difference betweTu off to each Pl5eS g°
the weight of a piece when wet and when dry. The down to the bottom J ,l'■ th "earost P“mt> “"'1 peas
number of lbS. being ascertained, the fuel and newer o' ofX steam is ^ a l reSPeCtlvf yessels- The exit
the boiler are fonndlrom article 66. P the operator- an^ WbU ^ “ tPOOCk Und?r ;he 1,and °f
In the manufacture of paper the process of drying by a smiller or’crcof.lr i8 16 0011 'J!ls,1.T> allowing
steam is beautifullv exhibited. The wet nuln laid oft -r 4 supply of steam to enter the liquid,
the web °f tvtne cloth, is gradually str^neifas^t ap^proache^
4. Warming Baths, Boiling Liquids, Distilling by
Steam.
69. To heat water rapidly, and in considerable quantity,
;ans or a fire placed at  ; - - 11
--i-ently proposed; and stee
cellent vehicle for the heat.
 , . , /I  exaeny as muen
water as is lost by evaporation, so that it remains of the
same strength through a protracted process, and there is
no injury sustained by allowing the substances immersed
to settle down and rest at the bottom.
fee 10 Xs^ryed toares^T bX fT ’ t ^ ^ ^ eonduSwSd
eXtXrXX!hfboPiP„XototOTai6nr,'IU55 ?f|aPareBts}ftXX”esXXaXV2Ss
opssssss.
608
STEAM.
Steam.
,,.11 „+Q,i. v.n+ if thp hip-hlv nutritious food from bones. A digester on the
:TJ *e,r, nllrouITpe/mutt p'ass through the principle of Dr Papin is used in every modem kitchen.
Description of the Digester and how to use it safely.”
« A A Ic n Vira.KS ^or Fig. 28.
vessel be large, numerous pipes must pass through the
Boiling liquid. For boiling 1000 gallons per hour 200 teet ot
Liquids by copper pipe 2 inches in diameter are required.
Steam. jn distillation by steam, the same method ol communi¬
cating heat to the liquid to be distilled is employed as al¬
ready described in boiling. But the vapours ot other
liquids, having less specific caloric than water, a smaller
StL
Cooj
Distilla
tion by
Steam.
“ A A is a brass (or
copper) cylinder, hol¬
low within, shut at the
bottom and open at the
liquids, having less specihc caloric tnan t B is another cy-
quantity of steam from the hoder wcU be resumed t„ era ^
quanuty oi shecun   nf wntpr . thus hnder inverted upon
porate than to evaporate an equal quantity of , two ap-
Ihe heat of one gallon of water wid evapomte and emise ^ ^ ^
to be distilled 2 gallons of alcohol, 3 of sulphuric ether, p 1; d A A,
and 4 of turpentine. It is a curious phenomenon of to the cylm^ ^ ,
which distillers should avail themselves in carrying oft the
vapour in distillation, that although alcohol floats on
water, and ether on alcohol, nevertheless the vapour of
water floats above vapour of alcohol, and vapour of alco¬
hol above vapour of ether.
The densities of water, alcohol, and ether
being 10. 8.
and the densities
of their vapours 6. 16*
in round numbers.
7.
25.
5. Preparation of Food by Steam.
Cooking by 70, The last of the applications £
Steam.
Papin’s
Digester.
as the trunnions of a
piece of ordnance. D
D are two pieces of
iron put upon the ap¬
pendices at one end,
and the iron bar E E
at the other. F F are
two screws, which
serve to press both the
cylinders A A, B B,
against one another. G is another hollow cylinder, made
of glass, pewter, or some other materials, fitted to receive
those things that are to be included in the cylinders A A,
and B B, with water all round it.
f u. r ne iii»L ux ^ v,5o4-,vv.lv»all\r+be> To use this enfrine with convenience and ease, it ought
shall - tth^flrdtlsfrc^cs xS to he fi«ed iu a fuLce built on purpose for it, and should
its application o c h • ,, following record of go on as far as the appendices C C ; so the fire being un-
invenuon makes its appearance in the following go^ ^ ^ ^ and a iece 0f
the Royal Society , , R1 Societ moistened paper laid between the cylinders at the joint
At a meeting of the Council 8> ^ . . t0 tight, you may boil your meat as long
,
and published. Digester was accordingly soldered to a hole in the cover B B, is to be stopped at
published in 1681 ; “ Containing the description of its the top^A a Htrie vafre P’^on LdTM. oVe'end ll
Dyeing, with an Account of the Pnce a good big Engine thenar ED an^o^ end kept^ ^
" Treloiwi list will1 how the orient to which the according as you would keep it less or more sfrong, after
Jn^r^proctmded m the
improvement ol the dietetic art. it is copicu nom l e i r fot fall a drop of water into a
Index to the work. “ (1.) How to know the quantity of about 3 feet long, and i let tai P . , j
pressure in the Digestor. ^ (2.) How to know the degree little cavity made for that J
of heat 13 ) How meat may be kept upon the fire three tell how many times the hanging w g
It as f^g as0 is necessary to nlake’it ready, and yet fro before ° of a
it will not be spoiled. (4.) The same experiment made “ Having fiUedm^po, lf ,
unon bones. (5.) How to boil mutton. (6.) How to breast of mutton, and weighed hve , that a
boil beef. (7*) How to boil lamb. (8.) How to boil lighted my fire, and by blowing gave s ji h^
rabbits. (90 How to boil pigeons. (10.) How to boil drop of water would evapomte n 4 se ^ ^ atm0.
fish. (11.) How to boil pulse. (12.) How to make pressure being about 10 t\me/. St^ fn(lthen foe mutton
iellv very cheap. (13.) Glue for glasses. (14.) Harts- sphere: I let the fire go ou the iuice a strong
horn turned like Parmesan cheese. (15.) A macque- was very well boiDnutton sever-
rel kept without salt. (16.) Saltwater as good for jelly. So that, having h i‘Ved the same rule, and
nourishment as fresh water. (17*) To make sweetmeats al times since, I have always observed^ whicll
• ■ /von rp 1-- x— never have missed to have it in the same ce.-uxt
I take to be best of all.”
Beef required 7 ounces of coal and the same hea >
the beef was very well boiled, althoug t mre >v
of the bones not quite softened. Lanin, ra _
to
at a cheap rate, and of a new taste. (18.) To make two
sorts of drink with the same fruit. (19*) To make a
new sort of wine. (20.) Tinctures drawn in the hun¬
dredth part of the time usually required for them. (21.)
New ways for distilling. (22.) How to hatch chickens
(23.) How to save the labour of grinding cochenille, and pigeons, mackerel, pike, ana eeij "^^ ^ the
(24.) To dye with thick juices. (25.) To make horn the same process; whence the doc fire as
and tortoiseshell soft for a great while.” bones of young be^ts require b(,ms are
This catalogue of uses of steam we shall shortly run those of old ones to > h 0ia rabbits may
over, as the modern uses of steam for cookery are pnnci- harder than those of mu , o°e8 b fois means,
pally applications of Dr Papin’s methods, and as valuable be made as good as ei\e v , ^ a beat that evapo-
economization in the preparation of food on a large scale that pigeons may be _ is tbat mackerel was
lias resulted from them, especially in the extraction of rates a drop of water m a >
r
in.
S T E
cooked with gooseberries in a digester, the fish being good
and firm, and the bones so soft as not to be felt in eating-;
and he particularly recommends, as an excellent dish
cooked in this manner, cod fish and green peas.
The most important of Papin’s experiments are those
on the extraction of gelatine from bones, as now done
on a large scale in France and in this country, as also the
manufacture of essence of meat, soups, &c., especially
suitable for long sea voyages.
“ I took,” says he, “ beef bones that had never been
boiled, but kept dry a long time, and of the hardest part
of the leg; these being put into a little glass pot with
water, I included in the engine, together with another
little glass pot full with bones and water too, but in this
the bones were ribs and had been boiled already. Having
prest the fire till the drop of water would dry away in three
seconds, and ten pressures, I took off the fire ; and the vessels
being cooled, I found very good jelly in both my pots ;
but that which had been made out of ribs had a kind of
a reddish colour, which I believe might proceed from the
medullary part, the other jelly was without colour like
hartshorn jelly; and I may say, that having seasoned it
with sugar and juice of lemon, I did eat it with as much
pleasure, and found it as stomachical, as if it had been
jelly of hartshorn. Mutton bones are better than beef
bones; and he infers (1.) that one pound of beef bones
afford about two lbs. of jelly ; (2.) that it is the cement
(gelatine) that unites the parts of the bones, which is dis¬
solved in the water to make it a jelly, since after that, the
bones remain brittler ; (3.) that few glutinous parts are
sufficient to congeal much water, for I found that when the
jelly was dried, I had very little gluejj-ten ?jj remaining;
(4.) I used it to glue a broken glass, which did since that
time hold very well, and can be washed as well as if it had
never been broken ; (5.) it is heavier than water, and sinks
to the bottom; (6.) hartshorn produces five times its
weight of jelly.
“ From all these experiments, I think it very likely, that
if people would be persuaded to lay by bones, gristles,
tendons, feet, and other parts of animals that are solid
enough to be kept without salt, whereof people throw
away more than would be necessary to supply all the ships
that England hath at sea, the ships might always be fur¬
nished with better and cheaper victuals than they used to
have. And I may say, that such victuals would take up
less room too, because they have a great deal more nou¬
rishment in them in proportion to their weight. They
would also be more wholesome than salt meat. Vege¬
tables, such as dried peas, may also be cooked by the steam
ol salt water without becoming salt.”
We have, entered thus fully upon the work of Doctor
Uenys Fapin, and the properties of his digester for
coo mg, and extracting jellies by high-pressure steam,
because it contains nearly all that is at present practised
'U the preparation of food by steam.
f to what has been already stated, we add, that if the
steam of salt water be collected in a vessel kept cold on
ne outside, the condensed water will not be impregnated
stl ^ ^ i,an^ ma^ use^ as food, the importance of
earn in the economical and menial capacity of cook, will
sufficiently apparent. The supply of water to the crew
maj be obtained in this m^ner, and an
deS US ^ thuS I)rociirlng fresh water from the con-
n ation of steam from salt water, has been used with
a vantage m ordinary ships.
modltilT^1113 the steam-cooking apparatus used in
In onp f tlheniS-;-a.a! 18 a P.ortl°n of the kitchen fireplace
furnisb °i • t dlvlsi0ns of it, b, is placed a steam boiler,
cocks & WV 16 US1U^ aPParatus of feeding pipes, gauge
aw the'h Frmr ^ b0i'?r a Steam pipe^ is led
S the back of the cooking table d d, and at certain
V°U XX.
A M.
609
intervals, branch pipes, furnished each with a stopcock,
project across the table at right angles to the main pipe.
Fig. 29.
Steam.
Cooking
by Steam.
The extremities of these branch pipes are conical, and
made accurately to fit into conical sockets inserted into
the cooking pans, one of which, e, is seen in its place on
the table. Ihese pans have each a double bottom, the
lower one close, the upper one perforated ; between the
bottoms the socket before mentioned, through which
the steam enters, is inserted. The manner of using
this apparatus is simple. The article to be cooked is
laid in its place on the perforated bottom of the pan,
the lid is applied, and the pan is joined to one or other of
the branch pipes, by its socket receiving the conical end
ol the pipe ; tlm stopcock is now turned, and the matter in
the pan is subjected to the action of the steam. Each
pan has a crane in front, to allow of the condensed steam
being drawn off.
The remaining part of the apparatus is the hot closet,
j J* This consists of a steam-tight iron box, containing
shelves, inserted in another iron box of dimensions so
much greater as to allow of a considerable vacuity being
between them ; into this vacuity the steam from the boiler
is permitted to flow, and give out its heat to the articles
placed in the closet to receive it.
f ig. 30 contains a steam-apparatus for cooking the
Fig. 30.
610
Steam.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
food of cattle and horses, designed by Mr Newlands of
Edinburgh, a a is a steam boiler, furnished with man¬
hole, safety-valve, gauge-cocks, supply pipe, and regula¬
ting float ; 6, water cistern, placed not less than six teet
above the boiler; c c, the steam pipe proceeding from the
boiler, and extending along the front of the gauntree
for supporting the casks or other vessels m winch the food
is held. These vessels are hung on pivots, between the
uprights, (of which one is seen in the drawing,) m such
a manner as to throw the centre of gravity a little below
the points of support; and each vessel has a false bottom
pierced with many holes, and fixed a few inches above the
true bottom. When the contents of a vessel are to be
discharged, the superintendent lays hold of the handle,
seen in the front, and, by a little force, turns the vessel
round its axis, until its front lip rest on the front bar
of the gauntree, which is placed so low as again to_throw
the centre of gravity of the vessel below the points of
support; the contents may then be. emptied into a close
barrow, or other suitable vessel, or into a trough extend¬
ing along the front of the gauntree.
The manner of connecting the vessels with the steam-
pipe remains to he noticed. From the main pipe e, St<,
branches are carried through the front bar of the framing W
opposite to the centre of every vessel, of which there may
he many, although two only are represented. Fig. A ex¬
hibits a section of the main pipe, the branch pipe, and a
part of the bottom of the vessel. The branch pipe d
terminates in a conical socket, and into this the plug fixed
on the vessel c is fitted. When the vessel is in a vertical
position, the connexion between it and the boiler is com¬
plete, hut when, in being emptied, the vessel is overturned,
the plug is withdrawn from the socket, and the communi-
tion cut off. When the vessel is again restored to its
vertical position, the parts again fit each other without
trouble or care on the part of the attendant. The branch
pipe is moreover furnished with a stop-cock, the handle of
which is wrought by a rod from either an eccentric or
a crank fixed to one of the pivots of the vessel. When
the vessel is overturned and the plug withdrawn, the
eccentric shuts the stop-cock, and prevents the steam from
escaping, and re-opens it ivhen the vessel regains its ver¬
tical position.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
It Is a singular peculiarity in the history of the sleam-
Emdne. engine, that, ever since the period which exhibits the
a earliest traces of its embryo, it has continued slowly and
gradually to advance with the flow ot time towards its
present state of high maturity, though not yet, perhaps,
of ultimate perfection. Other arts and inventions, once
well known and successfully used, after having attained
a certain measure of perfection, have again been lost
sight of amid the ruins of empires and the revolutions
of nations, never more to be rescued from oblivion.
While some of these, on the one hand, have sprung sud¬
denly up into maturity, arrayed in the panoply of imme¬
diate power, being sent as it were directly by divine
mission, to perform some important part in the destinies
of the world, perfect from their birth, there exists
another class of inventions and of sciences that have
themselves underg'one so many revolutions as, in the
later part of their history, to present nothing more than
the name in common with the maturer knowledge of the
present day. 13ut our knowledge of the properties and
powers of steam, and its agency by a steam-engine, differs
in every way from the progression ot other arts and other
knowledge. Known in the earlier ages of Egyptian
science, it appears to have played its part in adding to
the imposing effect of those stupendous monuments of
absolute power which the storms of thousands of years
have failed to obliterate. In the more refined ages of
Greece, steam appears to have ministered alternately to
the elegance of Attic luxury and the delusions of heathen
idolatry; and to have become extensively known until
the destruction of the Alexandrian schools of science dis¬
persed those seeds of mechanical science which the flames
of its library have spared to Western Europe; and there,
imbedded in the ruins of learning during the dark ages
of second barbarism, they lay preserved, but unfructi-
fying, among the other remains of the learning of the
middle ages ; and when at length the light of knowledge
once more dawned on Europe, the science of the Greek
philosophers was exhumed from the rubbish which had
concealed it, and revealed to the dawning light by the
mighty lever of the press. The work of Hero on
Pneumatics and Steam 3Iachinery was one of the finest
and earliest specimens of the art of printing. Since that
time the science of steam, and the art ot constructing
the steam-engine, have made slow, regular, and progres¬
sive advancement, until this mighty work of many hands
has at last attained a prominent importance in the inter¬
ests of humanity, and become a mighty element in the
future destinies of the world. In this remarkable course
there has been no retrogradation. Centuries have added
their contributions to the elucidation of its principles and
the perfection of its mechanism ; but no great revolution
has ever thrown back, nor any single effort reproduced
the mighty machine.
It is this peculiarity which has induced us to present
to our readers the history of the steam-engine as the most
apt and useful introduction to the perfect comprehension
of its principles and structure. In many other subjects the
history of the science or art is little more than an in¬
teresting and curious antiquarian research, fascinating
to the virtuoso, and even instructive to the historian
or philosopher, but by no means necessary, or even con¬
ducive, in any degree, to the acquisition or compre pen¬
sion of the modern condition of our knowledge. *a ,
for instance, have the astronomical systems ot the Uia -
dees or the Greeks to do with the Copermcan system ot
modern astronomy? In what degree would a learnei
be assisted in comprehending the sublime doctrines ot i
celestial mechanics of Newton, by having ma e
self thoroughly acquainted with the cycles o ipparc iu
and Ptolemy, the crystal spheres of Frascatorms, or i
multitudinous epicycles of Purbach? But with our kn -
ledge of the phenomena and the powers of steam, ttie c.
has been widely different. The progress of the stea
engine has been co-ordinate with the progress of the iiuma
mind in physical truth. The history of the past impiove-
ments of the steam-engine is tliere^ore.t|l<? «pve-
humanmind ; and the same phases which have e .
rally presented, at widely separated epochs, y s ' .
inventors, are the very phases ot graduaUy gio^ng
knowledge by which a single individual nun ^
naturally and most profitably proceed, step y s P>
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
611
s
E
v
1- full blaze of light which is thrown upon this subject by
ie' the illumination of modern science. Of so large a sub-
'■^ject, one part only can be studied at a time, and that
succession of parts by which they enter into the mind in
easiest transition is the very succession in which history
presents them to us.
We shall therefore divide this subject into two parts;
the first containing a description of the steam-engine, and
the elucidation of its principles, in historical order; the
second forming a description of the functions and parts of
the modern steam-engine.
Part I.— Historical, Description of the Steam-
Engine. 1. The Era of the Ancients. 2. The Era
of Worcester. 3. The Era of Watt.
1. The Era of the A n cients.
The knowledge which some of the ancients possessed
of the constitution of steam is remarkably in accordance
with the most recent modern conclusions on this species
of matter. Steam is now known to be only one of the
common airs or gases whose particles at one degree of
heat and of pressure assume a liquid form, and at another
temperature and pressure become solid ice.
The modern doctrine concerning matter may be thus
stated ; that matter is known to exist in four conditions—
solid, liquid, aerial, and etherial. Earth and stone are
exemplars of solid matter; water and mercury of liquid
matter; the atmosphere, and smoke, and steam, of aerial
substances ; caloric, light, and electricity, of etherial mat¬
ter. It is further the doctrine of modern physics that no
kind of matter exclusively possesses one of these condi¬
tions as its distinguishing property, but that all may, in
certain circumstances, assume different conditions. Stone
is not essentially solid, for, by the action of heat, it may
be melted under pressure; and iron or lead, though
usually solid, may be presented in the liquid form ; and
the earths have likewise assumed the form of liquids
when the contrivance of the chemist has succeeded in
placing them in appropriate circumstances. Neither is
water essentially a liquid, for, when frozen, it becomes a
solid, with which we may construct houses, bridges,
utensils, and even floating structures capable of navigating
the ocean ; and, on the other hand, it is sometimes re¬
duced into the vaporous or aerial form, as when the wa¬
ter of a vessel, acted on by heat, is wholly dissipated and
dispersed in an invisible form in air.
It is also tube observed, that the condition of a body may
be changed by the agency of heat. Solid ice, solid mercury,
or solid lead, by the addition of heat, are converted into
liquids, or are melted ; and form liquid ice, (called wa¬
ter,) liquid mercury, (called quicksilver,) and liquid lead,
(which has no separate name.) If to the liquid thus pro¬
duced from the solid we add a certain other portion of
heat, that will separate its particles still further from
each other, and the matter thus diffused over more ex¬
tended space becomes reduced to the aerial condition of
steam, of mercurial or lithargical gas, or transparent va¬
pour. But still the matter has undergone no constitu¬
tional change. It is only necessary to remove the heat,
and the particles will again come together and resume
their primitive form. By cooling down the aerial gas into
"Inch the matters had been dissipated, or even by com¬
pressing them, so as to contract them into their original
hulk and bring them together into their original prox-
nnity, the particles will once more resume their pristine
°™> hbe vapour will respectively appear as drops of li¬
quid water, mercury, or lead, and those liquids being
more condensed, will congeal into the original solid masses
jp solid ice, solid mercury, and solid lead. The most re-
ractory gases have actually been found to obey this law,
and we have no doubt that every substance in nature might
successively be presented to the senses in every one of
these forms.
The following passages, taken from the Timceus of
Plato, present a remarkable accordance with these en¬
larged views of the constitution of steam and other
gases : — “ Let us therefore speculate concerning the
nature and properties of fire and water, air and earth.
This is the more arduous, because it is necessary to call
into question, concerning each and all of them, whether
they should be denominated liquid rather than etherial,
or aerial rather than solid ; or why any th ng should
have one of these appellations rather than all. For,
in the first place, that which we now call ‘ wrater,’ being
congealed, becomes (hard) as a stone or earth, hut being
melted and diffused becomes gas or air, and this inflamed
becomes fire, and fire extinct becomes again congregated
into air, and air collected and condensed forms mist and
cloud, and these again, more compressed, form water, and
from the water earth and stone are reproduced. And
thus they, in an endless circuit, produce each other.
Since, then, these now appear to be the same, who will
assert that one of them is of the one kind rather than the
other ? It is most safe, therefore, to speak thus: that the
thing we see is not absolute liquid, but something in the
liquid state. That air is not necessarily a gas, but some¬
thing in the gaseous state ; not as being a particular thing
of this or that specific nature, but that it is in such and
such a condition.”
“ Let us then distribute the four modifications of matter
into fire, earth, w'ater, and air; and to earth let us assign
an entical form, for it is the most immovable of all
these kinds—to water that which is less movable than
the other three—to fire the most easily movable form—
and to air that which is intermediate.”
It appears to us highly probable that the ancients knew
more of the phenomena of steam than has been generally
admitted. One evident cause of this mistake is the cir¬
cumstance that no specific term equivalent to the word
steam was generally used by them; and "water, when
heated, was said to be converted into an air. It is
now almost perfectly established by the progress of
modern science, that steam is an air, (or gas,) invisible
and perfectly transparent, differing in none of its mecha¬
nical properties from common air or gas, and in no
respect differing in its constitution from carbonic and
other gases or airs which, at certain temperatures and
pressures, do, like steam, leave the elastic aerial form and
become condensed into steam. Many of the phenomena,
therefore, for which the ancients use the word air, are
effects of steam, or of steam mixed with air ; and although
they have not always carefully distinguished these sepa¬
rate effects, yet they have frequently made judicious use
of them. While, therefore, it would be wrong to draw
any parallel between the want of individualization mani¬
fested in their writings, and the high generalization of
modern science, it w’ould be equally wide of truth to
deprive them, as has sometimes been attempted, of the
merit of having discovered and used some of the proper¬
ties of water in the aerial state, simply because they
supposed it rarefied into an air, and confounded its pheno¬
mena with those of other gases, which, mixing with it,
also contributed to the effect—as when we find that air
rarefied by heat, and water rarefied into air, are men¬
tioned.
Hero of Alexandria, in his Pneumatics, has col¬
lected the science and inventions of the ancients, along
with some of his own, into a systematic treatise, written
in Greek, more than 120 years before the Christian era,
some passages of which are identical with portions of
modern treatises on pneumatics: and many portions of his
apparatus may be found transformed into modern expe¬
rimental models in cabinets of the physical schools. Now,
Steam-
Engine.
612
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Pteam- in the introductory portion of his work, we have such
Engine, statements as these:—Water in transformed into air by
—the action of fire. For the vapours of boiling caldrons
are nothing else than attenuated moisture expanding into
air. Indeed, by the four elements the ancients appear
to have meant the same things which we now desig¬
nate by different terms. We comprehend all the mate¬
rial agents with which we are acquainted under the io'ir
great designations, solids, liquids, air, and ether, bo
exactly had the ancients their and and
r„, to which they assigned different regions acco™-
ing to their weight; first, the solids or earth then the
liquids above, next the aerial covering, and filially the
region of ether extending indefinitely beyond. 1 he mo¬
derns have shown that all bodies are probably capable ot
assuming any of the three states, and becoming solid,
liquid, or fluid, according to the circumstances in which
they are placed ; and we have every reason to believe
that Timseus, of whom Plato speaks with so much reve¬
rence, entertained the same idea, and believed that even
the air might assume the state of a crystalline solid. It
is not a little curious to find a mathematician of the pre¬
sent day giving it as a result ot his calculus, that the air
at a great distance from the earth is actually frozen into
a crystalline solid by the extreme depression of tempera¬
ture. He was probably not aware that his notion had
been anticipated more than 2000 years. In this same
work of Hero, we have descriptions and explanations ot
apparatus, in which the power of fire acting on moisture
and air is made to produce phenomena of motion. He
does not arrogate to himself the merit of these inven¬
tions, but has given them as principally a collection from
the works of those ancients who had long preceded him
the ancient philosophers and mechanics.
His Pneumatics commence with a lucid and excellent
dissertation on the properties of air as a medium for the
communication of pressure and motion, and especially
upon the nature and effects of a vacuum, subjects to be
thoroughly understood byall who would master the theory
of the steam-engine. It is, indeed, as the means of pro¬
ducing a vacuum, that steam obtains much of its value as
a mechanical power. The mode of raising water by a
vacuum is thus described by him:—“ When they wish
Fig. 4.
Fig. 2.
Fig. 3.
to fill with water the round medical glasses which have
slender long necks, they suck out the air w hich is con¬
tained in them, and, closing the orifice with the finger,
they invert them in the water, and on removing the
finger the water is drawn up into the vacuous space, in
contradiction to the usual law of fluids.” He then pro¬
ceeds to state that, “ in like manner, air may be rarefied
by heat even as other substances are; for water is changed
by fire into air, the vapours from boiling caldrons being
nothing else than expanded water taking the form of air,
and that mists and clouds are nothing else than water
raised in the air by heat, which are partly afterwards
converted into air, while portions again descend in rain.”
He also attributes the origin of winds to the “ expansion
and contraction of air and moisture by the alternate heat¬
ing and cooling produced by the sun’s rays and illus¬
trates the conversion of liquids into air or gas by the
common observation, that, after a lamp has gone out, the
vapour continues to rise up by the heat still left in it by
the flame. Thus also, says he, a phial being filled with
heated air and inserted in water, tliis air contracting will
draw' up water into the phial. Hence, he argues, that all
airs consist of inconceivably small particles of matter,
between which there are left wide vacuous spaces, so
that, while the matter itself is incompressible, the volume
occupied by the aggregate may be increased and dimi¬
nished, and the air rarefied and condensed either by
external force or the action of heat.
The following description
of the manner in wdiich the
force of steam, issuing from
a boiler, may be applied to
supporting a weight, is given
in the Pneumatics. “ A boil¬
er, perforated on the top, is
placed on the fire. From the
perforation there proceeds a
tube, on whose extremity is
fixed a hollow hemisphere
perforated in like manner.
If then we place a light ball
in the hemispherical cup, it
will follow that the vapour
rising up from the boiler
through the tube will sup¬
port the sphere, and it will
appear to dance.”
There is another apparatus
in the Pneumatics for the
purpose of producing a re¬
volving motion by the ac¬
tion of steam—“by a caldron
placed on a fire to give motion to a sphere around its
axis. Let a boiler be set on the fire, and nearly filled
with water, and let its
mouth be closed in by a
cover, and let it be
pierced w ith an opening
through the bent tube,
whose extremity exact¬
ly fits into the hollow
sphere. 15ut at the op¬
posite extremity ot the
diameter let there be an
iron axis supported from
the top of the cover; and
let the sphere have two
bent pipes at the ends of
a diameter perforated a-
long with it, and bent
round in opposite direc¬
tions ; and let the bend¬
ings make right angles
and be in the plane per-
pendicular to the axis. Then it will follow that, on the
boiler being heated, the vapour rushing through t ic tu es
into the sphere will rush out through the reversed pipes
of the ball, and whirl it round on its axis.
The same apparatus, on similar principles, is nex
applied by Hero to the construction of a machine stm
more curious. The agent mentioned in this case is rar -
fied air, although the action is of precisely the same
nature. Here the science of the philosopher app
to have been degraded to the base use of assisting a
idolatrous priesthood in deceiving the populace by _
resemblance of miraculous interference. “ re t
been kindled upon an altar, living figures will appea
Stw i,
Eng:
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
m- lead a choral dance, even although the altar itself be of
ne. transparent glass or horn. Through the epipyrus a pipe
is to be let down to the base of the altar, where it is to
Fiar. 6.
Fig. 8.
revolve on an iron pin, the other end being passed through
a tubular fitting attached to the epipyrus. And this pipe
is to have other little bent pipes attached to it, and per¬
forated so as to communicate with it, which are to radiate
opposite to one another around it, and turned alternately
in opposite directions. There shall likewise be a drum
attached to it, upon which the figures of the dance are to
be set. Then, by the action of the kindled fire, the air,
being warmed, will proceed into the pipe, and, from it
being driven out through the bent tubes into the base of
the altar, will turn round the pipe and its drum.'’
The following is probably the most excellent of all
Hero s apparatus, inasmuch as in it the action of steam
produced by fire from water is employed for the pur¬
pose of elevating a fluid above its level, and transferring
it from one place to another. The design of the appa¬
ratus is still, unhappily, to serve the purposes of super¬
stitious worship. “ The fire of an altar having been lighted,
two figures of living things are to assist at the sacrifices,
and the figure of a dragon is to sybillate,” (or give forth
sounds to be interpreted as oracles.)
“ There is to be a hollow basis or pedestal « /3, (fig. 7,)
upon which is set the altar y, having a tube ? s descending
to the middle of the basis, and
js there separated into three
branches; the tube s £ passing
to the mouth of the dragon,
tbe tube i 6 * being carried
to the vessel * a containing
"Tie, and placed at the top
0 the figure ^ an(j accn_
lately joined into its cover;
'nto the third tube t » g,
"Inch, in like manner, as-
cends into g, another vase
noldmg wine, and is also
accurately united to the top
c toe vase. Both ends of
lie two vases are to he care-
,u y dosed. There are to
e ir> both the wine vessels
Fig. 7.
613
Steam-
Engine.
  y/r
bent syphons g ir r *, of which the one extremity is in
the wine, and the other extremities, proceeding by an
opening rendered perfectly close through the covers of
the vases, are conducted to the hands of the figures offi¬
ciating at the sacrifice. When, therefore, you are about
to sacrifice, you must pour into the tubes a few drops
lest they should be injured by heat, and attend to every
joint lest it leak ; and so the heat of the fire, mingling
with the water, will pass in an aerial state through these
tubes to the vases, and, pressing on the wine, make it
pass through the bent syphon-', until, as it flows from
the hands of the living creatures, they will appear to
sacrifice as the altar continues to burn, and the other
tube being carried to the mouth of tlie dragon, will make
it give forth sybilline sounds.”
There appears to be considerable reason to suppose
that, to their knowledge of the mechanical powers and
the elements of machinery, the Egyptians added some
acquaintance with the power of steam, applied, however,
only to the degraded service of superstition. The statue
of Memnon is said to have emitted sounds which Pausanias
compares to those produced by the snapping of the strings
of a harp. Strabo expressly states that he heard them ;
and Philostratus states, that when the sun shone strongly
on the statue, sounds proceeded from its mouth similar to
those of a stringed instrument. Hero of Alexandria in
his Pneumatics, Salomon de Caus in his liaisons desForces
Mouvantes, Athanasius Kircher in his CEdipus Egyp-
tiacus, and Cribellus in his Machinosa Miracula Mem-
nonis, have all explained in different ways the mecha¬
nical arrangements by means of which effects of this
kind might have been produced from the steam raised
by the heat of the sun in close vessels contained in the
statue, arid having communication with organ pipes of
different kinds. r
The Romans appear to have done little for the mecha¬
nical arts, and nothing for the improvement of steam
apparatus. It was not until the dawn of knowledge suc¬
ceeded the darkness of the middle ages, that the light
reflected from the works of Hero, and the older mechani¬
cians, rekindled the flame of mechanical invention. The
works of Archimedes and of Hero were read with great
avidity, and formed some of the most popular produc¬
tions of the young art of printing. The flame seems
fiist to have been lighted in Italy, for we have editions
and translations of Hero’s Pneumatics rapidly succeeding
each other ; the Bologna edition of 1547, translated by
Giov. Baptista Aleotti, was reprinted at Ferrara in
1589 ; Commandine’s translation was published in 1575,
Alessandro Giorgi’s in 1592. There were other editions
of less note ; and thus in a single century eight or nine
editions were issued. It was not to be expected that the
seeds of mechanical knowledge, so widely sown, should
not fall on some rich spots of soil, where they should
bring forth fruit with increase.
Giambattista della Porta was one of the ablest and
614
Steam-
Ensine.
most ingenious expositors of the principles of pneumatics.
A work which he published on this subject contains the
' following passage:—“ Make a box of glass or tin, having
at the bottom an aperture, through which is inserted
the neck of a distilling flask, containing one or two
ounces of water, and let its neck be cemented into the
bottom of the box, that there be no escape. About the
bottom of the box there rises up a pipe at such a dis¬
tance from the bottom as to permit the water to escape,
which pipe passing through the cover shall rise a little
way above its surface. The box is to be filled with water
by an aperture which is to be well closed, so that no
air may pass. Finally, place the said bottle on the fiie,
and heating it slowly, the water being gradually dis¬
solved into air, will press upon the water in the case,
and pressing with great force upon the water which
issues through the pipe,(the steam) will not make its
escape. And if we continue the application of heat, the
whole of the water (in the flask) will be at last ex¬
hausted ; and while the water is evaporating, the air
(vapour or gas) will constantly press on the water in the
vessel, and the water will continually issue out. 1 he
exhalation being finished, if you will measure how much
water is out of the box; that which is in the place of
the water gone out, will give the measure of 'he remain¬
ing water. rI hus you find, from the (quantity of water
used, how much water was dissolved into so much air.
And, in like manner, also, you can measure into how much
of more rarefied air, air of the ordinary density can be
dissolved.” 1
Here we perceive that the knowledge of the conversion
of water into air or gas, taught by Hero’s Pneumatics, was
extending itself in that country, and leading to further
contrivances ; and we have also a beautiful and simple
experiment, designed for the purpose of determining the
philosophical question, which formed an interesting sub¬
ject of research at a very recent period of physical en¬
quiry, “ how much aqueous gas is formed by a given
quantity of water.” The method is not perfect, for a
considerable part of the vapour would be reconverted
into water in the progress of the experiment; yet it
shows an acquaintance with the fact, that water heated
by fire is converted into aqueous air with sufficient
force to raise water above its level, and form a running
stream, although, in this case, of no very considerable
height.
The spirit of invention, aroused by the first translation
of Hero’s works, did not confine itself to the country in
which these works were first disseminated, but spread¬
ing gradually northwards, displayed itself in the works
of an architect and engineer, Salomon de Caus, who had
come to England in 1612, and was employed by the
Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles I., to design grottoes,
fountains, and other hydraulic ornaments, for the embel¬
lishment of the prince’s palace at Richmond, and for the
gratification of his Royal Highness’s “ gentille curiosite.”
These, with other machines, were published by him in
a work entitled “ Les Raisons des Forces Mouvantes, avec
diverses machines taut utiles que plaisantes; auxquelles
sent adjointes plusieurs desseins de grottes et fon-
taines, augmentees de plusieurs figures.” Frankfort,
1615, fol.
The work of De Caus is prefaced by an exposition of
the principles of hydrostatics and pneumatics, evidently
derived from the writings of Archimedes and of Hero.
Among other things, he states that the violence with
which water is dissolved into air by means of fire is very
great, and that it is quite certain that a ball of copper
containing water, if placed on a fire, would be infallibly
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
burst. “ La violence est grande quand I’eau s’exhale en
air par le moyen du feu ..... il est certain que si
Ton met la dite balle sur un grand feu, en sorte qu’elle
Fig. 9. devienne fort chaude, il se fera une
compression si violente, que la balle
crevera en pieces ”
st<n
Engs
De Cans's Diagram
Fisr. 10.
Hero's Diagram.
He afterwards proceeds to show
how a jet of water may be made to
rise above its level, and play in the
air by^ means of fire. A copper ball
-s. A, (fig. 9,) has a tube D, furnished
"j with a stop-cock, by which water is
forced in and it is then closed. Ano¬
ther tube, B C, is closely fitted to
the same ball, but passes down to
the bottom, Avhere it opensamongst
the water ; a stop-cock regulates
its opening, and immediately above
the cock the pipe terminates in the
orifice of a small jet d ean. In
fact, the apparatus is precisely that
which Hero uses for raising a jet
d’eau, but without using the action
of heat, when he forces air above
the water, and condensing it. raises
a jet of water by its pressure, (as
exhibited in fig. 10.) Of course,
the heat of the fire produces the
same elastic force in De Caus’s
machine, by which the jet is made
to play in Hero’s.
There seems no reason to doubt that Salomon de Caus
was a Frenchman by birth, and he is said to have been
a native of Normandy.2 In dedicating to the French
monarch an edition of his work, be describes himself as
one of his Majesty’s subjects. After leaving England, he
settled in Germany, where the Elector Palatine intrusted
him with the superintendence of his buildings and of his
gardens. He finally returned to France, and died there
about the year 1630. He has sometimes been confounded
with Isaac de Caus, a native of Dieppe, and a descendant
of the same family. The latter published a work, en¬
titled, “ Nouvelle Invention de lever 1’Eau plus haut que
sa source, avec quelques machines mouvantes par le moyen
de 1’eau, et un discours de la conduit d’iceie.” Lond.
1644, fob This work contains many machines identical
with those described by Salomon de Caus; and the simi¬
larity of subject, treatment, and title of the two, has led
those into much confusion who may not have examined
both. Even the pains-taking and industrious Stuart seems
to have been deceived, and calls Isaacs book a later edi¬
tion of Salomon’s.
The direct emission of steam from an orifice of the
boiler, which had been used by Hero to sustain the ball
in the air, was applied by Branca, an Italian architect and
engineer, to impress a revolving motion on the vanes of a
wheel like a common mill-wheel, and this communicating
with a series of toothed wheels to a series of pestles in
mortars, was employed to-give them motion. This, and
many other machines of which he does not claim tie
original invention, hut which he states he collected from
the inventions of others, were published in a quarto
volume, entitled Le Machine. “ Volume nuovo et di
molto artifii io da fare effetti maravigliosi si tanto spintaii
quanto di animale operatione: arrichito di bellissime nguie
coide dichiarationi a ciascuna di esse in lingua volgare e
Latina, del Sig. Giovanni Branca, cittadino Romano, in-
gegniero et architetto della sta. casa di Loretto. n
Roma, m.dc.xxix.” This period appears to have tceme
2 Biographic Universelle, tom. vii. p
433.
1 J. B. Port* Pneumaticorum libri tres. Neapoli, 1601, 4to.
m. with curiosities of mechanical invention ; and the learned
ne. virtuoso who would take, the trouble of ransacking the
•mJ mechanical productions of the sixteenth and seventeenth
is of centuries, would be able to collect materials for an inter¬
ns- esting, curious, and amusing volume. Perpetual motions
were very common ; wdngs for enabling men to fly in the
air, mechanical chariots for a similar purpose, conveyances
to the moon, and engines for making continual and cheap
music by mills or by fire, for rocking of cradles and turn¬
ing of spits, were favourite subjects of design ; and many
of these curious contrivances, without serving any definite
purpose, form elegant and curious pieces of apparatus.
We are now passing from the era of the curiosities of
mechanical contrivance, into that period in which the
same principles that actuated the toys of Hero and the
automata of Kircher were to be applied to set in motion
mighty machines for the advancement of the welfare of
the human race.
2. The Era of Worcester.
Edward Somerset, Earl of Glamorgan and Marquis of
Worcester, invented and constructed the first steam-en-
giue. His title to this honour has been the subject of dis¬
pute, some historians attributing to him a greater share
of merit than there was sufficient evidence to warrant,
while others deprive him of even that honour to which he
possesses an indefeasible claim. His life is one of the
most romantic chapters of English history. Enterprising,
generous, disinterested, and confiding, he was at once
beloved and betrayed by his king, loaded with honours
and reduced to poverty; at one time exercising almost
without control the functions of the sovereign, conferring
dignities fiom the rank of marquis down to baronet, and
at another thrown into prison, and begging from a creditor
the paltry loan of five pounds. Possessing inventive
genius of the highest order, he was considered a mad en¬
thusiast because his speculations were advanced so far
before the age in which he lived, and has been set down
a quack and impostor by men incapable of comprehending
the nature or appreciating the value of his creations. The
slow march of knowledge and of time has at last revealed
1 ie worth, and established the character, of an illustrious
and unfortunate man of genius, who only lived to com¬
plete his mighty design and carry it happily into effect,
and having done his work, went to take his rest in death.
1 bat the Marquis of Worcester was acquainted with the
nature and force of steam, no one has ever deputed ; but it
bas been matter of serious doubt whether the machine which
be has described had ever any real existence. Hitherto
we ave had nothing more than circumstantial presump-
ive evidence of the actual construction of the marquis’s
s earn-engine. It is only a few years since the industry of
he indefatigable antiquary Robert Stuart has presented
u with an his torn al document of undoubted authenticity,
a lording undeniable proof of the existence and efficiency
Z Cne. tl,e of the Marquis of Worcester, of
the V™ n° .hoi>e power, employed for raising water on
tit! .V1!? SKle.of the r,ver Thames. As the Marquis’s
tie to the invention has not yet been established in any
o be numerous treatises on the steam-engine that have
l^r ° •'"‘PPoared, and as the proof we are now able to
of mU,St f°r eVer set at rest tl,e querulous cavillings
tt <,Se otherwise respectable writers who have attempt-
a o controvert the great truth that the steam-engine is
short IT6 " 10 / °,[ Bntish irm>ntion, we shall give a
pUshcdC<°^ °f What the mar<luis undoubtedly accom-
tlie'm T Pnnci.PalIy indebted for our acquaintance with
to a ^ch?r,!cal inventions of the Marquis of Worcester
of L „ !n vvll‘ch 1,6 published a list of one hundred
median c.i! nventions, under the title of “ A
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
615
Century of the Names and Scantlings of such Tnven- Steam-
tions as at present I can call to mind to have tried Engine,
and perfected, which (my former notes being lost) I
have, at the instance of a powerful friend, endeavoured Marquis of
now, in the year 1655, to set these down in such a Worces-
way as may sufficiently instruct me to put any of themter sIn"
into practice. Eond. 1663, l2mo. Of this remark¬
able work there are several other editions. The fol¬
lowing are the passages which have immediate refe¬
rence to the high-pressure steam-engine which he had
invented and made. Jt may be proper to premise,
for the purpose of preventing the supposition from
icing entertained that it was impossible to get devices
of so complex a nature carried into effect at a period
when the mechanical arts of construction had made so
little progress, that he had employed constantly in his
service, during a period of five and-thirty years, one of
the most eminent artificers of the time, one Caspar Kal-
tofi, and that he had provided him with suitable work¬
shops, tools, and machinery, at an expense of more than
ten thousand pounds. It thus appears that the marquis
was no mere schemer, hut that he submitted his devices
to the test of experiment; and it is merely not passing
the bounds of credibility to suppose, that, with fertile
resources, an active and inventive mind, the best tools,
an “ unparalleled artificer, and the expenditure of great
sums of money, he had in five-and-thirty years con¬
structed machines of such perfection as no other artist
of his age had accomplished, and few of the hangers-
on of a royal court could understand or appreciate. No
one who is acquainted with the modern high-pressure
steam-engine can fail to recognise it in the following spe¬
cification, which, be it observed, was given by the mar¬
quis rather for the purpose of exciting curiosity than
gratifying it for stating the capabilities of his engine
than explaining its principle, which he wished to keep
secret for the purpose of obtaining a patent.
“ Invention 68.—-An admirable most forcible way to
drive up water by fire; not drawing or sucking it up¬
wards, tor that must be, as the philosopher calleth it,
‘ i,ltra spheram activitatis,’ which is but at such a dis¬
tance, but this way hath no bounder, if the vessels be stronq
enough; for 1 have taken a piece of a whole cannon,
whereof the end was burst, and filled it three quarters
fidl, stopping and screwing up the broken end, as also
the touch-hole, and making a constant fire under it;
within twenty-four hours it burst and made a great crack :
so that, having found a way to make my vessels so that
they are strengthened by the force within them, and the
one to fill after the other, I have seen the water run like
a constant fountain forty feet high. One vessel of water,
rarefied by fire, driveth up forty of cold water; and a
man that attends the work is but to turn two cocks, that
one vessel of water being consumed, another begins to
force and refill with cold water, and so successively.”
The internal evidence of the truth of this descrip¬
tion is too strong to be resisted. We cannot say what
ideas it may have suggested to such a man as Lord
Urford, who was probably as ignorant of mechanical
principles as he was devoid of candour and charity to a
man of principles and religion different from his own •
but to any one conversant with the mechanical contrivances
and treatises even of that time, it was scarcely possible
to read the sentence without forming a distinct concep¬
tion of a similar apparatus to that here described by the
marquis. We shall see that the description was so per¬
fect as to enable a subsequent mechanician to reconstruct
the machine of the marquis, with some additions, and
produce an effective machine for draining mines. We
see, too, how philosophical was the process by which he
ventions.
616
Steam-
Engine
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Marquis
Worces¬
ter’s In¬
ventions.
advanced to the construction of his machine. He made
experiments of a conclusive nature on the boundless
- force of steam. He found that the only impediment to
ofits use was the want of sufficiently strong boilers ; and
his having found a way to make his vessels so as to be
strengthened by the force within them, merely shows that
he overcame the difficulty of making steam-tight joints
bv using internal flanges, which should become tightened
by the pressure of steam within them. There is also
internal evidence of the genuineness of his description in
the statement of the quantity of water converted into
steam for the effect of raising the water,—“ one vessel
rarefied by fire driveth up forty of cold water, is a mea¬
sure of the power of steam far within the compass ot its
capability. Even under most unfavourable circum¬
stances, an unprincipled exaggerator would not have
contented himself with this moderate statement ot its
actual power. , , , • , j
But we have not yet concluded the marquis s descrip¬
tion of the nature of his stupendous prime-mover ; for his
mind, in dwelling upon its principles, applications, and
powers, gradually became assured that his engine vyas to
become the most important and powerful agent in the
whole world, and appears, even at that remote era, to
have obtained a glimpse of the multifarious avocations
and powers of the modern steam-engine. He proceeds to
describe “ an engine so contrived, that working the pn-
mum mobile forward and backward, upward or downward,
circularly or cornerwise, to and fro, straight upright or
downright, yet the intended operation continueth and
advanceth, none of the motions above mentioned hinder¬
ing, much less stopping the other, but unanimously and
with harmony agreeing, they all augment and contribute
strength unto the intended work and operation ; and
therefore I call this a semi-omnipotent engine, and do
intend that a model thereof be buried with me.
<< H(,w to make one pound weight to raise an hundred
as high as one pound falleth, and yet the hundred pound
descending doth what nothing less than one hundred
pounds can effect. ’ . .
“ Upon so potent a help as these two last-mentioned
inventions, a water-work is, by many years’ experience
and labour, so advantageously by me contrived, that a
child’s force bringeth up, an hundred foot high, an in¬
credible quantity of water, even two foot diameter, so
naturally, that the work will not be heard into the next
room; and with so great ease and geometrical symme¬
try, though it work day and night from one end of the
year to the other, it will not require forty shillings’ repa¬
ration to the whole engine, nor hinder one day s work ;
and 1 may boldly call it the most stupendous work in the
whole world ; and not only with little charge to drain all
sorts of mines, and furnish cities with water, though
never so high seated, as well as to keep them sweet,
running through several streets, and so performing the
Avork of scavengers, as well as furnishing the inhabitants
with sufficient water for their private occasions, but like¬
wise supply rivers with sufficient to maintaine and make
them portable from towne to towne, and for the bettering
of lands all the way it runs, with many more advantage¬
ous and yet greater effects of profits, admiration, and
consequence; so that, deservedly, I deem this invention
to crown my labours, to reward my expenses, and make
my thoughts acquiesce in the way of further inventions.”
To any one who is familiar with the advantages which
such cities as London derive at this moment from having
the water raised up by fire and distributed through the
highest houses for private use ; who has witnessed the in¬
credible quantity of water brought up by a Cornwall, or
Newcastle, or Staffordshire steam-engine from enormous
depths, by the descent of a piston not one thousandth
part of the weight which it raises through an equal
height ; who has observed the elastic force of steam as
aprimum mobile in a cylinder performing in any and every
position its multifarious duties, and that a child s force is
sufficient to control and guide the operation of that stu¬
pendous power, it must be most obvious that we have
only carried to perfection that engine which the Marquis
of Worcester first conceived and made.
Some points in the statement of the marquis, which
had not formerly been noticed, have received considerable
elucidation, by a manuscript account of his inventions,
discovered a few years ago by Mr Robert Stuart, and
by another document, ot no small importance in this
question, which was brought to light by the zeal and in¬
dustry of the same writer, viz. a Diary of Cosmo de’ Me¬
dici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, who visited England about
the vear 1656, in which he gives an account of the engine
invented by the Marquis of Worcester, which he had an
opportunity of witnessing in operation at Vauxhall.
5i
The Condensing Steam-Engine of Captain Savary.
About thirty years after the marquis’s death, which
happened in 1667, the condensing steam-engine was in¬
vented by an Englishman, Captain Thomas Savary, and
was by him introduced for draining mines, raising water
for buildings and gardens, and generating a revolving me¬
chanical power. He exhibited a model of it to the Royal
Society of London in 1699. {Phil. Trans, vol. xxi. p.
228.) We have seen that the marquis's model appears to
have been placed on or below the level of the water to
be raised, and that his vessels being filled, their contents
were raised by the elastic force only of the steam. Mr
Savary, on the other hand, erected his engine at a height
of nearly thirty feet above the level of the water. A large
close vessel was filled with steam ; this steam vas iccon-
verted, by cooling the outside of the vessel, into water,
leaving the large space it had formerly occupied vacuous;
into this vacuum water was raised, as into the vacuum ot
a common sucking pump, by atmospheric pressure, and so
within the limit of atmospheric pressure, raised twenty-
eight or thirty feet. After this was accomplished, the water
was further raised through any remaining height by the
elastic force of the steam, just as in the engine ot the Mar¬
quis of Worcester. But the improvement Avas great. Hie
same force of steam, strength of vessels, and consumption
of fuel which was sufficient on the marquis’s plan to raise
water thirty feet high, would be capable first of drawing
up the water thirty feet, and then raising it thirty feet
more ; or doing double the work, or sixty feet of height
on Savary’s plan. This was certainly a notable improve-
ment. , .i i ic
There has been considerable discussion among the his¬
torians of mechanics regarding the merits of Worcester
and of Savary. Those who have thought proper to praise
the inventive talent of the one, have thought11 essen^f
to their purpose to depreciate the merit of the other. _
think their claims rest on independent grounds. i«e
Marquis of Worcester expressly disclaims the use oi a
vacuum, which, on the other hand, is the distinguishing
feature of Captain Savary’s, when he says, “ not by d aw-
ing or sucking it upward, for that must be as the p
pher calleth it, infra sphreram activitatis, whic i is
such a distance; but this way (by high-pressure) hath no
bounder, if the vessels be strong enough. W ”
therefore, to us, that the inventions were quite ind P.
dent and different; and we have no hesitation i
it as exceedingly probable, that when Cap a‘ . . 7
added the principle of high-pressure to his ow-nprP
of a vacuum from condensation, he was no ,. ^ • e
ed with the marquis’s works, and eyen w t e
for raising water by fire, for which he ha o <
Sava's
Steal
End
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
617
Deil;-.
per |V1'
pen 11
Sav s
E"!'
tent, and which he had erected at Vauxhall. While we
have thus expressed our own opinion of the independence
of their claims, we must not omit the opinions of others
who lived nearer to the epoch of these rival candidates.
Dr Desaguliers, an eminent mechanist, and an experi¬
mental philosopher of considerable reputation, has given,
in his Course of Experimental Philosophy, vol. ii., an
account of the “fire-engine,” and after adverting to the
claims of the Marquis of Worcester, makes the following
statement in regard to Savary :—“ Captain Savary having
read the Marquis of Worcester’s book, was the first who
put in practice the raising water by fire, which he pro¬
posed for the draining of mines. His engine is described
in H arris’s Lexicon, (see the word Engine,) which, being
compared with the Marquis of Worcester’s description,
will ea-ily appear to have been taken from him ; though
Captain Savary denied it, and the better to conceal the
matter, bought up all the Marquis of Worcester’s books
that he could procure in Paternoster Row and elsewhere,
and burn’d ’em in the presence of the gentleman, his
friend, who told me this. He said that he found out the
power of steam by chance, and invented the following
sfory to persuade people to believe it, viz., that having
drunk a flask of Florence at a tavern, and thrown the
empty flask upon the fire, he called for a bason of water
to wash his hands ; and perceiving that the little wine left
in the flask had filled up the flask with steam, he took the
flask by the neck and plunged the mouth of it under the
surface of the water in the bason, and the water of the
bason was immediately driven up into the flask by the
pressure of the air. Now, he never made such an experi¬
ment then, nor designedly afterwards, which I thus prove :
I made the ex¬
periment pur¬
posely with a-
bout half a glass
of wine left in a
flask, which I
laid upon the
fire till it boiled
into steam; then
putting on a
thick glove to
keep the neck
of the flask
from burning
me, I plunged
themouthof the
flask under the
water that filled Desaguliers s Experiment.
a bason; but the pressure of the atmosphere was so strong,
that it beat the flask out of my hand with violence, and
threw it up to the ceiling. As this must also have hap¬
pened to Captain Savary, if ever he had made the experi¬
ment, he would not have failed to have told such a remark¬
able incident, which would have embellish’d his story.”
We have performed the doctor’s experiment frequently,
with various results. If the mouth of the flask happens
to be large and its neck short, the water very cold, and
the flask very perfectly filled with steam, the effect is
exactly what Desaguliers describes ; for the vacuum being
suddenly and completely formed, the flask is first pressed
down towards the basin, which the hand resists by sus¬
taining the flask in the opposite direction, and just then
the water rushes with great velocity up into the vacuum,
mid striking on the bottom of the flask, now turned up¬
wards, is apt to knock it suddenly out of the hand,
especially when held merely by a soft glove. But if, on
the other hand, the flask has a narrow mouth and long
neck, and if, when inverted, its neck be allowed to rest on
the bottom of the vessel, and if the water in the basin be
y0L. XX.
Steam.
Engine.
not very cold, it will rise slowly and gently, and the flask
will be completely filled.
The doctor’s inference is not, therefore, perfectly just
to Savary, and allowing that Savary had read VYor-
cester’s book, he would not find in it any principle of this
nature, but an express exception from it, as we have
already stated.
Stephen Switzer, author of a System of Hydrostatics Switzer’s
and Hydraulics published at London in 1729, takes a Evidence
different view of the matter. In the chapter “ On the°nSav-
Engine for raising Water by Fire,” he gives the following3^ s En*
account of it:—“ Amongst the several engines whichsme‘
have been contrived for the raising of water for the sup¬
ply of houses and gardens, none has been more justly
surprising than that for the raising of water by fire ; the
particular contrivance and sole invention of a gentleman
with whom I had the honour, long since, to be well ac¬
quainted— I mean the ingenious Captain Savary, some
time since deceased, but then a most noted engineer, and
one of the Commissioners of the sick and wounded.
“ This gentleman’s thoughts (as appears by a preface of
his to a little book entitled The Miner s Friend) were
always employed in hydrostatics or hydraulics, or in the
improvement of water-works ; and the first hint from
which it is said he took this engine, was from a tobacco-
pipe, which he immersed to wash or cool it, as is some¬
times done. He discovered that the water was made to
spring through the tube of the pipe in a wonderful and
surprising manner ; though others say that the learned
Marquis of Worcester, in his Century of Inventions,
(which book I have not seen,) gave the first hint for this
raising water by fire.
“ It was a considerable time before this curious person,
who has been so great an honour to his country, could
bring this, his design, to perfection, on account of the
awkwardness of the workmen who were necessarily to
be employed in the affair ; but at last he conquered all
difficulties, and procured a recommendation of it from the
Royal Society, (Phil. Trans., 252,) and soon after a
patent from the Crown, for the sole making this engine ;
and I have heard him say myself, that the very first time
he play’d, it was in a potter’s house at Lambeth, where,
though it was a small engine, yet it (the water) forced
its way through the roof, and struck up the tiles in a
manner that surprised all the spectators.”
“ About the year 1699, he wrote a small pamphlet or
treatise concerning this engine which I have just now
mentioned, wherein he has exhibited a draught of it;
but as that consisted of a double receiver, and a great
many particulars not so easy for a learner at first sight to
understand, I have, first of all, inserted that draught of
it, and the account thereof, which Mr Bradley, in his
new improvements of planting and gardening, has given
us of that at Cambden House, it being an engine of Mr
Savary’s own invention, and which is the plainest and
best proportioned of any that I have seen.
“ A the fire ; B the boiler, a copper vessel of a sphe- gw;tz01.’s
rical figure in which the water is boiled and evaporated Descrip-
into steam, which passes through the regulator C, which tion of
opens to let it into D the steam pipe, of copper, through Savary’s
which it descends into E the receiver, which is a vessel of En8ine-
copper also, that at first setting to work is full of air,
which the steam discharges through F the engine tree,
and up the clack valve at K, and so the air ascends in L
the force pipe.
“ After E is void of air, which is found by its being hot
(with steam) all over, then stop the steam at C, and throw
a little cold water on the outside of the hot receiver E,
so as to cool down the steam in the inside, and so make it
resume the condition of water, leaving E a vacuum, into
which the pressure of the atmosphere will raise a column
4 i
618
Steam-
Engine.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
of water through the sucking pipe G from H, the pond,
well, or river.
' « This being done, and the receiver now being filled
with water, first turn C, and let tlie steam pass into the
receiver K, and it will force the water therein through
F by K up to L, which water cannot descend because of
the clack valve I. When R is thus emptied, which may
be easily perceived by its being hot, as before, turn C, and
confine your steam in B, then open the cock M, which
will let a little cold water into E and that, by condensing
the steam in E, will cause the water to ascend immediately
from II and replenish E. Then turn C to let the steam
into E, and it will force the water out of it up L, into a
cistern at O, placed at the top
Fig. 13.
Savary’s
Engine a
Steam'
Pump.
to receive it. Then confine
your steam at C as before,
and turn M for the space of
a second or two of time, and
E will be retilled, and may
again be discharged up L as
before; so that this work
may be continued as long as
you please. The valves placed
in the pipes at I and K are
shown on a larger scale at the
side, and will enable the read¬
er to see how they permit the
water to ascend, but prevent
its return by the weight of
the water pressing down the
clack.
“ It must he noted that this
engine is but a small one in
comparison of many others of
this kind that are made for
coal-works ; but this is suffi¬
cient for any reasonable fa¬
mily, and other uses required
for it in watering all middling
gardens. Its dimensions are
as follows the pipe from
the surface of the wmter to F
is 16 feet, and from F to the
upper cistern 42 feet high ;
777/, the diameter of both pipes 3
VS'/Z inches, and of the steam pipe
D, an inch. The receiver E
holds 13 gallons of water, and
the boiler three times that
quantity.
“ This engine will throw
up four of the receivers full
in one minute=52 gallons,
V",/77fV-Y"/ 3110 gallons an hour,
—52 hogsheads an hour, or
1248 hogsheads in 24 hours. The prime cost of such an
engine is about L.50, as I myself have had it from the
ingenious author’s own mouth, and the quantity of coals
required to work it about one bushel in twenty- four hours.
The expense is not considerable to what horse-wurk is,
which must be shifted twice or thrice a-day, especially
in all wood or coal countries.”
It seems to us very probable, from the form of Savary s
engine, that it w’as taken directly from that of a common
drawing and forcing pump, with the substitution of the
force of steam only lor that of the pump piston. In Fig.
14 A B C D E F represent a common forcing pump, as
given in the hydraulic works of that epoch. A' B' C' D'
E' F are the parts of one of Savary’s steam-pumps. In
the case of the common pump, the solid piston or plug at
C, exactly fitted to the cylindrical chamber at C, is forced
down by the lever E upon the water m the chamber C, St,
which is pressed out through the pipe at the bottom, and Enj
being prevented from passing down to A by the closing 'w*
valve B, is carried up through the open valve D, and
raised towards the top of the reservoir F. When the
chamber C is thus emptied, the piston is again raised, and
as it is perfectly tight, so that no air can enter, the water
is carried up through the valve B, which only opens up¬
wards, and thus the vacuum at C is filled from below,
by atmospheric pressure, with water, which is again to be
forced back by the descent of the piston ; but as the valve
B closes hy the pressure above it, and the valve D opens
upwards, the water is carried upwards and delivered at F,
the top of the reservoir. For the solid piston of the pump
we have only to substitute the agency of steam, and we have
Savary’s machine. The close chamber C' being conceived
full of water, steam from the boiler is admitted by S', and,
by its elastic force, presses downwards on the surface of
the water at C', so as to force it out of the receiver; and
finding no exit by the closed valve B', it is forced through
the rising valve D' towards the receiver F'; in these cir¬
cumstances, the little jet brought from the pipe E' is al¬
lowed to throw cold water for a second or two on the close
chamber C, now filled with steam, which is immediately
condensed into the small quantity of water from which it
was originally formed, and leaves the remaining space
vacuous—into which vacuum, as in the former case,
water is carried up by the force of the atmosphere,
so as again to replenish the chamber C', as at first, with
water, which is in its turn to be acted on by the elastic
force of steam admitted through S', and carried up through
D' F to be delivered at F'.
Fig. 14.
The reader who has followed th;s examination of
Savary’s steam-engine in its earlier form, is novl F®'
pared to understand the more complex but more effic
form in which the engine was more generally used. 1
form is that of the double receiver. 1 he tonn
examined does not produce a uniform stream,
the receiver, after having emptied its contents,
considerable interval to fill again, i be doub e ^
renders the stream nearly constant, for tl,er® ^the
receivers placed in communication with the bout
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
619
am- water-pipes, in such a manner that wh^n the one is being'
me. filled the other is being emptied, and when the latter is
\ again being charged with water from below, the other is
discharging its contents in the receiver above.
In this double form a model of the engine was exhi¬
bited to the Royal Society in June 1699, and approved
of. The following figure and description are those
given in the Philosophical Transactions, vol. xxi:—
Fig. 15.
,ex-
Jbe-
se
So-
Do
as
• , (N
11111 Mi¬
ner
Fri
“ A the furnace, B the boiler, CC two cocks which convey
the steam alternately to the vessels DD, which receive the
water from the bottom in order to discharge it again at
the top. EE EE, valves opening only upwards; FF
cocks which keep up the water while the valves on occa¬
sion are cleansed; G the force-pipe, H the sucking-pipe,
I the water.” The action of this double engine is mani¬
fest. One of the vessels (D) is first filled with water
from below, by the effect of the vacuum formed in it, and
is then discharged into the reservoir above. The steam
is then shut off, and the vacuum again begins to form, and
this first receiver to refill with water; in the mean time
the steam would be unemployed, and therefore it is now
admitted into the second receiver D 2, where it forms a
vacuum, or if the receiver be filled with water, forces it
up to the top, and having emptied it, is again shut off
and forms a vacuum to refill this second receiver with
water. But in the mean time, this second receiver being
now vacuous, and in the process of being refilled with
water from below, the steam being unemployed upon it
Way be admitted to the first receiver D, which has in the
mterval been charged Avith water from below, and the
steam acting upon it will continue the stream into the re¬
servoir at the top, until the other receiver, D 2, being
again filled, is again ready to be discharged in the same
direction, and so on as long as the cocks are turned.
But this working model of the Royal Society was by
no means a perfect machine for performing work on a
•mge scale. We have, therefore, extracted the follow¬
ing description of the machine of Savary, in the form which
e gave it when introduced for the purpose of draining
mines. The description and figure are taken from an Steam-
old work in the Advocates’ Library, entitled, “ The Mi- Engine,
ner’s Friend ; or, a Description of an Engine for Raising'w^w
Water by Fire, with an Answer to the Objections against
it. By Thomas Savary, Gent.” Lyndon, 1702.
Fig. 16 represents the engine of Savary as applied to
the purpose of drawing water from the bottom of deep
mines. The furnaces, boilers, and receivers are placed
under ground, on a platform raised sixteen or twenty-
feet above the level of the water at the bottom of the
mine. From this platform the chimney ascends to the
surface along the shaft of the mine, and a pipe through
which water is forced to the surface accompanies it.
A Description of the Engine.
A the furnaces ; Bl B* the two fireplaces; C the fun- Savary’s
nel or chimney ; D the small boiler ; E the pipe and cock Descrip-
of it; F the screw that covers and confines the force; Gtion of his
a small cock going to a pipe within eight inches of its Steam-
bottom; H a large pipe going the same depth; I a clack Engine,
on the top of the said pipe opening upwards ; K a pipe
going from the box of the said clack or \-alve into the great
boiler about an inch into it; L the great boiler; M the
screw with the regulator; N a small cock and pipe going
half way down the great boiler; O1 O steam pipes, one
end of each is screwed to the regulator, and the other end
to the receivers ; P P2 the vessels called receivers; Q
the screws which bring on the pipes and clacks into the
front of the engine; RRRR Nos. 1.2. 3.4. valves or
clacks of brass, with screws to open and come at them
upon occasion; S the force-pipe; T the sucking-pipe,
having a square frame of wood, with holes round its bot¬
tom in the water; X a cistern, with a buoy-cock coming
from the bottom of the said cistern ; Z the' handle of the
regulator.
Fig. 16.
“ The manner of working this engine is first: there is
a good double furnace so contrived that the flame of the
file may circulate round and encompass the two boilers
to the best advantage, as you do coppers for brewing.
Before you make any fire, unscrew G and N, being the
two small gauge-pipes and cocks belonging to the two
boilers, and at the holes fill L, the great boiler, two-
thirds full of water, and D, the small boiler, quite full;
620
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Savary’s
Descrip¬
tion of his
Stean-En
gine.
then screw in the said pipes again, as fast and tight as
possible ; then light the fire at 13. No. 1 ; when the water
in L boils, the handle of tiie regulator, marked Z, must
be thrust off from you as far as it will go, which makes
all the steam rising from the water in L press with ir¬
resistible force through O No. I, into P No. 1, making
a noise as it goes ; and when all is gone out, the bottom
of the vessel P No. 1 will be very hot. Then pull the
handle of the regulator towards you, by which means
you stop O No. 1, and force your steam through O No. 2
into P No. 2, until that vessel has discharged its air
through the clack R No. 2 up the force pipe. In the
mean time, by the steam’s condensing in the vessel P
No. 1, a vacuum of emptiness is created, so that the water
must and will necessarily rise up through T, the sucking-
pipe, lifting up the clack R No. 3, and filling the vessel
P No. 1. , . • ,
“In the mean time, the vessel P No. 2 being emptied
of its air, turn the handle of the regulator from, you again,
and the force is upon the surface of the water in P No.l ;
which surface being only heated by the steam, it does
not condense it, but the steam gravitates or presses with
an elastic quality like air, still increasing its elasticity or
spring, till it counterpoises or rather exceeds the weight
of the water ascending in S, the forcing pipe, out of
which the water in P No. 1 will be immediately dis¬
charged, when once gotten to the top ; which takes up
some time to recover that power, which having once got,
and being in work, it is easy for any one that never saw
the engine, after half an hour’s experience, to keep a con¬
stant stream running out the full bore of the pipe S.
For on the outside of the vessel P No. 1 you may see
how the water goes out, as well as if the vessel was
transparent; for as the steam continues within the vessel,
so far is the vessel dry without, and so hot, as one is
scarce able to endure the least touch with one s hand ; but
as far as the water is, the said vessel will be cold and
wet, where any water has fallen on it; which cold and
moisture vanish as fast as the steam in its descent
takes place of the water. But if you force all the water
out, the steam, or a small part thereof, going through R
No. 1, will rattle the clack, so as to give sufficient notice
to pull the handle of the regulator to you, which at the
same time begins to force out the water from P No. 2,
without the least alteration of the stream ; only some¬
times the stream of water will be somewhat stronger
than before, if you pull the handle of the regulator before
any considerable quantity of steam be gone up the clack
R No. 1 ; but it is much better to let none of the steam
go off, (for that is but losing so much strength,) and is
easily prevented by pulling the regulator some little time
before the vessel forcing is quite emptied. This being done,
immediately turn the cock or pipe of the cistern X on P
No. 1, so that the water proceeding from X, through L
Y, (which is never open but when turned on P No. 1
or P No. 2, but when between them is tight and stanch ;)
I say, the water falling on P No. I causes by its coolness
the steam (which had such great force just before, by
its elastic power) to condense—to become, in the language
of our author, ‘ a vacuum or empty space.’ So that the
vessel P No. 1 is, by the external pressure of the atmos¬
phere, or what is vulgarly called suction, immediately
refilled while P No. 2 is emptying ; which being done,
you push the handle of the regulator from you, and throw
the force on P No. 2, causing the steam in that vessel to
condense, so that it fills while the other empties. The labour
of turning these two parts of that engine, viz. the regu¬
lator and water cock, and tending the fire, being no more
than what a boy's strength can perform for a day together.
“The ingenious reader will probably here object, that the
steam being the cause of this motion and force, and that
steam is but water rarefied, the boiler L must be in some
years.
certain time emptied, so as the work of the engine must Stef
stop to replenish the boiler, or endanger the burning out En$
or melting the bottom of the boiler. J
“ To answer which, be pleased to observe the use of the Savan
small boiler D, when it is thought fit, by the person besci-
tending the engine, to replenish the great boiler, (which ^ s
requires an hour and a half, or two hours’ time to the s™f
sinking one foot of water.) Then I say, by turning thegine
cock of the small boiler E, you cut off all communication
between S the great force pipe and D the small boiler,
by which means I) grows immediately hot; by throwing
a little fire into B No. 2, the water of which boils, and
in a very little time it gains more strength than the great
boiler ; for the force of the great boiler being perpetually
spending and going out, and the other winding up and
increasing, it is not long before the force in D exceeds
that in L ; so that the water in D being depressed in D
by its <>'vn steam or vapour, must necessarily rise through
the pipe K into L, running till the surface of the water
in D is equal to the bottom of the pipe H.
“ Then the steam and water going together, will, by a
noise in the clack I, give sufficient assurance that D has
discharged and emptied itself into L, to within eight
inches of the bottom. And inasmuch as from the top
of D to the bottom of its pipe H is contained about as
much water as will replenish one foot; so you may be
certain it is replenished one foot—of course then you
open the cock I, and refill D immediately.
«< gy which you will see that there is a constant motion,
without fear or danger of disorder or decay ; and if you
would at any time know if the great boiler L be more
than half exhausted, turn the small cock N, whose pipe
will deliver water, if the water be above the level of its
bottom, which is halt way down the boiler; it not, it will
deliver steam.
“ So likewise will G show you if you have more or less
than eight inches of water in D; by which means nothing
but a stupid neglect or mischievous design carried on
some hours, can any ways hurt the engine. And if a
master is suspicious of the design of a servant to do mis¬
chief, it is easily discovered by those gauge-pipes. For
if lie comes when the engine is at work, and rinds the
surface C of the water in L below the bottom of the
gauo-e-pipe N ; or the water in D below the bottom of
G, such a servant deserves correction, though three hours
after that the working on could not damage or exhaust
the boiler. So that, in a word, the clacks being m all
water-works always found the better the longei they are
used ; so here the same effect is found, and all the moving
parts of the engine being of like nature, the furnace being
made of Sturbridye or Windsor brick or fire-stone, 1
don’t see it possible for the engine to decay in many
'cti o* •
“ For besides, the clacks, boxes, and water-pipes, ie
gulator and cocks, are all of brass, and the ves.-e s are
made of the best hammered copper, of sufficient thick¬
ness to sustain the force of the working engine. In short,
the engine is so naturally adapted to perform w at is
required, that even those of the most ordinary an mean
est capacity may work it for some years without ,n.]ur.)>
if not hired or employed by some base person on PurP°*
to destroy it. For after the engine is once fixed ana
work, I may modestly affirm that the adventurer or super¬
visor of the work will be freed Irom that peipe u<
charge, expense, and trouble of repairs which many en0i
are generally liable to. ’ t i r r
One of the first uses of Savary’s engine, propose ) Sava s
himself, was to raise water into a reservoir, from vv ik Eng;
should be allowed to fall on a mill-wheel, ,
the machinery in the same way as a common a o jjac
and after reaching the bottom, it was again o ery
by the steam-engine to the upper reservoir, m 1 P
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
urn- pose of again descending on the wheel. We are not,
tine, however, aware that any machine was applied in this
'•^manner during Savary's life; but after Ids death several
f’s of them were erected by a Mr Joshua Rigley, at Man¬
ning Chester, and throughout Lancashire, to impel the machin-
'^n' ery of some of the earliest cotton-mills and manufactories
of the district. One of these, of which we have here
given the figure, was erected at St Pancras, London, at
the manufactory of a Mr Kier, where it long continued
to turn lathes, &c. We have taken the following de¬
scription of it from Nicholson’s Journal.
“ The figure is the section of this engine taken through
the centre. B represents a boiler shaped like a waggon,
seven feet long, five feet wide, and five deep ; it was con¬
sidered as being of dimensions sufficient to work a larger
engine; a circumstance which must, in a certain degree,
diminish the effects of the present one. The boiler feeds
itself with water, from a cistern, elevated by a pipe which
descends into theboiler and has aval vein itattheupper end,
which shuts downwards, and is connected by a wire with
a float on the surface of the water within the boiler, so as
to open the valve whenever the water subsides below its
intended level; for the float which swims on the water
then sinks, and by its weight draws the valve up to allow
the water from the cistern to run down the pipe, and
supply the deficiency ; but as the water in the boiler rises
Fijr. 17.
die float closes the valve. The boiler, therefore, remains
constantly, or nearly, at the same degree of fulness.
“ * It steam is conveyed by a pipe C to a box D,
through which, by the opening and shutting of a valve,
•t can be admitted to the cylindrical receiver A. The
axis K serves as a key to open and shut the valve, which
is a circular plate formed conical on the edge, and fits
in a corresponding aperture in the bottom of the box D ;
y is a cistern from which the engine draws its water,
t irough a vertical suction pipe, in which a valve G is
P aced, to prevent the return of the water ; F is another
'fte1rn- 'nto which the water is delivered from the receiver
> t irough the spout F, which is provided with a valve
opening outwards; WW represents an overshot water¬
wheel. 18 feet in diameter, of which the axis S commu¬
nicates motion to the lathes and other machines used in
the manufactory.
“ The engine raises the water from the lower cistern H,
by suction, into the receiver A, from which it runs into
the upper cistern F, and thence flows through a sluice
into the buckets of the water-wheel W, to give it motion.
The water as it is discharged from the buckets of the
wheel falls again into the lower cistern H. As the same
water circulates continually in both the cisterns, it be¬
comes wanner than the hand, after working a short
time; for which reason the injection-water is forced up
by a small forcing pump from a well. This injection-
pump is worked by the water-wheel by means of a loaded
lever or pump handle, which is raised up by the motion
of the wheel, and then left to descend suddenly by its
weight and force up the water into the receiver. A
leaden pipe passes from this forcing-pump to the upper
or Conical part of the receiver A, for the purpose of in¬
jecting cold water at the proper time. Neither of these
could be represented with convenience in the present
section.
“ The manner in which the steam and cold water are al¬
ternately admitted into the receiver A, remains to be ex¬
plained. Upon the extremity of the axis S of the water¬
wheel a solid wooden wheel T is fixed ; it is about
four feet in diameter, and turns round with the water¬
wheel. It is represented separately, as seen in the front.
abed are four cleats, all or any number of which
may be fixed on the wheel at a time. Each cleat has its
correspondent block, efyh on the opposite surface of
the wheel. '\ he use of these is to work the engine.
Thus, suppose the water-wheel and this wheel T, with
all the revolving apparatus, are turning round, one of the
cleats, fi, meets in its rotation with a lever, which it lifts
up, and this opens the steam-valve D by a rod of com¬
munication reaching to the handle of the axis K. The
steam consequently passes into the receiver A, and the
steam-valve shuts again as soon as the cleat a of the wheel
rl has passed away from the lever by the motion of the
wheel. All this time the correspondent block e on the
other side of the wheel T had been operating to raise up
the loaded lever which forms the handle of the forcing-
pump. And at the same instant that the steam-valve D
is shut, as above mentioned, the block e quits the loaded
lever, after having raised it up, and leaves it to descend
suddenly by its own weight. This depresses the forcer
of the pump, and thereby throws a jet of cold water up
into the receiver A, and it falls in a shower of drops
through the steam which fills the receiver, so as to cool
and condense the steam, and make a vacuum therein.
rI he pressure of the atmosphere upon the surface of the
water in the cistern H then causes the water to mount
up the perpendicular suction-pipe, through the valve G,
towards the exhausted receiver.
“ W hen the engine is first set to work, the water-wheel
being motionless, the steam-valve and injection-pump are
moved by hand; and if the engine has been long out of
work, two or three strokes may be necessary to raise the
water to the top of the receiver A, so as to fill it full
of water. As soon as this is the case, and the steam-
valve is opened to admit steam into the receiver, the
whole contents of water above the spout and valve F then
flows out of the receiver A, by its own gravity, into the
upper cistern R.
“ The water which is thus raised is suffered to flow from
the cistern upon the overshot water-wheel W, through a
sluice, and by that means keeps the wheel in motion, and
replenishes the lower cistern. There is no reservoir for
the injection-water, but the requisite quantity is driven
621
Steam-
Engine.
S a vary’s
Revolving
Steam-En¬
gine.
622
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam- tip at each stroke; and as this is done by the sudden
Engine, descent of the loaded lever of the pump, the water is in-
jected very suddenly into the receiver. ’
The Atmospheric Steam-Engine of Newcomen and
Cawley.
Atmosphe¬
ric Steam-
Engine.
Atmosphe¬
ric expe¬
riments of
Otto Gue¬
ricke,
The title of this steam-engine correctly indicates the
principle of its action. The effect which it produces
is not by the direct and immediate agency of steam,
but of the atmosphere. All that the steam does in this
machine is merely to make way for the atmosphere,
and give effect to'its pressure. It is therefore neces¬
sary to retrace our steps, and give some consideration
to the mode of operation of atmospheric pressure as an
introduction to this description. A full exposition of
the nature and laws of the pressure of atmosphere has
been given in the article Pneumatics, to which our read¬
ers are referred for a more perfect acquaintance with this
subject. We shall only touch upon such branches of ex¬
periment, concerning atmospheric pressure, as are so
closely intertwined with our more immediate investiga¬
tion as to constitute an essential part of it.
We have merely to notice, that after the discovery of
the laws of atmospheric pressure by the pupils of Galileo, we
owe most of our information on the phenomena resulting
from the pressure of the atmosphere, and of the appara¬
tus constructed for exhibiting its powers on a large scale,
to Otto Guericke, privy councillor of his serene highness
the Elector of Brandenburg, and consul of Magdeburg,
who had in 1654 brought his pneumatic apparatus to con¬
siderable perfection, and continued to make his experi¬
ments to an advanced age. They were published by
Gasparus Schottus in his work “ De Arte Mechaniea
Hydraulica Pneumatica,” in 1657, and again by the author
himself, in a thin volume, entitled “ Ottonis Guericke
Experimenta Nova Magdeburgica de^ Vacuo Spatio,
Aeris Pondere,” &c. Amstelodami, 1672, fol.
We have extracted and translated the following pas¬
sages of this rare work from a copy in the library of
the College of Physicians at Edinburgh. They show us
that the mode ot raising water above its level by atmos¬
pheric pressure, and by a vacuum, was by him so clearly
made known, that the use ol steam as the insti ument for
effecting that vacuum was a very direct and easy tran¬
sition. Indeed the apparatus we have first to consider
is a very simple illustration of the action of Savary s
machine.
Fig. 18.
cuum.
Raising Illustration of raising water by a vacuum, and the pressure
water by of the atmosphere, taken from chapter xx. ot Otto
atmosphe- Guericke,
ricpressure t{ four tubes or
into pipes a&, erf, e/, g-ft, each
about eight feet long,
made of glass, and mount¬
ed at the extremities with
conically tapered fittings,
so as to be accurately
joined to each other, each
joint surrounded by a
small cup, into which li¬
quid being poured, the
joints may be prevented
from taking in air ; let
there also he a stopcock
on the lowest, and let
there be taken a glass
flask i, also fitted air¬
tight with a stopcock k
immersed under water in the open vessel; the large flask S
or receiver having been previously emptied of air by the Ej
air-pump, and being now placed on the top of the long
tube, and the stopcock k being opened, the water will
violently rush up the tube to the height of above thirty
feet. The rationale is this, that the external air presses
on the surface of the water in the bucket, which finds
free exit from this force up the vacuous space of the tube,
from which the air has been withdrawn, into the flask i;
and settles at such a height as will balance by the weight
of the column of water the weight of the circumambient
air.”
The reader of this very clear and accurate exposition
may easily perceive that when it has once been discovered
that water, after having been rarefied by heat into steam, so
as to fill a large space, is afterwards condensed by cold, so
as to leave a portion of that space vacuous, nothing remains
to be done except to make the vacuum of the flask i by
steam instead of an air-pump and the machine of Savary
is obtained. In fact, the fEsk i of Otto Guericke cor¬
responds accurately to the receiver of Thomas Savary.
The reader has only to understand the former, in order
to perceive at a glance the action of the latter.
This first experiment of Otto Guericke, therefore,
represents with fidelity the principle of Savary’s engine
for raising water by the formation of a vacuum. Not less
beautifully does another experiment of the same philo¬
sopher exemplify the principle of the species of engine
known as the atmospheric engine, or Newcomen’s steam-
engine. And its construction is peculiarly important at
this stage of our progress, as the reader has only to take
the trouble of following the details of the experiment of
Guericke, in order to comprehend correctly the machine
of Newcomen. In fact, all his experiments on the power
of the atmosphere are admirable illustrations of the prin¬
ciple of the atmospheric steam-engine ; so that the reader
will do well to remember that the only use of the steam
in the atmospheric steam-engine is to form a vacuum.
Description and operation of the atmospheric apparatus Rai g
for raising great weights by a vacuum under a piston in "'dj
a cylinder, exhibited amongst other experiments, at the
»»  — • - J - --w    £3 1 ^ |g§1
diet of Ratisbon in 1654, to the court and their Majesties(
on jisf
Fig. 19.
“ Having joined all these tubes together, so as to form
a tube erected on the wall of a house, the lower end being
Ferdinand III. and his son Ferdinand IV, &e., chap.{niftii
xxvii. and xxviii. der
“ A large vessel of copper, a, made
truly cylindrical, and having its sides
perfectly even and parallel, and about _
twenty inches high and eight inches
wide, was fixed firmly in a vertical
position by the strong ring S. In
the next place, a piston, PQR, was
made to fit exactly the inside of the
  aforesaid cylinder, P being of iron and
Q wood, and the rounded head R, formed of the hardest
oak, being hollowed out on the edge like the pulley ot
a common well, in which groove flax or hemp is to be
rolled round so as to fill it up, and the whole is the
to be placed in the aforesaid cylinder a, (like as a pistol
and its head in a common syringe or pump lor.eX ‘
guishing fires,) and fitted so exactly t at au c
neither pass outwards or inwards throng etween
piston and cylinder. Thirdly, the ^ ls 0.
attached to the great upright beam, Fig. 20, by an
bracket, through the ring aforesaid S, and the l)1/\j,n n r
is to be let into the cylinder a, and the iron ian e
the piston is to be passed through the ring o a '
iron arm (), in such a manner that it can p ay
up and down through the whole height of t ie c> ’
and at the same time be steadily preserved nl^ies ‘‘ K
line, but not permitted to rise further t ian •
fourth place, a rope, to the end of which is firmly a c
s S
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
623
S!
Ei
Ott
rid
per
. a hook, is carried round the wheel t, and fastened by its
hook to the piston rod PQ, and the other end of the rope
has other ropes attached to it, to be grasped by the men,
ue- as in the figure.
3X-
lts Fig. 20.
“ Now, if the stopcock X be closed, the piston being
nearly at the bottom, the joint efforts of fifty or more
men will not be able to raise it more than about half way
up the cylinder.
“ no'v> bi \\\% fifth, place, the large glass receiver,
formerly mentioned, which has been previously made
perfectly vacuous, (by an air-pump,) be applied to the
stopcock X, and then when the men are exerting their
utmost force, the stopcocks at X of the vacuous receiver
and the cylinder be opened, so as to make a free com¬
munication from the one into the other; the piston P Q R
willbesuddenly forced down to the bottumof the cylinders
in spite of the greatest efforts of the men to keep it up.
“ The whole cause of this matter is to be attributed to
the gravity of the air, which, when the vacuum is formed
below, instantly presses down the piston into it wdth a
force which, according to our former calculation, amounts
in that size of cylinder to 2688 pounds’ weight.”
The next of the Magdeburg experiments still more
closely resembles the atmospheric steam-engine in its
mode of application, and still further illustrates it..
Fig. 21.
or ^le above-mentioned invention, a child of twelve
teen years old can raise an enormous weight, livery
Steam-
Eninne.
Atmosphe¬
ric pressure
applied by
using steam
to form a
thing being left as formerly, only the piston being nearly
at the top of the cylinder a, you are to pass the rope
round a second pulley, hung from a staple ; and by a
hook to suspend from the rope the scale of a large ba¬
lance, which you are to load with a weight of 2686
pounds. If a small syringe be applied by a little hoy
to the stopcock X to pump out the air, it will follow
that, as the air is pumped out from below the piston,
the atmosphere above will press it down and raise the
weight.”
The transition from this to the engine of Newcomen is
immediate. To the last-described apparatus of buericke let
there be added a small copper globe or boiler, Z, Fig. 22, to
be placed overafire t ill the water which itcontains boils into
steam. This steam, entering below the piston, will occu¬
py the whole space of the cylinder; but if now the stop-Atmosphe-
cock X be suddenh closed, and especially if cold water be
sprinkled on the outside of it to cool it, the steam will be
, nc steam-
, engine.
condensed back
into its original
bulk of water,
and leave the
space it former¬
ly occupied in
the cylinder a
vacuum, into
which the at¬
mosphere will
press down the
piston P Q R,
justasin the for¬
mer instance,
raising up the
weights at the
other end of the
rope. This is
just the atmo¬
spheric engine
of Newcomen.
It is the at-
mospherewhitb
Fig. 22.
does the work ; the steam acts indirectly as the medium
through which a vacuum is effected ; and it is only the
efficient agency of the atmosphere which is thus rendered
useful in giving motion to a weight.
We hope that nothing which we have here said con¬
cerning the discoveries of Guericke will be misunderstood,
as intended in any way to depreciate the value set upon
the inventions ot Mr Savary or Mr Newcomen ; they
aie Only introduced as illustrations by which we are
most easily conducted to a thorough comprehension of the
principles on which they act, and of the state of knowledge
of atmospheric pressure which existed at that date. The
experimental apparatus of Guericke was in no respect a
steam-engine; and although Ids speculations were divul¬
ged before the inventions of Savary and Newcomen, the
agency of steam still remained to be introduced, before
a machine useful to the arts and industry of man was pro¬
duced. r
Newcomen s Fire-Engine.-—Switzer, in his Hydrostatics, Newco-
(1729) has the following passage:—“ To finish this long men’s at-
account of the surprising engine for the raising of water mospheric
by fire, f produce this last improvement of it by Mrs^eam eil~.
Thomas Newcomen, which makes it undoubtedly theeSCri~
beautifullest and most useful engine that any age or Switzer
country ever yet produced, as the best and most useful
inventions and improvements which have been discovered
either in art or nature, have, in process of time, been
liable to improvement, so this, of the fire-engine, has been
subject to the same, for this ingenious gentleman to
w* om we owe this late invention, lias, with a great deal
of modesty, but as much judgment, given the finishing
624
Steam-
Engine.
Dosagu-
liers’s ac-'
count of
improve¬
ments of
Newco¬
men’s en¬
gine.
stroke to it. It is, indeed, generally said to be an im¬
provement to Mr Savary’s engine ; but I am well
informed, that Mr Newcomen was as early in his inven¬
tion as Mr Savary was in his, only the latter being
nearer the court, had obtained bis patent before the
other knew it, on which account Mr Newcomen was glad
to come in as a partner to it.” Dr Desaguliers speaking
of Savary's engine also says, “ these discouragements (the
difficulty of making sufficient high-pressure boilers, &c.)
stopped the progress and improvement of this engine til
Mr Newcomen, an ironmonger, and John Cawley, a
glazier living at Dartmouth, brought it to the present
form in which it is now used and has been near these
thirty years.” (1744.) Experimental Philosophy, n. 4b 7.
And again, “ about the year 1710, Thomas Newcomen,
ironmonger, and John Cawley, glazier, of Dartmouth in
the county of Southampton, (Anabaptists,) made then
several experiments in private, and having brought it to
work with a piston, &c., in the latter end of the year
A.D.1711. 1711, made proposals to draw the water at Critr in W <ti-
wickshire ; but their invention meeting with no recep¬
tion, in March following, through the acquaintance of
A.D.1712., | Potter of Bromsgrove, in Worcestershire, they bar¬
gained to draw water for Mr Back of Wolverhampton
where, after a great many laborious attempts, they did
make the engine work. They were at a loss about the
pumps, but being so near Birmingham, and having the as¬
sistance of so many admirable and ingenious workmen,
they soon came to the method of making the pump-
valves, clacks, and buckets; whereas they had but an im¬
perfect notion of them before. One thing is very re¬
markable. At first working, they were surprised to see
the engine go several strokes and very quick together,
when, after a search, they found a hole in the piston
which let the cold water in to condense the steam in
the inside of the cylinder, whereas, before, they had
always done it on the outside. They used before to work
with a buoy in the cylinder inclosed in a pipe, which buoy
rose when the steam was strong, and opened the injection-
pipe and made a stroke, whereby they were capable of
only giving six, eight, or ten strokes in a minute, till a
boy named Humphrey Potter, who attended the engine,
added what he called scoggan, by which the beam of the
A D 1713 engine always opened and shut its own valves, am t icn it
‘would m> (entirely without the attendance of a man) fifteen
or sixteen strokes in a minute. But this being perplexed
with catches and strings, Mr Henry Beighton, in an
A.D.1718. engine he had built at Newcastle-on-1 yne in 11 lo, too
them all away, the beam itself supplying all much better.
The way of leathering the piston was found by accident
about 1713. Having screwed a large broad piece of
leather to the piston, which turned up the sides of the
cylinder two or three inches : in working it wore through,
and cut that piece from the other, which, falling flat on
the piston, wrought with its edge to the cylinder, and
having been in a long time, was worn very narrow,
which being taken out, they had the happy discovery
A.D.1713. whereby they found that a bridle rein or even a soft thick
piece of rope or match going round, would make the
piston air and water tight.”
Smnmarv This short note of Dr Desaguliers, who, with Switzer,
of"iJ- is our authority for the historical facts of this date, con-
tory of the tains the leading points of the history of the steam-
atmosphe- en„ine as generally used for raising water during the
ric steam- e;^|Ueentli century. Newcomen gave to the engine a
cylinder and piston : he formed a vacuum in the cylinder
below the piston, by first admitting steam from the boiler
so as to expel air and balance the pressure of the atmo-
sphere, ami afterwards condensing the steam so as to re¬
duce it back to its primitive bulk of water, and thus, by
leaving the space below the piston empty, allow /Ae
pressure of the atmosphere upon the whole surface of the
engine.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
piston to carry it with a force somewhat less than four- St .
teen pounds on each inch of that surface downwards to
the bottom of the cylinder, so that by suspending the
piston with a chain from the end of a rocking beam to the SutnjjlfY
opposite extremity of which the rod and buckets of a larye^tl is.
draining-pump were attached, a considerable volume of'^y the
water was raised at each alternate ascent and descent of^“ ^-
the piston, which was raised up again by the weight of the Enp im'
pumps and water, at the other end, whenever the steam
was re-admitted below the piston to balance the atmo¬
sphere he gave to the valves, clacks, buckets, &c., that
improved mechanical construction which rendered them
suitable to the precision of the action of steam. Be
first constructed a piston with an elastic packing of
hemp, by which it is kept steam and air-tight as it moves
along the cylinder; and, above all, availed himself of the
experience of an unlucky accident to add the important
process in the steam-engine of condensation of steam by
injection of cold water directly amongst it. All these in¬
ventions of Newcomen give to the steam-engine of the
present day its most important features ; and if we add to
these the scoggan or sculking gear of Potter,hy which the
attendant of the engine was enabled to scog or sculk
from his work, leaving the engine itself, by an ingenious
complication of strings and catches to do his work,
opening and shutting its own valves, with much greater
precision, quickness, and regularity, than the listless at¬
tendant had ever exercised or even the very closest
attention could attain ; and if, further, we include the
ingenious and more permanent mechanism which Beigh¬
ton introduced as a substitution for the rude expedients
of strings and straps ; and, finally, if we include the
admirable proportions and constructions, and adaptations
of all the various parts of the engine to each other, and
to the boilers and furnaces, and of these to the nature of
the work to he done, as displayed in the magnificent at¬
mospheric engines of the sagacious and philosophical
Smeaton, we shall comprehend, in this succinct view, all
that had been done for the steam-engine previously to
the time of Watt.
Fig. 23.
S°i
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
625
sc: w-
II
ID en’
im- The following is Dr Robison’s description and explana-
ine. tion of Newcomen’s engine :—
Let A (fig. 23) represent a great boiler properly built
D| jbi- in a furnace. At a small height above it is a cylinder
CBBC of metal, bored very truly and smoothly.’ The
boiler communicates with this cylinder by means of the
■ i 0f throat or steam-pipe N. The lower aperture of this
ft] 3. pipe is shut by the plate N, which is ground very flat, so
as to apply very accurately to the whole circumference of
the orifice. The plate is called the regulator or steam-
cock, and it turns horizontally round an axis b a which
passes through the top of the boiler, and is nicely fitted
to the socket, like the key of a cock, by grinding. The
upper end of this axis is furnished with a handle bT.
A piston P is suspended in this cylinder, and made
air-tight by a packing of leather or soft rope, well filled
with tallow; and, for greater security, a small quantity
of water is kept above the piston. The piston-rod PD
is suspended by a chain, which is fixed to the upper ex¬
tremity F of the arched head FD of the great lever or
working beam FK, which turns on the gudgeon O.
There is a similar arched head EG at the other end of
the beam. To its upper extremity E is fixed a chain
carrying the pump-rod KL, which raises the water from
the mine. The load on this end of the beam is made to
exceed considerably the weight of the piston P at the
other extremity.
At some small height above the top of the cylinder is
a cistern W called the injection cistern. From this
descends the injection-pipe ZSR, which enters the cylin¬
der through its bottom, and terminates in a small hole
R, or sometimes in a nozzle pierced with many smaller
holes diverging from a centre in all directions. This
pipe has at S a cock called the injection-cock, fitted with
a handle V.
At the opposite side of the cylinder, a little above its
bottom, there is a lateral pipe, turning upwards at the
extremity, and there covered by a clack-valve^ called
the snifting valve, winch has a little dish round it to
hold water for keeping it air-tight.
There proceeds also from the bottom of the cylinder
a pipe/) e<7 h, (passing behind the boiler,) of which the
lower end is turned upwards, and is covered with a valve
/f. This part is immersed in a cistern of water Y, called
the hot well, and the pipe itself is called the eduction-pipe.
Lastly, the boiler is furnished with a safety-valve called
the puppet-clack, (which, for want of room, is not repre¬
sented in this sketch,) in the same manner as Savary’s
engine. This valve is generally loaded with one or two
pounds on a square inch ; so that it allows the steam to
escape when its elasticity is one-tenth greater than that of
common air. Thus all risk of bursting the boiler is avoided,
and the pressure outwards is very moderate ; so also is
the heat. For, by inspecting the table of vaporous elas¬
ticity, we see that the heat corresponding to 32 inches of
elasticity is only about 216° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
These are all the essential parts of the engine, and are
lere drawn in the most simple form, till our knowledge
of their particular offices shall show the propriety of the
peculiar forms which are given to them. Let us now
see how the machine is put in motion, and what is the
nature of its work.
The water in the boiler being supposed to be in a state
or strong ebullition, and the steam issuing by the safety-
'alve, let us consider the machine in a state of res:t,
havmg both the steam-cock and injection-cock shut.
r lh® nesting position or attitude of the machine must be
'k, ?ucn as appears in the sketch, the pump-rods preponderat-
lng’, and the great piston being drawn up to the top of the
cy inder. Now open the steam-cock by turning the
nandle T of the regulator. The steam from the boiler
will immediately rush in, and flying all over the cylinder,
,V1 m'x with the air. Much of it will be condensed by
voi.. xx.
Hoi L
mac i
and
Jatj U
the cold surface of the cylinder and piston, and the water Steam-
produced from it will trickle down the sides, and run Engine,
off by the eduction-pipe. This condensation and waste
of steam will continue till the whole cylinder and piston
are made as hot as boiling water. When this happens,
the steam will begin to open the snifting-valve f and
issue through the pipe ; slowly at first, and very cloudy,
being mixed with much air. The blast at / will grow
stronger by degrees, and more transparent, having already
carried off the greatest part of the common air which
filled the cylinder. We supposed that the water was
boiling briskly, so that the steam was issuing by the
safety-valve which is in the top of the boiler, and through
every crevice. The opening of the steam-cock puts an
end to this at once, and it has sometimes happened that
the cold cylinder abstracts the steam from the boiler with
such astonishing rapidity, that the pressure of the atmo¬
sphere has burst up the bottom of the boiler. We may
here mention an accident of which we were witnesses,
which also shows the immense rapidity of the condensa¬
tion. The boiler was in a frail shed at the side of
the engine-house ; a shoot of snow from the top of the
house fell down and broke through the roof of the shed,
and was scattered over the head of the boiler, which
wms of an oblong or oval shape. In an instant the sides
of it were squeezed together by the pressure of the
atmosphere.
When the manager of the engine perceives that not
only the blast at the snifting-valve is strong and steady,
but that the boiler is now fully supplied with steam of
a proper strength, appearing by the renewal of the dis¬
charge at the safety-valve, he shuts the steam cock, and
opens the injection-cock S by turning its handle V. The
pressure of the column of water in the injection-pipe ZS,
immediately forces some water through the spout R.
This coming in contact with the pure vapour which now
fills the cylinder, condenses it, and thus makes a partial
void, into which the more distant steam immediately
expands, and by expanding collapses, (as has been already
observed.) What remains in the cylinder no longer
balances the atmospherical pressure on the surface of the
water in the injection-cistern, and therefore the water
spouts rapidly through the hole R, by the joint action of
the column ZS, and the unbalanced pressure of the at¬
mosphere ; at the same time the snifting-valve^ and the
eduction-valve h, are shut by the unbalanced pressure of
the atmosphere. The velocity of the injection water
must therefore rapidly increase, and the jet will dash (if
single,) against the bottom of the piston, and be scattered
through the whole capacity of the cylinder. In a very
short space of time, therefore, the condensation of the
steam becomes universal, and the elasticity of what remains
is almost nothing. The whole pressure of the atmosphere
is exerted on the upper surface of the piston, while there
is hardly any on its under side. Therefore, if the load
on the outer end E of the working-beam be inferior to
this pressure, it must yield to it. The piston P must
descend, and the pump-piston L, must ascend, bring¬
ing along with it the water of the mine, and the motion
must continue till the great piston reaches the bottom of
the cylinder; for it is not like the motion which would
take place in a cylinder of air rarefied to the same degree.
In this last case, the impelling force would be continually
diminished, because the capacity of the cylinder is dimin¬
ished by the descent of the piston, and the air in it is
continually becoming more dense and elastic. The piston
would stop at a certain height, where the elasticity of the
included air, together with the load at E, would balance
the atmospherical pressure on the piston. But when
the contents ot the cylinder are pure vapour, and the
continued stream of injected cold water keeps down its
temperature to the same pitch as at the beginning, the
elasticity of the remaining steam can never increase by
4 K
626
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
the descent of the piston, nor exceed what corresponds
to this temperature. The impelling or accelerating force
therefore remains the same, and the descent of the piston
will be uniformly accelerated, if there be not an increase
of resistance arising from the nature of the work per¬
formed by the other end of the beam. This circumstance
will come under consideration afterwards, and we need
not attend to it at present. It is enough for our present
purpose to see, that if the cylinder have been completely
purged of common air before the steam-cock was shut,
and if none have entered since, the piston will descend to
the very bottom of the cylinder. And this may be fre¬
quently observed in a good steam-engine, where every
part is air-tight. It sometimes happens, by the pit-pump
drawing air, or some part of the communication between
the two strains giving way, that the piston comes down
with such violence as to knock out the bottoiq of the
cylinder with the blow.
Themston The only observation which remains to he made on
* - <• xi *4. v»tc tViQt it. not
contains a quantity of air in a state of chemical union. Ste,
The union is but feeble, and a boiling heat is sufficient for Eni;
disengaging the greatest part of it by increasing its J
elasticity. It may also be disengaged by simply remov-Effec ,f
ing the external pressure of the atmosphere. ^ Thisisthefi
clearly seen when we expose a glass of water in an ex- Puff a.
hausted receiver. Therefore the small space below the ste™
piston contains watery vapour mixed with all the air
which had been disengaged from the water in the boiler
by ebullition, and all that was separated from the injec-
tion water by the diminution of external pressure. All
this is blown out of the cylinder by the first puff of steam.
We may observe in this place, that waters differ exceed,
ingly in the quantity of air which they hold in a state of
solution. AH spring-water contains much of it; and
water newly brought up from deep mines contains a great
deal more, because the solution was aided in these situa-
tions by great pressures. Such waters sparkle when
poured into a glass. It is therefore of great consequence
Themston The only observation which remains to tie made on poureu inio a   , 0f - ^
cToesTot the motion^of the piston in descending is, that it does not to the good performance of a steam-engine to use water ^
beffin to begin at the instant the injection is made. The piston containing little air, both in the boiler and in the mjec-que!1 to
was kept at the top by the preponderancy of the outer tion cistern. The water of running brooks is preferable the :id
1 - . . 1 . -V --- - there till to all others, and the freer it isfrom any saline impregna-per a.
descend
the mo- 0f the working- beam, and it must remain there
injection is the difference between the elasticity of the steam below
made
’ it and the pressure of the atmosphere exceed this pre
ponderancy. There must, therefore, he a small space of
time between the beginning of the condensation and the
beginning of the motion. This is very small, not exceed¬
ing the third or the fourth part of a second ; hut it may
be very distinctly observed by an attentive spectator.
Tie will see, that the instant the injection cock is opened,
the cylinder will sensibly rise upwards a little by the
pressure of the air on its bottom. Its whole weight is
not nearly equal to this pressure; and instead of its
being necessary to support it by a strong floor, we must
keep it down by strong joists loaded by heavy walls. It
is usual to frame these joints into the posts which cany
tion it generally contains the less air. Such engines as areanCl f
so unfortunately situated that they are obliged to employ^'
the very water which they have brought up from great ,
depths, are found greatly inferior in their performance toemp|d
others. The air collected below the piston greatly contj
diminishes the accelerating force, and the expulsion
such a quantity requires a long-continued blast of the
best steam at the beginning of every stroke. It is advis¬
able to keep such water in a large shallow pond for a
long while before using it.
Let us now consider the state of the piston. It is jiW! ,
evident that it will start, or begin to rise, the moment thepisto
steam-cock is opened ; for at that instant the excess of rises
atmospherical pressure, by which it was kept down in
The cir¬
cumstan¬
ces that
succeed
ILTxT/oVr wo^be^rrdre^refore loaded opposition to the preponderancy of the outer end of the
with the whole strain of the machine. This rising of beam, is diminished. The piston therefoie
the cylinder shows the instantaneous commencement of upwards, and it will rise even although the steam wl t
the Condensation; and it is not till after this has been is admitted be not so elastic as common J“PP°
distinctly observed, that the piston is seen to start, and the mercury m the barometer to ,at f
hetrin to descend that the preponderancy at the outer end of the beam is
When the manager sees the piston as low as he thinks |th of the pressure of the air on the piston, the piston
proper! he shuts the injection-cock, and opens the steam- will not rise if the elasticity of the steam be not equa to
cock. The steam has Ceen accumulating above the water 30-%°, that is, 26.7 tnches nearly ; but .1. be just tht.
in the boiler during the whole time of the piston’s descent, quantity, the piston will rise as fast as this steam can
, . . • ” • *i i. ri,L cnnnlied tl.romrh the steam-mne, and the velocity ot its
the descent and is now rushing violently through the puppet clack,
of the pis- qqie moment, therefore, that the steam-cock is opened,
ton* it rushes violently into the cylinder, having an elasticity
greater than that of the air. It therefore immediately
blows open the snifting valve, and allows (at least) the
water which had come in by the former injection, and
what arose from the condensed steam, to descend by its
own weight through the eduction-pipe d e g h, to open
the valve h, and to run out into the hot well. And we
must easily see that this water is boiling hot; for while
lying in the bottom of the cylinder, it will condense steam
till it acquire this temperature, and therefore cannot run
down till it condenses no more. There is still a waste
of steam at its first admission, in order to heat the inside
of the cylinder and the injected water to the boiling tem¬
perature ; but the space being small, and the whole being
already very warm, this is very soon done; and when
things are properly constructed, little more steam is
wasted than what will warm the cylinder; for the
eduction-pipe receives the injection water even during
the descent of the piston, and it is therefore removed
pretty much out of the way of the steam.
This first puff of the entering steam is of great service:
it drives out of the cylinder the vapour which it finds
there. This is seldom pure watery vapour: all water
supplied through the steam-pipe, and the velocity ot its
ascent depends entirely on the velocity of this supply.
This observation is of great importance ; and it does not
seem to have occurred to the mathematicians, who ha\e
paid most attention to the mechanism of the motion ot
this engine. In the mean time, we may clearly see that
the entry of the steam depends chiefly on the counter¬
weight at E: for suppose there was none, steam no strongei
than air would not enter the cylinder at all; and if the
steam be stronger, it will enter only by the excess ot its
strength. Writers on the steam-engine (and even some
of great reputation) familiarly speak of the steam giving
the piston a push ; but this is scarcely possible. Luring
the rise of the piston the snifting valve is never observea
to blow; and we have not heard any well-attested accoun s
of the piston-chains ever being slackened by the up warn
pressure of the steam, even at the very beginning ot me
stroke. During the rising of the piston the steam is,
(according to the common conception and manner
(according 10 ine commun .— ,
speaking,) sucked in, in the same way that air 1S suctjie
into a common syringe or pump when we draw UP
piston ; for in the steam-engine the piston is really cuavv
up by the counter-weight. But it is still more SUL
in, and requires a more copious supply, for anot ier r
As the piston descended only in consequence o
THE STEAM ENGINE.
627
am- of the cylinder’s being sufficiently cooled to condense the
pine, steam, this cooled surface must again be presented to
\ the steam during the rise of the piston, and must con¬
dense the steam a second time. The piston cannot rise
another inch till the part of the cylinder which the piston
has already quitted has been warmed up to the boiling
point, and steam must be expended in this warming.
The inner surface of the cylinder is not only of the heat
of boiling water while the piston rises, but is also per¬
fectly dry ; for the film of water left on it by the ascend¬
ing piston must be completely evaporated, otherwise it
will be condensing steam. That the quantity thus wasted
is considerable, appears by the experiments of Mr Beigh-
ton. He found that five pints of water were boiled off
in a minute, and produced 16 strokes of an engine whose
cylinder contained 113 gallons of 282 inches each; and
he thence concluded that steam was 2886 times rarer
than water. But in no experiment made with scrupu¬
lous care on the expansion of boiling water does it appear
that the density of steam exceeds y^xio^1 t^ie density
of water. Desaguliers says that it is above 14,000 times
rarer than water. We have frequently attempted to
measure the weight of steam which filled a very light
vessel which held 12,600 grains of water, and found it
always less than one grain ; so that we have no doubt of
its being much more than 10,000 times rarer than water.
This being the case, we may safely suppose that the number
of gallons of steam, instead of being 16 times 113, were
nearly five times as much ; and that only j was employed
in allowing the piston to rise, and the remaining |ths were
employed to warm the cylinder. But no distinct experi¬
ment shows so great an expansion of water when con¬
verted into steam at 212°. Mr Watt never found it,
under the pressure of the air, more than 1800 times rarer
than water.
The moving force during the ascent of the piston must
be considered as resulting chiefly, if not solely, from
the preponderating weight of the pit piston-rods. The
ofi this is to return the steam-piston to the top of
pj ^ the cylinder, where it may again be pressed down by the
re air, and make another working stroke by raising the
pump-rods. But the counter-weight at E has another
service to perform in this use of the engine ; namely, to
return the pump pistons into their places at the bottom
of their respective working barrels, in order that they
also may make a working stroke. This requires force
independent of the friction and inertia of the moving
parts ; for each piston must be pushed down through the
water in the barrel, which must rise through the piston
with a velocity whose proportion to the velocity of the
piston is the same with that of the bulk of the piston to
the bulk of the perforation through which the water rises
through the piston. It is enough at present to mention
this in general terms: we shall consider it more parti¬
cularly afterwards, when we come to calculate the per¬
formance of the engine, and to deduce from our acquired
knowledge, maxims of construction and improvement,
scent From this general consideration of the ascent of the
jgP8'piston, we may see that that motion differs greatly from
(1 s the descent. It can hardly be supposed to accelerate,
the eyen if die steam in the cylinder were in a moment an-
nt. nihilated. For the resistance to the descent of the piston
is the same with the weight of the column of water,
which would cause it to flow through the box of the
pump piston with the velocity with which it really rises
through it, and must therefore increase as the square of
that velocity increases ; that is, as the square of the
velocity of the piston increases. Independent of friction,
therefore, the velocity of descent through the water must
^o<m become a maximum, and the motion become uniform.
We shall see by and by, that in such a pump as is gen¬
ially used, this will happen in less than the 10th part of
a second. The friction of the pump will diminish this Steam-
velocity a little, and retard the time of its attaining uni- Engine,
formity. But, on the other hand, the supply of steam
which is necessary for this motion, being susceptible of
no acceleration from its previous motion, and depending
entirely on the briskness of the ebullition, an almost in¬
stantaneous stop is put to acceleration.
Accordingly, any person who observes with attention
the working of a steam-engine, will see that the rise of
the piston and descent of the piston-rods is extremely
uniform, whereas the working stroke is very sensibly ac¬
celerated. Before quitting this part of the subject, and
lest it should afterwards escape our recollection, we may
observe, that the counter-weight is different during the The coun-
two motions of the pump-rods. While the machine isyer-)ve’»ht
making a working stroke, it is lifting not only the co-1®^^61’^4
lumn of water in the pump, but the absolute weight of t^1I^0 ie
the pistons and piston-rods also; but while the pump-t;onsoftjie
rods are descending, there is a diminution of the counter-pump-rods,
weight by the whole weight lost by the immersion of the
rod in water. The wooden rods which are generally
used, soaked in water, and joined by iron straps, are
heavier, and but a little heavier, than water, and they
are generally about one-third of the bulk of the water in
the pumps.
These two motions complete the period of the opera¬
tion ; and the whole may be repeated by shutting the
steam-cock and opening the injection-cock whenever the
piston has attained the proper height. We have been
very minute in our attention to the different circum¬
stances, that the reader may have a distinct notion of
the state of the moving forces in every period of the
operation. It is by no means sufficient that we know in
general that the injection of cold water makes a void
which allows the air to press down the piston, and that
the re-admission of the steam allows the piston to rise
again. This lumping and slovenly way of viewing it has
long prevented even the philosopher from seeing the defects
of the construction, and the methods of removing them.
It was in 1718, as already mentioned, that Mr ^enry Bei^ton
Beighton improved the steam-engine of Newcomen, byTaive
a simple and effective arrangement of minor details,
which left so little to be desired for the practical use
of the engine in pumping water, that for more than half
a century it remained in general use, without any change
of form or arrangement. The following excellent dia¬
grams and quaint descriptions are from the pen of Des¬
aguliers, who had made himself very well acquainted with
the subject as it existed in his time.
Fig. 24.
s
gear.
628
Steam-
Engine.
Dess gu¬
tters’ de¬
scription of
Beighton’s
gear.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Fig. 25.
“ The working perpendicular beam is in figure 24
represented in the whole, with all its contrivances for
opening and shutting the regulator and injection-cock, and
marked QQ.
“ Between two perpendicular pieces of wood on each
side of P, there is a square iron axis, which has upon it
four iron pieces subservient to the turning of the regu¬
lator, by shooting forward and drawing back the fork
fastened to the hand of the regulator; it is marked
LNO in fig. 25, and represented separately in fig. 27.
There is a slit in the perpendicular working-beam con¬
trived in such manner that its pins work on the fore part,
middle, and back part, to raise and depress the levers
5, 4, (fig. 25,) that move the iron axle-tree above-men¬
tioned as far about its centre as is necessary. But the
reader will conceive the thing better by a view of the
pieces in figs. 26 to 29, and then be enabled fully to
understand the same things in fig. 25.
Fig. 26. “ Figure 26 represents the iron
axle-tree already mentioned, and
marked by the letters A B in figure
25. There is a piece c e D E, called
the Y, from its representing that letter
by its two shanks, only hanging down
in an inverted order, with a weight F
to be slipped on upon its upper part,
where it is made fast, higher or lower,
as is convenient, with a key or wedge.
This Y being slipped on over the end
of the iron axle is made fast by driving
in a key after it at e: then there is a sort of a stirrup,
I K I, with a long pin to be fixed occasionally into the
holes on each side of K : this, by its hooks I 1, is hung
upon the axle at i i, then a spanner or handle G 4 is
driven on upon the axle from the other end, so as to
come and be fast at g at right angles to the Y : then
a shorter lever or spanner at half right angles to this,
(that is, between the long shank of the Y and G 4,)
is forced on to h, upon the axle, where it is made fast.
All these pieces, as they are fixed together on the axle
may be seen at figure 25 ; where you may observe, that
when the working beam goes up, by a pulley held in its
middle by a pin, it lifts up the spanner H 5, which turns
the axle so far as to throw the Y with its weight F
from C to 6, in which direction, after passing the per¬
pendicular, it would continue to move towards Q, if it
was not stopped by a strap of leather fixed to its top
and made fast at the points m n, in such manner as to
allow the Y to vibrate about a quarter of a circle, in
falling forwards and backwards, after it has passed the
perpendicular.
“ Figure 27 represents
the horizontal fork LNO
to be joined, at its end O,
to the spanner or handle of
the regulator P Q 10, there
Fijr. 27.
being several holes in these pieces, that any part of the end Ste:
O may be kept in any part of the slit in the spanner, as may Eng
be requisite for the better motion of the two pieces. This ;
may be seen in figure 24, where the other end of the fork is Beig] iS
fastened to the bottom of the stirrup at K N L, by the wort
long horizontal pin L, so that the fork may continue^'
horizontal, as it is shot forward, and drawn back by the
strokes that K and D, the shanks of the Y, make alter¬
nately on the fore part or back part of the pin L, in
order to push forward, or draw back the spanner P 10(
to shut or open the regulator in the manner that shall be
further explained. We will only take notice now, that
there is an horizontal piece ul, so placed, that the end 10
of the spanner may bear upon it, and be supported, as it
slides backward and forward.
“ Before we proceed, it will not be improper to give a
full description of the regulator. See fig. 28.
“ A cock of four inches water-way, big enough to let
the steam out of the boiler into the cylinder, would have
so much friction, if made tight, as to require a great force
to turn it, especially as it must open and shut 32 times in a
minute; therefore the regulator has been contrived instead
of it. The brass plate B, which you see here at RR in
the middle of the top of the boiler, is cast with the pipe
S S S of four inches’ bore, and worked
smooth at its hole under the plate, that it
may be closely stopped by another smooth
plate y^i y applied under it, (where the
pressure of the steam will hold it the
closer when shut.) There is also, in the
plate RR, a short pipe or conic hole T,
smallest downwards, to receive the piece
V W X, which being ground into it can move round
without letting air or steam pass by. There is a square
shank ZZ, which is put through this last piece when it
is let down into its hole, and pinned tight to it at the
upper Z Then the spanner of the regulator being put on,
and made fast at V and W, as may be plainly seen in fig.
25, where the whole regulator is put together. This regu¬
lator opens very quick, and ten times easier than a cock
of the same bore: and to help the whole, the weight F
of the Y, when it has passed the perpendicular, falls with
a good force, which makes the shank under it give a
smart stroke, either within the fork or without, to drive
the fork, and draw the handle of the regulator contrary
to the way that the weight is falling: the weight causing
the regulator to be shut when it tumbles towards it, and
be open when it tumbles from it.
“ When the regulator is shut, the next thing is to open
the injection-cock to make the vacuum, and immediately
to shut it when the piston begins to come down, (for the
vacuum is made in a second of time.) n (fig. 29,) repre¬
sents the adjutage of the injecting pipe within the cylin¬
der ; a b part of the pipe coining from the injecting-cistern,
c b the cock, and e the key of the cock, that has a narrow,
long, upright hole instead of a round one, that it may be
the sooner opened. Upon the top of this key is fastened
on a quarter of a wheel with
teeth l, to be turned by another Fig. 29.
quarter of a wheel i hanging
down from the axis h g, which is
moved by the lever h k, common¬
ly called the F. Examine fig.
25, where they are working toge¬
ther, and you may see how the perpendicular beam moves
them by its pins.
“ The present situation of the machine, as now repre¬
sented by the 24th figure, is as follows. The regulator
is open, as appears by its plate TY being removed from
under the communication or throat-pipe S, that goes
into the cylinder. The piston is now up about the place
CW, at top of the cylinder in figure 24; consequently
Fig. 28.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
629
m ,r
jea
Suit m’s
impnie*
a- the great beam, and the working perpendicular beam are
ie. now almost at their utmost height, and the pulley in the
slit of the working beam has so far raised the spanner
- H 5, that the weight or head of the Y is brought so far
i- from under n, as to be past the perpendicular over the
axle; and being ready to fall over towards m, it will with
Bei)Ilsa smart blow of its shank K, strike the pin L, and draw¬
ing the fork ON horizontally towards the working beam,
will draw the end 10 of the handle of the regulator to¬
ward l, and thereby shut it, by slipping the plate Y under
the pipe S. The engine in figure 25 is in this very con¬
dition ; but in figure 24 the blow is already struck, and
the communication cut off; as may be known by observing
that the weight at the head of the Y is got as far as the
strap will let it go.
“ The moment after the regulator is shut, the beam
not immediately losing its motion upwards, the pin s on
its outside lifts up the end I of the F, h k i, and opens
the injection-cock; and the jet immediately making a
vacuum, the beam begins to descend, and the pin r
(which you may put higher or lower) depressing the F,
shuts the injection-cock : then the beam continuing to
descend, the pulley p, pressing on the handle G 4, throws
back the Y, whose shank D throws forward the fork,
and opens the regulator to let in fresh steam, in the
manner already described ; which steam is shut off, by
shutting the regulator till the cock for injection of cold
water is again opened,’’
Newcomen, Potter, and Beighton, had thus rendered
the atmospheric steam-engine an independent self-acting
mechanical power of so great perfection in its principle
of action, and its minor details, as to be very generally
introduced as a substitute for the power of animals in
draining mines and collieries, and to confer very great
advantages in those important and primary sources of
rational industry and wealth. The saving of money
resulting from this change was so great as to be conti¬
nually opening up new avenues of mining enterprise;
and, by the rapid progress of that enterprise, the capabi¬
lities of the engine were soon put to the severest trial.
The cylinders, which had been originally of twelve and
sixteen inches diameter, were increased to twenty, thirty,
and forty inches, and at last even fifty and sixty inches
in diameter. Along with this dimension, the other parts
required to be increased in a still higher proportion ; and
at last the structures became so gigantic as to demand
an amount of science and practical skill which in that
period of engineering science was rarely to be found.
The man suited to the emergency at last arose in the
father of civil engineering, the justly celebrated Smea-
ton, who brought to bear on this subject endowments
and accomplishments seldom united ; fertile ingenuity,
accurate philosophic conceptions, and sound practical saga¬
city. He conferred upon the atmospheric steam-engine
all the extent and variety of application of which it was
capable, and all the perfection of proportion and execu-
tmn which the state of the mechanical arts would permit.
The manner in which Smeaton proceeded to the im¬
provement of the atmospheric engine was one which is
woi thy of all praise and imitation. Unlike too many of
the engineering experiments of the present day, as well
as of past times, his were made at his own expense, not
at the expense of his employers, and on a scale sufficient-
y arge to ensure sound results, without being on that
scale which should entail unwarrantable expense. Ha-
vmg encountered some anomalous results in the earlier
^ar\S °j ^'S exPer*ence with atmospheric engines, he
resolved, as he says, “ if possible to make himself master
a tie subject, and immediately began to build a small
re-engme, which could easily be converted into different
* .apes for experiments.” This experimental engine wms
110 work at Austhorpe in 1769. With it he made a
very great number of valuable experiments, so as to ascer- Steam-
tain the length and velocity of stroke and return, the Engine,
quantity and manner of injection, the proportion of load,
the dimensions of cylinder, and the materials of con¬
struction, which were required to produce the maximum
of useful effect from a given amount of fuel. Mr Farey
has given us the dimensions of this model, and the re¬
sults of the experiments of Smeaton as they are here set Smeaton’s
down. The cylinder was 9.9 inches in diameter, and had experimen-
a working-stroke of 3 feet. The piston made 171 strokes tal engine.
per minute passing over 105 feet per minute in going and
returning, or over 52.5 effective feet per minute ; its load
per square inch was 7.89 lbs., its total load 607 lbs. The
quantity of coals consumed was 55 lbs. per hour. The
work done w^as equivalent to 31,867 lbs. raised 1 foot
high per minute = 0.966 horse power. The work of one
bushel or 84 lbs. of coal was equal to 2,919,017 lbs.
raised 1 foot high. The weight of water evaporated by 1
lb. of coal was 6.14 lbs., and the quantity of cold water
injected was 10.66 the evaporated water.
When the engine made its stroke the mercury was
raised to 23.2 inches.
Mr Smeaton found that this engine produced its maxi¬
mum effect both as regards quantity and economy when
carrying a load of 7.81 lbs. on the inch. When the load
w'as reduced to 6.6 lbs. the power of the engine wras
lessened in the proportion of 100. to 94. When the load
was reduced to 5.5 lbs. the power of the engine was still
further lessened in the proportion of 94 to 82. In these
two cases the work produced by 1 lb. of coals wras reduced
in the proportion of 100 to 94, and 94 to 80.
YY hen, on the other hand, the load was increased from
7.8 lbs. to 8.8 lbs. per inch, the work done was only in¬
creased from 100 to 107. When the load was still further
increased to 9.1 lbs. the work was diminished from 100
to 96. But in both these the economy of fuel was dimi¬
nished in a higher proportion, the work produced by each
lb. of coals being reduced in the proportions 100 to 97, and
97 to 93.
Mr Smeaton also found, from the same engine, the best
kinds and modes of burning the fuel. Round coals were
found superior to small coal in the proportion of 100 to
80 nearly. Coke produced | of the effect of an equal
weight of the same coal from which the coke was made,
and 66 lbs. of coke were obtained from 100 lbs. of coal.
Ash-wood used as fuel was found inferior to common
Yorkshire coals in the proportion of 42 to 100. The
performance of the kind of Newcastle coals called Team
Top, was found superior to the common Yorkshire
or Halton coal, in the ratio of 120 to 100. Cannel coal,
from Wakefield in Yorkshire, was superior to Halton in
the ratio 133 to 100. Middleton-wood coals, and YYelsh
coals, were superior to Halton, as 110 to 100; and Ber-
wick-moor coals were inferior to Halton, in the ratio 86
to 100.
In consequence of this admirable method of procedure,
Mr Smeaton improved the proportions and structure of
the atmospheric engine, and very soon produced ma¬
chines which excelled in their dimensions and efficiency
every thing which had preceded them. In 1772 he
erected an engine at Long Benton colliery, near New¬
castle, which he ever afterwards considered as his stand¬
ard. The following are its principal dimensions and
performance : Diameter of the cylinder, 52 inches 7
feet stroke, 12 strokes per minute, being 84 feet useful
motion per minute, and 168 feet total motion per minute.
Load of water rr 7.1 tons. Load per square inch =
/-^-Ibs. Consumption of coals, 17.63 lbs. per horse Dower
per hour. Work of one bushel or 84 lbs. of coals =
9.45 millions of lbs. one foot high. The total power of
engine was about 4ff| horse-power, and for every horse¬
power the boiler had 52 cubic feet of total space, 27.75
630
Steam-
Engine.
Smeaton’s
Portable
Engine.
THE STEAM-EXGINE.
cubic feet of steam room, and 6.25 square feet of hori¬
zontal surface of water. The furnace had, for every
horse power, 3.5 square feet of fire surface, 7.83 square
feet of flue surface, and .867 square foot of fire grate.
The total steam produced per minute was about 62.95
feet per horse power; of this 30.58 feet were used in
moving the piston, 8.92 feet wasted to fill the extra space
in the cylinder, and 23.45 condensed on the surface of
the cylinder.
Mr Farey has given an excellent description and inves¬
tigation of this engine, with two plates taken with his
wonted fidelity and beauty, from the original drawings.
Mr Smeaton also constructed a portable fire-engine,
for the purpose of being used to draw water from tem¬
porary excavations, shafts, quarries, &c., so framed as to
require no erection of a building, and to be easily
removed from place to place. The fire is wholly within
the boiler. The framing of the engine is constructed of
timber, trussed and arranged in such a manner as to con¬
tain within it every kind of strain whatever which the
force of the machine and the resistance may produce. The
details of this engine are given in his reports, from which
we extract the following drawings and descriptions:
Fig. 30.
for working. The wheel is stopped at the end of its s; „
intended stroke, which is to be 6^ feet stop and stop, by Ej ne,
means of the two iron fids bb, which, reaching out on^w^/
each side of the great rim, stop against two strong iron Sm ^
pins ee, which are fixed into a cross beam S, framed intopo le
the piece T, and the whole firmly bolted together, asEn
shown in the design. N is the injection-pipe, n the in-
jection-cock, and x the piston water-cock. O is the hot
well. R is a stage for the person to stand upon who hands
the engine. PP are the two main beams or sleepers,
upon which the cylinder is seated upon its bottom and
bolted down. The whole is kept from springing or fly¬
ing off by an iron strap.
The waste water pipes are omitted to prevent confu¬
sion. Fig. 31 shows a section of the boiler, cylinder, and
pipes, with the working-gear, to a larger scale, the whole
being divested of the framing in order to render every
thing more distinct.
Fig. 31.
Fig. 30 contains a side view of the engine and boiler.
AB is the pit or shaft. CC is the upright of the founda¬
tion walls on each side of the pit, for supporting the
groundsill c across the pit, upon which one side of the
engine-frame is raised. DD is the foundation wall for sup¬
porting the groundsill <7, upon which the other side is
raised ; E the foundation wall for supporting the boiler,
and forming the ash-hole. F is the boiler,ythe fire-door,
<7the chimney, S the steam-pipe,/) the puppet-clack, rthe
feeding-pipe funnel, z the man-hole, G the cylinder, H
the main pump spear, I the jackhead-pump, by the con¬
tinuation whereof, M A, the water, is conveyed into L,the
injection-cistern. M is a wheel serving instead of the great
beam,?narim of a smaller diameter, attached to the former,
for working the jackhead-pump I, and plugframe Q. a «
are pulleys to bring their chains into a convenient place
The boiler is supposed to be turned one quarter
round from its true position, in order that the most
material parts may be brought into one view. It is also
to be noted, that every vessel or pipe is supposed to be
cut right through the middle, in order to show the con¬
tents, and that the section is not confined to any par¬
ticular plane ; but, for the more perfect explaining of the
principal figure, it will be best to begin with the little
plan at the right-hand corner of the figure. A BCD is a
plan of the cylinder bottom, bolted down upon the two
main beams AB and CD ; the dotted circle EF shows the
extremity of the bottom flanch of the cylinder, and the
circle GH, the diameter of the cylinder within ; the hole I
answers the steam-pipe and regulator, and the hole Kthe
eduction or sinking-pipe, and the circle LM its flanch;
the circle NO shows the size and position of the regula¬
tor-plate, and the dotted circle PQ the size of the receiver
in which the sliding-valve of the regulator R works, and
in this position is open ; ST is the lever by which it is
worked, and when that is brought forward into the posi¬
tion SV, then the valve covers the aperture of the regu a-
tor. In the principal figure A is the boiler, and B the fire¬
place which is of cast iron, and of a spherical form, an
placed in the interior of the boiler. The coals are intro¬
duced by the large pipe C, and the smoke is conducte
by the curved pipe D into the funnel or chimney •
The ashes fall through the grate S and the wide P'P®,
F, into the ash-holes below. The other appendages o
the boiler, are a cock for emptying it, marked T, wo
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
631
meat ■ s
real.
hast
ater
dsM
^auo-e-cocks for ascertaining the height of the water,
the puppet-clack or safety-valve, loaded with a sufficient
J weight, and having a string attached to it, so that the
attendant on the engine can raise it when necessary to
allow the steam to escape. The boiler has also a man¬
hole, which is better seen at Z in fig. 30. The curved
smoke-pipe D is surrounded by a copper casing, into
which the water for feeding the boiler flows from the
hot well, so as to be highly heated before being admit¬
ted into the boiler. The other parts of the engine shown
in the figure are, G the cylinder, into which the steam
from the boiler flows through the pipes c? e H I, which
are jointed at ^ for the readier taking asunder, K the
piston, G the piston-rod, H the receiver for the steam,
containing the regulator-valve, I the steam-pipe, L the
snifting-clack, M the injection-cock, N the injection-,
pipe, P p ij the plug-frame, e m arms of the tumbler on
which the plugs act, k o & rod connecting the end of the
tumbler with the handle of the regulator, w b x z the
fuller or F lever, with its detent or catch at o.
But the most magnificent of Smeaton’s works in this
department of his profession is his great Chasewater
engine, of which the details are given in his Reports. This
engine was of 150 horses’ power, turning out 880 hogs¬
heads of water per hour, by the heat of 16^ bushels of
coal. We have given a cut of this engine, Fig. 32; and
we recommend the engineer to consult the original in
Smeaton’s Reports, as it is full of ingenious contrivance
and judicious arrangement. The cylinder A B is 72
inches in diameter, the stroke 10 feet 6 inches. The great
beam of the engine, D D, consists of twenty large balks of
timber, the four nearest the centre being each a foot square,
and the whole firmly joggled together with heart of oak,
and bolted with iron, forming a very elegant but pon¬
derous beam. The cylinder beams FF, upon which the
cylinder rests, and which are kept in their place by being
Fig 32.
entered into the side walls of the house, are joggled Steam-
and framed together in a similar manner to the great Engine,
lever. G is the boiler, H the furnace, I B the steam-
pipe, J the injection-pipe, K the cistern for the injection
water, fed by a pump L, which is wrought by the great
lever of the engine, M the waste-pipe for the condensed
steam, N the spear orpump-rod of the great draining-pump
wrought hy the engine, P P the plug-tree suspended
from the main beam carrying plugs, which in its upward
and downward progress act on the levers which open and
shut the regulator and injection-cocks. The date of this
engine is 1775. The working gear of the engine is very 1775.
simple and good. It is represented on a larger scale in
the accompanying cut, fig. 33.
Fig. 33.
called the F lever, by which the cock is opened and shut.
The tail Z 12 of this F lever is, by the downward motion
of the plug-tree P, forced from the position shown by the
dotted line Z 18, into the position in which it is seen in
the drawing, and it is there retained by the catch III.
While the lever is in this position the injection-cock is
shut, the steam from the boiler is flowing into the cylinder,
and the piston is rising. When the piston has nearly
reached the top of its course, an apparatus attached to the
plug-frame P, draws up the catch III, and releases the F
lever, which is forced into the position 18 Z, by the bob
or weight 16, carried by its end F', and the consequent
movement of its fork F opens the injection-cock; T .r 11,
9, is the Y lever or tumbler, which acts upon the stirrup-
rod k attached to the spanner of the regulator, as in
Beighton’s gear, figs. 25, 27. The range of the tumbler’s
motion on each side of the perpendicular is regulated by its
check-cord T I, which is passed round a roller I, furnished
with a paul and ratchet, so that its length may be ad¬
justed. The tumbler is moved by pins in the plug-frame
P, acting upon its bent arms # 3, # 7.
In the left-hand corner at the bottom of the figure is
seen a representation of a slider, which may be fixed upon
the plug-tree instead of the pins, to work the lever. There
is both a side and a front view of the slider. Q R shows
a part of the plug-tree, N V the slider, and W 20 Wr20
two screws for retaining the slider in its place. By this
632
Steam-
Engine.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Inventions
of James
Watt.
means the working-stroke may be adjusted much more
surely than by the pins or plugs.
The working of tlie injection-cock by the forked end of
the F lever was found to be defective, and Mr Smeaton,
in the engines which he afterwards constructed, fixed a
toothed sector on the end of the lever, which was made
to act upon a toothed wheel, carried by the axis of the
injection-cock, somewhat in the manner of the parts of
Beighton’s gear represented in figs. 25, 29.
III. The Era of Watt.—Before the time of James
Watt, the steam or atmospheric engine was a more
costly power than horses, except where fuel was ex¬
tremely cheap. At the mouth of a coal-pit almost any
sort of steam-engine or fire engine is better than horses,
because it consumes the produce, and often the refuse
of the pit, and is valuable for the purpose of volatilising
the mass of small coals which would otherwise lumber
the mouth of the pit. The worst sort of engine would
raise more coal in twelve minutes than it would con¬
sume in twelve hours. In such circumstances, almost any
fire-engine is cheaper than the labour of horses, and the
more voracious of fuel the more economical of labour.
We find that the rudest, most antiquated, worst made
and worst tended engines in the world, are the engines of
Durham coal-fields and around Newcastle, where there
are more bad engines than in all the rest of the world.
The reason is obvious ; the only constant expense attend¬
ing the use of these engines is the labour of shovelling
in coals. The atmospheric engine, even after it had re¬
ceived all the improvements of three quarters of a cen¬
tury, and attained in the hands of Smeaton all the
perfection of which it was capable, still continued an ex¬
travagant consumer of coals. Watt was the man who
turned the scale of expense so as to give a great pre¬
ponderance in favour of the fire-engine. In his hands
it ceased to be an atmospheric engine, and became wholly
a steam-engine, capable of being employed in an immense
variety of applications, on a much larger scale, and at
much less expense than the power of horses, wherever
the prices of fuel and of fodder were not in greater dis¬
parity than in this country.
We have seen that hitherto the fire-engine, even in
Smeaton’s hands, was an engine that wasted a large
quantity of fuel and of steam in doing what was useless,
namely, heatingthe cylinder, which was cooled alternately
in each stroke by the cold water injected into it. In
Long Benton colliery engine, out of sixty-three cubic
feet of steam thirty-two feet were thus wasted, and the
remaining thirty-one feet alone performed useful work.
There remained, therefore, one-half of the power of the
steam and expense of the fuel to be saved by future im¬
provements, provided the useless heating and cooling of
the cylinder could be superseded. The vacuum formed
below the cylinder was also far from being perfect.
Watt found the atmospheric fire-engine in the hands of
Smeaton, produced from it the pure steam-engine, and
left it to us in its present state of high improvement.
This portion of the history of the steam-engine has been
contributed as a commentary upon the original article of
this Encyclopedia by the person of all others best qualified
to do it justice, Watt himself. For the purpose of fur-
History of illustration, we have added some figures, as well as
his own
Improve¬
ments.
Fig. 34.
Watt’s
some remarks.
“ My attention was first directed in the year 1759 to
the subject of steam-engines by the late Dr. Robison,
himself then a student in the University of Glasgow, and
1759. nearly of my own age. He at that time threw out an
idea of applying the power of the steam-engine to the
moving of wheel carriages, and to other purposes, but the
scheme was not matured, and was soon abandoned on his
going abroad.
“ About the year 1761 or 1762, I
tried some experiments on the force of
steam, in a Papin’s digester, and form¬
ed a species of steam-engine by fixing
upon if a syringe one-third of an inch
in diameter, with a solid piston, and
furnished also with a cock to admit the
steam from the digester, or shut it off
at pleasure, as well as to open a com¬
munication from the inside of the
syringe to the open air, by which the
steam contained in the syringe might escape. When
the communication between the digester and syringe
was opened, the steam entered the syringe, and by
its action upon the piston raised a considerable weight
(fifteen lbs.) with which it was loaded. When this
was raised as high as was thought proper, the com¬
munication with the digester was shut, and that with
the atmosphere opened; the steam then made its escape,
and the weight descended. The operations were re¬
peated, and though in this experiment the cock was
turned by hand, it was easy to see how it could be done
by the machine itself, and to make it work with perfect
regularity. But 1 soon relinquished the idea of construct¬
ing an engine upon this principle, from being sensible
it would be liable to some of the objections against
Savary’s engine, viz. the danger of bursting the boiler,
and the difficulty of making the joints tight, and also that
a great part of the power of the steam would be lost, be¬
cause no vacuum was formed to assist the descent of the
piston.
“ The attention necessary to the avocations of business
prevented me from then prosecuting the subject further;
but in the winter of 1763-4, having occasion to repair a
model of Newcomen’s engine belonging to the Natural
Philosophy Class of the University of Glasgow, my mind
was again directed to it. At that period, my knowledge
was derived principally from Desaguliers, and partly
from Belidor. I set about repairing it as a mere
mechanician, and when that was done arid it was set to
work, I was surprised to find that its boiler could not
supply it with steam, though apparently quite large
enough ; (the cylinder of the model being two inches in
diameter, and six inches stroke, and the boiler about nine
inches diameter.) By blowing the fire it was made to
take a few strokes; but required an enormous quantity of
injection water, though it was very lightly loaded by the
column of water in the pump. 11 soon occurred to me, that
this was caused by the little cylinder exposing a greater
surface to condense the steam, than the cylinders of larger
engines did, in proportion to their respective contents. It
was found that by shortening the column of water in the
pump, the boiler could supply the cylinder with steam,
and that the engine would work regularly with a
moderate quantity of injection. It now appeared that
the cylinder of the model, being of brass, would conduct
heat much better than the cast-iron cylinders of larger
engines, (generally covered on the inside with a stonv
crust,) and that considerable advantage could be gained
by making the cylinders of some substance that would ie-
ceive and give out heat slowly. Of these, wood seeme<
to be the most likely, provided it should prove sufficient y
durable. A small engine was therefore constructed, wit i
a cylinder six inches diameter and twelve inches stroke,
made of wood, soaked in linseed oil, and baked to diy-
ness. With this engine many experiments were mate;
but it was soon found that the wooden cylinder was not
likely to prove durable, and that the steam condense in
filling it still exceeded the proportion of that requuu
for large engines according to the statements of Desagu-
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
633
V.
w
H
hi
in
d
im- liers. It was also found, tliat all attempts to produce a
line, better exhaustion by throwing in more injection, caused
a disproportionate waste of steam. On reflection, the
s cause of this seemed to be the boiling of water in vacuo
tv of at low heats, a discovery lately made by Dr Cullen and
m some other philosophers, (below 100, as I was then in-
,ve‘ formed,) and consequently, at greater heats, the water in
the cylinder would produce a steam which would, in
part, resist the pressure of the atmosphere.
“ By experiments which I then tried upon the heats at
which water boils under several pressures greater than that
of the atmosphere, it appeared that when the heats pro¬
ceeded in an arithmetical, the elasticities proceeded in
some geometrical ratio; and by laying down a curve
from my data, I ascertained the particular one near
enough for my purpose. It also appeared that any ap¬
proach to a vacuum could only be obtained by throwing
in large quantities of injection, which would cool the
cylinder so much as to require quantities of steam to heat
it again, out of proportion to the power gained by the
more perfect vacuum; and that the old engineers had
acted wisely in contenting themselves with loading the
engine with only six or seven pounds on each square inch
of the area of the piston. It being evident that there was
a great error in Dr Desaguliers’ calculations of Mr
Beighton’s experiments on the bulk of steam, a Florence
flask, capable of containing about a pound of water, had
about one ounce of distilled water put into it; a glass
tube was fitted into its mouth, and the joining made
tight by lapping that part of the tube with packthread
covered with glaziers’ putty. When the flask was set
upright, the tube reached down near to the surface of the
water, and in that position the whole was placed in a tin
reflecting oven before a fire, until the water was wholly
evaporated, which happened in about an hour, and might
have been done sooner, had I not wished the heat not
much to exceed that of boiling water. As the air in the
flask was heavier than the steam, the latter ascended to
the top, and expelled the air through the tube. When
the wTater was all evaporated, the oven and flask were
removed from the fire, and a blast of cold air was
directed against one side of the flask, to collect the con¬
densed steam in one place. When all was cold, the tube
was removed, the flask and its contents were weighed
with care ; and the flask being made hot, it was dried
by blowing into it by bellows, and when weighed again,
was found to have lost rather more than four grains, esti¬
mated at four and a third grains. When the flask was
filled with water, it was found to contain about seventeen
and one-eighth ounces avoirdupois of that fluid, which
gave about one thousand eight hundred for the expansion
of water converted into steam of the heat of boiling
water.
“ This experiment was repeated with nearly the same
result; and in order to ascertain whether the flask had
been wholly filled with steam, a similar quantity of water
was, for the third time, evaporated ; and, while the flask
was still cold, it was placed inverted, with its mouth
(contracted by the tube) immersed in a vessel of
water, which it sucked in as it cooled, until in the tem¬
perature of the atmosphere it was filled to within half an
ounce measure of water.
“ In repetitions of this experiment at a later date, I
simplified the apparatus by omitting tbe tube, and laying
the flask upon its side in the oven, partly closing its mouth
by a cork, having a notch on one side, and otherwise
proceeding as has been mentioned.
“ I do not consider these experiments as extremely ac¬
curate ; the only scale-beam of a proper size which 1 had
then at my command not being very sensible, and the
VOL. XX.
bulk of tbe steam being liable to be influenced by the Steam-
heat to which it was exposed, which, in the way described, Engine,
is not easily regulated or ascertained ; but, from my ex-
perience in actual practice, I esteem the expansion to be Watt’s
rather more than I have computed. History of
“ A boiler was constructed, which showed by inspec-i’!s own
lion the quantity of water evaporated in any given time, mcIlts
and thereby ascertained the quantity of steam used in
every stroke by the engine, which I found to be several
times the full of the cylinder. Astonished at the quan¬
tity of water required for the injection, and the great
heat it had acquired from the small quantity of water in
the form of steam which had been used in filling the
cylinder, and thinking I had made some mistake, the
following experiment was tried:—A glass tube was bent
at right angles, one end was inserted horizontally into
the spout of a tea-kettle, and the other part was immersed
perpendicularly in well water contained in a cylindric
glass vessel, and steam was made to pass through it until
it ceased to be condensed, and the water in the glass
vessel was become nearly boiling hot. The water in the
glass vessel was then found to have gained an addition of
about one-sixth part from the condensed steam. Conse¬
quently, water converted into steam can heat about six
times its own weight of well-water to 212°, or till it can
condense no more steam. Being struck with this re¬
markable fact, and not understanding the reason of it, I
mentioned it to my friend Dr Black, who then explained
to me his doctrine of latent heat, which he had taught for
sometime before this period, (summer 1764;) but having
myself been occupied with the pursuits of business, if I.
had heard of it, I had not attended to it, when I thus
stumbled upon one of the material facts by which that
beautiful theory is supported.
“ On reflecting further, I pex-ceived that, in order to
make the best use of steam, it was necessary, first, that
the cylinder should be maintained always as hot as the
steam which entered it; and, secondly, that when the
steam was condensed, the water of which it was composed,
and the injection itself, should be cooled down to 100°, or
lower, where that was possible. The means of accom¬
plishing these points did not immediately present them¬
selves; but early in 1765 it occurred to me, that if a
communication were opened between a cylinder containing
steam, and another vessel which was exhausted of air and
other fluids, the steam, as an elastic fluid, ivould immedi¬
ately rush into the empty vessel, and continue so to do
until it had established an equilibrium ; and if that
vessel were kept very cool by an injection, or otherwise,
more steam would continue to enter, until the whole was
condensed. But both the vessels being exhausted, or
nearly so, how was the injection-water, the air which
would enter with it, and the condensed steam, to be got
out? This I proposed, in my own mind, to perform in
two ways. One was by adapting to the second vessel a
pipe reaching downwards more than thirty-four feet, by
which the water would descend, (a column of that length
overbalancing the atmosphere,) and by extracting the air
by means ofl a pump.
“ The second method was by employing a pump, or
pumps, to extract both the air and the water, which w ould
be applicable in all places, and essential in those cases
where there was no well or pit.
“ This latter method was the one I then preferred, and
is the only one I afterwards continued to use.
“ In Newcomen’s engine, the piston is kept tight by
water, which could not be applicable in this new method,
as, if any of it entered into a partially exhausted and hot
cylinder, it would boil and prevent the production of a
vacuum, and would also cool the cylinder by its evapora-
4) L
634
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Watt’s
History
his own
Improve'
ments.
tion during the descent of the piston. I proposed to
remedy this defect by employing icax, tallow, or other
J grease, to lubricate and keep the piston tight. It next
occurred to me that the mouth of the cylinder being
°^open, the air which entered to act on the piston would
cool the cylinder, and condense some steam on again fill¬
ing it; I therefore proposed to put an air-tight cover upon
the cylinder, with a hole and stuffing-box for the piston-rod
to slide through, and to admit steam above the piston to
act upon it instead of the atmosphere. There still re¬
mained another source of the destruction of steam, the
cooling of the cylinder by the external air, which would
produce an internal condensation whenever steam entered
it, and which would be repeated every stroke; this I
proposed to remedy by an external cylinder containing
steam, surrounded by another of wood, or of some other
substance which would conduct heat slowly.
Fig. 35.
“ When once
the idea of the
separa te conden¬
sation was start¬
ed, all these im¬
provements fol¬
lowed as corolla¬
ries in quick suc¬
cession, so that
in the course
of one or two
days, the inven¬
tion was thus far
complete in my
mind, and 1
immediately set
about an experi¬
ment to verify
it practically. I
tookalarge brass
syringe A, one
and three-fourth ,    
inches diameter, and ten inches long, made a cover
and bottom to it of tin-plate, with a pipe S to convey
steam to both ends of the cylinder from the boiler;
another pipe E to convey steam from the upper end to
the condenser (for, to save apparatus, I inverted the
cylinder.) I drilled a hole longitudinally through the
axis of the stem of P the piston, and fixed a valve
at its lower end, to permit the water which was pro¬
duced by the condensed steam, on first filling the cylinder,
to issue'. The condenser used upon this occasion con¬
sisted of two pipes a b, c d of thin tin-plate, ten or
twelve inches long, and about one-sixth inch diameter,
standing perpendicular, and communicating at top with a
short horizontal pipe h of large diameter, having an
aperture on its upper side which was shut hy a valve
opening upwards. These pipes were joined at bottom to
another perpendicular pipe p of about an inch dia¬
meter, which served for the air and water pump ; and
both the condensing pipes and the air-pump were placed
in a small cistern C filled with cold water.
“ The steam-pipe was adjusted to a small boiler B.
When steam was produced, it was admitted into the
cylinder, and soon issued through the perforation of the
rod, and at the valve of the condenser. When it was
judged that the air was expelled, the steam-cock was
shut, and the air-pump piston-rod was drawn up, which
leaving the small pipes of the condenser in a state of
vacuum, the steam entered them and was condensed.
The piston of the cylinder immediately rose .and lifted a
weight of about eighteen pounds, which was hung to the
lower end of the piston-rod. The exhaustion-cock was
shut, the steam was re-admitted into the cylinder, and the
operation was repeated; the quantity of steam consumed.
and the weights it could raise were observed; and, ex- Stp
cepting the non-application of the steam-case and exter- En ’
nal covering, the invention was complete, in so far as re-
garded the savings of steam and
fuel. A large model, with an
outer cylinder and wooden case,
was immediately constructed,
and the experiments made with
it served to verify the expecta¬
tions I had formed, and to place
the advantage of the invention p
beyond the reach of doubt. It
was found convenient afterwards
to change the pipe-condenser for
an empty vessel, generally of
a cylindrical form, into which
an injection played, as in fig. 36,
and in consequence of there, ,
being more water and air to extract, to enlarge the air-
pump.
“ The change was made, because, in order to procure a
surface sufficiently extensive to condense the steam of a
large engine, the pipe-condenser would require to be very
voluminous, and because the bad water with which
engines are frequently supplied, would crust over the
thin plates, and prevent their conveying the heat suffi¬
ciently quick. The cylinders were also placed with their
mouths upwards, and furnished with a working-beam,
and other apparatus, as was usual in the ancient engines;
the inversion of the cylinder or rather of the piston-rod,
in the model, being only an expedient to try more easily
the new invention, and being subject to many objections
in large engines.
“ In 1768 I applied for letters patent for my ‘ Methods The!
of Lessening the consumption of Steam, and consequently of 17
of Fuel, in Fire-Engines,’which passed the Seals in Janu¬
ary 1769; and my specification w as enrolled in Chancery
in April following, and was as follows :—
“ My method of lessening the consumption of steam,
and consequently fuel, in fire-engines, consists of the fol¬
io w’ing principles :—
“ First, That vessel in which the powers of steam
are to be employed to work the engine, which is called
the cylinder in common fire-engines, and which I call
the steam-vessel, must, during the whole time the engine
is at work, be kept as hot as the steam that enters it;
first, by enclosing it in a case of wood, or any other
materials that transmit heat slowly ; secondly, by sur¬
rounding it with steam or other heated bodies; and,
thirdly, by suffering neither water or any other substance
colder than the steam, to enter or touch it during that tune.
“ Secondly, In engines that are to be worked wholly
or partially by condensation of steam, the steam is to be
condensed in vessels distinct from the steam-vessels oi
cylinders, although occasionally communicating witi
them; these vessels I call condensers ; and, whilst the
engines are working, these condensers ought at least to
be kept as cold as the air in the neighbourhood ot the
engines, by application of wrater, or other cold bodies.
“ Thirdly, Whatever air or other elastic vapour is not
condensed by the cold of the condenser, and may impede
the working of the engine, is to be drawn out ot t ie
steam-vessels or condensers by means ot pumps, wrroug i
by the engines themselves, or otherwise.
’ “ Fourthly, I intend, in many cases, to employ the ex¬
pansive force of steam to press on the pistons, oi "
ever may be used instead ot them, in the same manner
the pressure of the atmosphere is now employe! in (-'01*'
mon fire-engines. In cases where cold water canm*
had in plenty, the engines may be wrought by tins o
of steam only, by discharging the steam into the oj
air after it has done its office.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
635
l
tit*'
#s
Iiijove'
mi k
im. “ Lastly, Instead of using water to render the piston
ine. or other parts of the engines air and steam tight, I em-
ploy oils, wax, resinous bodies, fat of animals, quicksilver,
s and other metals, in their fluid state,
icy of “And the said James Watt, by a memorandum
n added to the said specification, declared, that he did not
lTe‘ intend that any thing in the fourth article should be un¬
derstood to extend to any engine where the water to be
raised enters the steam-vessel itself, or any vessel having
an open communication with it.”
Such is Mr Watt's simple account of his beautiful
invention—the condenser or refrigerator, which is the
characteristic member of the modern steam-engine. The
fire-engine of Newcomen possessed only two principal
members, to which all the other parts may be considered
as mere appendages. The modern steam-engine of
Watt consists of three principal members. The two
members of Newcomen’s engine are the generating
apparatus, by which the steam is produced from the
water and conveyed to the second member, or the appa¬
ratus of application, where the elastic force of the steam
is brought in contact with the piston in the cylinder, so
as to produce the motion required for the mechanical
effect of the machine, and thus directly applied to the
work to be done. The third member, added by Watt, is
a refrigerator or condensing apparatus, perfectly separate
from and independent of the other two, for reconverting
the steam, after it has done its duty in filling the cylinder,
into the liquid from which it had been originally formed.
We have, then, the boiler or generator with its appen¬
dages, the cylinder or applicator with its appendages,
and the refrigerator or condenser with its appendages,
—the function to be discharged by the first of these
being altogether the reverse of the last ; the first pro¬
ducing steam by heat from water, the last producing
water from steam by cooling.
The progress of improvement in the steam-engine may
be very well illustrated by comparison with an early pro¬
ject of Dr Papin, who, although he contributed no part
Fi°- 37 towards the production of the modern
8 steam-engine, nevertheless exercised his
Papm 9 Apparatus jngenuity curiously, though fruitlessly, upon
the project of deriving mechanical power
from the motion of a piston in a cylinder,
first of all by gunpowder, and afterwards
by steam. In Papin’s project, fig. 37, he
takes a cylinder, A B C D, containing a
piston P, below which he places a fire, so
as to generate steam from a little water in
thebottomof theeylinder. This steam raises
the piston, and it is evident that on the fire
being removed, steam will be condensed,
and the piston will again be carried to the
bottom. Comparing this rude project, in
which the steam is alternately produced and
recondensed in the cylinder itself, which is
alternately warmed and chilled,
with the engine of Newcomen,
fig. 38, we observe the follow¬
ing importantchange. Thecale-
faction of the water and gen¬
eration of steam are carried on
in a boiler, W now removed
to a considerable distance from
and totally unconnected with
the cylinder, except by a pipe
of communication opened and
shut alternately. Still, how¬
ever, we have the process of
coolingand condensation wholly
carried on in the cylinder itself,
by means of a jet of cold water
Fig. 38.
Newcomen’s Apparatus.
playing therein. But let us now make a third step, and we Steam-
arrive at the model of a machine acting on the principle of Engine.
Mr Watt’s, fig. 39. As we have already, in the machine of
Newcomen, a separate heating apparatus, W, conducting
the steam in a highly rarefied state to the cylinder, so now
let us have a vessel, C, placed on the other side, and let
this vessel have first been rendered empty or perfectly
vacuous by expelling and pumping out the air; and let
us also, for the sake of experiment, put a few lumps of
ice and salt in the inside and on the outside of this vessel,
surrounding it on every side; and we shall have a refri¬
gerator as a counterpart to the boiler, and a type of the
improvement of Watt.
Fig. 39.
Boiler. Cylinder. Condenser.
If we now open the stopcock S, the steam generated in
the boiler will rush into the cylinder, pressing the piston
upwards; and if the stopcock E be next opened, the
stopcock S having been previously shut, the steam in E
will instantly escape into the vacuum in the refrigerator,
and being condensed into less than a thousandth part of
its bulk, will leave the cylinder vacuous. Thus the motion
of the piston upwards and downwards is effected by the
inventions of Newcomen and Watt, without either apply¬
ing the fire or the cold directly to the cylinder in which
the power is given out. Thus the loss of more than fifty
per cent is remedied by the separate condenser of Watt.
Papin’s scheme was possible but not practicable ; New¬
comen’s was practicable but wasteful. Watt’s engine is
practical, economical, and complete, both in theory and
in practice, as it renders available all the power of heat
which the steam contains, with the exception only of the
very small part consumed in giving motion to the machine
itself.
The following figure (40) approaches very closely to the ^ .. .
form of Mr Watt’s first engines. Their details are as Watt’s °
follows. In the diagram, A represents the cylinder of improved
his earlier engine, B the boiler, and C the condenser, Steam En-
each with its various appendages. The appendages ofgine.
the boiler B, are of course, f, the furnace in which the
Fig. 40.
636
Steam-
Engine.
Details of
Watt’s im¬
proved
Steam En
gine.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
fuel is burned ; g g, small pipes for showing the height
of the water in the boiler ; A, a pipe for supplying the
boiler with water as its contents pass off in the form of
steam; 55, a steam-pipe for the purpose of conveying the
steam to the top of the cylinder. The appendages of
the cylinder are, p the piston, fitting accurately the in¬
side of the cylinder, surrounded with hemp packing,
soaked with tallow and oil, so as to be steam-tight; the
casing, cccc, which excludes the cold air of the atmo¬
sphere from entering into the cylinder to cool it down at
the expense of afterwards heating it by the steam ; and,
instead of allowing it to enter at the top of the cylinder
at A, and press down the piston, as in Newcomen’s
engine, the hot steam is substituted, which, being of an
elasticity equal to the atmosphere, presses it, with a
force equal to the atmosphere, towards the bottom of
the cylinder. After reaching the bottom of the cylin¬
der, the handle of the valve rd is raised so as to make
an opening for the steam to enter below as well as
above the piston ; which equilibrium of upward and down¬
ward pressure allows the piston once more to rise, in
consequence of a counterbalancing weight connected to
the top of the piston-rod r; and this opening of what is
called the steam-valve vl continues until the piston once
more reaches the top of the cylinder, when it is closed.
The eduction valve v2, which is at that moment opened,
permits the steam to escape suddenly into the conden¬
ser, when it becomes water, and leaves the space be¬
low the cylinder vacuous, so as to give free space for
the piston to be carried down into the cylinder by the
pressure of the steam resting always on the top of the
piston. These, the casing, piston, piston-rod, steam-
valve, eduction-valve, and communicating passages, are
appendages of the second great member of the machine,
the cylinder, by which the power of the steam is applied
to give the required motion to whatever solid machinery
may be placed in connexion with the piston-rod. rl he
appendages of the condenser C of Mr Watt are as follows.
First of all, a large cistern, w tv w tv, of cold water is pro¬
vided, and furnished continually with fresh supplies of cold
water either from a running stream or by means of a
pump m n, wrought by the engine itself. In this is
placed thecondensing chamber C x x, wholly surrounded by
the cold water, but perfectly empty, excepting that a small
jet of cold water from the exterior is admitted through a
regulated aperture to play in the inside, by which injec-
,ion it has always been observed that the condensation of
the steam is more efficient than when a casing of metal
intervenes between the cold water and the steam. The
eduction-pipe e e e, conducts the steam out of the cylinder
by the valve v2 into the condenser x x, where it is reduced
back into the water from which it had been originally gene¬
rated. Now, it must be obvious on a little consideration,
that the water which is injected into the condenser
must rapidly accumulate there, becoming at the same
time warmed by contact with the steam, so as to impede
the process of condensation, and ultimately filling up
the interior of the condensing chamber, which should
be kept vacuous; and further, that the steam itself, becom¬
ing reconverted into water, would in a short period of
time accumulate in the condenser and choke it up.
Hence a principal and essential appendage of the con¬
denser is a large pump called the condenser-pump, which
is essential to its long-continued efficient action, and
which withdraws a portion of the accumulated warmed
water from the interior of the condenser, and keeps it
vacuous; and because there is generally air in combina¬
tion with the water, and because also air is very apt to
insinuate itself by many chinks or crevices into the con¬
denser, this clearing-pump must be capable of pumping
out air as well as water. This appendage of the conden¬
ser, represented in the preceding figure by 3/3/, is gen¬
erally termed the “ air-pump a name which imperfectly Ste
expresses the functions of the said condenser-pump. Eng;
Fire being placed under the boiler, its heat, communi-
cated to the water, rapidly expands that water, and rarefies Genes
it into steam, by the addition of six times more than its^iew
usual supply of heat. This combination of heat and water, ^Vatt
forming the steam, rushes along the steam-pipe into the^tean;
cylinder casing, and is admitted into the interior of thek 6'
machine, filling all its chambers and pipes with steam;
but that portion of the steam which is in communication
with the condenser being instantly chilled by the jet of
cold water and the cold sides of the vessels in the cold
well, is condensed, and then the valve v2 being closed so
as to admit no more steam into the condenser, and the
valve vl closed so as to admit no more steam into the
lower part of the cylinder below the piston, there remains
the elastic force of the steam above, pressing it to¬
wards the bottom of the cylinder with a force propor¬
tioned to the pressure of the steam and the extent of
the cylinder. Thus a moving power is generated in the
cylinder by the steam, which may be conveyed through
the piston-rod r, and applied through various mechanism
of application to the performance of the required work.
The steam which has thus pressed down the piston is
now admitted below to neutralize the force of that which
remains ; and having thus done its duty, is once more
annihilated by the opening of the communication into the
condenser, into which it rushes, and being almost instantly
deprived of the caloric which gave it power and magni¬
tude, there remains nothing except the few spoonfuls
of water from which all that volume of steam had arisen,
now lying inert at the bottom of the cylinder. 1 his dead
water is not yet cold. It is evident that in the primary
generation of steam in the boiler, the supply of water
must be rapidly diminished by this boiling olf, and that
this water must somehow be supplied. Now here lies an
improvement: this waste, instead of being supplied by
cold water, may be better replenished with the water of
the condenser, which is highly heated in condensing the
steam from the cylinder.
Mr Watt's Engine was first used as a substitute for the
engine of Newcomen in pumping up water or draining
mines : in 1788 it had attained the form which we have
given in the following figure. The engine is represented
in fig 41 as contained within the walls of a building, the
anterior portion of which is removed to show the machine.
The boiler stands on the left of the figure, on the outside
of the building; and on the right of the figure, also on the Pumd|
outside of the house, are the large pumps, by which the Engi« f
water is raised, and the work of the engine performed. 1
Nearly in the centre of the building stands the cylinder
with its appendages, and below these are the cold well and
condensing apparatus.
Beginning with the apparatus for generating steam;
on the left of the figure, H is the boiler, of what is called
the waggon shape, set in a furnace of brick-work imme¬
diately over the fire, which rests on the fire-bars at p,
leaving a very deep ash-pit below ; the flame passes away
under the concave bottom of the boiler to the further end,
and there, instead of proceeding at once up toe chimney,
returns by o on the left side of the boiler, throug 11 !e
brick channel or flue, giving out additional heat *ie
water, and after passing across the front of the hoi er,
proceeds along the right hand flue 0 to the chimney. e
draught of the chimney is regulated by means 0 tie
damper r, which descends into the flue or is raised out 0
it in any degree by the attendant, and so permits t ie air
to rush with greater or less ease up the chimney. A tu. e
t, regulated by a stopcock, comes from a small Pun,l)
on the right-hand side of the figure, which raises 'e
warm water discharged by the air-pump, and sends it m o
the boiler so as to replenish its waste; this pipe an pump
'"att
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
am-
; rine.
being generally named the feed-pipe and tube. The
two little tubes proceeding from the water in the
637
Fig. 4<1.
boiler, are slender pipes open at both ends, and have
external stopcocks, which are always shut except when
the attendant wishes to ascertain the height of the water
in the boiler, when he opens these gauge-cocks and observ¬
ing whether water or steam issues from them, forms
his judgment accordingly. F is the steam-pipe, which
carries the steam away from the boiler to be applied to its
useful effect in the second great member of the engine.
The second great member of the machine is placed in
the engine-house. A is the working cylinder, in which
is contained the moving piston B, which communicates
the force impressed on it by the steam, through the
piston-rod c, and the chain f, to the end of the great
lever or working-beam,/a e, which is forced up and down
around the fixed centre or iron gudgeon [>, and so raises
or depresses the other- end of the lever on the right-hand
side of the figure, and thus gives the required motion to
h,j, the piston and rods in the barrel of the great pump,
in which the work of raising water to a height or from a
mine is the useful labour or duty to be performed by the
engine. Returning to the cylinder at A, we have now to
examine the mechanism by means of which the steam is
admitted alternately above and below the piston, through
the openings or ports which may be observed on the right-
hand side of the cylinder at top and bottom. F is the steam-
P'pe which brings steam from the boiler to the top of the
valve passages, and the pipe I conducts it down to the bottom
valves and port at K, and the pipe J forming the eduction-
pipe, conducts the steam into the refrigerating apparatus,
where it is finally condensed. In commencing to work the
machine, the duty of the attendant is to allow the steam to
pass freely into all the pipes, passages, and ports, F G I J,
ke. filling the cylinder A, the condenser M, and passing out
atan aperture O,closed by a valve called the blow-off valve;
hy means of which operation, the whole of the parts being
mied with steam, are rendered vacuous from air, and
dus preparatory process is called blowing through. At
^ it is to be observed that there is a steam-nozzle
mid valve or regulator, which allows the steam to enter
the cylinder at the upper part whenever it is opened,
y rising the metallic cover or valve from the open¬
ing of the nozzle immediately below, which it exactly Steam-
fits. At K is a similar nozzle and valve called the equi- Engine,
librium-valve and nozzle, which admits steam through the
pipe 1 into the bottom part of the cylinder ; and the third Mr Watt’s
or exhaustion-valve and nozzle or aperture, allows the final Pumping-
   ,.r  ^ !-*-   1  a n. .t . Engine of
egress of the steam into the condenser. After the engine
has been wholly filled with steam, the piston B, being at *
the top of the cylinder, the injection-cock N is suddenly
opened, and the cold //?# d’eau playing amongst the steam
condenses it instantaneously, forming a vacuum into
which the steam from the cylinder instantly rushes, and
is in like manner annihilated, leaving the cylinder below
the piston equally vacuous; and of course the steam from
the boiler, on being admitted by the valve G to the upper
side of the piston, instantly presses it down into the vacuum
below with a force proportional to the perfection of that
vacuum and to the pressure of the steam. Thus the engine
makes its first stroke and raises the water of the great
pump on the right of the figure, and the weight of
the chain, rod, and bucket, and also a counterpoise A,
added for the purpose of restoring the beam to its former
position, which it does in the following manner. The
equilibrium-valve K is opened, and the steam getting
admission below the piston, as well as above it, ceases to
urge it in either direction, and being thus in equilibrio,
the piston would remain passively in its place at the bot¬
tom of the cylinder, but the action of the counterpoise h,
ami the weight of the water and pump-rods in the large
pump on the outside, draw down the outer end of the
great lever or working-beam f a e, and so raise the inte¬
rior end f, and the piston B to the top of the cylinder.
The equilibrium-valve is then closed at K, and the educ¬
tion-valve L is opened, so as to allow the steam below the
piston to rush down into the condenser and leave a
vacuum under the piston, into which it is immediately
forced down by the pressure of the steam above A as at
first, and raising water at the other end of the beam
through a second stroke ; and, thus by the continual open¬
ing and shutting of the valves by the attendant, the engine
performs its work. But we have still to consider the
mechanism by which the valves are shut and opened, and
tlie machine is made to shut and open its own valves.
Fig. 42. For this purpose we have given
a separate and enlarged drawing of
one of the valves and its working
gear:—lil is a part of the air-
pump rod, formed of wood, called
rtlie plug-frame or plug-tree, on
which are two projecting plugs of
wood to work the upper and lower
valves ; one of these plugs is seen
at i. As the plug-tree moves up
and down, the plugs strike the
handles or working gear of the
valves, and open or shut them at
The valves D E .are called conical
the proper instant,
valves, because the small cover D which closes the open¬
ing of each nozzle under the valve is slightly tapered down¬
wards so as the more readily to fit its seat, and each is
lifted from its seat by a small toothed rack and pinion c
moved hy a spindle from without, communicating by rods
with the valve gear at r, or at Z and Y in figure 41.
When the plug-frame l i l descends, the valve d is closed
by the plug i, and the valve K is shut, and the valve L
in figure 41 opened by the plug Y.
Returning to figure 41, it will be seen that the con¬
densing apparatus and its appendages are placed almost
immediately under the cylinder, and to the right of
it. The eduction-pipe J conducts the steam into the
condensing chamber M. This chamber is placed in
the middle of the cold well, so as to be wholly surrounded
638
Steam-
Engine.
Descrip¬
tion of Mr
Watt’s En¬
gine of
1788.
Robison’s
Descrip¬
tion of
Watt’s En¬
gine.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
by cold water; and through the regulated aperture N a
jet of cold water is allowed to play in the inside of it
amongst the steam. P the air-pump is also placed in the
cold well surrounded by water; Q the piston or bucket
of the air-pump is worked up and down by the piston-rod
Q Y Z g from the great lever. The valve R closes
when the piston descends, and opens on its ascent, allow¬
ing water and air to pass into the air-pump, but prevent¬
ing its return ; and the upper valve of the air-pump S
allows the escape of water and air outwards, but prevents
its return ; this valve S leads to the hot well T, from
which the feed-pump U draws off a supply of water for
the boiler.
“ The great advantage of Mr Watt’s form is the
almost total annihilation of the waste of steam by con¬
densation in the cylinder. The cylinder is always hot,
and therefore perfectly dry. This must be evident
to any person who understands the subject. By the
time that Mr Watt had completed these improvements,
bis experiments on the production of steam had given
him a pretty accurate knowledge of its density : and he
found himself authorized to say, that the quantity of
steam employed did not much exceed what would fill the
cylinder, so that very little was unavoidably wasted.
But before he could bring the engine to this degree of
perfection, he bad many difficulties to overcome. He in¬
closed the cylinder in another containing steam, and that
in a wooden case at a small distance from it, which
effectually prevents all condensation in the inner cylinder
from external influence; and the condensation by the
outer cylinder itself, which was very small, had no other
bad consequence than the loss of so much steam as
formed the condensed water.
“ The greatest difficulty was to make the great piston
tight. The old and effectual method, by water lying on
it, was inadmissible. Re was therefore obliged to have
bis cylinders most nicely bored, perfectly cylindrical, and
finely polished; and be made numberless trials of differ¬
ent soft substances for packing his piston, which should
be tight without enormous friction, and which should
long remain so, in a situation perfectly dry and very hot.
“ After all that Mr Watt has done in this respect,
he thinks that the greatest part of the waste of steam
which he still perceives in his engines, arises from the
unavoidable escape by the sides of the piston during its
descent.
“ But the fact is, that an engine of this construction, of
the same dimensions with a common engine, making the
same number of strokes of the same extent, does not con¬
sume above one-fourth or one-third part of the fuel that is
consumed by the best engines of the common form. It
is also a very fortunate circumstance, that the perfor¬
mance of the engine is not immediately destroyed, nor in¬
deed sensibly diminished, by a small want of tightness in
the piston. In the common engine, if air get in in this
way, it immediately puts a stop to the >vork; but
although even a considerable quantity of steam get past
the piston during its descent, the rapidity of condensation
is such, that hardly any diminution of pressure can be
observed.
“ When Newcomen’s engines are working under loads
inferior to their whole power, they are regulated to pre¬
vent shocks which would be prejudicial, by lessening the
quantity of injection, or by shutting the injection-cock
sooner. These new engines may, in some degree, be re¬
gulated in the same manner ; but it is done more
effectually and economically, first, by limiting the open¬
ing of the regulating-valve which admits the steam above
the piston, and letting it continue so far open during the
whole length of the stroke; secondly, by letting it open
fully at first, and shutting it completely when the piston g'
has proceeded downwards only part of its stroke ; or, En(
lastly, by the use of a throttle-valve, which, acting in the
same manner as the floodgate of a mill, admits no more
steam than gives the desired power.
“ The second of these methods of regulating the power ^
of the engine, forms the basis of what is called the En,"
Expansive Engine, which renders available the greater n»
part of the power with which the steam would rush into Ex'-
empty space, were the piston acted upon by the whole s1n( M
att’i
force of the steam, from the bottom to the top of thefv^
stroke, through the whole length of the cylinder—aprin
ciple which had first occurred to Mr Watt in 1769, and
was adopted in an engine at Soho manufactory, and some
others, about 1776, and in 1778 at Shad well water¬
works, and afterwards particularly described in his speci¬
fication of a patent for several new improvements upon
steam-engines, in 1782.
“ The construction of this engine is as has been
described. The steam-valve is always allowed to open
fully; the pins of the plug-frame are regulated so, that
that valve shall shut the moment that the piston has de¬
scended a certain portion, suppose one-fourth, one-
third, or one-half, of the length of the cylinder. So far
the cylinder was occupied by steam as elastic as common
air. In pressing the piston farther down, it behoved the
steam to expand, and its elasticity to diminish. It is
plain that this can be done in any degree we please, and
that the adjustment can be varied in a minute, accord¬
ing to the exigency of the case, by moving the plug-
byi
pms.
“In the mean time, it must be observed, that the
pressure on the piston is continually changing, and con¬
sequently the accelerating force; The motion, therefore,
will no longer be uniformly accelerated. It will approach
much faster to uniformity ; nay, it may be retarded, be¬
cause although the pressure on the piston at the beginning
of the stroke may exceed the resistance of the load, yet
when the piston is near the bottom, the resistance may
exceed the pressure. Whatever may be the law by
which the pressure on the piston varies, an ingenious
mechanic may contrive the connecting machinery in such
a way that the chains or rods at the outer end of the
beam shall continually exert the same pressure, or shall
vary their pressure according to any law he finds most
convenient^ It is in this manner that the watchmaker,
by the form of the fuzee, produces an equal pressure on
the wheel-work by means of a very unequal action of the
main-spring. In like manner, by making the outer arch¬
beads portions of a proper spiral instead of a circle, we
can regulate the force of the beam at pleasure.
“ Thus we see how much more manageable an engine is
in this form than Newcomen's was, and also more easily
investigated in respect of its power in its various posi¬
tions. The knowledge of this last circumstance was of
mighty consequence, and without it no notion could be
formed of what it could perform, which may be called a
discovery of great importance in the theory of the engine.
We shall give here Mr. Watt’s theory of the expansive
engine which we have just described.
“ Let A BCD (Fig. 43.) represent a section of the
cylinder of a steam-engine, and EF the surface of its
piston. Let us suppose that the steam was admitted
while EF was in contact with AB, and that as soon as it
had pressed it down to the situation EF, the steam-cock
is shut. The steam will continue to press it down, and
as the steam expands, its pressure diminishes. We may
express its pressure (exerted all the while the piston
moves from the situation AB to the situation Eh) by
the line EF. If we suppose the elasticity of the steam
Fig. 43.
ti- proportional to its density, as is nearly
tie- the case with air, we may express the
""J pressure on the piston in any other posi-
itt’s tion, such as KL or DC, by K l and D e,
5ive the ordinates of a rectangular hyperbola
F £c, of which AE AD are the asymp¬
totes, and A the centre. The accumu¬
lated pressure during the motion of the
piston from EF to DC, will be expressed by
the area EF c DE,and the pressure during
the whole motion by the area A BF e DA.
“ Now it is well known that the area EF c DE is equal
to ABFE multiplied by the hyperbolic logarithm of —D
AD , AIv’
= L.— and the whole area ABF c DA is = ABFE x
« Thus let the diameter of the piston be 24 inches, and
the pressure of the atmosphere on a square inch be 14
pounds; the pressure on the piston is 6333 pounds.
Let the whole stroke be 6 feet, and let the steam bo
stopped when the piston has descended 18 inches, or 1.5
feet. The hyperbolic logarithm of -AL is 1.3862943.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Let the steam be stopped at
1
639
&c.
Its performance is mult.
1.7
2.1
2.4
2.6
2.8
3.
3.2
&c.
Steam*
Engine.
Mr Watt’s
Expansive
Engine.
1.5
Therefore the accumulated pressure ABF c DA is zr
6333 x 2.3862943, 15112 pounds.
“ As few professional engineers are possessed of a table
of hyperbolic logarithms, while tables of common loga¬
rithms are, or should be, in the hands of every person
who is much engaged in mechanical calculations, let the
following method be practised. Take the common loca-
A D b
rithm of —- , and multiply it by 2.3026 ; the product is
AD
the hyperbolic logarithm of  .
“ The accumulated pressure while the piston moves
from AB to EF is 6333 x 1, or simply 6333 pounds.
Therefore the steam while it expands into the whole
cylinder adds a pressure of 8781 pounds.
“Suppose that the steam had got free admission during
the whole descent of the piston, the accumulated pressure
would have been 6333 x 4, or 25332 pounds.
“ Her« Mr Watt observed a remarkable result. The
steam expended in this case would have been four times
greater than when it was stopped at one fourth, and yet
the accumulated pressure is not twice as great, being
nearly five-thirds. One-fourth of the steam performs
nearly three-fifths of the work, and an equal quantity
performs more than twice as much work when thus ad¬
mitted during one-fourth of the motion.
“ This is curious and important information, and the
advantage of this method of working a steam-engine in¬
creases in proportion as the steam is sooner stopped ;
jmt the increase is not great after the steam is rarefied'
>mr times. The curve approaches near to the axis, and
small additions are made to the area. The expense of
sue i gieat cylinders is considerable, and may sometimes
compensate this advantage.*
Is very pleasing to observe so many unlooked-for
■“vantages resulting from an improvement made with
tm so,e view of lessening the waste of steam by conden¬
sation. While this purpose is gained, we learn how to
msband the steam which is not thus wasted. The
engine becomes more manageable, and is more easily
a apted to every variation in its task, and all its powers
are easily computed.
“ The active mind of its ingenious inventor did not stop
here. Jt had always been matter of regret that one-half
ot the motion was unaccompanied by any work, it was
a very obvious thing to Mr Watt, that as the steam ad¬
mitted above the piston pressed it down, so steam
admitted below the piston would press it up with the
same force, provided that a vacuum were made on its
upper side. This was easily done, by connecting the
lower end of the cylinder with the boiler and the upper
end with the condenser.”
Hitherto we have considered the condensing steam-
engine of Watt in its application to the purpose of work¬
ing the large pumps used to draw water from mines
or to supply reservoirs from a lower level. This, indeed,
was the most obvious and immediate application of the
steam-engine, which was at first introduced as a substi¬
tute for the atmospheric pumping engine of Watt.
The steam-engine of revolution of Mr Watt was an
invention subsequent to the mining steam-engine or
“ water-commanding machine.” Previous to the time of
Watt, indeed, there had been a few attempts made to
produce a revolving motion by means of steam, such as
the case where the engines of Savary and Newcomen
drew up water, which, falling upon the buckets of a
wheel, produced its revolution. There had also been
many attempts to apply the atmospheric pumping-engine
directly to this purpose—Jonathan Hall, Kean, Fitz¬
gerald, Mr Oxley, John Stewart, and Matthew Was-
brough, had all contrived some means of producing a
revolving motion from the reciprocation of the great
beam of the pumping-engine ; but Watt’s engine alone
bad the power of being rendered an efficient and econo¬
mical motive power.
We shall take the present opportunity of describing
Mr Watts method of communicating the force of the
steam-engine to any machine of the rotatory kind.
“ VV, fig. 44, represents the rim and arms of a very large
and heavy metalline fly. On its axisis the concentric-toothed
wheel U. There is attached to the end of the great beam
a strong and stiff rod T, to the lower end of which a
toothed wheel W is firmly fixed by two bolts, so that it can¬
not turn round. rl his wheel is of the same size and in the
same vertical plane with the wheel U ; and an iron link
or strap (which cannot be seen here, because it is on the
other side of the two wheels) connects the centres of the
two wheels, so that the one cannot quit the other. The
engine being in the position represented in the figure,
suppose the fly to he turned once round by any external
force in the direction of the darts. It is plain,‘that since
the toothed wheels cannot quit each other, being kept
together by the link, the inner half (that is, the half next
the cylinder) of the wheel U will work on the outer half
of the wheel W, so that at the end of the revolution of
the fly the wheel W must have got to the top of the
wheel IJ, and the outer end of the beam must be raised
to its highest position. The next revolution of the fly
will bring the wheel W and the beam connected with
it to their first positions; and thus every two revolu-
Mr Watt’s
Engine of
Revolu¬
tion.
ratilsThara/^would’(^1'YeVer’ Proceed nPon the supposition that steam contracts and expands by variations of pressure, in the
640
Steam-
Engine.
Mr Watt’s
txons of the fly will make a complete period of the beam s
reciprocating movements. Now, instead of supposing the
'fly to drive the beam, let the beam drive the lly» T.he
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
other, and a weight placed upon the circumference of the Ste.
fly at the same angle to each of the cranks, by which En
motions must be perfectly the same, and the ascent or
descent of the piston will produce one revolution of the fly.
“ It is proper here to give the history of this invention
„ . I had very early turned my mind to the producing con-
Ac count of tinued motions round an axis, and it will be seer, by re-
his Engine ference to my first specification in 1769, that I there
of Revolu-described a steam-wheel, moved by the torce of steam
tion. ' • ’ * ’ 1 - " 1 “:',“
acting in a circular channel against a valve on one side,
and against a column of mercury or some other fluid
metal on the other side. This was executed upon a
scale of about six feet diameter at Soho, and worked re¬
peatedly, but was given up, as several practical objections
were found to operate against it. Similar objections lay
against other rotative engines which had been contrived
by myself and others, as well as to the engines pro¬
ducing rotatory motions by means of ratchet-wheels.
Having made my reciprocating engines very regular
in their movements, I considered how to produce ro¬
tative motions from them in the best manner; and
amongst various schemes which were subjected to trial,
or which passed through my mind, none appeared so
likely to answer the purpose as the application of the
crank in the manner of the common turning lathe, (an in¬
vention of great merit, of which the humble inventor, and
even its era, are unknown.) But, as the rotative motion
is produced in that machine by the impulse given to the
crank in the descent of the foot only, and behoves to be
continued in its ascent by the momentum of the wheel,
which acts as a fly, and being unwilling to load my engine
with a fly heavy enough to continue the motion during
the ascent of the piston, (and even were a counter-weight
employed to act during that ascent of a fly heavy
enough to equalize the motion,) I proposed to employ two
engines acting upon two cranks fixed on the same axis at
an angle of one hundred and twenty degrees to one an-
ny ‘~^ ~ 0 —   '4   t: .
means the motion might be rendered nearly equal, and a “s®. ,
very light fly only would be requisite. This had occurred Mrv t
to me very early, but my attention being fully employedEngi|
in making and erecting engines for raising water, it re-1?1"''
mained in petto until about the year 1778 or 9, when Mr1011,
Wasbrough erected one of his ratchet-wheel engines at
Birmingham, the frequent breakages and irregularities of
which recalled the subject to my mind, and I proceeded
to make a model of my method, which answered my ex¬
pectations ; but having neglected to take out a patent, the
invention was communicated by a workman employed to
make the model to some of the people about Mr
Wasbrough’s engine, and a patent was taken out by them
for the application of the crank to steam-engines. This
fact the said workman confessed, and the engineer who
directed the works acknowledged it, hut said, nevertheless,
the same idea had occurred to him prior to his hearing of
mine, and that he had even made a model of it before
that time, which might be a fact, as the application to a
single crank was sufficiently obvious. In these circum¬
stances I thought it better to endeavour to accomplish the
same end by other means, than to enter into litigation,
and, if successful, by demolishing the patent, to lay the
matter open to every body. Accordingly, in 1781, I in¬
vented and took out a patent for several methods of pro¬
ducing rotative motions from reciprocating ones, amongst
which was the method of the sun and planet wheels
described in the text.
“ This contrivance was applied to many engines, and
possesses the great advantage of giving a double velocity
to the fly ; but is perhaps more subject to wear, and to be
broken under great strains, than the crank, which is now
more commonly used, although it requires a fly-wheel of
four times the weight, if fixed upon the first axis. My
application of the double engine to these rotative ma¬
chines rendered unnecessary the counter-weight, and pro¬
duced a more regular motion ; so that, in most of our
great manufactories, these engines now supply the place
of water, wind, and horse mills ; and instead of carry iny
the ivork to the power, the prime agent is placed wherever
it is most convenient to the manufacturer”
< t Let us now trace the operation of this machine through
all its steps. Let us suppose that the lower part of
the cylinder BB, fig. 44, is exhausted of all elastic
fluids ; that the upper steam-valve D and the lower educ¬
tion valve F are open, and that the lower steam-valve h
and upper eduction-valve N are shut. It is evident that
the piston must be pressed toward the bottom of tlie
cylinder, and must pull down the end of the working-
beam by means of the toothed rack 00 and sector Qkb
causing the other end of the beam to urge forward the
machinery with which it is connected. When the piston
arrives at the bottom of the cylinder, the valves D and f
are shut by the plug-frame, and E .and N are opened. Hy
this last passage the steam gets into the eduction-pipe,
where it meets with the injection water, and is rap* V
condensed. The steam from the boiler enters at the same
time by E, and pressing on the lower side of the piston,
forces it upwards, and by means of the toothed jac
and toothed sector QQ forces up that end of the woy-
ing-beam, and causes the other end to urge forward tne
machinery with which it is connected ; and in tins mann
the operation of the engine may be continued foi ever*
“ The injection water is continually running into
eduction-pipe, because condensation is continua y &011'o
on, and therefore there is a continual atmosphei ic P,e>,s'
to produce a jet. The air which is disengaged man t
water, or enters by leaks, is evacuated only Ciiuin0
rise of the piston of the air-pump K.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
iVat
!- “ It is evident that this form of the engine, by maintain-
ie. ing an almost constant and uninterrupted impulsion,
is much fitter for driving any machinery of continued mo-
l.tt’stion than any of the former engines, which were inactive
Jnj of during half of their motion. It does not, however, seem
to have this superiority when employed to draw water;
but it is also fitted for this task. Let the engine be
loaded with twice as much as would be proper for it if a
single stroke engine, and let a fly be connected with it.
Then it is plain that the power of the engine during the
rise of the steam-piston will be accumulated in the fly; and
this, in conjunction with the power of the engine during
the descent of the steam-piston, will be equal to the
whole load of water.
“ The engraving here referred to is copied from the
drawing of the double engine in the above patent of 1782,
and is that of an experimental engine, no others havin-r
ever been made exactly similar. I have now added engra¬
vings of one of the Albion mill engines, fig. 45, 46, being
one of the earliest double engines erected for sale. I do not
exactly recollect the date of the invention of the double
engine, but a drawing of it is still in my possession, which
was produced in the House of Commons when I Avas
soliciting the act of Parliament for the prolongation of my
patent in 1774-5. Having encountered much difficulty
in teaching others the construction and use of the single
engine, and in overcoming prejudices, I proceeded no
farther in it at that time, nor until, finding myself beset
with a host of plagiaries and pirates in 1782, I thought
it proper to insert it, and some other things, in the patent
above-mentioned.
“ Fig. 45 is a vertical and fig. 46 an horizontal section
)es|»- of one of the Albion Mill Engines,
ion, ‘he “ The steam-pipe F conveys steam from the boiler n to
jill , tlie cross-pipe, or upper steam-nozzle G, and by the per-
jiae pendicular steam-pipe I, to the lower steam-nozzle K.
In the nozzle G is a valve, wdiich, when open, admits
steam into the cylinder above the piston B, (fig. 48,)
through the horizontal square pipe at its top ; and in the
loivev steam nozzle K there is another valve, which,
when open, admits steam into the cylinder below the piston!
In the upper exhaustion-nozzle H is a valve, which, when
open, admits steam to pass from the cylinder the
piston into the exhaustion-pipe J, which conveys it to
the condensing-vessel M, where it meets the jet of the
injection from the cock N,and is reduced to water; and,
in the lower exhaustion-nozzle L, there is also a valve,
which, when open, admits steam to pass out of the cylin-
er below the piston, by the eduction-pipe, into the
condenser M.
“ The piston being at the top of its stroke, the valves G
an L are to be opened, and the fly-wheel m turned
y nand about one-eighth of a revolution, or more, in the
irection in which it is intended to move; the steam
winch is then in the cylinder will pass by L into the
condenser, when, meeting the jet of water from the in-
jection-cock, it will be converted into water, and the cy-
inder thus becoming exhausted, the steam, entering the
y inder by the valve G, will press upon the piston and
iseit to descend, while, by its action upon the working’-
X,through the piston-rod, &c., it pulls down the
y nder-end of the beam, and raises up the outer-end and
trreCtl"S ro(1 which causes the planet-wheel i to
thpn iV?Vf ™un(? the sun-wheel/; but the former of
it m W 'ee S’ ^ein8' fixed upon the connecting-rod so that
ran!T0t !!lrn l]Pon its own axis, and its teeth being en-
641
“ As the piston descends, the plug-tree Z also descends,
and a clamp, or slider y, fixed upon the side of the plug-
tree, presses upon the handle 1 of the upper Y-shaft, or
Fig. 45.
Steam--
Engine
Mr Watt’s
Engine of
Revolu¬
tion.
Fig. 46.
axis, and thereby shuts the valves G and L; and the
same operation, by disengaginga detent, permits a weight
suspended to the arm of the lower Y-shaft to turn the
shaft upon its axis, and thereby to open the valves K and
H. The moment previous to the opening these valves,
the piston had reached the lowest part of its stroke, and
i„ those of tile ZlZZ™ 'iT*!"' ,h* tlle Pi<*» " *H«1 with steam : but
WM, upon Whose axle or sh ift it is ’ 'I T a® S00J a? 11 Ia °Petleil> that steam rushes by the eduction-
revnlvA .u., j • 7 i. . : X (^ are made to pipe J, into the condenser, and the cylinder above the
piston becomes exhausted. The steam from the boiler
entering by I and K, acts upon the lower side of the
4 M
revnlvAT IY j • axie.or 61mtt 11 ,s are made to
will-work deSlied dlrection> and &ive motion to the
voc. xx.
642
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine
Watt’s
Engine of
Revolu¬
tion.
piston, and forces it to return to the top of the cylinder.
When the piston is very near the upper termination ot
its stroke, another slider a raises the handle 2, and m
so doing1 disengages the catch, which permits the upper
Y-shaft to revolve upon its own axis and open the valves
Gaud L, and the downward stroke recommences as has
been related. f tl
When the piston descends, the buckets U, I ot tne
air-pump P and hot-water pump T also descend. 1 he
water which is contained in these pumps passes through
the valves of their buckets, and is drawn up and dis-
, charged by them through the lander or trough t, by the
next descending stroke of the piston. Part ot tins water
is raised up by the pump V, for the supply oi the boiler,
and the rest runs to waste. . .
The reader who wishes further details concerning the
steam-engine of Mr Watt, will find them in the descrip¬
tive portion of this treatise.
Conclusion The history of the steam-engine ends with the history
of the His- 0f Mr Watt’s labours. There are, it is true, many parts
Part II.-
-Deschiption of the Modern Steam-
Engine.
lory. of the steam-engine that have been altered, simplified, or
adapted to peculiar uses and circumstances since his
time ; but these are matters of minor importance, with¬
out which, the engine would not have been materially cur¬
tailed of its present efficiency. It is a remarkable fact that
the steam-engine has scarcely received any very valuable
improvement since his time. He, in tact, rendered it a ma¬
chine nearly perfect. The testimony of Mr Farey upon
this subject is explicit, and must be conclusive on the sub-
ject with every one who has the means ot ascertaining the
very high estimation to which the knowledge and prac¬
tical skill of that excellent writer on the steam-engine
most justly entitle him, “ It is a circumstance,’ says Mr
Farey, (Sleam-Engine, p. 473,) “ highly creditable to
Mr Watt’s character, both as an original inventor and as
a practical engineer, that his first double-revolving engine,
which he made in 1787 at the Albion Mills, performed
quite as well as any engine which has since been con¬
structed to employ steam on the same principles. Some
important improvements have been made in the construe-
parts together in more substantial modes
essential forms and proportions which affect the perfor¬
mance of the machine, were so ascertained by the first
inventor, that no improvement has been since made
in them, and every departure from those forms and pro¬
portions has impaired the performance in a greater or less
degree.”
Thus have we taken a rapid survey of the history of
the steam-engine. We have omitted the names of many
individuals who have distinguished themselves by inge¬
nuity directed to this subject. We have omitted the
labours of Gebert, Alberti, Cardan, Decaus, Branca, Mor-
land, Papin, Amonton, Leupold, Meyer, Rosfrand, Ges-
sanne, and a hundred others who have, all in different de¬
grees, expended ingenuity upon the application of steam to
the production of mechanical power ; and these we have
omitted not because we consider their labours either
undeserving of notice or uninteresting to the general
reader, hut because they have not contributed towards
the production of the modern steam engine, and because
an account of their works would rather serve to illustrate
the possible varieties of the machine and the fertility of
the human mind in mechanical devices, than either to
conduct the reader along the stream of historical suc¬
cession, or render him better acquainted with the nature
and mechanical peculiarities of the steam-engine itself.
especially in steam navigation. He had awakened m
that nation a lively sense of the advantages which they
were likely to derive from the introduction of the power
of steam, and placed in their hands an instrument we
fitted for their use, and which they were not slow to adopt
and apply. . . .
The high-pressure or non-condensing engine consists
of two principal members, generator or boiler and wor -
ing cylinder, each with sundry appendages. ow
pressure or condensing steam-engine consists of three prin¬
cipal members, generator, cylinder, and refrigerator or
condenser, each with sundry appendages. ,
The generator and working cylinder, with their append¬
ages, are nearly the same in both kinds of steam-engine,
the presence of a condenser or refrigerator forming t e
principal and almost only distinction of the second species.
By this second species the steam is returned into its hrst
state of water, thereby effecting a saving of heat ana w
mechanical power ; whereas, in the first forni o ’
the steam, after performing a certain portion ofi s a , ’
is discharged into the open air as useless; a Pr0<*ss''
can only be advisable in circumstances where the
and apparatus for condensing would cost more . >
and cause more inconvenience than would counterva
loss of fuel and heat and power. . etpam.
As, therefore, the high-pressure non-condensing st
engine is simpler in its action and construction
low-pressure condensing engine, it is convemen
Stea:
Eng;1
Of modern steam-engines there are two distinct species The
 the high-pressure and low-pressure engines. The for-Mode
mer is simple, light, and of few parts, generally used for
locomotive engines, steam-carriages, steam-vessels of a
light and rapid construction, and such other purposes ascies_
require portability or cheapness. The latter is more com¬
plex, but more effective; more expensive in original con¬
struction. but more durable and more economical in con¬
sumption of fuel. The first is more commonly in use in
America, the latter in this country. The high-pressure
engine is sometimes also called the non-condensing steam-
engine, to distinguish it from the low-pressure engine,
which is also called the condensing steam-engine; but
there is sometimes a combination effected of some of the
parts and principles of both these species, in what is
called a high-pressure condensing engine, by which, for
certain purposes, the peculiar merits of both species aie
combined in the same machine.
Of these two sorts of steam-engine it is remarkable
that the more elementary and simple—that which is the
more easily conceived and understood—was not invented
and brought into practical use until long after the other
kind had been very extensively used and made known by
its inventor, .James Wratt. It appears to us, that we are
to consider Oliver Evans of Philadelphia as the inventor
of the modern high-pressure engine. Before 1786 he
had contrived and made experiments upon a high-pressure
engine, which seems to have been in all essential icspects
similar to our own. Indeed, it appears that the Ameri¬
cans have taken the form and arrangements of their
engines from Evans, as implicitly as in this country
we have adopted those of Watt. The history of Evans
consists almost entirely of the romance ot real life.
Sanguine and energetic, lie continually encountered diffi¬
culties only to overcome them, and to encounter le-
newed disaster and disappointment, till he at length
died of a broken heart. To him we attribute the ra¬
pid advancement of America, at the commencement of
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Prr ;re
of S im.
Fig. 47.
sider, in the first instance, its mechanism and management,
and afterwards, how far it may require to he modified in
' order to acquire the advantage of condensation.
The High-Pressure Non-Condensing Steam-Engine.
The elastic force of steam is a phenomenon with which
we become acquainted very early in life. We see that
when water boils furiously in a kettle or caldron which is
closelyfitted bya lid or cover, it has a tendency to raise it up
or drive it off with considerable force ; and that the steam,
collecting in the upper part of the vessel, rushes with
considerable velocity out of any crevice or pipe which
communicates with the open air.
The force of the steam which is thus issuing from the
spout of a kettle or crevice in the cover of a caldron is
comparatively slight; and the steam which thus rises from
boiling water is called low-pressure steam. But if we
stop up the spout and close the cover with accuracy, so
as to confine the steam within the kettle or boiler, the
water wall become hotter and hotter, and the steam
stronger and stronger, until it will either force up the
cover with violence, or altogether burst asunder the sides
of the boiler. In this confined and heated state the
steam acquires, from its properties, the descriptive
appellation of high-pressure steam.
Engineers are in the habit of reckoning the force of
high-pressure steam by a very simple expedient. They
place a weight such as W (Fig.
47,) upon a hole on the top
of the boiler. This hole being
square, and an inch in length
and breadth, and the weight
being equal to one pound,
when the steam is strong
enough just to blow the
weight off the hole, they call
that steam of an elastic
force equal to one pound on
the square inch. They then
place a weight of two pounds
upon this hole of a square
inch, and continue the heat
until the steam just blows it
off, and that is called steam of the pressure of two pounds
on the square inch. And, in like manner, when steam is
confined and heated until it acquire force enough to blow
weights of three, four, five, fifteen, or fifty pounds off
an aperture of not more than a square inch in extent,
that is technically called steam of the elastic pressure
of three, four, five, fifteen, and fifty pounds on the
square inch. It is difficult to say whether there be any
limit to the elastic force which steam may acquire from
continued heat and confinement: it is known to be
even as powerfully elastic as gunpowder, and pressures
of one thousand pounds an inch have been produced.
The pressures generally adopted for high-pressure
engines are from fifteen to one hundred and twenty
pounds on the inch. Of course, when there is a given
Insure on any one inch of the surface of a boiler, there
j be tbe same on every other inch of surface; and if
t ie aperture under the weight be any number of times
greater than one inch, it wrill just require so much the
rnore weight to keep it closed. The standard by which
>e pressure is reckoned and calculated is, however,
always the square whose side is one inch.
y placing a movable weight upon an aperture of
g'.ven ®lze hi this manner, the engineer not only ascer-
[iins the amount of the elastic force of the steam tending
hv b°her> hut he also constructs a safety-valve
y which to avert the danger of an explosion of the boiler.
)4o
Dr Desaguliers relates a circumstance which happened Steam-
very early in the history of the steam-engine, when, Engine,
for want of proper precautions of this nature, “ the
steam burst the boiler with a great explosion, and killed Safety-
the poor man who stood near, with the pieces that flewvalve*
asunder, there being otherwise no danger, by reason
of the safety-valve being made to lift up and open
upon occasion.” Now, a given weight of lead or iron
laid on a hole in the top of a boiler so as to close it, is a
sufficient and common form of safety valve; for when¬
ever the pressure of the steam becomes sufficient to raise
the weight, it escapes through the opening into the air
without doing any mischief. A large weight of lead,
simply placed on the opening, is a very common and
simple inode of providing for the safety of the apparatus.
But this plan becomes inconvenient when the pressure
is high and the weight great, because it then becomes so
high as to be unsteady; and, in order to remedy the in¬
convenience, what is called a valve is used, separate
from, and in addition to, the weight,
as shown in the accompanying dia- Fit. 4w.
gram, fig. 48. A valve-seat a h, ,
formed of cast brass, is fixed in the 'Cl
aperture, and is accurately fitted
by the valve itself c d, the edges
of which, at c and d, are carefully
turned and tapered, so as to fit the
neck of a 6, and ground in its place
with emery powder, which makes it perfectly steam-tight.
A spindle protrudes downwards from the valve through
a guide which keeps it in a straight line, and pre¬
vents it from falling on one side of the valve after hav¬
ing been raised. This same spindle, rising upwards,
carries upon a crossbar a series of large cylindrical
weights which may be increased or diminished in number
as the case may require.
It is a practical fault of this valve that the tall erect
spindle may easily become bent or injured by accident,
and also that the weight upon it may too ’ easily bo
handled, so as wantonly to be increased; hence, a safety
valve, with an internal weight, has been contrived in the
following shape. A con¬
ical valve is placed in its
seat in every respect as
formerly, only the spindle
does not rise up but ^
hangs down among the
steam, terminating in a
chain and weight.
In all of these modifi¬
cations the weight on the safety-valve becomes large and
cumbrous when the pressure is high; and a contrivance
was devised very early in the history of steam to ob¬
viate the inconvenience of this plan, under the name of
the lever safety-valve. Instead of placing a great series
of weights on the valve itself, a single weight is hung on
the end of the longer arm of a lever so as to produce an
effect proportional to its distance, and this lever being
graduated, shows the amount of the effect which is thus pro¬
duced. In the figure, the valve, valve-rod, and spindle
Fig. 49.
Fig. 50.
are all arranged as for¬
merly : hut a lever g le
rests on the top of a small
hemispherical button on
the valve; and the one end
g being a fulcrum, the
weight W is suspended by a ring from any point of the
lever. W hen, at the point 4, as in the figure, its effect
on the valve is four times as great as if directly upon it.
The effect of the lever’s own weight will, in this case, be
644
Steam-
Ensnne.
Safety-
valve.
also equivalent to a certain number of pounds on the
valve, which, being properly estimated, tbe lever safety-
valve may be used to indicate with accuracy the pressure
of the steam.
Another form of valve has been proposed, as indicating
still more correctly the point at which the pressure of the
steam is equal to the pressure on the valve. It is a
cylinder or flat valve, acted on by a lever and weight,
and there are weights on opposite sides of the lever,
which has also equal arms. 1 hese weights rest on light
rollers so as to run down from their places and release the
steam entirely, whenever its pressure reaches the pre¬
scribed limit. This is
the valve of the French lig. 51. ^
Academy and Frank¬
lin Institute.
Another form of
valve, also cylindrical,
was used by Mr
Southern for his deli¬
cate experiments on  
high-pressure steam. (See Art. Steam.) The cylinder
of tbe valve-seat used in the former figures is prolonged
upwards, so as to form a vertical cylinder or tube, in
which a plug of metal is exactly fitted. This plug
is ground with great care, so as to move freely but steam-
tight in the cylinder ; and a rod from the cylinder passes
up through a hole in the top, and is kept down by
a lever and weight. A hole in the cylinder allows the
steam to escape
Fig. 52.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Fiff. 56.
Fig. 53.
whenever the
pressure on the
valve upwards
exceeds the pres¬
sure of the lever
and weights in
the opposite di¬
rection. The in¬
dications of this
instrument are found to be very precise.
Another species of safety-valve has of late years come
into use, called the spring-valve. It Fig. 54.
is of two kinds, with a lever and with¬
out it. The form without the level is
represented in the first of these dia¬
grams, fig. 54. A series of bent
springs, sjo sp sp sp, &c., are placed al¬
ternately in opposite directions, in the
square frame g h k l, and are forced
down upon the valve at n by means of
a cross-bar k h acting at m—a small
screw at m adjusting the pressure by
compressing or releasing the spring.
The other form of pjo. 55.
spring safety-valve in¬
terposes aleverbetvveen
the safety-valve and the
spring. S T, fig- 55, is
what is commonly called
a Salter’s spring bal¬
ance, the box x y, con¬
taining a spiral-spring,
which is compressed in
the box, when the end S
is drawn away from, or
raised above the point
S. The finger-screw /) \X
S, adjusts the degree^_Jf [A
of tension on the entl-^ ^
of the lever. The two
last species of safety-
valve are used in locomotive steam-engines.
Fig. 57.
Ste*l
Eng;
Cy
Elasti:
force'
Stean.
A totally different method of indicating the pressure
of steam in a boiler, is by means of what is called a mer-
curial gnuye, communicating with tbe boiler. JMercury
is poured into a bent tube, one end of which springs from
the boiler, and the other end is exposed to the air, so that
the steam by its pressure raises the mercury in the
straight limb of the tube to a height above the level pro¬
portioned to that pressure. In the figure a c d e, in
the bent tube, communicating with the boiler at a, and
open at the end e, the steam presses on the end c
of the mercury, and raises the other extremity of the
fluid to the height C. From calculating the weight of
mercury, it is reckoned, that for every pound of pres¬
sure of the steam in the boiler, there is an inch of
mercury7 raised in the tube ; so that, if the space d c he
nine inches, a pressure of nine lbs. on the square inch
in the boiler is indicated. Sometimes also a small
float of iron is placed on the mercury, which, carrying a
slender rod with an index, points the elevation of the
mercury on a scale above the gauge. It is evident that
this instrument also acts as a safety-valve, inasmuch as the
steam, when too strong, must force the mercury entirely
over the top of the tube, and make its escape. A double
pipe, on a larger scale, with water in it instead ofmercury,
would answer the same purpose equally well; only the
water would rise one foot and an inch for every pound
of pressure of steam in the leg of the double tube, and
twice that quantity if the tube were single ; which would
give a scale of 16E feet in a double tube, or 33 feet in a
single tube, as the column of water raised above the
level by a pressure of 15 lbs. on the square inch.
It is convenient to reckon the pressure of steam m
larger numbers than pounds, and the quantity that has been
fixed is a weight of 15 lbs., or a stone weight, per square
inch ; and to this weight the name of an atmosphere ot
pressure has been given, simply because the common
atmosphere of air presses on all bodies with a weight ot
15 lbs. on the square inch, (see Art. Pneumatics.)
steam having a pressure of 15 lbs. on the square inc'> *
called high-pressure steam of the elastic force or streng
of one atmosphere. High-pressure steam having a pres¬
sure of 30 lbs., is said to have an elastic force of two atm -
pheres, 45 lbs. of three atmospheres, &c. Sometimes, 1 -
ever, a nomenclature rather different is adopted, and ti
common steam of boiling water, which exeits n0. ** 1
pressure than merely to balance the atmosphere, is
steam of one atmosphere; and in this case t ie
steam which has been called one atmosphere would h
considered as two atmospheres. This nomenc »
be rendered evident by the consideration of the tc ■ b
table:— „ „
High-Pressure Steam ot
0 lbs. on tbe square inch is called 0 atmos. or ^ a
  h-7:3
30   
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
45 lbs. on the square inch is called 3 atmos. or 4 atmos.
60 4 5
75 5 6
90 6 7
105 7 8
&c. &e. &c.
Owing- to this degree of ambiguity in these technical
measures of pressure, it is always necessary to observe and
to specify whether the pressure spoken of is pressure total,
or excess above the atmosphere of air. If, for example,
four atmospheres be specified, it must be considered whether
four atmospheres above the pressure of the atmosphere
be meant, as in the first column of the table, or four
atmospheres including the atmospheric air pressure, in
which case the number in the second column is meant;
for, in the former case, high-pressure steam of 60 lbs. on
the square inch is meant, and in the latter high-pressure
steam of only 45 lbs. above the atmosphere.
Such are some of the various methods by which the
elastic force of high-pressure steam in a boiler may be
estimated and shown. We have next to consider the
manner in which that force may be applied to the useful
purpose of forming a high-pressure steam-engine.
We have already seen how the force of steam, confined
in a close boiler and heated until it acquires great elastic
force or high pressure, acts upon every point of the sur¬
face in which it is enclosed, tending to press it asunder;
and how, by sufficiently confining and heating it, weights
of five, fifteen, or fifty pounds, resting on only a single
square inch of surface, may be supported and upraised.
To apply this force to the raising of great weights, is the
object of the high-pressure steam-engine ;and it has been
calculated that 6 lbs. of coal, applied in heating 6 gallons of
water into steam, has sufficient force to perform the most
arduous labour of a man, for a whole day.
One of the simplest and earliest applications of the
force of high-pressure steam to raising weights, is given
by Jacob Leupold, in bis Theatrum Machinarum Hydrauli-
carum, Leipzig, 1725. This we have copied from bis work
Fig. 58.
in the accompanying figures. We have
already seen that the boiler C, fig. 58,
being placed on a fire, the elastic force of
the steam will raise a weight resting on an
aperture. Now, if we conduct the steam
in a pipe into any other vessel, such as
the cylindrical tube F, in which there is
a piston or movable plug D, on the top
of which rests the weight E, by a metal¬
lic rod E B, connected with the piston,
and passing freely through a bole in the
top of the cylinder, it is manifest that
when the steam becomes strong enough
to overcome the pressure of the weight,
it will raise up the piston to any required
height. If the weight be 15 lbs , and the
size of the surface of the piston one square
inch, and if the pressure of the steam be
equal to any thing more than one atmosphere of elastic
force, it will overcome the weight and raise it. If the
surface of the piston were double the size, or two square
inches in extent, then each inch would be acted on by a
force of 15 lbs., and the same elastic force acting on two
inches would raise double the weight, or 30 lbs , and so
on for any number of square inches ; so that, if the piston
were a circle of four inches in diameter, which would have
a surface of about 12 square inches, on each and all of
which a pressure of 15 lbs. was sustained, there might
be a total weight of 12 times 16 lbs., or 180 lbs., sus¬
tained and raised to the top of the cylinder. The boiler
icing removed from the fire and allowed to cool down
a8ain> the piston might again descend, and this operation
w / ngaiii ucsu'
be repeated as often as necessary.
But a more convenient form of this apparatus is that
which Leupold gives in the next figure,—in which it is un¬
Fig. 59.
necessary to remove
the fire. The boiler
G H, fig. 59, having
a constant fire placed
under it, the commu¬
nication with the cy¬
linder ABC takes,
place through a pas '
sage capable of regu¬
lation by a stopcock
S, which is shown at S
as shut by turning
the handle T. This stopcock is similar to that com¬
monly used for regulating the flow of liquors in vessels
of any kind ; a small conical plug S' stops up the passage
entirely, but being perforated in one direction, allows the
communication to take place whenever that perforation
is turned round into such a position as to form a continu¬
ation of the channel. By this means it is provided that
this stopcock shall remain in the position, S1 being closed,
until the steam has collected in the boiler a sufficient
elastic force, after which it is allowed to pass up into the
cylinder, by turning the stopcock into the position S
when the steam entering the cylinder pushes up the
piston and the piston-rod by which the great weight
E is raised as before. The piston will then be allowed
to descend to the bottom, by allowing the cylinder gra¬
dually to cool, when the Aveight may again be raised as
at first; and so on for any number of operations.
But the most perfect of Leupold’s machines is that re¬
presented in the following figures, 60,61. It is a true water¬
pumping high-pressure steam-engine ; a machine which
Fi<r. 60.
Fig. 61.
might be efficiently used without any alteration at the
present day, only the modern machines are calculated to
do the work with a smaller expenditure of fuel. Two
pumps for raising water are directly worked by steam,
by connecting the handles of the pumps with the pistons
of two high-pressure cylinders, in such a manner, that
when the pistons are raised by the steam the water is
forced up in the pump-pipe. T and V are the barrels of
two pumps placed in a reservoir, from which water is
raised through the joint-pipe K ; Gaud II are the handles
or levers by which the pumps are worked. The pistons
of the steam cylinders C and D are attached to the ends
of the levers. In figure 60, at A C the steam is shown
in the act of entering into the cylinder C, and pushing up
the end of the lever G, so as to force the water; and
645
Steam-
Engine.
Leupold’s
High
Pressure
appara¬
tus.
Leupold’s
Engine.
646
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Modern
High
Pressure
Steam-
Engine.
in figure 61 the steam Is shown entering into the cylin¬
der D to work it. This change is effected by turning
round the disc A F into the position R S, which
reverses the passages, as will appear on examination.
It is to be noticed, that while the steam is entering the
cylinder C through A C, the steam from the cylinder
D is escaping through E F into the open air; and that
in the second sketch of the valves, the steam is passing
into the cylinder D through A E, and passing out of the
cylinder C through C F. The action of this four-way
stopcock is very simple and beautiful, and deserves to be
carefully studied. By continually turning it round in
one direction, communications are simultaneously effected
between the boiler and each of the cylinders alternately,
and between each cylinder and the open air. We shall
afterwards revert to this mechanism.
The modern steam-engine of high pressure is in many
respects analogous to the machine of Leupold. It will
be readily understood by the study of the few following
illustrations. The engine is called double acting, because
Fig. 62.
IV
1
The arrangement of the eduction- Fig. 63.
valves E1 and E2 is also to be ob¬
served. In fig. 62, where Sl is
open and S2 is shut, E2 is also open,
and E1 is shut; so that, while steam
enters freely by S1 on the upper
side of the piston, pressing it down,
there is a free passage for escape
of steam from the under side of
the piston, by the bottom passage,
through E2 to the open air; atid when ;
the whole is reversed, as in fig. 63,
the steam-valve S2 at the bottom   
being opened for ingress of steam below' the piston, E1
gives free egress to what was formerly admitted above,
so that it may now pass along the passage E1 into the
open air. Thus then, by opening and shutting alternately
each of the two pairs of valves, first the under steam-valve
and upper eduction-valve, and then the upper steam-valve
and under eduction-valve, so as first to allow steam to
enter above and escape below, and then to get in below
and out above, the one pair being always shut when the
others are open, the wdiole effect is accomplished.
It is an object of great importance to the precision of
a machine’s operation, that it should be automatic ; that is
to say, that it should not require for its successful action
the continual attention and unvarying assistance of an
attendant. In the machine which we have just described,
the valves are opened and shut by the attendant. With
the following simple mechanism the valves are opened
and shut by the machine itself:—
StfL
EiI
Ya»i J
Hir
Pre e
EnJ
Fig. 64.
Firr. 65.
the steam not only enters the cylinder below the piston
to raise it, but also above the piston forcibly to depress
it. The boiler B is placed on the left of the figure; the
pump, for raising water from the reservoir R to the re¬
servoir R2, is on the right of the figure ; and the cylinder
is placed in the middle. From the boiler a steam-pipe S
S S1 S2 proceeds to the upper and lower parts of the
cylinder C ; and from the right hand side of the cylinder
two short eduction-pipes E1 and E2 carry off the steam
into the open air, after it has performed its duty. The
piston P is accurately fitted into the cylinder, so as to
be air and steam tight, and the piston-rod p is made to
carry with it the end of the lever L F L, and work the
pump W W. Perhaps the only difficulty that is felt in
understanding the mechanism of the double-acting steam-
engine, lies in the construction and operation of the valves.
Sl S2 E1 E2 are four plugs, each capable of exactly fill¬
ing up the passage in which it is placed, like S2 E1, or
of being withdrawn from it, like S1 E2. Therefore it
is evident that in figure 62, the steam has free ac¬
cess through the upper port Sl, into the cylinder above
the piston, so as to press it down. In fig. 63, the case
is shown reversed; the valve Sl is shut down, allowing
steam to enter only by S2, the lower-valve, so as to enter
at the bottom of the cylinder and force the piston up.
The two valves S1 and S2 are connected together by a
straight rod, and the two eduction-valves E1 E2 by another
straight rod; these valve-rods are made to rest on opposite
ends of a lever 11, which turns on a centre 0. By tins
simple arrangement it is brought about that the pair o
valves S1 S2 being depressed, as in fig. 64, the other pair
E1 E2 are raised; but when, as in fig.65, S1 S’2 are raise ,
E1 andE2 are depressed, Avhileatthe intermediate position
both are situated similarly to each other. In the nex
place it is to be noticed that the rod E1 E2 is prolonge
to T upwards, and that it carries two projections hxea
to it at M and T. These projections are struck by ie
lever L L as it rises and falls. W hen in fig. hi, ie
lever is making its downward stroke, it comes on e
plug M; and pushes it down, first into the middle pasi ion,
and then into the position of fig. 65. The s ea
then entering below, raises up the piston to t m L°P
the cylinder, and with it raises also the lever, whie is r
ing on the upper plug T, carries it upwards, raising >
eduction valves E1 E2, and allowing the opposite va
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
647
Sti
En ’
Jig
're; 8
!tig
'o«i :f
!oc |
SIS2 to descend into the position of fig'. 64, as at first.
This operation being repeated, so that at the end of each
^ J upward and downward stroke, the descent and ascent of
the piston and lever prepare the valves for producing the
inverse effect, and giving the next succeeding stroke, the
machine becomes independent and automatic. It is rather
curious that these simple valves, now described, are the
latest improvements that have been introduced in the
steam-engine.
Considerable ingenuity has been expended on the
valves and passages of the steam-engine, for the purpose
of forming all these communications by means of a couple
of passages, instead of four. The following diagrams
are designed to explain the manner in which this has been
effected, by means of a four-way cock, similar to that
introduced by Leupold into his high-pressure engine.
For this purpose the steam-pipe S, the eduction-pipe E,
and the pipes of the upper and lower ends of the cylin¬
der, communicating with it above A and below B the
piston, are all brought to the circumference of a single
circle, so as to form a St George’s cross, as in fig 66.
A metallic circular disc O P O B, with two curved
channels communicating at successive quadrants of a circle,
as shown in fig. 67, is inserted in this circle, so as to
tit it exactly, and to be moved round by a protruding
handle H. In fig 68, this valve is represented in situ, a
communication being formed from S to A, and the other
from B to E; and, in fig. 69, the handle being pushed
down, a communication is made betwixt S and B, and
between A and E. The means of effecting this commu¬
nication is given in fig. 70. Fig-. 70.
A vertical rod T T2 being
suspended from the end of
the great lever, with two^
plugs T T2, by means of
which the handle H of the
valve is raised, in that po¬
sition the steam enters at S
and passes up through the
superior passage into the
top of the cylinder, forcing
the piston down, while the
steam already below the
piston finds free egress,
along the inferior passage
b, through the valve, and
e>cupes at the eduction-
h'l'e E into the open air. i- .r„ 
before the piston gets to the bottom of its stroke, the
P'ug T strikes the handle H into the position H2. The
steam before let in above the piston suddenly escapes by
ie port A through the valve into the eduction-pipe E,
V 1 e b7 same motion a connexion has been effected
between S and B, so that the steam now enters below the Steam-
piston, again to raise it up until the plug T2 strikes the Engine,
handle H2 upwards once more into the position H as at "y'—»
first, when the piston once more descends; and this process Slide
is repeated to the end. Valves.
We shall next describe a kind of valve which is more
commonly in use than either of the former, and by which
the changes in the direction of the steam are still more
simply effected. In this case all the four passages are
united in a square box called a valve-box, or valve-chest,
as in fig. 'J1 ; S E A B being the steam, eduction,
upper, and lower passages. Into this box is introduced a
Fig. 74
Fig. 75.
small valve or cover D, fig. 72, which is of such a size as
at one time to leave open only one of the three openings
on the right; so that, by coveringtwo of the openings, A
and E, as in fig. 73, the steam from S can only find its
way through B into the lower part of the engine, while
the steam already in the upper part of the cylinder can
find its way, below the valve D, into the eduction-pipe
E, so as to escape into the air. The valve is next shown
in fig. 74 in its middle position, where all the three pas¬
sages are closed, preparatory to reversing the direction of
the steam, as in the third position when it slides from
the upper part A, as is shown in fig. 75, so as to allow
the steam to enter above the piston and press it down,
while the steam formerly below the piston escapes into the
air through the passage B, under the valve D, by the
eduction-pipe E. This valve, named from its figure the
D-valve, is also worked by the machine itself, either by
some of its moving parts striking plugs on a rod which
is fixed to the valve, or by some of the other apparatus
which will afterwards be described.
Another form of valve is that called the long slide
or long D-valve, the invention of Air Murdoch, which
gives the advantage of shutting off the steam, close to
its ingress into the cylinder; and so saving what in the
common short D-slide is lost in the passages from A and
B to the ends of the cylinder. It is formed thus. The
valve chest extends along the side of the cylinder. It is
shown in fig. 76, without the valve. In figure 77 the
long D-slide valve is shown separately. It is a pipe
extending along the whole length of the cylinder. To¬
wards the ends, this pipe is almost semicircular, its flat
side which forms the diameter of the circle, being a
narrow flat plate capable of covering the opening or
port of the cylinder. This pipe is left open, and per¬
fectly clear from one end to the other, so that steam
648
Steam-
Engine.
Slide
Valves.
may traverse it free¬
ly length-wise. The
' semicircular ends are
polished, and ren¬
dered truly cylindri¬
cal, that the pack¬
ing in the valve
chest may embrace
them perfectly. The
steam-pipe is repre¬
sented as entering
the valve-chest from
below at S, and the
eduction-pipe in the
middle as at E. In
Fig. 76.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Fig 77
use in a considerable number of
engines, arid works well in those
cases which we have had an op¬
portunity of examining. Tiie
valve-chest is an upright cylin¬
drical pipe P Q, the inside of
which is bored truly cylindrical,
and is exactly fitted by two me¬
tallic cylindrical plugs,which are
ground so smooth intheirplaces s
as to be steam-tight. It will be 1
apparent from the figure that
these two plugs being raised
and depressed by the valve-rod
which connects them, will effect
Fig. 83.
middle as at hi. in    „
this valve-chest are placed packing-boxes, as they are the same purpose as the former
called, immediately opposite to the ports of the cylin- valve. . , , . .
der. They contain a quantity of soft elastic hemp, soaked The conical valve is a species of valve in minced bye,
in oleaginous matter, the object of which is to press Mr Watt, and improved by Ins assistant Mr Murdoch A,
against the outside of the slide-valve when in its place, and from whom the steam-engine of Watt has received
make steam-tight partitions in the valve-chest between the many valuable appendages, and much of its practical per-
middle and ends of the valve, so that no communication of faction. It has been applied in two forms. Mr Watts
steam can take place between the middle and the two ends. OWn fornq the earlier one, is given in the following
Fig 79.
Figs. 84 and 85.
figures. For a single engine four valves are required.
One of them is represented separately in figures 84, 85,
which are vertical sections through the valve, at right
angles to each other. The valve is shown open in fig. 84,
and shut in 85. S is
the entrance of the
steam, A the port,
V the conical valve,
and N the seat or noz¬
zle which it covers.
On a cursory glance,
it is evident that
when the conical cover V of the aperture N is up, as in
the first diagram, the steam has free entrance ; and when
it is closed, the steam will merely press the valve down
into its seat, without obtaining an escape from the nozzle.
The manner in which this is effected for all the passages,
is shown in the following perspective diagram, fig. 80.
In the figures 78 and 79, the valve is shown in situ-
In figure 79, the steam from S rises up along the
centre of the slide, and enters the upper part A, while JS S11UVVU me    —0 ■ ^
the steam in the under part of the cylinder has free js the steam pipe from the boiler; gg the edue
egress through B to the eduction-pipe E. In figure 'tion_pjpe ; 5 the upper steam-valve; e the^ Jower steam
78, the steam has free access to the lower part B,
while the steam already above the piston has free egress
through the port A, through the eduction-pipe E. In
this species of slide, there is scarcely any loss of steam
in the passages, as it is cut off close to the cylinder.
Instead of the long D-slide, which is very heavy on a
lion-pipe; w me uppei -
valve; h the upper exhausting valve ; z the lower exhaust¬
ing valve; c the upper part of the cylinder ; / the lower
part. The seats of the exhausting valves h and i are in¬
verted, so that these valves open when drawn down¬
wards, while the steam-valves open when dravyn upwards.
Each valve has a toothed rack attached to it, which is
instead or me long jLf-suue, wimm is vCij jiaicn vaive uas a tuumeu ........  • , j
large scale, two short slides, similar to its two ends, and acted on by a toothed sector, fixed on an axis, whose en
a 1 a    F __ F ^ vico/1 in tllP fnl-  1— ,v.K 4-K sx -vrrtl lx v *inil P.B T VI PS ftll 111*1X1 01* ll<lll(l 0
connected together by bars, have been used in the fol
lowing form. Fig. 80 is a section of the slide, fig. 81, a
Fig. 81. Fig. 82.
fin,
Fig. 80.
r^~i
face view; and fig. 82, a section of the cylinder with the
valves in their place.
In this case, however, there are two eduction-pipes E E
instead of one, as formerly, and the steam-pipe enters
between the valves.
acieu uu uy <i tuutucu ? i
passes through the valve-box, and carries an arm or handle
by which it is moved as follows :—the arm or handle of
the upper steam-valve is connected by the rod 1 wit an
arm fixed on the axis t, and the arm on the axis of the
lower exhausting valve is also connected by t ie ro
with a similar arm fixed on the same axis t. 'e ar
of the lower steam-valves and upper exhausting valve
are in the same manner connected with arms on ie ax .
w, by means of the rods 13, 14. These axes t, carry
each a handle tr, us; and on these the plugs c
1, 2, 3, 12, of the plug-rod /, 12, act. When the plug
rod is descending, its chock 1 comes in contact wit
handle tr of the axis t, and depressing it, turns rom
axis t, so as to shut the upper steam-valve and g
exhausting valve ; and at the same instan -
comes in contact with the handle ms of t ie o\
and depressing it, opens the lower steam-valve and
upper exhausting vilve. In the upward motion of the
plug-tree, the position of the handies are revers 4 Y ^
chocks 12, 2. The axis t carries a short le > 4 4
end of which there is a weight hung throng ned>
When the valves connected with the axis
tween the valves. . . 'V hen Ul.e v.a,veS ^ ' n -hr is urevented from open-
A cylindrical slide-valve of the following form is in this weight keeps them opt , P
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
649
ite;
ow
alv
ing them too far hy the strap attached to the rod, as seen
in the figure. The lower axis u has a similar apparatus,
15, 15, for the same purpose. It remains to notice how
the exhausting valves are prevented from being opened
by the pressure of the steam. The rods which connect
the arms on the axes of the valves with the arms on the
axes tii, it will be observed, are bent at one extremity in
such a manner as that when the valves are shut, the con¬
necting rods and the arms on the axes t and u fall into
the same straight line, as is seen in the case of the upper
exhausting valve in the figure. In this condition the arms
of the axes t and u cannot act as levers in turning these
axes round, and the valves are thus effectually locked un¬
til released by the action of the chocks upon the handles rs.
Fig. 86.
and i the top and bottom eduction-valves. The steam- Steam-
valves b and e are raised or lowered by hollow rods or Engine,
tubes, through which the spindles or rods of the eduction
valves h i work freely without interference. A rod 10 joins
the short levers 19, 20 of the valves be together, and
another rod 13 joins the levers of the valves 18 and 21
together; so that by inserting into sockets, formed on the
ends of the levers 20 21, the bars r s, shown by dotted
lines, and by using them as lever handles, the upper
steam and lower eduction-valves are opened simultane¬
ously by the handle r, and by the other lever ^ the lower
steam and upper eduction-valves are opened also simul¬
taneously and alternately with the former. The rods 10
and 13 are connected by the rods 11 and 12, with an ap¬
paratus of levers and weights, acting through an axis at
22, by which the valves are retained in their seats.
The last valve which we shall describe is the crown- Equili-
valve, or equilibrium-valve, which is in use on the Cornish brium
engine, and has also been introduced into rotative engines ^a^ve*
by Mr Fftirbairn, and Messrs Caird & Co., and which
deserves to be better known than it is. Its value con¬
sists in effecting a large opening, and requiring little force
to work it, while large valves of the common sort are
heavy, or are so much pressed in one direction by the
steam as to require great force to work them. The valve
has been called the crown-valve, from the resemblance of
its appearance to that of a diadem. Let there be conceived
a chamber, fig. 89, out of which an aperture A leads into
the cylinder, and into which a pipe S brings steam. The
aperture A is surrounded by an upright ring or collar
rising a few inches into the chamber, which ring is on all
sides perforated by slits of considerable size, but closed
at the top. The next figure, 90, represents the crowm or
cover of this valve, which is also a ring attached to a
steel rod or spindle, by which it is raised or depressed.
All round at top and bottom, the collar in the chamber
and the crown-valve are ground, so as accurately to fit
each other. The next diagram, fig. 91, represents the
valve on its seat, and closed on all sides, so that no steam
can find admittance; and fig. 92 represents it open or
raised up from its seat, with steam entering freely on
every side.
Fig. 89. Fig 90.
These valves are arranged in a manner similar to the
common conical valves, and work in the same way, four
of them being used in a single engine, instead of four
conical valves as in fig. 86. The following diagram shows
the valves and valve-gear of a Cornish steam-engine, with
the gear for working the valves either by the hand or
with the pump-rod of the steam-engine.' It is very
perfect, and deserves the study of the intelligent en¬
gineer. 1 he valves are equilibrium valves, such as we
have already described. Although wre cannot here
enter into a detailed description of the mechanism, the
engineer will at once understand it from the drawing.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
650
Steam-
Engine.
Fig. 93.
Valve
gear.
In immediate connexion with the valves and passages
of a steam-engine, which admit the steam on alternate
sides of the piston to do its work, and afterwards dis¬
charge it, we may consider the means by which the en¬
gine's rendered automatic, or capable of performing its
labour in the most perfect manner, without the con¬
tinual assistance of a man to open and shut its valves.
There are two ways in which valves are worked by
the steam-engine itself. The first of these is by the
agency of some part of the engine that happens to move
up and down, or perform a reciprocating motion, and
the other is by the agency of some part of the engine
which revolves. The following is a simple method,
which we have seen applied to the short D slide, already
described. In figure 95, A B P is the cylinder, P the pis¬
ton, acting on the end L, of a great lever L L2, raising and
depressing it alternately, while the other end L‘2, united
by a connecting rod L2 R to the handle or crank ot a
large wheel, turns it round. The manner in which the
steam-valves are moved is by the long vertical bar 1 1,
suspended from the lever L L2, so as to move up and
down with it. This bar T T carries two projecting
pluo-s of wood 5 s2 upon it, which strike alternately up
and°down the handle H2 at the bottom and top of the
stroke, and so produce the reciprocating motion of the
slide valve D,and by admitting the steam on alternate sides
of the piston, and discharging it at the opposite ports, pro¬
duce the continuous motion of the engine. In the figure,
the steam is represented in the act of forcing down i
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
651
-:n_ other side presses up the piston, so as to bring the plug
tie. s0-, in contact with the lever, pressing it up, and the valve
D down into its first position, and so on alternately.
This first plan of moving the valves by means of a plug-
tus. frame, rising and falling with the alternate strokes of the
piston, has been principally adopted
for pumping engines that have no
revolving motion. We have, how¬
ever, seen it adopted with advan¬
tage even in marine engines. It
is noisy, as the sudden strokes of
the prime mover produce an instant
jerk, but it is effective, in so far as
it at once opens the ports to their
fullest extent, and so allows full
effect to the entering steam, and
full clearance to that escaping.
The form in which we have seen it
adopted in marine engines is as fol¬
lows. The piston was kept in its
true position by moving along two
guide bars G G, on which it rested,
through a cross bar H H; O P and
O P are the cranks of the revolv¬
ing axis; R R is a rod connecting
the piston-rod with the ends of the
cranks which it turns round. The
valve-rod rr is extended upwardsas
far as the piston -rod works, and two
plugs r r are so placed by adjust¬
ing screws, as to admit of the rod
being raised and depressed at the
proper moment by a projecting
part of the cross-bar H, at the end
of each upward and downward
stroke.
A very beautiful method of working the valves of the
steam-engine has been recently invented by Mr. Melling,
the superintendent of locomotive engines on the Liver¬
pool and Manchester railway, and applied with perfect
success. It consists in deriving the motion of the valves
neither from the rectilineal nor the circular motions of
the machine, but from the connecting-rod, one end of
which rod moves round in the circle of the crank, while
the other end performs a rectilineal, or a circular reci¬
procating motion. Before entering on the consideration
of this motion, it may be well to attend to the curve
which a point in the connecting-rod describes.
Fig. 97.
/ x
The curve, Pig. 97, is manifestly a curve
resembling the ellipse, although by no means
a correct ellipse. It is an oval, one end of
which is more oblate, and the other more
elongated, depending on the length of the
connecting- rod, and deviating more and more
from a true ellipse, as the connecting-rod
becomes shorter. In the centre of this oval,
Mr. Melling places an axis, having a pro¬
jecting arm, and in the connecting-rod
there is placed a round projecting pin,
which carries with it a radius arm from a
fixed axis in the centre of the oval. * This
axis again carries another arm, or small
crank, which is turned round with the axis,
and is attached to the valve-rod, which it
moves just as in the case of the eccentric.
This motion has several good qualities. It
us said to continue longer in perfectly good
order than the common eccentric motion,
and it is said to save steam. This last fact
we are disposed to question. The motion
exaggerates the properties of the eccentric.
One of the commonest of the many applications of the
S eam-engine is to produce the revolving motion of an
axle and wheel, and in the second system of valve appa- Steam-
ratus, by which the steam-engine is rendered automatic, Engine,
the reciprocating motion of the steam valves is derived
from the continuous revolving motion of one of the shafts Valve
or wheels. Of the various methods in which this has been apparatus,
done, the following are some examples.
Fig. 98.
On the axis O, fig. 98, which is turned round by the
rod LR so as to make one complete revolution during
each alternate ascent and descent of the piston, and at the
centre O, is placed a smaller axis, carrying round a cam
or projection with it. A square frame s1 s2 sz s* encloses
this cam. As the axis turns round, the cam comes into
such positions as to bear upon the bars s1 sq and s3
successively, and so pushes the frame towards the right
and left alternately, .se?; is a small crank, to which the
motion of the frame is applied so as to make it move
round its centre e, and so to raise the point v, and the
valve rod v v up and down, giving the valve to which it
is attached a reciprocating motion. The different posi¬
tions into which the frame is forced by the cam are
sketched in figs. 99, 100, 101.
Another form in which this motion has been given, is
by connecting the large axle of the crank with a smaller
one by toothed wheels, thus :—
Fig. 102.
The principal or crank axis carries round a wheel a b c
whose teeth give motion to the equal wheel d ef The
point E is out of the centre, and carries a small axis E,
to which the crank is connected by the rod E s, so as to
raise and depress the valve-rod. It is manifest, that du¬
ring the revolution of the wheels abc and d ef, the point
E will be carried round a circle, and communicate alternate
motion to the rod E s, equal in extent to the diameter
652
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam- of that circle. This circle must, therefore, he chosen of a
Engine, diameter equal to the required motion or throw of the
steam valves attached to the cylinder.
Valve This motion has been modified into a very excellent
apparatus. and durable arrangement in the following form.
Fig. 103.
Here the toothed wheels are
as in the former figure, and the
eccentric pin or crank-pin is car¬
ried round by the inner one. On
the crank-pin is a square brass
nut or collar, made to fit exactly
a space left between two parallel
bars S1 S2 and S3 S4 that are kept
in si’ifM bymeans of nuts and screws
at their extremities, and capable
of adjustment. S3 and S4are con¬
nected with the straight bar S5
and SG, which works steadily
through the collars S5and S6, and
from its end a connecting link SG
and S7 passes to work the crank
and valve-rod Sew. This ap¬
paratus we have seen work well
without repair for a long period.
It was executed by the Messrs
Carmichael of Dundee. Figs.
104, 105, 108, show the appara¬
tus in three other positions.
Another mode of producing the motion of the valves
is by a projection in the great axis of the engine itself.
A rigid circular hoop S encloses the axle as in figs. 107,
108, 109, 110. It is evident that if the projection E
be just equal to the x'adius of the hoop the axle will
revolve without producing motion in the hoop; but, if
on the contrary, the axle and its projection be equal to
the diameter of the hoop, as in the figs. 10/, 108, 109,
110, it is apparent that the projection or cam, in passing
round, must push the hoop in alternate directions.
Fig. 107. Fig. 108. Fig. 109. Fig. 110.
But that modification of this principle, which is in by
far the most general use, is in the form called “ the
eccentric.” The eccentric is a circular disc, or ring of
metal placed upon the shaft or axis, turned by the crank.
O, fig-111, is the centre of the shaft or axis, to which revo¬
lution is given by tbe crank R of the steam-engine. On this
axis the circular disc E E E is placed, but eccentric to it,
so that its centre d moves round the axis. The distance
of the centre d of the disc from the centre O of the
axis, is called the eccentricity, and it is equal to half the
throw or range of the motion of the valves to be moved
by the eccentric. The rod, fig. 112, is called the eccentric
rod, and is attached to a hoop or circle that exactly fits
the eccentric disc. The various positions which the ec¬
centric will take during the revolution of the engine, is
shown in the succeeding figures.
We have used the common eccentric in a much simpler
form than that generally adopted, by placing it imme¬
diately over the valve which it moves. In engines which
require compactness and simplicity, this way is useful, and
is valuable where the axis of rotation is immediately
over the valves, thus:—
Fig. 117. Fig. 118.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
653
n- other at the summit unites them. The eccentric disc works
ne. between the >ide forks of the rod, and hears against its top
and bottom plates, as seen in fig. 117. The other forks of the
rod are made, in width, equal to the diameter of the axle,
tttus. wbieh thus prevents the rod from deviating from the verti¬
cal position as seen in fig. 118 ; a handle is added to work
by hand, and the reversing process is performed as usual.
The Crank—One of the most important appendages of
the steam-engine is the crank, by means of which the
force of steam, although at first producing motion only
upwards and downwards in the right line of the axis of
the cylinder, is nevertheless rendered capable of exerting
that force equally well in a circular direction. When the
steam-engine is only employed for some such purpose as
pumping up water, no crank is necessary, but as some of
the most usual and valuable applications of the steam-en¬
gine are those where it turns wheels of mills, cotton ma¬
chinery, steam-vessels, or locomotive engines, the crank,
by which this is accomplished in an admirable and simple
manner, which has susperseded every other plan of trans¬
mission, is entitled to very minute consideration.
A crank is an elementary machine which has been used
from the earliest times for the purpose of converting a
revolving into a rectilineal motion, or the reverse. It
is figured in the old machines of the Egyptians, Chinese,
Greeks, and Romans, and in water machinery it has been
in common use from the time of Ctesebius. Fig. 119.
A crank is merely a handle to a wheel,
by which it may be turned round. Let a
x be an axis of a wheel 6 c c?, a R P the
usual bent (or crooked) handle, by which it
is turned round by the man, whose arm
first pushes it from him, and then draw's it
towards him, and so continually turns the
wheel round, then the part a R radiating
from the centre, is called the crank, the
axis ox is called the crank-axle, and the
straight part PR is called the crank pin. c
Now imagine, instead of a man’s arm, a rigid metallic
connecting-rod, and instead of
the strength of his body, conceive
the forje of steam to be applied
through a cylinder piston and
piston-rod to the crank by means
of the connecting-rod, and the
steam will produce the revo¬
lution of the wheel by means
of the crank, axle, and pin, as in
the figure, A the cylinder, p the
piston-rod, p R the connecting-
rod, R the crank, and the axis.
m °f On examining, in detail, the action of the crank, it
to be observed that the force exerted by the steam
Fig. 120.
-rank j
iy-
is neither continuous in direction nor in action. If the
steam be admitted first below the piston, it forces it to
the top of the cylinder ; it is then cut ofif preparatory to
its being admitted above the piston ; and in the interval
it has no motive action. When admitted above the piston,
it forces it to the bottom of the cylinder; and again there
is a cessation in its action during the change in the posi¬
tion of the valve. Now it is evident that this recurring
cessation of action between the alternating impulses, would
prevent the production of continuous revolution in the
wheel, but for the power of the wheel itself of continuing
the motion, by what is termed the momentum of its mass.
When the steam, during a stroke of the machine, is act¬
ing most powerfully on the piston, part of its power is
absorbed in giving motion to the wheel; and when, at
the end of the stroke, it ceases for a time to act, the wheel
gives out the power which it had absorbed, and continues
its motion until the next stroke gives it a fresh accession
of power. A wheel of this kind, when attached to an
axle for the purpose of equalizing motion, is termed a fly¬
wheel; and to obtain the tull henefir, of its equal zing
power, it is made of large diameter, that its rim may Steam-
move rapidly, and it is made of great weight, being Engine,
formed either of lead or iron, that it may acquire mo-
mentum to render the motion as uniform as possible.
Still, however, it must be remembered, that the equa-Equaliza-
lization of the motion produced by the fly-wheel is par-tionby the
tial, not perfect. Matter only takes up or gives out force Fly-wheel
when it changes from one velocity to a different one. If, Per*
therefore, the fly-wheel take up into itself the accession of ’
force of the steam at one part of the stroke, it does so by
slightly accelerating its motion; and if it give out force
during the cessation of the stroke, it is by slightly redu¬
cing its own velocity in so doing. The approximation to
perfect uniformity in the motion of the steam-engine,
will be proportioned to the mass of matter in the rim
of the wheel and to the square of the w heel’s velocity.
Although, therefore, the fly-wheel improves the action
of the crank, so as to make it perfectly adapted to all
ordinary purposes, still the effect is not so equable as the
powrer of a water-wheel, where extreme delicacy is re¬
quired. In all ordinary cases it is sufficiently uniform.
The following substitute for ally-wheel was suggestedFuck
and constructed by Mr Buckle of Soho, for Mr Lucy ofs *>neu'
Birmingham, and is an admirable and elegant substitute £ luauzor
or auxiliary; so as to be, for even the most delicate 1
operations, practically perfect. Mr Lucy had constructed
at Birmingham a flour mill driven by steam; and it had
been his object to obtain perfection without any limitation
of expense. He had got one of Bolton and Watt's best
steam-engines, and yet he found that his mill neither pro¬
duced such perfect flour nor moved so smoothly as mills
driven by water. On the contrary, it was found that the
irregularity of the motion produced a larger quantity of
coarse than of fine flour, at a mercantile loss to the
owner; audit was likewise found that the irregular pro¬
pulsion a tergo interfering with the uniform motion, to¬
wards which the millstones tended by their own momen¬
tum, produced a clanging reciprocation along the whole
line of toothed gearing, which was most injurious, and
rapidly destructive to the toothed wheels. When wre
visited the spot in 1838, the ruins of former wheels, most
unequally worn and totally destroyed, were strewed about
the yard. The usual plan of increasing the weight of
the fly-wheel was resorted to w ithout success ; and Mr
Lucy applied to Mr Buckle to propose a remedy for the
evil. This remedy Mr Buckle found in the very simple
contrivance of a pneumatic pump. In the mint at Soho a
pneumatic pump had been introduced by Mr Watt, for
the purpose of producing a reaction, on the principle of the
experiments of Otto Guericke, which we have already de¬
scribed. The force of the steam-engine was made to draw
up a piston from the bottom of a cylinder, leaving a va¬
cuum below it. Into this vacuum the piston was again
carried down, after the action of the steam had ceased, by
the whole force of the atmosphere, amounting to about 15
lbs. on every inch of its surface. Thus the atmosphere
was rendered a reservoir of power, the power being first
of all taken up by forming the vacuum, and again given
Fig. 121.
654
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam- oat by tbe atmosphere pressing the piston down into
Engine. vacuum.
The following is the arrangement hy which Mr Buckle
Mr Buck- accomplished the ohjectwhich he had in view. P, fig. 1M»
le’s Pneu- being the usual piston and cylinder of the steam-engine, L
matic usua] Inver, L R the connecting rod, R O the crank,
Equalizer. ^ R w W a toothed wheel carried round by the
crank, as usual in the steam-engine: there is added
r w w n. smaller wheel of half the number of the teeth of
the other, so that during a semi-revolution of the small
wheel, the large one performs a quarter of a revolution;
/Z is a second lever to which there is attached a piston-
rod L H, carrying a piston from top to bottom of an
open cylinder U. When the piston is at the bottom of
the cylinder H, the crank R is near the point 1 in the
figure. While the crank passes from 1 to 2, it is raising
the piston in the pump, and against the pressure of the
atmosphere, the steam exerting its greatest force; but
when the crank reaches point 2, the little wheel w w r is
at the bottom of its circuit, the piston in the pump is.at
the top ; and now the pressure of the atmosphere carries
the piston down into H, turning the little wheel rww
along with it, and propelling the large wheel and crank
from 2 to 3, through that part of the stroke where there
is a cessation of the action of the steam: then again from
3 to 4 the excess of the power of the steam is employed
in raising the pump piston; while from 4 to 1 the piston
of the pump, carried down by atmospheric pressure,
brings round the mechanism once more to the point 1.
So perfect was the action of this mechanism that the
fly-wheel had been wholly removed, and the engine and
the whole mill-work wrere moving in the most smooth
and effective manner. It was found that the change ena¬
bled them to give all the grinding stones a greater velo¬
city than formerly, so that the quantity ground was
greater, in the proportion of 56 to 52, and the quantity of
the finest or first flour, from the same wheat was like¬
wise much increased ; so that, both by quantity and qua¬
lity, the owner of that mill was now able to “ command
the market.” The same motion has subsequently been
applied to cotton-mills with perfect success ; the quality
and the quantity of yarn produced being much improved.
Analysis From the circumstance already noticed, that at one
of the ac- point the steam possesses no power of giving revolution
tion of thet0 the crank, it has been imagined that some considerable
Crank. josg 0p t],e p0Wer of the
steam takes place during
the transmission of its
moving force through the
crank. This is a grave
error, and it has produced f
other errors, which we /
shall consider in our chap-
ter on rotatory steam-en- \
gines.
Figs. 122 to 125 re-
present the crank in diffe¬
rent positions. In figsd
122, 125 the connecting-
rod and crank are in the
same straight line, techni¬
cally called the position .
“ on the centre,” or pass
rpe in ^“v
ing the line of centres, in
which the action of the
crank neither tends to produce motion in the one
direction nor the other. Again, at M and N, figs. 123,
124, Avhere the crank is represented as acted upon at
right angles by the connecting-rod, it is plain that
the whole force transferred through the rod is acting to
produce the effective motion of the crank; while in the
intermediate positions there are two effects produced, one
acting on the centre of the crank, and another acting to
give it revolution. For the purpose of examining the Stes;
proportion of these forces to each other, we may use the Engi
two following diagrams:
Figs. 126, 127.
ktfey <
Analy;
of tlie
Crank
action.
Fiff. 123.
Fig. 125 represents the circle of the crank, the ar¬
rows showing the direction in which the crank-rod would
require to act, in order that all its force should be un¬
divided, and produce alone the single effect of causing
revolution. Fig. 127 indicates the deviation which the
actual motion of the crank exhibits from this hypotheti¬
cal condition. The arrow a indicates the direction of
the action of the connecting-rod, which at divisions
10 and 20 is acting only towards the centre of the
circle with no effect in producing revolution. At divi¬
sions 5 and 15, the whole effect takes place in pro¬
ducing revolution only. rl hrough the first half of the
circle the pressure of the rod acts wholly downwards,
and through the latter half of the stroke wholly upwards.
The circumference of the circle being divided into 20
equal parts, the analysis of the force is given in the figure
at several of these points. At the second division, a re¬
presents the direction of action of the crank-rod, b is
parallel to the direction of the circumference (or tangent)
of the circle at that point, while the line c is directed to
the centre ; a indicating the direction of the whole force
of the connecting-rod, i> representing the effect produced
in the direction of the tangent to turn it round, and c the
effect of the force of the connecting-rod acting to produce
pressure on the centre of the crank; but as the centre of
the crank is fixed and prevented from moving, none of
the moving power of the crank is given out in producing
motion towards the centre, but only in producing motion
in the circumference. At the fourth division of the cir¬
cumference, it may be observed, that the effect of the
connecting-rod is differently distributed. The whole
force a is now more nearly in the direction of b, and c is
comparatively small; showing that as we approach the
end of the first quarter revolution, the force ot the con¬
necting-rod is producing much less pressure in the centre
of the crank, and pressing in a higher proportion in the
direction of the revolving effect, until at last the connect¬
ing-rod being at right angles to the crank, its whole
pressure acting to turn round the crank, none o it is
directed towards the centre. After passing the qua raI4'
ed point 5, the crank-rod still presses downwards, as
shown by the arrow a at point 7 ; but, at its two effective
pressures, one represented by b still acts in turning roun
the crank, while another represented by c, instead ot ac -
ing towards the centre, as in the upper quadrant, now
produces a pressure which would draw the crank away
from the centre ; but as the crank is fixed, none o
motive power is employed in producing any mo ion o
the crfink away from its centre. Similar alternating
effects are produced through the other quadran s,
that, while the pressure of the steam, acting tln®u8
connecting-rod upon the extremity of the crank, is
ed into two effects, one of these is preven e
expending the moving force of the engine by «
ness of tlie crank centre, and the whole mo n e P
is given out only at the circumference of th®
circle in turning it round, but in a propoition op
Ti¬
ne.
is
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
655
that is continually varying from 0 to a maximum, and
from a maximum to 0, through every successive quadrant
of the circle. The amount of the variation is shown in the
following table:—
Points in the figure.
0 and at 20
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
S
9
10
19
13
17
lb'
15
14
13
12
11
10
Pressure in direction of revolution.
0.00
30.90
58.78
80.90
95 11
100.00
95.11
80.90
58.78
30.90
0.00
Mean pressure 63.11
crank be represented by the straight line A X, fig. 128, Steam-
and divided into any number of equal parts ; let straight Engine,
lines pi ?/2 i/3 &c., be drawn to represent the amount of K***^f*s>~/
pressure converted into the direction of the motion of Analysis
the crank, according to the line b in fig. 127, being theoftlie
amounts represented in the line of figures, then the Crank’s
curved line X y y y x passing through the summit of allactl0n*
these lines will represent the variation in the power of the
crank at each instant of time, each ordinate ?/2 ?y3 being
the pressure, and the area of the whole figure will repre¬
sent the whole motive power, having a maximum of y5
and 3d5, and a point of change of direction from pressure
one way to pressure the opposite way at 3d0.
Now one method of equalizing the rotative pressure on Combina-
the crank has been proposed, and is very generally tionof two
adopted, viz. to make two steam-engines act on the same Cranks at
axis by means of two cranks at right angles to each other,
so that when the one ceases to exert force, the other anSles-
may be at its point of greatest force.
The mean pressure on the crank being in the table about
63 pounds, taken on an average of the whole circumfer¬
ence of the circle, the pressure varies from 36 pounds
above the mean, to 63 pounds below it. The total pres¬
sure of the steam in the cylinder, forces the connecting-
rod up and down through a space equal, each time, to the
diameter of the circle, while the connecting-rod carries
the crank through a space which is equal to the whole
circumference; and as the circumference of a circle bears
to twice its diameter an approximate ratio of 100 to 63,
it follows, that the pressures on the crank and piston are
inversely as the spaces through which they move; the mo¬
tive power of steam in the cylinder being 100 lbs. moved
through a space of 63, and the motive power given out
in the crank, being a mean of about 63 lbs. moved through
the circumference of a circle which is represented by
100, so that the motive power is in the one case 100
lbs. X 63 = 6300 lbs., and in the other case 63 lbs. x 100
= 6300 lbs.
The crank is merely one beautiful exemplification of
the great dynamical principle, which includes in it the
law of operation of all the elements of machinery, “ that
in uniform motions the quantities of motive power, or
ms viva, may be transferred from one point to another,
through every variety of direction, velocity, and intensity,
by material mechanism, without being thereby altered in
quantity, except in so far as friction and imperfect rigidity
may diminish its amount by a certain percentage, which
diminution it is the aim of all perfect construction and
design, in the practical application of machinery, to re¬
duce to the smallest possible amount.” To render uniform
the effective pressure given out by the crank, is the
object of the fly-wheel, andof the pneumatic pump of Mr
lluckle. For the same purpose many other expedients
have been devised; and the following explanation is intend¬
ed to facilitate the comprehension of the nature and value
of these expedients.
The variation of pressure on the crank of a steam-
engine, may be conveniently represented by curves.
Fig. 128.
yy
06^2 • °?t':a}o<or-CT.r-!Or-io?£.oo
‘OOVOOOOOO
‘OCOOOOIOOIOCO COiOOOCSOOGOlOCO
Let the circumference of the circle described by the
129. 130. 131. 132.
Thus in the figures 129 to 132 two cranks are repre¬
sented as coming from two cylinders, and attached to
the same axis, so that when the one of them is at 0, the
other is at 5, when the first is at 5 the second is at 10,
and so on ; so that while either is on the line of cessa¬
tion of force, the other is at the point of maximum.
The joint effect of two such cranks may be represented
by curves in the following way:—
133. 134. 135.
136.
First. Second. Sum.
00.000 100.000 100.000
38.268 92,388 131.656
70.710 70.710 141.420
92.388 38.268 131.056
100.000 00,000 100.000
92.388 38.208 131.656
70.710 70.710 141.420
38.268 92.388 131.656
00.000 100.000 100.000
38.268 92 388 131.656
70.710 70.710 141.420
92.388 38.268 131.656
100.000 00.000 100.000
92.388 38.268 131.656
70.710 70.710 141.420
33.268 92.388 131.656
00.000 100.000 100.000
Let the circumference of each crank circle be represent¬
ed by the lines A X and A2 X2 as formerly, each semi¬
circumference being'divided into eight parts, and let the
pressure be calculated from a table of sines, where each
will be found as the sine of the arch of the circumference
to which it corresponds; the numbers thus obtained being
arranged on the right of the figures, so as to obtain by
the two curves the representation of *the varying quan¬
tity of force, but without regarding the reversion of
direction. If now we place these curves together, as
in fig. 135, their whole ordinates taken across from the
one curve to the other, will truly represent the amount
of the sum of the forces and its variation ; and if we
place all these ordinates from a fourth axis, we shall have
truly represented, by tbe new curve fig. 136, the varia¬
tions of the sum of the forces of the two cranks. The
figures in the third column represent the sums of the or¬
dinates, in which it is shown that the maximum is 41 per
cent greater than the minimum pressure, even when two
THE STEAM-ENGINE,
Analysis
of the ac¬
tion of the
Combined
cranks.
cylinders are made to act on cranks at right angles to
each other. • i r i
The whole of this calculation is summed up in the fol¬
lowing formula:
Let r be the radius of each crank,
x the effective leverage of one,
 x* is the effective leverage of the other,
and x -{- v/}'2—^ie sum t*ie prt;ssures>
from which we obtain, by differentiating
x — rq xq in the case of a maximum,
and when x z=. 0, the sum x -\- \/ rq—becomes = r
or when = 0, x + r*—x* becomes = r
and when 2, ^ +A/r*—x* becomes=2 r
^2 r.
- 1.411.
Hence the point of greatest pressure is at 45° from the
minimum, and the minimum sums at the termination o
each quadrant, the maximum being to the minimum as
the square root ot 2 to unity.
It is obvious then, in conclusion, that with two engines
the variation above the mean, amounts to about 12,6
141 —15 in 126, or about eleven per cent, and that the
decrease below the mean amounts to twenty percent.
It is a matter of some difficulty to decide at what angle
the cranks should be placed in a double engine, so as to
give the best effect. If we place them at a greater angle
than 90° apart, the minima become small, and the max¬
ima, however, are by no means sudden. If we place
them at a less angle, the maxima become excessive; and
although the minima be larger, the maxima are also
larger. Tho following diagrams, 137, 138, show the effect
of these two methods.
Effect of When a lever intervenes
the crank- between the crank-rod and the
rod on the piston-rod, new irregularities
Crank’s are introduced. The varia-
action. tjon jn t|ie direction of the
connecting link, and in the po¬
sition of the lever-ends from a
straight line, introduces modi¬
fications of these effects of a
serious nature, but not of a
large amount. It is worthy
the attention of practical men
to consider these variations,
and the manner in which they
affect the uniformity of the
pressure. They affect it by
way of increase at the be¬
ginning and end of the stroke,
these very obliquities may
Fig. 140 represents the variation of pressure with a StAL
crank-rod of four times the length of the crank, fig. Er e,
141 with a crank-rod of double the length of the crank, W ^
and fjcr. 142 with a crank rod equal to the length ofEff 0f
the crank.
It is obvious, that with the shortening of the crank-101'
rod, the irregularity of the motion becomes very great.
Two maxima rapidly succeed each other, and these are
-wide apart from the next pair. Thus two violent pressures
succeed at a short interval, and a long pause intervenes,
when the force is very small.
By the same system of curves we may proceed to ex¬
amine the pneumatic equalizer of Mr Buckle. Let the
rotative pressure of the crank be again represented, as for-
merly, by the curve in fig. 143. And let the rotative 1
Figs. 143, 144, 145,
Figs. 137, 138.
the crank in trans¬
mitting a force par¬
allel to the pi-ton-
rod has been repre¬
sented by the curve
of si nes,a> in tig.139.
But if we represent,
in a similar way,
the pressures pro¬
duced by the obli¬
quity of tbe crank-
rod, we shall find
the form be ome
that given in the
following figures.
139.
140.
141.
0.000 50.000 50.000
19.509 46.194/ 55.703
38.268 35.345 >73.623
55.555 19 134] 74.686
70.710 00.000^ 70-710
83.147 r 19.134 64.013
92 388 j 35.355 57.033
98.078) 46.194 51.864
100.000 Uo.000 50.000
pressure of the pneumatic crank of the equalizer be re¬
presented by the curve in fig. 144, lying on alternate
sides of the axis, so as to show the alternate coincidence
with, or opposition to, the action of the steam-crank.
Then if we place the two axes as in fig. 145, the lines
between the two curves will represent the sums of the
pressures; and if we set off these intercepted parts in a
third curve, we shall get the line representing the varia¬
tion of the resulting force, corresponding to the sums and
differences of the former ordinates. The values of these
are given in columns of figures on the right through one
quadrant. The mean value 63 is in this case excecde
hv 19 percent, and is receded from below by nearly A
per cent. The deviation from the mean pressure is not,
therefore, greater than 20 per cent, and the equalization
produced by Mr Buckle’s pneumatic equalizer is as suffi¬
cient as a pair of engines, and much less complicated and
By proper arrangements
.-.j     j he rendered very con¬
siderable improvements in the working of the engine.
It should also be observed that the stroke of the piston
and crank will not remain of the same length.
The agency of
Fig. 147.
pair ot engines,
Still, however, it is to he noticed, that as there is a
variation of force amounting to about 20 per cent above
or below the mean, with a pair of engines as veil s
with the pneumatic reservoir of power, it is obvious t
the combination of a fly-wheel with either o ie |
terns of arrangement, would be required to obtain toe
nearest possible approximation to uniformity m cases
delicacy.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
657
E N-
Instead of using two cranks for the purpose of apply¬
ing the force of two steam-engines to the same axis of
revolution, two engines have been used with their cylin¬
ders laid at right angles to each other, and having their
connecting-rods applied to the same crank. For an en¬
gine of this kind, fig. 14<7, Mr. Brunei obtained a patent;
and we have seen his machine working in a satisfactory
manner. An arrangement of a similar description has
also been introduced in steam-boats by M. Cave of Paris.
Of the Connecting-rod and Parallel Motion In con¬
sidering the agency of the crank in modifying the force
and velocity of steam, so as to connect its direction and
distribute its force in the manner required to produce a
rotative motion in the machinery, from the original reci¬
procating motion of the piston in the cylinder, we have
hitherto avoided the introduction of another important
element, by which a further variation of force and of mo¬
tion is produced. The connecting-rod is a rigid bar of
metal which conveys the motion of the piston from the pis¬
ton-rod to the crank either immediately or through the in¬
terposition of the lever or beam ; and as the connecting-rod,
in doing so, takes various directions different from those
either of the piston-rod or of the crank, there is an obli¬
quity of pressure produced at both extremities of the con¬
necting-rod, which gives rise to a variation of force and of
direction, which must be practically provided for, and
carefully appreciated in quantity, in so far as it may
affect the ultimate operation of the machine.
There are two ways in which the motion of the pis¬
ton-rod is most commonly transferred to the crank;
either immediately through the connecting-rod, as in fig.
148, or through the medium of the great lever, as in
Fig. 148. Fig. 149.
around its middle fulcrum as a centre, and the head of
the piston-rod being connected with the one end of
the lever by means of an iron strap or connecting link.
From inspection of the figure, it becomes plain that the
connecting rod or link, is never, except at two points, in
the same straight line with the piston-rod, so as to pro¬
pagate its unmodified force to the crank, but that in
tiese oblique positions it would produce a lateral motion
ln tlie en<l «f the piston-rod which would not only be a
waste of power in producing motion in a place wdiere it
js useless, but would have the effect of continually bend-
jag the piston-rod in opposite sides so as either to break
T or materially t0 impair its working. In the first of
ese figures, being the direction of the piston-rod, jo R
a of the crank, the force in the piston-rod in the di-
rcction p a becomes resolved into two parts p R and p c,
vol. xx. r ^ r >
p R being effective in the direction of the crank-rod, and Steam-
p c tending only to give lateral motion to the piston-rod, Engine,
or else to bend it, or else break it across. And so also
in the second figure there is a similar separation of Parallel
pressure, motion of
To prevent these lateral pressures from wasting the ^ att’
powrer of the steam, by producing lateral, useless, or in¬
jurious motions, is the object of a series of contrivances
called parallel motions, or parallel guides. The most
notable of these we owe to Mr Watt.
Let it be supposed that we desire to prevent the top of
the piston-rod p, fig. 150, from being moved by the obliquity
of the connecting-rod p R, either towards the right or the
left, then it is accomplished in the following way. A
fixed support, s, is found on one side of the piston-rod,
and another on the other s2 at equal distances from it,
and two parallel bars g s and gl sl
are placed between the piston-rod
and these points, so that it may be
steadied between them. These pa¬
rallel bars are made so as to revolve
freely round the points s s' as cen¬
tres, each of the ends g g' describ¬
ing the circles g g2 gl g3, from
which it is evident that if these rods
were directly attached to the pis¬
ton-rod at g and gx, they should
have the effect of keeping the point
p in the straight line o g g' p. As
these bars sg and s g' must describe
circles round s and s', they wrould,
in the positions s g2 sl g*, deviate
altogether from the straight line of
as the one will act nearly as much in the one direction as
the other in the opposite, it occurred to Mr Watt that,
by connecting their extremities with a link, g gx, and at¬
taching the piston-rod, not to the ends of the guide-bars,
hut to the middle of this link, the point p might be pre¬
vented from deviating to any appreciable extent from
the straight line. This is accordingly produced in a very
simple way. The following figures show the effect of
these links in various positions.
Fig. 151. Fig. 152. Fig. 153.
Fig. 150.
VJ7
\ 1
—7°
rn
the piston-rod; but
This elegant and simple contrivance is not, however, Watt’s
absolutely perfect; and, in accurate workmanship, and on parallel
a larger scale, great allowance requires to be made for motion not
its errors, or it will produce very many serious derange-Per^ect*
ments of the machinery to which it is applied. By this ar¬
rangement the point p is not kept perfectly in a straight
line, but is, on the contrary, compelled to deviate from it
4 o
658
Steam-
Engine.
Watt s
Parallel
Motio n.
so as to describe a looped curve. The nature of this de¬
viation will become very evident if we suppose the paral¬
lel motion to he altogether detached frotn the piston-rod,
and the motion of the parallel bar and link carried to its
extreme, as in the following figures, 154, 155. . A pencil
being used to trace the motion of the middle point, will
describe, not a straight line, hut the curve p x y. W lien
we carry the rods up to the position represented m the
first of the following figures, where the bar g s comes
into the straight line with the link g g, the point p de¬
viates from the straight line by a quantity equal to p,
and this is reversed in the opposite extreme. ln f116
next figure the deviation is much greater when the link
n q comes into the same line with the other bar g and
is also reversed in the position at the bottom of the
figure. By the time the links have been returned to
their primitive position, they have described the curve
x py.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
similar to p. Figs. 159, 160, show the parallel motion
transferred to a point still farther from the original
point.
Another form of Mr Watt’s invention consists in pla¬
cing two bars in the same direction, with such a difference
in their length, that the excess of the continuance of the
one above the other may afford the means of compensa¬
tion. Suppose that the point/?, fig- 161, is to be guided
to move in the straight line p g g’ ; s s' are points on the
same side of the required direction of motion, and sg
s’ g' are the differential bars connected by a link g' g,
Stn (
En^ I
Z
Moti
Fig. 161.
Fig. 162.
e~
Fig. 154.
Fig. 155.
on
It is important to diminish the amount of this deviation,
which increases more rapidly than the square of the length
of the stroke. Having ascertained the amount of greatest
deviation at the end of the stroke, and also the amount at
ith part of the stroke from the middle, bring the cen¬
tres .? and s each nearer to the other by a quantity equal
to the deviation at the said 8th part, and the amount of
the oreatest deviation will now be reduced to less than
one quarter of its former amount: the curve will now
become a line of the sixth (eighth ?) order.
The parallel motion of one point having thus been se¬
cured, it is easy to transfer it to any other point. This
is most commonly done by a jointed parallelogram. Thus,
to transfer it to a point in connexion with s g prolonged
Fi<?. 156.
Fig. 157.
Fiff. 158.
Fig. 159.
Fig. 160.
to t, (figs. 156 to 158) take a second link tq, equal to g g,
and a second bar, called the parallel bar g q, equal to g t,
the corner q of the parallelogram will give a motion t q
V,jP
which is prolonged to p. The dotted lines of the figure
show the bars in different positions. The line described
by the point p is not a straight line, but a curve, like figs.
154, 155. The motion of the point p may be transferred
to a distance, as in the former instance, by a jointed pa¬
rallelogram gp t q, fig. 162. All these parallel motions
may be inverted, and, indeed, generally are inverted in
steam-boat engines. For practical examples of them,
the reader may consult the plates.
All these motions are imperfect; that is to say, the
motion of the end of the piston-rod does not take place
in a perfectly straight line, but possesses high curvature.
Various plans have, from time to time, been adopted
for the purpose of remedying the evil. In American
steam engines Watt’s parallel motion has been to a great
extent abandoned, because in them long strokes and long
cranks are preferred ; and in such cases the deviations
of the point p, that is to say, of the piston-rod, from a
straight line, become excessive. Watt and his assistants
and followers were perfectly aware of this, and hence
were led to construct beams, and connecting-rods, and
parallel motions, of very great length, so as to diminish
the evil as far as possible. This has, of course, the effect
of rendering the whole engine both bulky and expensive,
and is, therefore, in many cases inexpedient.
The American engineers, therefore, use p-
the sliding parallel motion ; that is, they °
have substituted for the radius bars of the
parallel motion of Mr Watt, a sliding bar
or groove in which the top of the pis¬
ton-rod is guided.
The head of the piston-rod p, figs. 163,
164, is enclosed between two flat surfaces,
or between two parallel iron bars, which
are kept in the vertical position by means
of stiff-framing: on these it slides, or to
diminish the friction a wheel may be
added; but there are reasons why this,
wheel does not in practice work very well,
and the plain slide is therefore preferred.
In fig. 163 we have represented this
motion as applied to an engine of the
simplest form, and in fig. 164 to a beam]
engine. . t
Another species of parallel motion was, we thuiK, -
adopted in America, but it has also been used m tns
country. It is the engine with vibrating pilhu.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
659
s
E
!■
Fig. 164.
Vibing The pillar, which
Pill: En- supports the beam or
Car
wis s
Par
Hot
as 1797. Two equal toothed wheels N N, fig. 167, work Steam-
into each other, and from corresponding points of their Engine,
circumference two connecting links unite at the extre-
mity of a cross bar, to the middle of which the piston-rod Parallel
is joined. These wheels and connecting-rods being
always in similar positions on opposite sides of the piston-
rod, the obliquity of their actions balances each other, and
the rod describes a straight line. But it is difficult to make
and to maintain the wheels of this machine in the state of
accuracy and perfection necessary to its working well.
The cycloidal parallel motion is one of high geome- Cycloidal
trical beauty. It was invented by Messrs Fenton, Parallel
Murray, and Wood, and applied to the steam-engine in Motion,
practice in 1802. It depends on this principle that an ency-
cloidal curve, described by one circle rolling within another,
Fig. 168.
Fig. 165.
lever, instead of being
fixed in an upright
position, has a joint
at the bottom, as wTill
be seen in fig. 165,
on which it and the
beam and the crank-
rod perform a jog¬
gling motion back¬
wards and forwards
during each stroke.
The motion is of the
following nature. The point s, fig. 166, is fixed; so is
s'; s g and s' g' are moveable bars ; p <7 is ^ ofy> The
point g describes a circle round s, and g' round s> : hence
p describes the curve p s p’, of the sixth order. The
oscillation of the mo- Fig. 166.
ving mass of the en¬
gine in alternate direc¬
tions, with a sudden
jolt at the end of the
stroke, renders this a
bad engine when made
on a large scale ; and
it is obvious that the
deviation of the piston-
rod from the straight
line is very great.
A very elegant paral¬
lel motion was invented
by the Rev. Mr Cart¬
wright, and applied by him to the steam-engine so early
Fig. 167.
approaches a straight line as the inner circle becomes
more nearly equal in diameter to the radius of the
outer one. For the purpose of applying this principle, a
large wheel q q, fig. 168, with teeth on its inner circum¬
ference, is fixed on a frame concentric with the axis and
circle of the crank 0 0.. N O is a wheel with external
teeth, which is fixed freely on the crank-pin, and p is the
point of attachment of the piston-rod/? 1. By this arrange¬
ment the small wheel N O is compelled, by the pressure
of the piston-rod upwards, to roll round the great circle,
ascending on the one side, and descending on the other,
so that the distance of the end of the piston-rod from the
point of contact of the circles is always equal to the dis¬
tance of the circle from the diameter ; (or, n r. sin. e =
+ ^ r. 2 sin. e,) and thus the straight line is always
preserved. We have seen this motion working very
well.
Butthe principle which furnishes the most perfect parallel Perfect
motion, is one which, although it he well known, we have Parallel
never seen applied to practice. It is well known that ^otlon‘
the locus of the extremity of a straight line, the middle
of which moves in a circle, the other end being confined
to one straight line, is also another straight line at right
angles to the former.
Let a straight bar
a y, fig. 169, be placed
with one end y con¬
fined in an horizontal
grooveas, and leta pin
in the middle g be al¬
lowed to slide in a
circular groove y g .v,
then the end x will
always describe a
straight line s x per¬
pendicular to the first.
Fig. 169.
660
Steam-*
Engine.
Parallel
Motions.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Or it may be thus
modified. If the arc
of a semicircle have
one of its extremities
placed in a given
straight line, while it
moves along a given
fixed point, the-other
extremity of the arc
will describe another
straight line at right
angles to the former.
Let a semicircular
round bar y b x, fig.
17<), be allowed to
slide through a fixed centre at s, the one end y sliding in
a groove, or along a bar s y, then the point x will describe
the perpendicular s a;4, a perfect straight line.
To put this in practice in
a form which shall not de¬
viate widely from received
forms of construction, is not
difficult. The semicircular
grove, and the semicircular
bar, are not good construc¬
tive expedients. But if we
take a radius bar s g, figs.
171,172, 173, fixed at a cen¬
tre s, so that its end g de¬
scribes a circle freely round
it; and if we take a rigid bar
p y, of double the length of
s g, and united to it at <7,
then the middle oip y being
thus constrained to move in
the circle round s, we have
only to permit y to slide
freely in an horizontal groove,
and the pointy being carried
up and down, will describe the
straight line p s p. Fig. 174
shows the application of this
motion to the simple engine,
and fig. 175 to the beam en-
gine.
Mr Oldham of the Bank of
England has shown us an ap¬
plication of this principle, of
which he has made a model:
he adds a refinement which
diminishes the friction at y,
while it introduces an infini¬
tesimal error of the second
degree. To the end y he has
attached Watt’s parallel mo¬
tion, as represented in fig.
177; s g g s being the radius
bars, and g y g the connect¬
ing link on a small scale,
the point y is by this parallel
motion guided in the hori-
Fig 175.
zontal direction. Instead of this refinement, which only Sf .
produces infinitesimal error, we propose, if it were re- Ei; e
quired, to preserve the principle without error, and to
introduce only infinitesimal friction. This we accomplish
by placing a secondary geometrical motion like the pri¬
mary one upon the point y, fig. 176, so that its motion
may take place in a perfectly straight line. The effect
of the friction will thus become an infinitesimal of the
third order. These last refinements are, however, of a
higher order than the degree of practical precision in the
steam-engine usually requires.
Such is the mechanism which the obliquity of the Effe 0f
direction between the connecting-rod, or link, renders the J.
necessary to prevent any of the motion, propagated through nec*j ■
them, from being expended in producing oblique trans-ro^
verse motion in the top of the piston-rod. Still, however,
the motion of the piston-rod is modified by transference
in an oblique direction, and we have now to consider the
nature of that modification. Suppose the crank 0 R to be
Fig. 178. Fig. 179. Fig. 180.
in the position in the diagram fig. 178, where the connect¬
ing-rod jo R is at right angles to it, then the connecting-
-rody? R makes with the piston-rod Py> an angle Op Ror 0.
The force F therefore, acting along the piston-rod Pp, being
represented by the length of p x, and x y and p y being
drawn parallel to R yj and R x, we see that the line x y
or y? R zr represents the force in the piston-rod along
the crank-rod, tending to make it revolve, while
p y = R x = Rp sin. 6 = F.^-^ represents the amount
of pressure sustained by the parallel motion.
Thus we have a true representation of what takes place
when the connecting-rod, instead of being in a line with
the piston, or parallel to it, is at right angles to the crank;
and in this case the whole force communicated in this
oblique position to the crank-rod, acts immediately and
entirely in turning round the crank. But at other points,
such as are given in the two succeeding figures, the
motion is again modified by the obliquity of the direc¬
tion of the connecting-rod y? R to the crank OR. I
O R be prolonged to S, and from p a perpendicular
Fig. 17.6
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
661
EIM.
Col-’4*
ing I1,
Del!'
the I «on.
The j:
paci
Fist
dropped upon it, and the parallelogram R p <r com¬
pleted, we shall have the diagonal force p R resolved into
R a- and R p; whereof R p alone tends to turn round the
crank, R c producing only pressure towards the centre.
In this case the angle joRc is equal to the two interior
angles of the triangle p R O, that is to « + 0, the sum
of the angles of the connecting-rod and crank with the
line of the piston. Hence the whole force in the con¬
necting-rod becomes resolved into p R. cos. (w 4- 0) and
the whole force of the steam on the piston-rod becomes
on the extremity of the crank F. (^£:
sin. 0.
The Piston.—The next elementary part of the steam-
engine, upon which much of the efficiency of its operation
depends, is the piston. Pistons were at first very rude im¬
plements for steam to work with. A large block of wood
cut round to fit the inside of the cylinder, and driven very
tight so as pretty nearly to fill up the cylinder, was con¬
sidered a sufficient obstacle to resist the passage of the
steam, until it had performed its duty, either of driving
the piston from the bottom to the top, or from the top
to the bottom of the cylinder. It next became usual to
cover this piston with leather ; hut the heat of the steam
soon dried up the leather, and deprived it of the re¬
quisite pliability. The next step was to make the
piston of metal, like the piston of Otto Guericke’s at¬
mospheric engine, and then to make a groove around
this piston, which was filled with bands of plaited hemp,
now technically called a gaskin, so put together as to
be spongy and elastic, and to interpose this elastic sub¬
stance between the piston and cylinder, so that the
hemp, yielding to the inequalities of the cylinder, should
fill them up without permitting the steam to escape.
This has been successfully used for a long period, and,
where the cylinder is in good condition, used with ad¬
vantage : and it is still very extensively employed. In¬
stead of using a solid piston with a groove for the hempen
packing, it was found better in practice to contruct the
piston as shown in fig. 182. The lower part of the
piston is formed of a plate attached to the piston-rod;
the under edge of this plate is of a diameter a little less
than that of the cylinder, and it gradually curves inwards,
so as to form the lower portion of a groove for the pack¬
ing. The upper part of the piston consists of a plate with
a similarly curved rim, completing the groove. This
jppei plate is called the piston-cover, and is attached to
16 lovvrer plate or body of the piston by screws. In the
jpooie are carried round bands of soft plaited hemp or
gas in, which fill up the cavity ; and as the gaskin wears,
'n upper plate is screwed closer to the lower one, and
forces the packing against the sides of the cylinder.
The piston is represented in situ in figure 184.
The only fault of this hempen packing is its liability
to wear out, and become rigid and unelastic. A plan was
next adopted of protecting this hemp, and still using its
elasticity. Around the piston, in front of the packing and
enveloping it, two brass hoops, fig. 186, with slits in
them, were placed, to protect it from contact with the
cylinder. These slits allowed the hoops to enlarge and
contract their diameter, in correspondence with the ine¬
qualities of the cylinder; while by the elasticity of the
hemp, they were kept continually pressed out in contact
with the surface. This simple metallic packing is re¬
presented as applied to the piston in figure 185.
Steam-
Enfrine.
The
Piston.
Metallic
Packing.
Fig. 185. Fig. 186.
A still more independent metallic packing is produced
in the following manner, so as to dispense altogether with
the elastic action of the hemp. Large metallic belts of
considerable thickness are cast, so as to form solid
rings, about a hundredth part greater in diameter than
the inside of the cylinder they are to fit, and turned on
a lathe truly cylindrical to that diameter. A small portion
is then cut out of the circumference of each ring, so as
to make them open hoops like those represented in the
last figure; and the two open ends are then forcibly
brought together, until their diameter is just such as to
admit them into the cylinder, their ends being now in
contact so as to form complete rings, and they are again
placed in the lathe and turned truly cylindrical. By this
arrangement it is brought about, that the elasticity of
the rings continually urges them outwards, towards their
original diameter, and so dispenses with the elasticity of
the hemp, forming a packing wholly metallic. This is
employed on a large scale by some of the very best en¬
gineers in this country, and is greatly to be recommended
for its simplicity. Of course the break in the ring would
allow steam to pass; but this is avoided either by interpos¬
ing a metallic tongue at the break, or by using a number
of rings, so that the break in one of them may be op¬
posite to the sound portion of the other.
Another form of piston may be called the wedge Wedge
metallic piston. The rings are cut into a number of Piston,
parts, and are pressed upon the cylinder by wedges,
which again are kept in their places by springs ; and so
it is supposed that a more perfect adaptation is gained
of the parts of the ring to the cylinder. This is certainly
the case; but the ring is much more complex than in
the other form :—
Figs. 187.' Fig. 188.
In fig. 187, wedges are shown to be inserted behind
the rings, with springs behind them, forcing them out¬
wards ; and in the figure 188, a single elastic hoop is sub¬
stituted for all those springs. Springs without wedges
662
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam- are also in very common use for metallic pistons with
Engine, divided rings, double sets of rings being used, and the
springs pressing directly on the segments of the metallic
rings, as in figs. 189, 190.
Fig. 189.
Fig.
190.
The Stuff-
injj'box.
A stuffing-box is an apparatus used in immediate con¬
nexion with the piston. A simple aperture in the cylinder-
cover to permit the passage of the piston-rod, as in fig.
191, could not be made steam-tight: so that to prevent the
escape of steam, a stuffing-box has to be made use of.
This consists of a box cast round the hole of the cylin¬
der-cover, fig 192, in which is laid, around the piston- rod
and in contact with it, a large quantity of hempen packing.
This packing is lubricated with oleaginous matter, and
the ring, fig. 193, is then placed on the top of this mat-
Fig. 191,
such as B .r in the next figure, the line B ^ in deviating
from A x will describe the circular arcli A B, instead of a
cycloid as formerly, and the time of oscillation will vary as
the ball recedes from A, the revolutions being more rapid
at h than at B. If in the position B, the line ^ C be 39.14
inches, then will the revolution be performed in two
seconds, or at the rate of 30 revolutions per minute;
while at b they will be performed in less time, and between
B and A more slowly; and in general to find the height
Q x for any required number of revolutions, it is only
necessary to find by the rules for calculating the rates of
the pendulums of time-keepers, what length of pendulum
will give double that number of beats per minute, and
that is the desired height for C x. The r ule for this pur¬
pose is easy. Divide the number 35226 by the square
of the number of revolutious per minute, and the result
is the height Cx. Thus to find the length of Ax for
30 revolutions per minute:-—
30 squared 30 X 30 rr 900)35226(
Sf.
;«.
v'
T1 i0.
ver ■
required height = 39.14 inches.
The required regulation is effected in the following
manner:—
Fig. 196.
Fig. 193.
ter, and pressed hard down upon it by screws, so as
to squeeze the stuffing into every crevice. Stuffing-boxes
of this description are employed wherever it is neces¬
sary to pass a rod out of a vessel, or into it, with¬
out permitting the escape of the steam. Thus there is
one at the entrance of each valve-rod into the steam-
chest of the cylinder valves, and also, wherever a rod
passes into the interior of a boiler.
The governor is an appendage to a steam-engine, of
much value in all its applications to the production of
uniform revolving motion. It is merely a modification
Governor. 0f an apparatus similar to the pendulum, and by which
Huyghens once attempted to make a time-keeper in¬
stead of the common pendulum. If we suppose the axis
Ax, fig. 194, to revolve on its centre, and the ball B
hung by a thread from
Fig. 194. Fig. 195.
The
Steam-
Engine
x, two pieces of iron, x
C and x C, being bent
so as to form cheeks
of a form called the
cycloidal curve; then
when the string B x
comes in contact with
the cheeks, it will
perform each semi-re¬
volution in the same
time in which it per¬
forms two oscillations
as a common pendu¬
lum ; that is, if it he 39.1 inches from the centre ofB to
x, the pendulum will revolve once in two seconds. If,
however, the ball B be suspended from # by a straight bar
The balls B B, fig. 196, are suspended by rigid bars
from the centres, and are prolonged to k k. Ihese bars
are joined by links, ky and k y, to a moveable socket ?/,
which can slide up and down the axis. The straight lever
?/ p is acted on at one end by y, and at the other it draws
or pushes down or up the handle of a circular disc v, so as
either to close it or open it to different degrees ; this disc
is in the steam-engine placed in connexion with the steam-
pipe that supplies the cylinder, so that if the engine
should at any instant move round too slowly, from hav¬
ing too much work to do, the balls will collapse, raise up
y, and open v to the fullest extent, as at 4, in the sma
sectional figure to the right; 3 being the mean position,
while, on the other hand, should the engine, from its wor
being taken off, go round too quickly, the balls would ny
off from the axis, bring down y, close the valve to 2;
or if it had happened, as by an accident, that the oa
was suddenly withdrawn, close the valve altogether, as a
1 in the side figure. >
But the action of this governor is not always su
ciently delicate, its power of adjustment being some
what slow. An improvement has been made upon i y
Messrs Cheetham and Bailey, of Staley Bridge, m nn
cashire, which renders its action much more rapi
the centre of the throttle-valve, as the disc v in the s eai
pipe is called, there is placed an iron tube, Ime » &
barrel, partially filled with mercury. When t is
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
(563
ra;
_ is held perfectly horizontal, an equal quantity of mer-
I m. cury l*es irl b°th ends; but, on the contrary, when the
y*''slightest inclination is given to either end, the mercury
Co a- instantly preponderates to that lower end, and suddenly
sin] ppa-changes its inclination in either direction. In practice I
have seen this work well.
Of Condensing Apparatus.—The parts of the con¬
densing steam-engine which we have hitherto examined,
are in all respects identical with those of the high-pres¬
sure steam-engine. The characteristic difference con¬
sists in the manner in which the steam is disposed of
after having produced its effect, and in the apparatus re¬
quired for the purpose. In the high-pressure steam-
engine, the steam is discharged from the cylinder simply
by allowing the entering steam to press the piston upon
the outgoing steam, and force it through the eduction-
pipe into the open air. Now, it requires considerable
force to effect this ; we know that the atmosphere must
be pushed away before the steam with a force equal at
least to 15 lbs. on each square inch of the surface of the
pipe; and, therefore, this amount of the force of the
steam, which is a balance for the air, that is, an atmos¬
phere of steam, is consumed or thrown away in this em¬
ployment. In the condensing steam-engine this atmos¬
phere is saved. The steam is annihilated almost instan¬
taneously. A vacuum is formed on one side of the piston
by this annihilation, and the steam is allowed to employ
that part of its force, which formerly was spent in the
useless labour of forcing the steam into the air, in forcing
the piston through the performance of useful labour.
If, therefore, we take a high-pressure engine, such as we
have already described, and if we desire to form it into a
condensing steam-engine, we must add to it a large reser¬
voir of cold water, named the cold well, such as is described
in one of YTatt’s steam-engines, in the historical part of
this article; and in this reservoir we must place a close
vessel having an aperture or small pipe in it, from which
a jet of water shall play and spread over the interior, so
as to form a condenser, into which shall be conducted the
eduction-pipe, by which the steam is led out of the cylin¬
der. The quantity of cold water thrown into this vessel
to cool it, will require to be six or eight times as much as
is boiled off in the shape of steam. Attached to the
condenser is a blow-through valve, opening outwardly,
which allows the whole condenser, before starting the
engine, to be filled with steam, so as to blow out at the
valve all the air that may have previously got into it.
The reader is referred to the historical part of this article
for those parts in the description of Mr Watt’s engine,
and also to plates, and their descriptions of the parts of
steam-engines at the end of the article.
It must already have occurred to the attentive reader,
that such a condenser as has now been described could
not act efficiently for any considerable time. On the
contrary it would rapidly become filled with water; for
it is plain that the jet of water entering the condenser
will fill it up at last with water; and even were this not
t ie case, it is plain that the whole steam which passes
through the engine being turned back into water in the
condenser, this water would accumulate and fill the
condenser. This water must therefore by some expe¬
dient be removed out of the condenser without admit-
tmg the air. And again, it is well known that all water
contains a large quantity of air mingled with it, and
permanently retained in its pores, but which escapes
;[orn the moment it is placed in a vacuum. Now
is air would of itself accumulate rapidly, to such an
extent as to fill up the vacuum of the condenser and
fen er it inefficient. Air must therefore be removed
out of the condenser, along with the accumulations of
ejection water, and the condensed water of the steam;
and therefore an air-pump must be provided, capable of Steam-
removing air and water from the condenser. This air- Engine,
pump is placed beside the condenser in the cold well,
communicating with it by a foot-valve, which permits the Conden-
air and water to go out and prevents their return, and sinS APPa-
delivering that air and water which it removes into ano- ^atus•
ther smaller reservoir, named the hot well, from the
circumstance that the water withdrawn from the engine
has been made warm by contact with the hot steam which
it has condensed, and which it does not generally cool
to a lower temperature than 80° or 90°.
These appendages of the condenser, the cold well, the
injection-pipe, the air-pump, the hot well, the blow-
through valve, the foot-valve, the delivering valve, &c.,
are represented in the following diagram, in a usual
arrangement.
Fig. 181.
a is the cylinder, h the eduction-pipe, c the condenser,
h the blow-through valve, g the injection cock and pipe,
Ti the foot-valve, d the air-pump, e the hot well, f the cold-
water pump.
The reader will find other arrangements of these parts
in the plates and their descriptions. The air-pump is
generally worked by the great beam of the steam-engine,
as in the figure, and is about half the area and half the
stroke of the cylinder of the engine.
The cold well requires a continual supply of water,
either from a running stream, or to be forced up by a
pump like that marked cold-water pump in the figure.
Dry condensation is a subject which has attracted much
attention from machinists ; that is to say, it has been con¬
sidered very desirable to condense the steam without
injecting water amongst it. Mr Watt originally con¬
densed in this manner. He merely placed upright pipes
among cold water, and letting the steam into them,
allowed it to be condensed by simply coming in contact
with the inside of these tubes, which thus formed a con¬
denser. The introduction of a jet of cold water was thus
avoided, the introduction of air along with the water was
also avoided, and thus the air-pump had its duties much
diminished. But the efficiency of the engine was found
to be very materially impaired; for the instantaneous
annihilation of the steam was not effected, in this process
of mere surface condensation, in the efficient way in which
it had been by the old system of injection by a,jet d'eau.
On the Rotatory Steam-Engine.
The steam-engine being now most generally used in
664
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Fallacies
of the
Rotatory
Steam-
Engine.
our workshops, our manufactories, our steam-ships, and
our locomotive engines, for the purpose of turning round
certain axles or wheels with a continuous whirling or re¬
volving motion, it has appeared to many the simplest,
the most elementary, and the most appropriate manner
of applying the moving power, that the steam should
itself follow the wheel which it turns, round the circum¬
ference of its circle of gyration, and so it is supposed, by
acting immediately and directly on the wheel to be turned
round, produce the most powerful effect. In this way
the action of the steam would be made to resemble the
turning of a mill-wheel by the action of the water on the
buckets of its rim; and the arrangements by which such
an elementary mode of action might be brought about,
form what is called a Rotatory Steam-Engine.
That simplicity of form and of outline are essential to
simplicity of action, and excellence of mechanical action,
is a fallacy; that simplicity of figure and fewness of parts
are objects of higher importance in machinery than dura¬
bility, precision, and economy of operation, is a fallacy ;
that such an elementary machine, if constructed, could
give forth any more of that power than is now rendered
effective by the common steam-engine in every-day use, is
a fallacy, arising in ignorance, ending in disappointment.
We have to state with regret, that very injurious
consequences have arisen from this popular error. Many
men of high talent and inventive genius have sacri¬
ficed their talents, their industry, their lives, to this de¬
lusion. The patent-offices of England, Scotland, Ire¬
land, and France and America, the mechanical periodi¬
cals of them all, the transactions of societies for promoting
the arts, the “ machines approuvees par I’Academie,” the
journal of the Franklin Institution, all teem with inven¬
tions of rotatory engines, and substitutes for the crank
of the common steam-engine, by which power and sim¬
plicity are to be united in the highest degree. And
yet, when we look around us, we nowhere find that
a phalanx of talent thus concentrated with a single¬
ness of purpose, and an indomitable perseverance
worthy a more hopeful object, has ever been successful
in producing one form of mechanism to stand in competi¬
tion with the common every-day reciprocating engine,
with its crank and its fly-wheel and all its much con¬
demned appendages. In this country alone a crowd of
inventors have not only proceeded so far as to expend their
ingenuity, labour, and money, in inventing and construct¬
ing machines of this class, and making them the subject
of experiment, but more than a hundred of them have
actually laid out in succession four or five hundred pounds
a-piece in procuring the royal grant of monopoly for their
valuable contrivances. We feel it, therefore, to be our
duty to give a full and uncompromising exposure of the
fallacies of the rotatory engine. We regard such a fallacy
as a grievous obstruction to the advancement of the arts
Prevalent and the industry of Great Britain. It is to the prevalence
ignorance of ignorance on this subject, that much of the misdirection
of what of mechanical talent, in so far as it has been applied to the
has already jmprovement of our prime movers, is to be attributed,
been done. ^gajn an(j again) year after year, do we find the same
machine invented and re-invented, and the same experi¬
ments repeated and the identical failures encountered.
Of these failures, however, there is only a small number
comparatively which comes before the public. Those
alone which obtain patents are dragged into light;
and of these we are only left to infer the subsequent
failure, from the circumstance of discovering that their
existence is recognised nowhere except in the parch¬
ments of the Patent-Office. It is indeed a matter of
general regret, not limited to the subject of rotatory
engines, that false pride should prevent m n from pub¬
lishing the results of such experiments as may not be
perfectly successful in accomplishing the objects origi- sA
nally intended. It should be recollected, that, as evi- bL
dence of the truth or falsehood of some great principle, ^ <+)
    ^ 4- t, -wt 1 I /-■» c ls i t cj-i rvi I vr on rl to i f m r 1111 *T A ^ T)-l
no experiment is valueless, if simply and faithfully de- Ro^
scribed; and that,if it do not serve as a signal-post to point En
the way to truth, it may at least prove useful as a beacon
to warn from the path of error. It is to unsuccessful
experiments that we owe many of our most valuable
scientific discoveries. The failure of an attempt to make
a sucking pump more than 33 feet long led to an acquaint¬
ance with the doctrine of atmospheric pressure, and open¬
ed a new field of research to the genius of Galilei, Torri¬
celli, and Boyle ; and Sir Humphrey Davy is reported,
on an occasion where he was shown a dexterously mani¬
pulated experiment, to have exclaimed, “ I thank God
I was not made a dexterous manipulator, for the most
important of my discoveries have been suggested to me
by failures.” Thus we find that the record of error may
often prove a contribution to truth ; and the man who is
sufficiently unselfish to impart to others the benefit of
such experience, is the disinterested friend of science.
Had all the failures of the rotatory engine been publicly
recorded, that avenue of misdirected effort would long
ago have been closed.
Our present object is to bring together, and place
under the eye of the reader, all that has been done upon
this subject, the attempts that have been made, and the
failures of those attempts. We shall thus show that the
attempts at a successful rotatory steam-engine which are
every day produced, are mere repetitions of experiments
which have long ago been tried in circumstances precisely
the same,and have long agohopelesslyfailedandbeen aban¬
doned ; that these attempts were made in circumstances
that were well suited to ensure their success, had success
been possible. Let it be recollected that the only office Ge
performed by machinery, is the transmission of power from fj
an animal or element, and never the creation of power. It of;
can modify motion in direction, velocity, and force, so as chi
to expend itself in one manner rather than another, but
it can never create motion or generate power. This is
true, or all the experience of the laws of matter which
has been obtained since the use of inductive philosophy
is false. Solid matter may obey force and modify it, but
can never create powrer. The only enquiry to be made,
therefore, in regard to any engine is this : when force is
applied to the machine, whether the force of steam or
any other, does it turn all the force of the agent
to a useful purpose, without further diminution than is
occasioned by necessary friction and resistance of the
air, and the least possible loss of power by transmis¬
sion ? When steam bursts a boiler, or water overturns
the embankment of a reservoir, the power of heat and of
gravity produces its full effect; but it is not a useful
effect. The object of a machine is to expend it parsimo¬
niously in rendering the greatest portion of its effect
useful. The only question entertained is, which form of
engine is best calculated for converting the power of
steam to a useful purpose, so as to do so with the smallest
diminution in its quantity ? > ,
The common, or reciprocating steam-engine, is dis¬
tinguished from the rotatory steam-engine by the natuie
of certain parts of its mechanism, which convey the mo¬
tion of the steam to the machinery which is to be moved:
these are a piston-rod and crank. Now, it is owing to a
radical misconception of the nature of this elementary
machine, the crank, that innumerable schemes have been
devised for the production of circular motion, without tie
intervention of the crank, either by giving to the steam
itself an immediate circular action, or by the substitution
of some other less elementary mechanism between t e
reciprocating piston and the revolving axis, as the means
am- ofproducing its rotation. In the most common form of the
rine. rotatory engine, the cylinder, piston-rod, and cranked axle
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
665
are superseded by a cylinder, valve, stop, and axis. In
tory the same way as a mill-wheel is compelled to move in a
ne- circle, either by the direct action of water or wind upon
it, so is the drum, or wheel, with valves, fans, or other
projections on its circumference, urged round by the force
of the steam, and, enclosed in an outer cylinder, or case,
gives revolution to an axis to which it is attached. This
direct rotatory action of the steam will, it is imagined,
give out the effect of the steam more powerfully, uni¬
formly. and economically, than the common mode of re¬
ciprocating action when converted by the crank into re¬
volution.
dlifica- Rotatory engines may be arranged, according to their
tj manner of action, into four classes :—
1st Class—Rotatory engines of simple emission.
2<J Class—Rotatory engines of medial effect.
3d Class—Rotatory engines of hydrostatical reaction.
4th Class—Rotatory engines of the revolving piston.
As closely connected with the rotatory engines, in the
fallacy which has given rise to most of them, we may add
a series of inventions, forming a
5th Class—Revolving mechanism substituted for the
crank.
R tory Class I.—The rotatory engine of simple emission
Ernes of forms the earliest, as well as the most rude and element-
tt list ary, method of giving motion to mechanism by the escape
1 • of vapour or steam. It is described by Hero of Alex¬
andria, in his Pneumatica, upwards of 120 years before
the Christian era, and depends for its effect upon the same
principle which gives to a rocket its career, and makes a
fire-wheel revolve in displaying its beautiful lights. In
these, as in all instances where fire or steam or any
fluid or gas is generated in a chamber, from which it is
permitted to issue with violence, it will, in its exit, drive
the vessel from which it issues away from it in the op¬
posite direction; and it is, in fact, merely an application
of the principle of recoil, where the gas generated by the
explosion of the powder urges the ball outwards in one
direction, and forces the breech of the gun backwards in
the opposite one. The same recoil is felt in all cases of
simple emission of a fluid from a reservoir ; and if it be
so arranged that water, steam, air, or the gaseous product
of gunpowder, rushes out of a chamber through the
arms of a revolving wheel, the openings of escape being
properly directed, the recoil will urge round the wheel,
and we shall have a revolving engine of simple emission.
By availing himself of this principle, the machinist of
Alexandria produced a working* engine*, merely by heat-
mg a vessel containing water and air, and allowing the
vapour to rush from two opposite orifices, at the end of
two arms proceeding from a sphere, which the emission
was employed to move.
Instead of using the principle of recoil, the force of
steam, issuing with violence as we see it from the mouth
or a kettle or boiler, may be directed upon the naves of
a wheel so as to blow them round ; and thus we have a
second variety in the manner of converting the simple
issue of steam into a moving power. This second species
of the rotatory steam-engine of simple emission was in-
^ ^ ^ranca' Since that time the engines of
this class have been frequently re-invented and sligditlv
modified. J
The theory of machines of simple emission has been
t° frequently and fully investigated; and the result is, that
Ro
En
the
Ty
(rst fk * • ^ cuju me leisun us, iimc
ere is no possibility of obtaining by simple emission, in
ie most favourable circumstances imaginable, more than
, - _ u i nc% l M V7A C til rill
one-half of the whole power of the steam, so as to make
available to useful mechanical effect. The other half
ls wasted in giving off its impulsion to the air, or is ex-
Vol. xx.
pended in a current equally unavailing. Practical ex- Steam-
perience corroborates the predictions of theory. Smeaton Engine,
and Pelectan have made the machine of simple issue the
subject of careful experiment:—3 parts out of 11, 8 parts
out of 27, and 2 parts out of 3, are the highest measures
of the useful effect that it has been found practicable
to attain ; and by no possible improvement can more
than one-half of the whole power be turned to a useful
effect.
Class II.—Rotatory engines of medial effect are those Rotatory
which do not immediately give revolution to an axis, by Engines of
the action of steam upon the wheel, but have a medium the Second
of communication between the power and the effect, which Class,
medium is the direct agent in circular motion. This class
of engines will be well understood, by taking as its type
any simple steam-machine, such as Savary’s or New¬
comen’s, used for raising water; which water, by falling
on the floats of a common mill-wheel, will then give ro-
tatory motion to it. The engine of Savary raises water
by pressing directly on its surface ; and it is only neces¬
sary to allow this water to fall on a wheel, and it will be
made to revolve, and form an engine of the second class.
A variety of this class has been invented, of which the
Fire-wheel of Amontons is a type. The steam pushes
water through certain channels that form the arms of the
wheel, from a set of chambers on one side of the wheel,
to a corresponding set of chambers on the opposite, and
thus the side filled with water preponderates over the
other, and the wheel revolves. The water being con¬
stantly driven off by the steam from a given side of the
wheel to that opposite, uniform revolution is the result
of the weight of the water. In this case, although steam
is the agent, water is the means of communicating the
rotatory motion.
Solids have also been made the medium of effecting- ro¬
tation in this manner. Weights of solid matter, irT the
form of pistons, have been transferred by the force of
steam to a considerable distance from the centre on one
side of a wheel, and drawn nearer to it en the other side,
so as, by bringing about a continual preponderance of one
side, to effect a revolution. Watt and De Witty have de¬
signed arrangements of mechanism of this nature.
In this class of engines the loss of effect is manifest;
for it is necessary that the steam, in order to produce the*
circular motion, shall give out its force in setting the me¬
dium in motion, and in overcoming the very great re¬
sistance of the liquid in all the pipes and passages and
valves, through which it is transmitted to alternate sides
of the wheel in every revolution. The force thus sub¬
tracted from useful effect, is power lost.
In those which move weights from and towards the cir¬
cumference, there are mere groups of reciprocating pis¬
tons, without cranks, and partaking of the defects to be
explained in Class Y. In fact, in the engines of Watt
and De Witty" of this class, we have a number of recipro¬
cating engines ranged round a wheel to do the work of
one.
In the case of the fluid medium we have not only a loss
of all the power expended in moving the medium itself, but
also the additional Joss of effect encountered in all inodes
hitherto adopted for applying a fluid to the rotation of a
wheel; a loss, in the best examples ever presented in prac¬
tice, amounting of itself to more than Ith part of the
power.
Class III—Engines of hvdrostatical reaction are more t> + f
effective than either of the former classes. As invented EnSn°e7of
by YV att, in 1796, this species of engine consisted of the Third
steam-vessels, in the form of hollow rings or circular Class,
channels, with proper inlets and outlets for the steam,
mounted on horizontal axles, like the wheels and buckets
of a water-mill, and wholly immersed in some fluid.
4 p
66G
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Rotatory
Emnne.
These tubular wheels were made of iron, six feet in dia¬
meter, and the reaction of mercury was employed to give
revolution to them. The engine moved, but was found to
be inefficient, and was abandoned, although it had been
tried in very favourable circumstances. The principle ol
action is this. Steam is admitted into a circular channel,
or chamber, on the circumference of a wheel. This
chamber is partially filled with some liquid ; the pressure
of the steam is expended in pushing the mercury m
one direction, and the end of the chamber in the opposite
way; so that, while the liquid is thus forced out ot the
chamber, the chamber is by an equal force pushed
away from the liquid. The wheel is thus moved round.
It is apparent that a part of the force is employed in
propelling the wheel, and the remainder is expended m
overcoming the resistance of the liquid ot reaction, and
expelling it from the chambers, which remainder is a
large portion of the power withdrawn from useful effect.
Rotatory Cl ass I V—Rotatory engines of the revolving piston
Engines of are constructed on a much better principle, aad hold out
the Fourth fajrer prospects of successful competition with those
Cla'3s- of the reciprocating piston, than any of the species of the
first three classes that have been already considered. In
these classes the steam is not confined in rigid vessels,
but its action is expended in producing currents in
fluids, and expending motion in medial effects, which
are useless. This is not the case in the steam-engine
of the revolving piston. The steam is confined in a
close and rigid chamber, and acts only on solid in¬
flexible surfaces, and escapes along confined passages, so
that its full effect may be obtained in useful work. Ab¬
stractly considered, it is an engine capable of giving out
the full power of the steam, and, therefore, may fairly be
imagined to come into competition with the ordinary re¬
ciprocating crank engine. The objections to it are en¬
tirely of a practical nature, and regard the engine, not m
its abstract mathematical form, but as a machine made ot
destructible matter—of matter imperfectly elastic—of sur¬
faces offering resistance to motion—of matter obeying
the known laws of motion and rest. These objections
are not the less valid that they are of a sensible and tan¬
gible, rather than a speculative description. • But, as a
natural consequence of the more plausible deceptions held
out by this species than by any of the three preceding
ones, it has followed that the fallacies of this class have
been more widely seductive than the others ; and many
eminent mechanicians have been led astray by them.
The fallacy of this class of engines we shall expose in
conjunction with the next class, as the same miscon¬
ceptions lie, to a considerable extent, at the root of both.
Rotatory Class V.—Revolving mechanism substituted for the
Meehan- crank of the common steam-engine, for the purpose ot
ism of the obtaining from the reciprocating piston a rotatory effect
Fifth otherwise than by the crank, and in a better manner than
by the crank, forms a class of inventions involving fallacies
similar to those in which the revolving piston has origi¬
nated. These two may therefore be considered together.
Although the name of Watt has been included in the
list of inventors of substitutes for the crank, it should be
observed that he was only driven to the invention of a
substitute by the circumstance of a patent having been
previously obtained for the crank in its simple form ; and
that he abandoned his beautiful, but more complex, me¬
chanism on the instant that the elementary crank was re¬
leased from the fetters of monopoly. It is due also to his
memory to say, that the sun and planet wheel, which he
substituted for the crank, is a disguised crank, possess-
inrr all the valuable properties, excepting simplicity
and smallness of friction, which give to the crank its pre¬
sent eminence as a mean of obtaining rotatory effect.
It is remarkable that the fallacies regarding the now
universally employed crank were coeval with its first sug-
Class.
gestion as the vehicle of rotative steam power. John Ktm:
Stewart, in describing his mechanism for this purpose, in ^ngm
the Philosophical Transactions, 1777, observes that q the
crank or winch is a mode of obtaining the circular motion
which naturally occurs in theory, but in practice it would nglne
be impossible, from the nature of the motion of the engine,
which depends on the force of the steam, and cannot be
ascertained in its length ; and, therefore, on the first varia- :
tion, the machine would either be broke to pieces or
turned hack.” Mr Smeaton agrees with Mr Stewart on
the inapplicability of the crank; but adduces another
objection, “ That great loss would he incurred by the
absolute stop of the whole mass of moving parts as often
as the direction of the motion is changed, and that al¬
though a heavy fly-wheel might be applied to regulate
the motion, it would be a great encumbrance to the mill.”
In such phrase of evil omen was it thus confidently pre¬
dicted that the simple means now in every-day use for the
communication of steam power to revolving machinery
would either he attended with great loss, be very desultory
iu its action, or altogether break the machine to pieces.
At that time, however, the crank was not in use; but
the very same objections are still urged by those who
have, every day, before them the practical confutation of
their assertions. . , .
I. In the abstract and purely theoretical view of Theor
the subject, it can be shown that the present mode of ap-Vi
plying the steam possesses none of the disadvantages/ esu
and that the rotatory mode possesses none of the superi¬
ority attributed to it. . ,
In making the comparison between the rotating and
reciprocating piston, let it be supposed that the vessels
containing the steam are equally rigid, equally perfect
in their form, and are equally divested of friction, and
that there shall have been obtained for the steam a
point d'appui as satisfactory in the case of the rotatory,
as that which the reciprocating engine possesses in the
ends of the cylinder ; then, upon this hypothetical condi¬
tion, neither engine will excel the other, each will move
over a space with a power and velocity proportioned to
the steam which it makes use of, and that engine will do
most work which uses the greatest quantity of steam.
The great fundamental principle in the construction of Fund
machinery is, that the work done depends in quantity only
upon the quantity and velocity of the power applied, and^.
not at all upon the form of the machine ; in other words,
that a machine has no power, either of consuming or
creating motive power; that it can only transmit it; that
it can only modify it to suit particular purposes; and that
what it loses in pressure it will gam in velocity; this is
on the supposition, of course, that the machine is per¬
fectly well made, without friction, and without permit¬
ting the escape and waste of power in some effect not
conducive to the end in view. Setting out, then, from
this great fundamental principle of virtual velocities, we
might satisfy ourselves with asserting the truth ne now
wish to establish as a simple self-evident deduction from
it, and conclude that from this great principle ot virtua
velocities there could not possibly be loss of power by
the crank steam-engine. thelTnsiJf
This summary process would not, however, satlsT %actc|»
enquirer or inventor who has taken the erroneous v atuj|)
of the subject, unless he were given to understand how h «
this great doctrine may be made to bear on the P ^ '^aU
difficulties of the case. Be will return upon us with U. dus.
question—“ How is it that, in the common crank ^
are able to show that, at two given points in its
tionf live posiduu i» such that an infinite P»^
produce no effect at all; that there are onl, Wo .asun^
of time ill which the force and its effect are eq < , ^
that, at every other point, the pressure ?,v^n f
steam to the crank is less than the original pressure
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
V—'
tory
nes.
the steam on the piston ? How is this inconsistency to
be reconciled ?” We think it right to give a direct an-
swei*to this question, because a considerable authority,
Mr Tredgold, has committed a grievous error in report¬
ing, and apparently demonstrating, that the rotatory and
crank engines actually differ in theory in the proportion
of 3 to 2 — the proportion being against the rotatory
engine ; wherea*, if they be not equal, our whole system
of mechanics since the time of Galileo has been resting
on a fallacy.
Let it be recollected, then, that at the two extremes
of the line of centres the greatest loss is said to take
place. Now, here the fact is, that it is impossible there
can be loss of power, for there is no power at all exerted;
there is no steam in action : it is forgotten that, at this
point, the communication which supplies the steam from
the boiler has been cut off. The steam on one side of
the piston having done its work, only waits to be released
from the chamber, and escapes on the instant of the open¬
ing of the eduction-valve, and at the same instant is in
the act of being permitted to enter on the opposite side,
for reversing the motion. At these points, therefore, all
application of force has ceased, and arrangements are
making for reversing the motion; and, as no power is
applied, none can be lost.
In regard to the remaining points of the circle, at
which it is said that power is lost, it is easy to show that
the velocity imparted to the crank is such as to be an
exact equivalent to the force which is apparently lost.
The following table presents the results of very accurate
calculations of power and velocity, showing that the ve¬
locity at a given point in the circle is increased exactly
in the same ratio as the force or pressure is diminished, so
as at ail times to present the same dynamical equivalent.
The table extends from one neutral point to the other
neutral point of the orbit of the crank, comprehending a
semicircle divided into ten equal parts. The first column
indicates the point in the semicircle at which the force
and velocity are estimated ; the next column shows the
percentage of the direct force of the steam on the piston,
which is given out in pressure upon the crank of the
engine; and the last column, tire velocity given out at
each point.
Per centage of
power given out in pressure.
0.00
30.90
58.78
80 90
95.11
100.00
95.11
80.90
58.78
30.90
0.00
From this table it is evident that when wre take note,
a* we must do in every correct estimate of power, both
of force and velocity, the crank has at each point the
equivalent in greater velocity for less force.
T he numbers in the second column also represent the
velocity of the piston in relation to the crank, so that
when the velocity of the crank is uniform, the velocity
of the piston, or the steam consumed, which is propor¬
tional to its velocity, is in the exact ratio of the pressure
on the crank.
T he last consideration which we shall submit upon this
part of the subject is, that if the average of the pressures
on the crank be taken for every point of its orbit, it will
amount to about 63.3 per cent, for the whole cireumfer-
once of the circle. Now, as the same circumference of the
667
Place of the
crank.
0°
18°
36°
5*°
'TOO
7
90
108'
126
144
162'
180'
Relative
velocity.
Infinite.
3 236
1.701
1.236
1.051
1.000
1.051
1.236
1.701
3;236
Infinite.
orbit of the crank is greater than the stroke of the pis- Steam-
ton in the cylinder, the whole space described in a given Engine,
time by the crank is greater than the whole space de-
scribed by the piston, also in proportion of 3.1416 to 2 ; Rotatory
so that if we combine the greater length of the whole Engines’,
orbit with the force on it, we shall have an exact equiva¬
lent to the greater force on the piston moved through a
smaller space.
The error of Mr Tredgold lies, not in his estimate of
the effect of the crank, but in his estimate of the effect of
the steam in the rotatory engine. By a strange oversight,
he gives a statement of its power as much over the truth
as that of the crank is generally stated under the truth.
YYre admit that, in the first abstract view of the subject,
the rotatory is theoretically a perfectly efficient propaga¬
tor of power, and we have merely designed to show
that in theory the crank has not the faults usually attri¬
buted to it, and is also a perfect machine. We shall by
and by show what the considerations are by which the
impracticability of the rotatory scheme is exposed.
It appears, therefore, that the power of steam is by no
means disadvantageously applied through the medium of
the crank in the ordinary way, because, 1. the velocity
of the crank is in the inverse ratio of the pressure upon
it; 2. because the mean pressure on the crank during
the whole revolution is less than the pressure on the
piston, only in the proportion in which the whole space
moved over by the latter is less than the space described
by the former, so that the whole effect is equal to the
whole power; 3. because the steam is not at all ex¬
pended at the neutral points, and because its expenditure
is at every point exactly proportioned to the pressure
which it gives out, the velocity of the piston being in
that ratio. In theory, therefore, the ordinary crank
possesses no inferiority to the rotatory machine, as an
engine for applying the power of steam to revolving
machinery.
II. In a practical point of view, it may be shown, that p .
the rotatory steam-engine is greatly inferior to the com- yiewof
mon reciprocating crank-engine in simplicity of parts, the Rota-
easy construction, cheapness, amount of friction, compact- tory and
ness, precision and uniformity of work, and durability the Com-
and economy in use ; and that it does not possess any ot mon
the peculiar applicability that has been attributed to it, <4raTlk En*
to the great purposes of inland navigation and railway Sine‘
transport.
1. Simplicity. — A little unfairness is sometimes in¬
advertently used by inventors of rotatory engines, in
making comparisons with their machines and the com¬
mon crank-engine ; they select the large beam-engine
with all its conveniences and appendages, and compare it
with the simplest form of the rotatory engine ; but in
justice we may be allowed to take the simplest form of
both. Now, there is a simple form of engine used both
in America and in this country, of the oscillating species
as it is called, and this species of reciprocating engine
consists only of the following partscylinder, piston,
and cranked axle; there are no valves or further mechan¬
ism of any kind, so that where simplicity is the first great
requisite, this kind may he used with advantage. The
rotatory engine of the most simple species must have its
drum, diaphragm, piston, and axle.
If we take those forms of the rotatory engine which
require valve-gear, air-pump, condenser, force-pumps,
&c., such appendages will have no advantage of any kind,
in either form ; hut in working the pumps which are
themselves reciprocating, the reciprocating engine will
have the advantage of more direct, immediate, and sim¬
ple action ; for in the rotatory engine additional mechan¬
ism is necessary to convert the revolving motion into one
calculated for reciprocating pumps.
668
Steam-
Engine.
Rotatory
Engine.
Practical
View.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
2. In ease of construction the simple form of recipro¬
cating engines incomparably excels the rotatory. Fo
possess equal powers, the rotatory drum would require
to be of much larger diameter than the reciprocating
cylinder; and the difficulty of construction increases in
a high ratio with the diameter. The diaphragm is also
a sliding or revolving piece of mechanism, whose rub¬
bing surfaces require the greatest precision ot workman¬
ship. The revolving piston is also a practical problem
of the greatest difficulty, and one which has never
been satisfactorily solved; for if it be rectangular with
plane surfaces, it is scarcely possible to make its surfaces
steam tight; and if it be a circular and revolving piston,
its surface and that of the drum become surfaces of double
curvature, and the difficulty is then prodigiously increased.
The metallic piston of the common steam-engine is the
most perfect and most simple piece of mechanism, which
can be made by a very ordinary workman, and which, if
imperfectly fitted, will, in the progress of doing its work,
become of itself every day more and more perfect. An
editor of a well-known practical journal, although a be¬
liever in the rotatory engine, speaking of one of its sim¬
plest forms is compelled to admit, “ that there being no
mode described of making the parts of the engine steam-
tight by packing, they must be all made so by accurate
workmanship and grinding, the expense of which, in the
outset and in repairs, would certaiidy be too considerable
to allow it to come into competition with other steam-
engines of a more common and practicable construction. ’
IIis admission is equally applicable and fatal to all the
forms of the engine.
3. The cheapness and first cost of the engine, will
result from the two former points of inferiority, and will
be further shown, from those which follow, to be greatly
and necessarily in favour of the common engine. Not
only are the parts, from their nature, more easy of con¬
struction, but the extent of polished surface will be
shown to be much greater in the rotatory, than in the re¬
ciprocating engine.
4. The quantity of surface exposed to friction is
greater in the rotatory engine. Let it be recollected
that, in the rotatory engine, the pistun describes the semi¬
circumference of the circle, while the piston of the reci¬
procating engine is describing the diameter of it. Let
it also be recollected, that the reciprocating piston passes
back through the returning stroke, over the very same
surface through which it formerly descended, while the
rotatory piston necessarily revolves over a new sur¬
face, forming the other semi-circumference of its orbit.
Let it also be recollected, that the form of the reciproca¬
ting cylinder may be so proportioned, that it may have a
minimum of surface, while the length of the circuit of
the rotatory piston prevents the possibility of giving it
a proportion to the radius of the piston by which this
object would be attained; for it would be equivalent to
making a circle whose diameter should be equal to its
circumference, which is impossible. It is impossible,
therefore, that the friction can ever be as small in the
rotatory as in the reciprocating engine.
5. Compactness.— It follows in like manner, that the
bulk and space occupied by the rotatory engine must be
greater than in the reciprocating engine ; for in the one
case the piston must describe the circumference of a circle,
whose diameter is greater than twice the radius of the
piston, and in the other case it is only necessary that the
piston pass through the diameter of it.
6. In precision and uniformity of working, its inferi¬
ority will be rendered manifest under head III., when
the peculiarities of the crank are explained
7. In durability and economy in the wt ar and tear of
Ordinary working, the rotatory must, from certain ele¬
ments in its constitution, he necessarily far inferior to the Str;-
common engine. It contains in the very nature of its Eng;
action, elements of speedy destruction and expensive and .
frequent repairs, so that it can never become an economi- Rotat
cal engine. Before proceeding, however, to demonstrate Engii
the cause of this inferiority, the fact of this inferiority, as ^
existing in all previous engines, we shall adduce from the lL"
unwilling evidence of a friend to rotatory engines.
Speaking of Mr Halliday’s engine, he says that, “the
extreme accuracy and nice fitting of parts necessary for
it, will make it very difficult to execute and very easily
deranged. Rotatory steam-engines possess considerable
advantages both as to speed and economy of power, and
would therefore be preferable if they could be made to
work as well for a continuance, and be as easily kept in
goodorderas common alternating steam-engines; but from
their being so very seldom used, we apprehend that this
is very far from being the case with any of them at pre¬
sent, and that the production of a rotatory steam-engine
possessed of these necessary qualities, is still an object
of research.” So far the Editor of the Repertory of Arts,
in testimony that the rotatory steam-engine never has
been made to work durably and economically ; we now
go on to show that it never can.
It is essential to the durability of a machine that its
parts should wear uniformly, and that, if possible, the
mere process of wearing should make them fit each
other more closely. This is pre-eminently true of the
pLton and cylinder of a common reciprocating steam-
engine. Its piston, cylinder, and valves fit more closely
as they wear, and are' worn with perfect uniformity, so
as not to require repair until, by long working, t he whole
thickness of matter in action shall at length have been
consumed. This is the perfection of mechanism, and is
admirably exemplified in the metallic piston of a steam-
engine, which, working night and day, will require no re¬
pair of any kind until, af ter a long period ot years, the
whole strength of the metallic rings shall have been
consumed.
In the very nature of the rotatory piston, this uni¬
formity of friction, this increasing adaptation of surfaces,
this permanence of the best working condition is impos¬
sible. A common reciprocating steam-engine attains its
best working condition after it has wrought for some
years; but arotatory steam-engine, if it have been brought
by care and precision in workmanship to a state of high
finish and perfect accuracy, so as to work well for a day,
commences from that moment a rapid course of deteriora¬
tion, every succeeding degree of which accelerates the
progress of decay; a decay which can only be retarded
by continual, laborious, and expensive repairs. The
following considerations may render obvious the nature
of the elements of self-deterioration in the constitution
of a rotatory steam-engine.
Suppose two perfectly flat plates of polished metal
perfectly round to be laid one upon the other, so as
exactly to coincide at every point; let the undermost
rest upon a table, and let the uppermost be so made as
to turn round on an axis while in contact with the other,
and let a rapid motion be communicated to the upper¬
most; let us consider what the result of the attrition
of one of these upon the other will be: will they wear
equally, so as to remain in a state of mutual adapta¬
tion, or will they not? Experience furnishes us witn a
reply that exactly quadrates with a reasonable expec
tion : they will not wear equally, they will n(,.t rea'r
their form, they will not remain flat; they will "t*
away most rapidly at the circumference, and wear op
there while they are quite close at the centre. ^ .j.
considered that the outer edge performs a larger cmc
than a part nearer to the centre; that, therefoie, sine
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
669
w.
IT
tlie parts revolve in the same time, those nearer to the
circumference move with greater velocity than those
towards the centre; that the attrition is consequently
most rapid at the circumference, and diminishes uniformly
towards the centre of the plates; and it necessarily
follows, that towards the edges the plates must com¬
mence an immediate and rapid waste, while the cen¬
tre remains uninjured. This result is established as
matter of experience. It is a circumstance that has caused
the failure of many beautiful inventions. It is the rea¬
son why conical bearings have been universally aban¬
doned for cylindrical ones; and it is the reason why a
most beautiful class of inventions has been totally useless
to the improvement of the common steam-engine; we
refer to tire revolving valves invented by Oliver Evans
and by Murray, but now universally abandoned, in spite
of their simplicity and original cheapness, on account of
this inequality in the attrition of flat surfaces revolving
round a centre.
The application of the result of this illustrative experi¬
ment to the subject in question is abundantly obvious.
The rotatory piston is necessarily and inevitably of this
nature. Performing a circuit round a centre, different
portions of the bearing surfaces subjected to pressure,
and necessarily in contact and requiring to be steam-
tight, revolve at unequal distances from the centre, and
therefore with unequal velocities ; hence the circumfer¬
ential surfaces, under this excessive attrition, wear more
rapidly, and become unfit for use long before the central
parts have suffered any sensible effect. It is to this
difference of velocity and of attrition, arising from the
necessary circumstance of motion round a centre, which
renders it impossible to keep the rotatory engine in a
working condition with advantage, and from which it
follows that each day’s work renders the engine less fit
for the duty of the succeeding day.
8. The peculiar applicability of the rotatory form of
steam-engine to the purposes of steam navigation and
land locomotion, has been much insisted on by projectors
of rotatory engines. To both these purposes it is,
from its form, supposing it to possess no other disadvan¬
tage, most inapplicable. In a steam-vessel, it is first of all
desirable to have the axis of the paddles as high as pos¬
sible, and the weight of the engine as low as possible.
Now if the engine be placed on an axis, which is the case
in this application of the rotatory engine, one of two evils
is incurred: either the axis of the wheels must be
brought low, which impairs the action of the paddles, or
the weight of the engines must be exalted so as to ren¬
der the vessel top-heavy, unsteady, or, as it is technically
called, “ crank,” and liable to be upset. By the ordinary
engine, the axis is elevated to or above the deck, while
the weight of the engine remains on the floor, at the bot¬
tom of the vessel. Again, to the application of the
rotatory steam-engine to the purpose of terrestrial loco¬
motion in propelling carriages on railways or other roads,
there are insuperable objections. As the rotatory engine
is placed immediately upon the axle of the propelling
wheels, there can be no springs between it and the wheels,
so that every jolt would derange the machinery. The
weight of the engine placed on the axle would in turn
reciprocate the evil by knocking the wheels to pieces.
In the reciprocating engine these evils are prevented by
Ate detachment of the engine from the axle, and the pro¬
pagation of power through rods, wheels, or chains, to the
propelling wheel or axis; and if any fault still remain in
the principle of locomotive engines, it is the want of per-
!‘ct detachment in the very respect which the introduc-
hon of the rotatory engine would render impossible.
In addition to all these obstacles which stand in the
Way of rotatory engines, it may be worth while to men¬
tion another circumstance of a practical nature which Steam-
gives great superiority to the common steam-engine; Engine,
we mean the facilities which it presents, and which tbe
rotatory engine does not possess, for ihe attachment of Rotatory
the appendages that are indispensable to tbe functions Engines,
of a perfect steam engine. Tbe subordinate parts of an
engine which belong equally to a rotatory and reciproca¬
ting steam-engine are, an air-pump, a feed-pump, and a
well-pump. These merely require to be attached directly
to the beam of the common engine, and they are worked
without the intervention of auxiliary mechanism, because
the motion of the pumps is reciprocating, and the action
of the steam is also in the common engine reciprocating;
while, on the other hand, in the case of the rotatory steam-
engine, it would be necessary to convert the revolving
movement, by a crank or other more complex mechanism,
into the very reciprocating effect which it is intended to
supersede.
All these considerations, of a most important and im¬
mediate practical bearing, clearly prove that although, in
tbe most abstract and elementary theoretical view of the
subject, there be an apparent equality of effect in the
rotatory and the reciprocating steam-engines, yet there
are practical objections of an insuperable nature inhe¬
rent in the very constitution of rotating mechanism, that
prevents the possibility of rendering it more perfect.
111. It is lastly our duty to show that the common The Crank
reciprocating crank steam-engine, not only does notconsidereu.
possess the disadvantages attributed to it, but that it
possesses certain very peculiar properties which may not
have been hitherto clearly understood and defined, but
which nevertheless do adapt it in so admirable a manner
to the nature of steam and of solid matter, and to tbe
necessary imperfections of all human mechanism, as to
have rendered it triumphant in universal practice over
every competitor.
1. It was long imagined that the transmission of
power through a crank, or bend, or handle in an axle,
was attended in the steam-engine with great loss of
effect. Jn the opinion of such men as Smeaton, the
crank was never likely to be used as the means of ob¬
taining rotatory motion from steam; while it is this very
crank that is, in our day, used alone and universally
over ail other methods, although a great variety of other
methods have been successively invented, and finally
abandoned for the simple elementary crank. Yet it is
not without some show of reason, that objections have
been made against the practical working of tbe crank.
We admit that tbe argument was rather a staggering
one, but the difficulty has lately been wholly removed.
The staggering fact, to which we refer, was this : it
is given as stated by Dr Penneck of Penzance, Corn¬
wall, in describing a substitute proposed by him for the
crank. “ Some have considered a wheel as one-third
more powerful than the crank, and others that no power
is lost by the cranky but, confining myself to practical
results, it appears from the report of the duty of steam-
engines as done in Cornwall, and published by the
Messrs Lean, that the performance of the crank-en¬
gines bears no proportion to those in which no crank is
employed.” He then proceeds to show the advantages of
his own engine, in which a ratchet-wheel is moved by an
arm, always acting at the extremity of a radius, by which
means he hopes to save the loss of power occasioned by
the crank. The fact related by Dr Penneck was perfectly
accurate. It had happened that the crank steam engines,
working expansively in Cornwall, had never given out
an adequate effect. That the fault did not He in the crank,
hut in other parts of the arrangement, is now apparent:
it consisted in the want of proper adjustments to admit
of favourable action in using the steam expansively. Ar-
670
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Rotatory
Engines.
rangements for this purpose have,however, been at length
accomplished, and crank-engines are now in Cornwall
doing the same work as the average of those that have no
crank. We have before us the printed reports of last year,
stating the duty done by the crank-engines of Charleston
and Wheal Kitty, constructed by Mr Sims. We have also
before us indications of {\\a actual pressiore of the steam on
the cylinder, as obtained by a very accurate indicator, ap¬
plied in the course of the summer of 1837 by Mr Smith for
Mr Fairbairn of Manchester, who visited the mines for
that purpose, and has been kind enough to favour us with
a copy of his diagrams and observations. Me have thus
the means of comparing the power actually exerted on
the piston with the work done, and find the result of the
comparison to be, that the work done is ivithin ten per cent
of being perfectly equal to the power employed. Id ere,
then we arrive at this conclusion, that the utmost con¬
ceivable reach of improvement in the mechanism of the
steam-engine, if it even attained to perfection, would not
save more than a few per cents. That the crank engine
is, therefore, as at present used, as near in practice to the
perfection of mechanism as any thing we can hope to ob¬
tain, is, we think, satisfactorily explained.
2. The crank, as a means of converting the recipro¬
cation of the piston of a steam-engine into continuous re¬
volving movement, possesses certain singular and beauti¬
ful properties which distinguish it from every other means
of producing that conversion, and which appear to be so
perfectly adapted to the nature of steam and the consti¬
tution of solid matter, that we are indebted to it mate¬
rially, though indirectly, for the very great advantages
which we derive from the modern steam-engine as a
source of mechanical power. Let us examine into the
causes of this well-established practical superiority of
the crank to all other modes of producing revolving
motion. Let it be observed, that in the reciprocat¬
ing piston, from which the crank derives its motion,
the following things take place : the piston is to be
put in motion in one direction, then stopped, then put
in motion in the opposite direction, stopped again, and
then its motion resumed in the first direction. M e
shall see how admirably the crank adapts itself to
these changes; so that, while the piston with which it
is rigidly connected takes every velocity between its
maximum velocity and perfect rest, the crank goes
forward with a motion perfectly regular and perfectly
unimpeded. The necessity of this gradual change from
motion to rest, and a reverse direction of motion, is ob¬
vious. Matter in motion acquires momentum and can¬
not be stopped, but its impetus must be equally and
gradually removed, otherwise these moving parts are
subjected to concussion as if by the stroke of a hammer,
and must either suffer injury or produce it; for, wdien in
motion, matter requires a force to stop it equal to the
force which gave it that motion. And, on the other hand,
when brought to rest, matter cannot instantly be set in
motion in the opposite direction without a stroke and
concussion equally violent. T o work smoothly, durably,
profitably, and uniformly, matter must be put in motion
by gentle gradations, beginning with a very gentle ve¬
locity, and gradually increasing in velocity like a body
set in motion down an inclined plane, where, if it move
one foot in the first second, it moves three in the next,
five in the next, seven in the next, and so on: and in
like manner in coming to rest, it must do so in the same
gradual way in which an arrow shot from a bow ver¬
tically into the air loses its motion; for in the end of
its course it moves seven feet in the first quarter of
the last second of time, five feet in the next quarter
of a second, three feet in the next, and only one foot
in the last, and then subsides into rest at the instant
before it again recommences motion downwards, which St .
it does in a manner perfectly similar. It is required, Erk
therefore, that while the motion which the steam gives 'v> j
off by the crank be uniform and continuous, the parts RotrL
of the engine itself shall be allowed time to be alter-Eng '
nately brought into a state of rest, without shock, con¬
cussion, or jolt, and equally, gradually, and gently be
again urged to their greatest velocity in the opposite
direction. All this the crank effects with the most ex¬
quisite nicety of adjustment; it stops the piston when in
motion as gently and softly as if a cushion of eider were
placed to receive it; and after having brought it to rest
again begins and accelerates its motion, as gradually and
gently, to the highest velocity in the opposite direction.
An adjustment so perfect is only possible in such a rela¬
tion as that which subsists between the circle of the
crank and the axis of the piston. Now if we compare
this mode of action with any of the substitutes for the
crank, by which it has been proposed to gain uni¬
formity of power, we shall find that in these it would
be required that the transitions from rest to motion and
from motion to rest should be instantaneous ; and hence
such arrangements, being soon disordered, have been
abandoned. It will also be found that in rotatory engines
it is necessary that the transitions and changes of ar¬
rangement, where these exist, are necessarily instan¬
taneous, or if not, that steam is lost, or that the boasted
uniformity of power is sacrificed.
3. The next property of the crank, as an elementary
machine for the conversion of motion, is its remarkable
power of reducing errors of construction, arrangement,
and execution. It is one of the highest recommendations
of a piece of mechanism that any trivial errors committed
in its construction shall not materially injure its efficiency;
and that any slight derangement in its adjustment shall
not he attended with immediate deterioration or aggra¬
vated injury; but that, on the other hand, the efficiency
of the machine shall be consistent with such degrees ot
correctness in workmanship, and accuracy in adjustment,
and care in making use of it, as are consistent tvith the
ordinary amount of intelligence and attention ol ordinary
workmen ; and that the progress of derangement and ne¬
cessary tear and wear shall be so gradual as to give
timely warning of danger, and admit of ready repair and
re adjustment. Tbe crank is precisely such a piece of
mechanism. Errors in adjustment or construction of
valves and other vital mechanism, are diminished in effect
by the crank one hundred-fold; the changes of the valves,
the essential part of the mechanism, take place only at
tbe top and bottom of the stroke. Now at these instants
the crank is on the “ line of the centres,” as it is techni¬
cally called ; and it is just in this position that a minimum
of force is made to act on the crank, so that if the valves
do not open with perfect precision, but either a little too
soon, or a little too late, then will such error at that part
of the circuit be of comparatively trifling consequence,
because then the motion of the piston is so slight, tia
through an arc of twenty degrees of the crank it oe>
not describe the hundredth part of that space; an
effect of any error committed w ithin that range, wi n0
affect the result in the crank by one hundredth par o
its full amount. , ,
In like manner, errors in management an t
arising from wearing, are reduced a hundre - o
effect by transmission through the crank, xt as
quently been to us matter of astonishment, to see a
mouths of coal-pits, mines, and quarries, mere ,
of engines, frail rusty old fragments of iron and ’
so loose as scarcely to stand upright upon their b ’
see these superannuated drudges still Pei’oiai,nh
w'ork to a very large percentage of their ful po"
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
671
Ste
Ell!
^ '
ota'
ngif
ene
oue
OHS.I
4. To these circumstances we may add, that it is to
. the possession of these properties that we may attribute
J fact, that reciprocating engines are constructed of
enormous weight in their moving parts, and of ponderous
dimensions, without being thereby sensibly deteriorated
in working. The crank acquires a slow motion at the
commencement of the stroke, and an accelerated motion
is thereby acquired in a manner equally gradual by all parts
of the machine ; and in like manner, at the termination of
the stroke, it brings them to rest again in a gradation so
gentle and uniformly retarded, as again to receive from
them much of the impetus which it had formerly com¬
municated. The impetus, therefore, given to the re¬
ciprocating parts is only lent, not lost.
We have thus endeavoured to expose the nature of
the fallacy under which they labour who imagine that
the present steam-engine, as derived from Watt, is a
machine which destroys or absorbs a large portion of
the power it is designed to transmit, and who look to
the rotatory engine as a means of increasing the amount
of the power given out in useful effect. That the rotatory
engines which appear day after day are not new, we
show from the fact, that the five great classes which com¬
prehend them all have already been invented and re¬
invented by upwards of a hundred individuals. That their
inventions have been unsuccessful, is manifest from the
non-existence of their machines in the daily use of ordi¬
nary manufactures. That the failures of these contri¬
vances did not arise from defects accidental to the pecu¬
liar arrangements and contrivances of the engine, is
rendered probable by the great variety of forms in which
they have been re-invented, tried, and abandoned. That
they have not failed from deficiencies in the workman¬
ship and practical details, is rendered still more probable
by the circumstance of finding among the names of in¬
ventors those of the most eminent practical engineers.
We have next shown, that in theory, the crank of the
steam-engine in common use cannot, as has been sup¬
posed, be attended with a loss of power, as such loss
would oppose the established doctrine of virtual veloci¬
ties. It is also shown, from very simple and elementary
considerations, that what appears to be lost in force is
resumed in velocity; that in proportion as the mean
lorce on the piston is greater than the mean force on the
crank, in that proportion is the space described by the
latter greater than the space described by the former;
that the dynamical effect produced in a given time, is
exactly in the proportion of the steam expended in that
given time. And thus have we arrived at the conclusion,
that the common reciprocating crank steam-engine has
not the faults attributed to it in theory, and which the
rotatory engines have been designed to remedy. We
have next taken the practical view of the subject. In
simplicity of parts, the rotatory engine has no advantage
over the reciprocating piston ; in difficulty of construc¬
tion, the rotatory piston far exceeds the reciprocating
ongine : it is more expensive at the outset—it has more
friction—it is more bulky and less compact—it is infe¬
rior in precision and uniformity of action to the crank-
engine—and there is a radical fault inherent in the very
nature of rotatory mechanism, from which it follows
t |at the rotatory engine can never be rendered either an
economical or a durable machine. We have further
snovvn, that even if the rotatory engine could be made
economical and durable, its very nature renders it un-
suited to the great purposes of steam navigation and
mlandlocomotion; objects to which it has been considered
peculiarly applicable. We deemed it an appropriate and
instructive conclusion to our enquiry, to examine into
the action of the crank, for the purpose of discovering
what those remarkable qualities are which have given
to the crank of the common steam-engine its unrivalled
superiority as an element for the production of circular
motion, and a degree of perfection unattainable by any
other mechanism. We have seen that well constructed
crank steam-engines are daily performing duty which is
within ten per cent of the theoretical maximum of pos¬
sible effect—of absolute perfection ; that this practical
perfection arises from the simplicity of the crank, from
its wonderful adaptation to the nature and laws of tam-
ter, and of circular motion in connexion with rectilineal
motion—from its reduction of errors either in construc¬
tion, adjustment, or management, so as to work well
without the absolute necessity of greater intelligence,
expertness, and precision than belong to ordinary work¬
men—and from the compensating nature of the arrange¬
ment of its structure, by which it is accommodated in a
remarkable degree to the necessary imperfections of all
human mechanism.
ON STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
The construction of a boiler must appear so simple an
arrangement of materials, as to require very little inge¬
nuity or contrivance; a large enough boiler placed upon
a large enough fire being sufficient to generate any re¬
quisite supply of steam. Simple, however, as such an
arrangement may seem, the best construction of boiler
is a subject upon which very widely different and even
opposite opinions are entertained by men of the great¬
est science and experience. There is perhaps no branch
of practical art in which so much remains to be deter¬
mined and improved, and scarcely any which science
has done so little to advance. To follow servilely what
has, in a given instance, been “ found to answer,” is the
ride of the most sagacious mechanics, and the doctrine of
the wisest authors. Those who have attempted to in¬
vent have commonly erred; those who have general¬
ized have invariably been rash and unsuccessful, and
their erroneous theories have led astray their followers,
when they happen to have any.
The art of constructing steam-boilers is, we have said,
in its infancy ; but it is likely, we think, to make rapid
progress. The construction of the boiler of the locomo¬
tive-engine, which every day performs what at a former
period we should have termed impossibilities, exhibited
a strikingly anomalous phenomenon, by which the at¬
tention of all men who thought upon such subjects was
suddenly arrested: this little barrel of water generates
as much steam in an hour, as would formerly have been
raised from a boiler and fire occupying a considerable
bouse. The frequent explosion of boilers, both here and
in America, has also directed attention to the efficient
construction of boilers. The patient experimental en¬
quiry that has since been set on foot, must lay open the
whole of the important parts of the question so tho¬
roughly, and bring out the facts with such clearness and
precision, as to lead, by safe and rapid induction, to the
general principles by which we may be able to predict
the result of every supposed case, and deduce safe rules
for the guidance of practical men in all circumstances.
The investigation of the whole subject of steam-boilers,
recently undertaken in America by the Franklin Insti¬
tute, has already done much to settle many points of
dispute. The publication of the reports of the Ame¬
rican and English Governments on the explosions of
steam-boilers, has elicited many valuable contributions
Steam-
Engine.
672
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
The Sphe
rical BoiL
er.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
to the stock of knowledge ; the useful practical treatise
of Mr Armstrong has given us an instructive view ot the
state of practice in the busy district of Lancashire ; the
treatises of Mr Wood and M. de Pampbour on Railway
Locomotives ; and the papers, in the Transactions of the
Institution of Civil Engineers, on the statistics of Boilers
and Combustion, have supplied and discussed a large
collection of important facts, that will materially assist
the future investigation of the best construction of steam-
boilers. ,
During the first period of the history of the ste!*™'
engine, the danger of bursting the boiler, and the difh-
cultv of making it strong enough to resist the internal
force acting towards explosion, and also of making the
joints tight against the leakage of highly elastic steam,
formed the chief obstacles to the introduction of steam
as a mechanical mover.
The first important point in preparing a steam-boiler is
to secure strength, without unnecessary expense of mate¬
rials. If we take the simplest form of vessel: suppose a
simple rectangular water-tank—suppose the vessel on a
small scale, made of sheet iron, and soldered at the edges
so as to form an air-tight box; then, by simply blowing
into it, we shall manifest its weakness ; for the sides will
first of all bulge out, and, if the materials yield and allow
the vessel to change its shape, it will at last swell into
a globular form, with angular knobs upon it at the cor¬
ners, from which pyramidal extremities, the globular
parts, will finally be torn away with an explosion which
will, in all probability, take place long before the vessel
has attained the shape mentioned above.
The globular or spherical shape was very early adopt-
! ed, as one of greatest capacity, as a shape in which, the
pressure at every point being equal, there remained no
force tending to produce flexure, or destroy the equili¬
brium of strength and strain at any point. A fire was
then lighted below the boiler, and the steam confined
until the heat had raised it to the temperature required
for the given pressure. This form was accordingly
adopted by Hero, Savary, and others, as may be seen
in the representations of their boilers, which we have
given in the historical portion of the article Steam-
Engine. . , , .
It was soon found that a spherical boiler,being set upon
an open fire, required an enormous consumption of fuel
to raise a small quantity of steam, the heat being co¬
piously radiated not alone to the water in the boiler, but
* - • 4   j— 4.U* ^nyu/livirr ntil
and the door of the furnace being kept closed at all gt» ,
times, except when fuel is to be added to the fire, the h, L
whole of the matter of the fuel is in this way supplied Bl s.!
with air, which passes up through the interstices of the's«« v
bars. The flame, after having passed along the bottom
of the boiler, winds in a corkscrew form around its sides,
in contact with the surface of the boiler, in a spiral chan¬
nel formed by the bricks, and called afue, by which the
smoke and hot air are at last conveyed into a chimney.
A damper, as it is called, is formed by a small plate of
iron, admitted through a slit into the opening where the
flue joins the chimney ; so that, by pushing this plate
into the opening, the passage of the smoke out into the
chimney, and consequently of the fresh air into the fire,
may be* obstructed, the combustion of the fuel retarded,
and the too rapid generation of steam prevented. In
this simple way, the attendant is enabled, by merely
pushing in or drawing out the damper, to regulate with
great precision the generation of the steam. The pipe
which conducts the steam to its ultimate destination,
is called the steam-pipe; and there is another pipe neces¬
sary to the continued action of the boiler, called a feed¬
pipe, through which water may be made to enter the
boiler, as it is evident that otherwise the water, being
continually boiling off in the shape of steam, would soon
leave the boiler empty; so that a constant supply of an
inch of water forevery foot of steam, or six gallons of
water for every horse power, is required to enter the
boiler through the feed-pipe.
The form of boiler next in simplicity to the spherical TL !p.
boiler is the cylindrical. From the facility with which"SH'
a cylinder is made, it was introduced at a very early1™111
period. It stood upright, as in fig. 199, the fire beingan[ [e
Cp
:aW
icm
Fig. 199.
Fig. 200.
also in very great quantity to the surrounding objects,
- -- ■ D • ,< -i To surround
.esides being rapidly carried off by the air. To surround placed at the bottom, and rf
he spherical boiler with non-conducting substances, and part of the sides covered ^th w • ^ 0f
o keep the flame throughout its whole extent in contact boiler was found however, to have the disadva 0
vith the surface of the boiler, so as to prevent radiation weakness in the bottom part. pVrmdri-
“ Me ts, and also to diminish the size of For the prevention ot these iSl o« d
L fire by making it wind round the boiler, were the cal form of boder very »»»»
first steps towards improvement; and we accordingly by two opposite expe^mu s^ pp The top being
find iu the work of Dr Desagnliers the subsequent form of “f,»
!iew of thfboiler set in a Fig. 198. spherical boiler; and the bottom being arched np»« s
m a
building of brick, a substance
which is good as a non-con¬
ductor of heat, and calculated
to withstand the destructive
action of fire. A deep ash¬
pit lies immediately under the
fire, which rests on a number
of parallel iron bars, placed
so close to each other as to
prevent the fuel from falling
through, and at the same time
UULIUIU UC1115    1
so as to present a large concave dome t0 the "2^1
the flame, this dome being sustained by the cyl ndr.ca
belt round its spring, a very strong and extensive
face was obtained, as in Fig. 200. _ ,
In this cylindro-spherical boiler, it was foun d
action of the flame on the upright round sides p 1^^
a very slight effect in raising heat Itjja
a very sliglit ettect m raising ■■ hat
desirable that the flame should be brou„l^
3 admit between them the air requisite for combustion
under the sides, by inclining them a little ou
The boiler then assumed a form which I‘as s.in
very common, and from its shape, has no in
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
673
Fig. 201.
Fig. 202.
W
Be
The same effect was next obtained in many of the
boilers of Newcomen, in the way represented in fig.
202, so that the flame in the flues impinged upon a
surface directly over them ; the flues in this ease form¬
ing a recess in the sides of the boiler, instead of being
built around it by the brickwork alone. In process of
time, boilers of much larger size came to be required,
and the spherical shape was found cumbrous and too ca¬
pacious, that is to say, contained an enormous mass of
water, which it required much time and fuel to heat to
the boiling point before any steam could be raised.
The diameter, also, of the boiler was so great when much
steam was required, that the enormous dome became
weakened. To make a stronger boiler, and one which
should, at the same time, cover a large fire, the waggon
boiler was introduced by Mr Watt; an oblong boiler^ of
whose form no better definition can be given than the
descriptive epithet which forms its name. It closely re¬
sembles those long, heavily laden, four-wheeled wag¬
gons, which a team of six or eight horses may occasion¬
ally be seen dragging along with difficulty.
The waggon boiler is made of considerable length, and
its transverse section, fig. 203, resembles that of the old
circular boiler.
Fig. 203. Fig. 204.
safety. The metal of which they consist is not in the Steam-
form that will resist, to the utmost of its tensile force, a Engine
change of shape ; but, on the contrary, a very small pres- Eoilers-
sure has been found sufficient to bulge these boilers
downward towards the fire, and outwards at the sides. Moans
From this circumstance it has been found necessary to used for
place in them strong iron stays, for the purpose ofStrength-
connecting a given part of the surface of the boiler eninS Boil¬
having a tendency to bulge out in one direction, with aers*
similar portion of surface, having a tendency to bulge
out in the opposite direction; so that this tie-bar being
stretched in opposite ways, is made to resist, by its
tensile force, the outward or bursting pressure. These
stays are essential to strength and security in boilers
having large surfaces, concave outwardly, or perfectly
flat. Their application to the forms of boilers which we
have just described, is seen in figs. 206, 207, and 208.
Fig. 206. Fig. 207. Fig 208.
To avoid the use of stays, and to secure great strength
without any other metal than the shell of the boiler
itself, is the object of that construction of cylindric
boiler now much in use, especially where considerable
pressure is used. It is certainly one of the cheapest,
safest, and. best boilers. A cylinder, figs. 209 and 210,
perhaps thirty feet in length and four feet in diameter,
with two hemispherical ends, is laid with its axis nearly - ,y'
horizontal; and below it, at one end, is placed the fire, BoilerT
enclosed by brick, as usual. The flame traverses the
bottom of the boiler, beating directly upon its under
horizontal surface till it reaches the end farthest from
the fire. The flame and hot air then return along the
one side of the cylinder, being confined in a brick flue,
and, passing along in front of the end which is over the
fire, traverses the other side towards the chimney, which
it enters after having thus traversed the length of the
boiler three times, and applied its heat successively to
every point of the cylinder which is covered with water.
This is a boiler that requires no stays, and is valuable
where room is not important. It contains much water,
requires much heat to raise its temperature after being
cooled at night, and is very bulky.
Fig. 205.
Ut "S ^°rm t^C k°^er was made by Messrs Watt
Bolton. It was afterwards improved by hollowing
'■'wards the sides, for the purpose of bringing them
'are immediately over the flame. Of this form of the
waggon boiler, which is universally used at the present
ay>_ ng. 204 exhibits a transverse, and fig. 205 a
°igitudinal.section. These forms of boiler, although
e]7 convenient, are weak : they are very different from
'esp lerical or cylindro-spherical boilers in strength and
VOL. XX.
Fig. 209. Fig. 210.
The Americans have adopted this boiler to a great ex¬
tent. It was introduced among them by the ingenious
Evans. It is generally of a smaller diameter than three
feet, and has flat cast-iron ends of great thickness, which
they call heads.
1 hese boilers, the spherical, cylindrical, and waggon
soaped, may properly be denominated the simple boil¬
ers. I>ut some hundreds of kinds of boilers have been
invented for different purposes; almost all of them
designed to save either bulk, weight, or fuel. Some of
these have been much more successful than others; and it
4 Q
G74
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
is necessary to examine upon what principles any im¬
provements attempted in boilers should proceed. n
steam navigation, diminished bulk, weight, and con¬
sumption of fuel, are all objects of the first importance,
as also in locomotive engines on land.
boiler before entering the chimney. Thus, in a boiler, am.
G feet wide and 8 feet high and 20 feet long, an in- ^ine
ternal flue 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep, along the whole •ws
length, adds about 240 square feet of surface to the ^
boiler, without increasin
the bulk of the room taken h -rs
To make a little boiler generate a great deal of up by it. . . i i • r ay u!
steam in a very short time, is a very difficult matter. The same plan has been extensively employed mcylm. lttfc
Let any one take a common open caldron, or boiler drical boilers, the flame and hot air being made to traverse
such
Fig. 211.
as is used to boil a few gallons of water; sup¬
pose the vessel to hold 84 gallons
of water, to be set on a fire so that 9
or 10 feet of its bottom surface are
exposed to the fire ; then he will find
that he cannot turn more than about
G or 7 gallons of water an hour into
steam. By blowing the fire violently,
this quantity may be exceeded, but
with a great waste of coal: and it will
require a very good chimney, with an
excellent draught, to produce even   M
G gallons an hour in steam, which is about the quantity
ofwater an hour required to furnish steam for an engine
of one horse power; G gallons an hour being nearly one
cubic foot.
Suppose, then, a greater quantity of steam is to be
produced ; how is that to he obtained ? The answer is
this: only by a larger boiler and a larger fire, acting on
a larger surface. This general statement must he under¬
stood in the following way.
A larger boiler, calculated to generate more steam,
does not exactly mean one which holds more water. It
is found that the power of the boiler depends primarily
upon the extent of its exposure to the action of the lire,
or, as it is generally designated, the extent of heating
surface. It appears that the heat cannot penetrate
through the material of the boiler with more than a cer¬
tain rapidity, and that the water evaporated over each
square foot by the heat passing through, is not more
than about fths of a gallon in an hour ; and so it requires
gallons
one horse power in the steam-en¬
gine. Now, for every such foot of
heating surface there will be a cor¬
responding generation of steam;
and a boiler having 100 square feet
of surface exposed to the lire will
he capable of evaporating 100 times
ijths of a gallon of water an hour,
being GO gallons, and about 10
horse power. The extent of heat¬
ing surface, and not the quantity of
fluid contained in it, is the measure
of the power of a boiler.
Boilers
■with Inter
nal Flues.
One great object of improve¬
ments in boilers has been, to in¬
crease as much as possible the ex~
.tent of heating surface without
increasing its general dimensions.
One very efficient mode of doing
this, is by the adoption of internal
flues. Thus Bolton and Watt have
inserted a flue in the middle of the
large waggon boiler, in the manner
shown in figs. 212 and 213 ; so
that, after the flame has passed along
the bottom of the boiler to the fur¬
ther end, it returns along the flue in
the middle of the water to the front,
?   — -   
a hollow tube or cylinder in the interior of the boiler:
sometimes several such flues have been used, and these
multiflued boilers are now in great repute. Several
modifications are given in the figures. The small internal
pipes or cylindric flues, surrounded with water, traverse
some 9 or 10 such feet of heating surface to boil off 6
or a cubic foot of water, capable of producing
' ’ Fia-. 212.
Fig. 214.
the whole length of the boiler, and expose a greater
quantity of surface of water to the action of heat, in pro¬
portion as the tubes are small and numerous. These
tubular-flued boilers are at the present day extensively
used. They economize space, and, with a small exterior
surface of boiler, generate a large quantity of steam.
They are much used in Cornwall, in marine boilers, and
in locomotive boilers.
In these boilers a large surface is still exposed to the
cold air, and the brick work in which the fire is placed
radiates off a considerable portion of heat, which is lost.
To remedy this evil, the furnace has been so contrived that & t
the fire is in the inside of the boiler. This was probably j L
done for the first time by Smeaton, who succeeded in
producing almost as high a proportion of steam from fuel
as engineers of a more modern date. His portable-engine
boiler is represented below, figs. 21G, 217. The interior of
this hay-cock boiler contains a hollow ball of cast-iron, m
which the fuel is burned. Air enters by an aperture at the
bottom, a large cast-iron pipe leads through the water to
the door, and another pipe in the opposite direction passes
through the water, conducting the products ot combustion
to the chimney, immediately round which is introduced
the fresh supplies of cold water for replenishing the
boiler.
Fia;. 21G.
Fig. 217.
and then makes an entire circuit of the outside of the
But a much better boiler than this, and one m <jj!<
which might bear comparison with many boilers o 1
present day, is one given by Mr Farey as the mven '
of an unknown author. In the centre of a large o
fashioned hay-stack boiler, figs. 218, 219, is P®
a large round furnace, from which there passe
simple rectangular flue, winding round and rou.it
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
675
n- boiler in spiral circuits till it reaches the outside, and
iie thence passes to the chimney.
In the same way it has often been provided that the
furnace should be in the interior of a cylindrical boiler,
hyplacing another cylindrical tube of large dimensions in
the interior of the outer case, to serve at once as fur¬
nace and flue. Tin's was probably first done by Trevithic,
the advocate of high-pressure engines in this country.
Fig. 220.
To the great central flue there have been sometimes
added lateral flues on each side, for the return of the
products of combustion, fig. 221. Thus, again, this in¬
ternal line has been made elliptical, fig. 222, a danger¬
ous and weak form.
Fig. 221.
It is one of tbe faults of the boilers that have their
fii’es in the internal tubes, that the ash-pit and interior
of the furnace over the fuel are so confined, as to pre¬
vent that, perfect combustion of fuel which may be
obtained by a deep ash-pit, a large expanse of fire-grate,
and a deep and wide furnace. These evils may, in some
measure, be obviated by an internal flue of large dimen¬
sions; but this very large one is extremely dangerous,
•md liable to explosion. The evil has been remedied by
die following species of boiler, where the fire is still
surrounded by water, and gives ample room for most
perfect combustion.
Fig. 223.
Fig. 224.
so as to leave a semicircle or a semi-cylinder above the Steam-
fire, and two vertical spaces, or “ water leg'?,” as they Engine
are called, which cover the fire on both sides; thus toilers,
obstructing tbe heat that would otherwise pass away ^e^f***'
into the brick building, and at the same time covering a
large and wide space of furnace bars, a deep ash-pit, and
so ensuring adequate combustion. The internal surface
of this boiler has been still further increased, by substi¬
tuting for this single tube a number of smaller ones six
inches in diameter.
/'»fter passing through all these tubes, the flame ami hot
gases again return along the bottom and sides on tbe
light of tbe boiler, and pass back on the other side to
tfie chimney. A form of boiler similar to this is much
used in Lancashire, and is called the Butterly Boiler. It
has the large internal flue, but wants the fire-legs,
and in tins respect is inferior to the former,
FiS- Fig. 228.
. Til0se boilers, already described, are the practical forms
in use among intelligent engineers. The varieties of
, , ^ lia^e been invented, amount to some hun¬
dreds. me Patent Records of the present day teem
with new and improved boilers ; and yet it is a matter of
constant complaint with engineers, that no great im¬
provement has ever been made in boilers, but that as
satisfactory results have been obtained from plain, simple
boilers, of the kind used half a century ago, as from the
modern and most complex forms.
The conclusion to be drawn from all that has been
attempted or achieved in boilers is, we believe, the fol¬
lowing : teat there exist certain limits prescribed by
the constitution of fuel, the nature of metals, and the
properties of water and steam, which cannot be exceeded
without incurring evils that greatly overbalance the par¬
tial gam. ] he best boilers that have ever existed have
been those in which a large number of principles have
been applied, and so adjusted in relation to each other
as to gain the maximum, not of any one property, but of
all the valuable properties, each in the degree of its indi¬
vidual importance. Tbe first cost of the ‘boiler must not
be rendered too great, or that will neutralize the economy
0 nsjug it: the space to which it is confined may be a"s
smaii as possible ; but if that be produced by intricacy of
construction, the loss may surpass the advantage. Then
again, n complex and confined, it may be impossible to
< eause or to repair the boiler ; and therefore it must ho
remembered, that, unless easy access can be gained to
every part of a boiler, and of its flues, that boiler Avil]
soon become totally useless, Then it is further demanded
676
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
Stoam-
Engino
Boilers.
of a eood practical boiler, that, if one part should be The efficiency of a copper boiler in geneia-
damaged or give way, the whole should be so construct- ting steam, is to that of iron as .
ed that the damage done to that part must not endanger The cheapness of equal weights of copper
the rest. An extensive heating surface is to be oo-
tained for economy's sake ; but that large surface n.us
at the same time remain unimpaired to resist bursting ;
a property to a certain extent inconsistent with extensive
surface. The surface which is thus spread as widely
as possible, so as to apply the fire to the water through
every part of its mass minutely and in great subdivisions,
if extended beyond a certain degree, will not have over
J it r tiu\m if-, with
and iron boilers, are as
The value of old materials diminished by
15 years’ interest, is . • •
Durability, 
3 to 2
30 to 130
Sk[.
Eti; .e
Bft -j,
4 to
5 to
1
30 to 13
Cop. {
and A
com: -cd.
, , , . neirree wm x.u, The combination of all these ratios is in favour of
it “kXrf water oapableof condaetiig beat from it with copper ; and if we add the trouble of replacing the new
it a body or water cap ^ generation of steam, iron boiler, and detaching it from all its connexions, five
the rapidity adequat jPL heated metal from times for once in the case of copper, the scale still further
and to the P Then, again, it is de- preponderates on the same side. We must look, therefore,
s^riblef^to^iave^ong1 and tortuous flues,’ to° extricate as L'the explanation of' the general use of iron to the
much heat ^possible from the fuel and the products of state of mercantile aflairs, and the value of money m
i U bill tbose bv their very length, may in- a commercial community. It proves that a ceitarn loss,
terfere w "h the draught of the chimney, fo h'S to dimi- within 15 „r 20 in a proportion of 12 to l.i» con-
n^sh the’efficacy and vigour of the combustion of the fuel, sidered preferable to an or.gmal expend, ore oi font
"nd prodnee loss instead of gain. Thus it happens times the amount of capital i show,ng e.ther that the
that Urn*whole ques’tion of boilers is an exact and .,„di- price of money is too high for such an investment or
•ions combination and adjustment of parts, so as to obtain that the contingencies of mercantile lue are too gieat to J
,  tPt.fr flfioTflo which is most allow the risk of so large a sum as the \alue or a copper
Materials
of which
boilers
have been
formed.
\ f snail, iivr       i #
and functions of a boiler in a simple succession
The materials of which a boiler should be formed, have
been a subject much discussed. Copper, iron, brass, cast-
iron, lead, and even stone, have been employed. Boilers
of steam-vessels are frequently made of copper. Many
•inns combination and acmistmeni, ui pans, so ^
oueli of these many points in that degree which is most allow the risk of so large a sum as the value of a copper
advantageous for every one of the other qualities, and boiler for the period required to reimburse the propne-of:i[.
of aU oTthem together: The question is a practical one tor. Rich governments and individuals have not ailed
ot ail or 1 b to profit by th;s knowledge ; but it may be noticed of a
0t It'is nrindpally by the collection of facts, of accurately government which considers its tenure of office insecure,
recorded statistics of boilers, of the practical experience that it does not furnish even its war-steamers with cop-
of the most eminent engineers, that we can gather data per boilers, as that would involve the expenditure of a
for the solution of the question of the best boiler. We large sum by which their successors would profit. So
are not without such data, although it is much to be re- also the man who is shortened in means, but hopes to
gretted that they are not so abundant as we should wish, be rich enough by the time one boiler is done to get a
We shall now examine the various points in the structure new one; or who does not know whether he shall be sol-
  • 1 vent so long as to see the boiler out; or who, at any iate,
cannot spare so much money at once—procures at once
the cheapest boiler he can ; and finds, as usual, that in a
short time the expenses of coal and of repairs have drawn
ot steam-vessels are irequem.j — .. - from him a heavier than the usurer’s percentage. All
steam-boilers have been made of cast-iron, and have this applies more peculiarly to steam-vesseis.
lasted long and been very efficient under careful man- Another peculiarity of copper is the gi eater s..et>GHtr
ngement ^ Wrought-iron-plate boilers are very common which arises from the uniformity of its texture. It iss |
in thS country and in America have been much used, scarcely possible to account for the singular differences d-fl
with cast-iron* ends or heads of considerable thickness, of sheets of iron that have passed nominally 1 1 boi|.
The boilers of locomotive engines have the interior, same processes of manufacture._ One plate will bee
which is exposed to the direct impact of the flame, formed deteriorated by heat in half the time of another appaien -
";er. a,rd som" times parti/ of brass ; the exterior ly identical. The parts of the sa,„e Ijlataya fa^
of the boiler being wrought-iron. Cast-iron boilers were heterogeneous. I he consequences of this l‘eterogenei y
extensively used under Mr Srneaton, towards the end of are serious, and sometimes destructive : a smg e plate ^
last century ; and when used with care, were employed a series gives way, and, having broken jit con
with advantage where fuel was plentiful, from their nexion, the whole fabric is destroyed ; ‘j1 ;a lc; ‘ 0l.
cheapness. A stone exterior jointed with cement, the developes itself in toe place most difficult to ies >
Interior being copper, where subject to great heat, and one plate, «r a pari of jf. » b*™*
when the steam has scarcely any greater pressure than rest remains sound. All this tells m favour o PP
the atmosphere, has also been employed; and a dome The matter of the copper is very nearly homogeneous.
„ cupola of lead was often seen, in earlier tin-.es, when its durability is nearly uniform ,f ,t » not ^
1 . p i- ~ : -i..4.„ Wo Eavo ovnminpd the nartofacooper boiler exposea m
Copper.
Its advan¬
tages as a
material
for boilers
the soot was cleared away, rue sujuux.*   » -
has almost entirely removed out of use. produced by the rollers m tlm process o maim ac urc.
Copper is the best of all substances for steam-engine remaining as perfect as the day utter 11
boilers, in a mechanical point of view. That it is not started. In this case the metal was no mor
best in a mercantile point of view, is proved by the eighth of an inch thick. „nnnpr ;s
almost universal use of wrought-iron boilers. Yet it is There are some forms of boiler foi w tl resist
difficult to see why this should be the case, if we remem- less suitable than iron. The strength of copper^
her that copper lasts for ever, and is worth, when old, flexure is not nearly so great, especial y a b
nearly two-thirds of its first cost, besides being a much peratures, as that of iron. A copper boi er - ^
better conductor of heat, and so saving fuel and space, fore be well stayed, and if there be roum, or j
The labour, too, of making a copper boiler is no greater unstayed flues in the boiler, they enrmo ^
than an iron one. The relative value of these materials than a foot in diameter without incurring , .
for boilers may be stated thuswill readily collapse or bend. This caution in reparu
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
677
am- copper being given, it may be unhesitatingly recoin-
sine mended in point of safety, durability, and ultimate eco-
ilers. flomy.
In the article Steam, we have already introduced
our readers to the important experimental researches
,rj- of the Commission of the Franklin Institute in America,
sof ! concerning the structure, phenomena, and explosions of
Frank-steam-boilers. We shall, in another place, present the
ust1' results of their investigations of the causes of explosion.
^But there is a branch of the investigation undertaken
dcr by the committee, which is of importance to our present
rials, enquiry. It regards the strength of the materials of
steam-boilers; a subject not before satisfactorily ex¬
amined ; and relates more immediately to the effect of
high temperatures on the cohesive attraction of the
particles of metals; an enquiry essential to our know¬
ledge of the manner in which the known strength of
metal, when cold, may be altered when, in a boiler, it
is subject to the action of a fierce fire. The sub¬
committee to whom this subject was intrusted, were
men of great practical skill and eminent scientific attain¬
ments. Professor Walter R. Johnson, Benjamin Reeves,
Esq., and Professor A. Dallas Bache, were the members
to whom the enquiry was committed; and it has been
carried on with a degree of judgment in its arrange¬
ments, and of precision in the experiments, which war¬
rant our implicit confidence in the results, and deserve
our sincere thanks for the valuable additions made to our
knowledge of this important and difficult subject. The
importance of the branch of enquiry committed to these
gentlemen, may be judged of from the following state¬
ment of its principal branches.
1. What is the absolute tenacity of rolled boiler iron
at ordinary temperatures, and how great the irregulari¬
ties to which it is liable?
2. A similar determination for copper boiler plates.
S. What effect is produced on the tenacity of these
boiler plates by change of temperature ?
4. What is the effect produced on the tenacity of iron
by various processes of manufacture, such as ware-draw¬
ing, hammering, or rolling into bars or rods ?
5. What are the comparative tenacities of boilerplate
made from different mixtures of crude iron and from
refined irons ?
6. What is the comparative value of sheet iron manu¬
factured by the processes of puddling, blowing, and piling
respectively ?
7. What is the effect of piling, into the same slab,
iron of different degrees of fineness ?
8. What is the comparative tenacity of rolled iron
in the longitudinal, diagonal, and transverse directions of
the rolling respectively ?
. 9* What is the influence of frequently repeated heat¬
ing on the plates of a boiler ?
10. What relation exists between the force that will
produce a permanent elongation in boiler plate, and that
which will entirely overcome its tenacity ?
11. What amount of elongation may the several
kinds of metallic plates undergo before fracture ?
12. What is the effect of rivets on the strength of a
boiler ? n
These are some of the many important subjects of
experiment undertaken by the committee. They have
discharged the duties devolved upon them in a manner
'Mich is highly honourable to themselves, and which
jenects great credit on the institution and the country that
as sent forth into the wrorld so valuable a contribution
o practical science. We regret that the limits of this
^ ic e will not permit us to enter into the experimental
Ueta;-S an<3 Subsidiary enquiries connected with the ex¬
tensive and laborious investigation ; details which are Steam-
always ingenious and instructive, and will amply repay EnS'i;‘G
the minute study of the mechanical philosopher or engineer ^ ,^ers‘
as a valuable body of experimental truth. But, although
we cannot convey to our readers the pleasure we have
enjoyed in the perusal of these interesting records, wre
should do them and our subject injustice did we omit to
convey to them the general conclusions which have been
obtained.
Strength of Copper Boiler Plates The experiments Copper
upon this subject Avere very numerous. 32° being taken b°der
as the standard, it was found that the increments of heat P^03,
always caused a diminution of strength. Thus, a stripe
of copper, capable of carrying 10,000 lbs., was only
capable of carrying 7,500 lbs. when heated to a tempe¬
rature of 500° ; while at 820° the same bar could support
no more than a tension of 5,000 lbs, and at 1200° a
visibly red heat in day-light no more than about a tenth
part of the strength remains. By these experiments
t he law which connects the diminution of cohesion with
the increase of temperature has been accurately deter¬
mined, and it appears conformable to the following
simple expression,
GHf)8
when
Log. d'=-(Log. t'-
-Log. t) Log. <1
by means of which the diminution of strength having
been ascertained for one temperature, it may be found
for every other according to the following rule. From
the logarithm of (ff) the temperature (reckoned from
32°) of the diminution sought, subtract the logarithm of
a given temperature, (t) and multiply three halves of
the remainder by the logarithm of the known diminu¬
tion (<•/) of strength at the latter temperature, and the
product is the logarithm of the required diminution at
the temperature assigned.
The following table exhibits the close accordance of
the experiments with this law.
Table of Diminution of Strength of Copper Boiler
Plates when heated. Their standard strength at 32°,
being 32,800 lbs. per square inch.
Temperature
above 32°.
90°
180°
270°
360°
450°
460°
513°
529°
Diminution
of Strength.
0.0175
0.0540
0.0926
0.1513
0.2046
0.2133
0.2446
0.2558
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Temperature
above
660°
769°
812°
880°
984°
1000°
1200°
1300°
Diminution
of Strength.
0.3425
0.4398
0.4944
0.5581
0.6691
0.6741
0.8861
1.0000
We are, therefore, warranted in admitting the con¬
clusion, that the square of the diminution of strength
varies with the cube of the temperature.
Hence we learn, that between the temperature of
freezing and boiling water copper loses 5 per cent of
its strength; that at 550° it loses about a quarter of its
strength; at 850° the half of its strength; and at 1330°
loses all its strength, becoming a viscid, granular, soft,
incohesive, substance; although it does not actually melt
until it attains nearly 2000°. These phenomena in
copper are strikingly at variance with the phenomena
exhibited by iron at the same temperatures.
In this substance the remarkable anomaly was dis- Iron boiler
covered, that the additions of heat, instead of weakening plates,
the metal, as we should have expected, and as was found
678
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
to be the case with copper, actually increased its strength,
so that iron plate at 5o(E above the freezing point
was 16 per cent stronger than when cold. After this
point the strength began to diminish rapidly, so that
this point appears to he the temperature of maximum
strength. It was assumed as the standard strength, on
both sides of which the strength was found to he dimi¬
nished both by heat and cold. The strength diminishes
rapidly with increments of temperature, after passing
the maximum at 570° : thus,
At to 83° tho tenacity was
At STO9  
At 720’ -r—
At 1 GOO*  
At 1240a  
At 1317’  
At 3QQ0y iron becomes a fluid.
THE STEAM-ENGINE.
increased1, temperature according to the law already stee
stated. The line representing the iron, on the contrary,
having its origin 15 per cent above A, descends and Boif •
showsTan increase of strength until it reaches a maximum ^ J
about 500°, whence it suddenly rises, showing a very
rapid diminution of strength up to 1000°, when again it Iron; {cr
changes, turns outwards having a point of inflection he- f ^L'
yond which it may be carried to a great distance, while
at last it becomes liquid between 2000° and o000°.
The next branch of the enquiry was, how the strength Its
of iron is affected by the mode of its manufacture, and sirens
by the different states in which it is used, as in bar?
in wire, or in plates, produced by hammering, drawing,™!
= 5G,000 lbs. or l-7th below its maximum.
= 65,500 lbs., the maximum.
— 55,(100 lbs., the same nearly as at 32°.
— 32,000 lbs., nearly of the maximum.
= 22,000 lbs., nearly J of the maximum.
=s 0,000 Ibs„ nearly l ,7th of the maximum
in wire, or in plains, pruuuuuu uy ofitsnl „
or rolling. The following are the results of several ex-factu,, ,£
The following is a table of a series of these experi¬
ments.
Table of Experiments on Iron Boiler-Plate at High
Temperatures; the Mean Maximum Tenacity being at
550° = 65,000 lbs.
Temperature
observed.
550°
570°
596°
600°
630
562
722
732
734
766
770
Diminution of
Tenacity observed.
0.0000
0.0869
0.0899
0.0964
0.1047
0.1155
0.1436
0.1491
0.1535
0.15S9
0.1G27
Temperature
observed.
824
932
947°
1030°
1111
1155
1159
1187
1237
1245
1317
Diminution of
Tenacity observed.
0.2010
0.3324
0.3593
0.4478
0.5514
0.6000
0.6011
0.6352
0.6622
0.6715
0.7001
84,186 lbs.
73,888
89,162
76,069
71,000
59,105
58,661
58,400
58,184
58,009
52,099
50,000
47,909
The law of variation of the strength of iron and of
copper by temperature may be easily illustrated by tho
following curves, of which the horizontal ordinates are
temperatures, and the vertical abscissa? are diminutions of
strength.
Fig. 229.
The temperatures are measured from the origin A
towards T. The total strength being — AX 1000, the
diminutions of strength are represented by the fractions
of A X measured from A towards X. These curves
represent to the eye very distinctly the characteristics
of the metals. The line for copper, rising from zero a"
A, shows, by continual recession from its maximum A A,
the continual and regular diminution of strength by
periments on the tenacity of different kinds of iron, at
ordinary temperatures.
f 0.333
Iron Wire, diameter 0.190 .
| 0.156
Russian Bar Iron, . . • •
English Cable Iron, hammer-hardened,
English Cable Iron,
Lancaster Co. U.S. • • •
Centre Co., US., .
Swedish Bar, . . • •
Salisbury Com., U.S.,
Tenessee Bar, U.S.,
Slit Rods, 
Missouri Bar Iron, ...
No. 1. Pig iron, of the white fracture, produces tiio
most cohesive bars.
No. 2. Pig iron, of a lively gray fracture, produces
bars inferior to No. 1 by H per cent.
No. 3. Pig iron of a dead gray fracture, produces bars
inferior to No. 1 by 2 to 3 per cent.
No. 4. Pig iron, of a mottled fracture, produces bars
inferior to No. 1 by 5 per cent. _
A mixture of all the kinds produces bars inferior to
No. 1 bv 5 to 10 per cent.
The difference between the strength of boiler-plate,
cut lengthways and across, was found to be about 6 per
cent in favour of the longitudinal over the crosscut.
Stripes cut longitudinally sustained 63,947 lbs.
Stripes cut transversely sustained 60,176 lbs.
Stripes cut diagonally sustained 53,925 lbs.
The specific gravity of iron boiler plate was found to
range from 7.7922 to'7.6013., and to be at a mean value
7.7344.
The effect of repeated piling and welding was found to be
a great increase on the strength of iron. T-hc iron gi\ ui
in the preceding table, from the Centre Company s manu¬
factory, whose strength when rolled amounts to o8,4<Jt,
was found to be so much improved by pihng four bars
and welding twice, as to support a mean of o9,247 lbs.,
and to be so homogeneous that the highest did not differ
from the lowest results by more than 3.4 per cent in
the different specimens. Simple welding twice without
nilintr, gave a result of 58,787 lbs. „
It has been thought that by Avelding together dif¬
ferent kinds of iron of different degrees of fineness, and
then rolling it out, a valuable boiler-plate nl,g1
obtained. This was tried, and the highest result gav
only 40,600 lbs. _ , ,. i tpfi
The weakening effect of riveting is thus ca •
from these experiments, being a diminution on e
of i of the original strength. . _ nogO
Strength of the stripe without riveting. * •
Strength of the remaining metal, deduct- ^
ing rivet-holes, . . • * * j[.3628.
Diminution of strength by rivet-holes, . *
Strengthening effect of rivets, « « ♦ T
r
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
iijne
ers.
The effect of use and long1 exposure on the strength
of boiler iron was found to be a great diminution of its
strength, none of the specimens coming up to 50,000 lbs.
hW The effect produced by the accidental overheating of
toiler a boiler, was found to be the permanent reduction of its
as strength from 64,000 or 65,000 lbs., to 45,000 lbs. per
[\ )d by square inch, being about :^d of the original strength.
679
the strength of metals; into which, however, they have
not yet introduced the element of high temperature.
The increase of the strength of iron, with the increase
of its temperature up to 570°, is a remarkable anomaly
which should incite us to examine other metals, and
metallic alloys, in a similar manner, for the purpose
either of resolving this phenomenon into some general
The permanent extension produced on iron plate by law of corpuscular force, or of setting it aside as a cha-
weights much less than are required finally to overcome racteristic and distinctive property of that singular metal,
its cohesion, was a subject of careful examination. The To the practical man, this discovery is of importance,
extension began to take place in general when |-ths of the insomuch as it has shown him a quality in iron, as a
breaking weig it were applied, and sometimes when only material for boilers, which may weigh strongly with him
•|ths had been applied. The total extension varied be- when he hesitates in choosing,
tween yjyth and ^g-th of the total length, and was greater
in the longitudinal than the transverse direction of the
bar.
1 lie following diagram of a fracture is highly instruc¬
tive. The elongation transversely is ^th of the original
dimension, and the curve, is fth longer than the chord.
The longitudinal direction of the fibres is in the line of the
shortest dimension, it is evident that the diminution of
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
Fig. 230.
the thickness, previously to fracture, must have greatly
weakened the plates of the boiler. This boiler plate was
taken from that part of the boiler immediately over the
fire, and had burst where sediment had collected, and
excluded the water from contact with the boiler, so as to
allow it to get overheated.
It is evident that the diminution of area at the point of
fracture, which accompanies this stretching of the plate
before fracture, must weaken the plate very greatly when
it is exposed to strains that stretch it much beyond its
initial length, this strain being about half the breaking
strain due to the original thickness. This constriction
or thinning out of the plate is observed to take place
much more in thickness than in breadth, and to amount
in iron to about 16| per cent of the whole area. It is
remarkable, that the constriction was found less in heat¬
ed than hi cold specimens of iron, a result the reverse of
that which we should have anticipated. The fractures
at high temperatures were found to take place suddenly,
and the surfaces of fracture presented appearances alto¬
gether different from those exhibited at low temper¬
atures; the peculiarity of the fracture at high temper¬
atures being, that the section is smooth and fiat instead
m jagged, fibrous, and irregular, and that it takes place
directly across the plate, and tapering off at an angle of
4n°, so that the separate fragments resemble “ the edges
m two mortising chisels.” One result which we deduce
from the American investigation is, that boiler iron can¬
not safely he trusted with a greater pressure than ]th of
Us standard maximum cohesion. Such are some of the
valuable facts elicited by this transatlantic investigation,
the experiments should he repeated in this country upon
the different species of our own iron ; and we have no
doubt the subject will be taken up by some of those
gentlemen who have prosecuted valuable researches on
The comparative value of copper and iron boilers is
materially affected by this enquiry. The great advan¬
tages of copper are its durability, its high conducting
power, and the value of the old materials. It is by no
means so strong as iron, being, when cold, |ths of the
strength of iron, and at 500° only about |ths of the
strength of iron. But thin iron decays so rapidly, that
its strength to-day is no criterion of its strength to¬
morrow : it decays so rapidly, especially with the salt
water of steam vessels, that its very strength at first is
necessarily followed with subsequent danger; for an
iron boiler having once borne a great pressure witli
impunity, will afterwards, when the rapid but unseen
decay has insiduously eaten through the metal, be again
subjected to the same ordeal by which it had been for¬
merly proved ; and although under apparently the same
circumstances, it may yield to the strain, and produce
the distressing consequences of a violent explosion. It
is time alone, then, that is the great enemy of iron
boilers, while the integrity of the copper will continue
unimpaired for a quarter of a century. On the whole, General
we find that the following general result should limit ourl)rac1tjcaj
faith in the materials of boilers :—
55.000.
i
3
result of
the en-
quiry.
Standard strength of boiler plate,
Strength after riveting,
Strength after heating and cooling in use,
Strain of permanent extension, .
Greatest practical strength = | of f -f- § = = -J nearly.
The greatest practical strength being ^th of the abso¬
lute cohesion, and the greatest practical strength, to
prevent explosion, being four times more than any boiler
should be ordinarily worked at, we have or of the
standard strength of boiler iron, as its ordinary working
pressure; 2,500. lbs. of extension on each square inch
of cohesive action may, therefore, be assigned as the safe
working strain of iron boilers.
To a steam-engine boiler there are many appendages, Append-
contrived for the purpose of facilitating the regulation ofagcs to
the quantity of fuel or of water, the intensity of com- Steam-
hustion, the elasticity of the steam. One of the most ®°ilerF
simple and essential of these is a water-gauge. Water-
gauges are of three kinds, glass-gauges, stopcock-
gauges, and float-gauges.
The glass-gauge is of two kinds, plane and tubular. A
plane glass-gauge consists simply of a small window in a
boiler, of very thick glass, inserted at the place up to
which the water should rise in the boiler. The tubular
glass-gauge is a small pipe of glass about half an inch in
the internal diameter, and an inch and a quarter in thick¬
ness. It is placed on the outside of the boiler, and com¬
municates at the top and bottom by stopcocks with the
interior of the boiler; the higher stopcock enters the
boiler among the steam, a little above the upper sur¬
face of the water, and the lower stopcock enters a little
below the surface of the water, so that the water, stand¬
ing in the glass tube on the same level with the water in
the boiler, shows itself in the glass tube to the attend-
Water-
Gauges.
680
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
Steam- -nit. These two gauges are shown in the accompanying
Engine drawings.
Boilers. D
Fig. 234
Water-
Gauges.
Fig. 231, Fig. 282. Fig. 233.
In fig's. 231,232, G is the window of very thick glass, set
in a brass frame with a cement of red and whit e lead, after
which, the frame is firmly bolted on the front of the boiler,
at the aperture to which it is fitted, gg, "g- ]s 11
tube glass-gauge, communicating with the water below
and the steam above. There are shown m the same figure
two other kinds of gauges. Wtv is a tube open at both
ends, regulated at the external termination by a stop¬
cock, but passing into the boiler, so that the other ent
descends below the surface of the water in the boiler.
Another gauge-tube Ss is of similar construction, and
is placed higher up, so that the end S is open in the
boiler among the steam. By this means the engineer
has it always in his power, on opening these cocks suc¬
cessively, to determine whether there he an excess or
deficiency of water in the boiler ; for, the orifices of the
tubes in' the inside of the boiler are adjusted in such
manner, that when the water is at the proper level,
it covers the orifice of the lower one, hut does not
reach the orifice of the upper one. In this state steam ai i
issue from the upper pipe, and water frorn the lower
pipe ; but if it should be found that water issues from
both, the water,is too high, and if steam fiom hoth,
there is too little water in the boiler. Another species
of gauge is also shown in figs. 231, 232. It consists o, a
float A resting on the surface of the water in the boiler,
to this is attached a chain, which passes over a pulley C,
and carries at its other end a counterweight R. The
pulley is fixed on an axle DD, which passes through the
boiler and carries on its outer end an index. I be index
shows, by means of a dial-plate, the state of the ’water
in the boiler.
By these means, a careful attendant may always ascer¬
tain the state of the water in the boiler, with sufficient
ease to enable him to regulate the supply of water thrown
in, or the feed of the water to the boiler, so as to replace,
with cold water, the deficiency occasioned by the con¬
tinual conversion of the water into steam. But if
by any cause the attention of the keeper should be
directed from the examination of the state of the boiler,
it will gradually become emptied, and will either be ex¬
ploded or burned out, from being made red hot. Va¬
rious contrivances have been attempted for the pur¬
pose of rendering boilers automatic; so that the very
fact of the water becoming low in the boiler should of
itself be the means of furnishing a fresh supply. The
manner of accomplishing this is somewhat different in
different circumstances ; but the following methods are
the most common and the best.
Feeding A self-regulating feeding apparatus may be adapted to
Apparatus, the boiler of a low-pressure steam-engine, in the following
simple way. The water that is to feed the boiler, is to
be conducted into a reservoir r, of some 18 inches dia
meter, having along pipe to lead down from it to the bot¬
tom of the boiler. The top of this pipe is closed by a ta¬
pered plug which hangs by the rod v r, from a lever
supported at/, and having twro weights, one at either
end, W and w. The larger weight W, of stone or cast
iron, rests on the surface of the
water, in the boiler, and is coun¬
terpoised by a smaller weight
w in such a manner, thirt a part
of the weight W is sustained by
the w^ater; therefore, whenever
the water in the boiler falls be¬
low the proper point, the weight
W preponderates, the arm L of
the lever is pulled down by the
wire W L, which passes steam-
tight through a stuffing box at s,
the end of the lever l ascends,
and the valve v being withdrawn,
allows the water to descend
through the open end of the pipe,
and replenish the boiler; and
after a time, when the supply
has become sufficient to raise the
water to its proper level, the
weight W, and the end L of the
lever, are raised, the opposite end
l is depressed, and tin? valve v
once more closed, until a further
supply has become necessary,
when it is given again in the
same manner
liU lliCilllld* • 1 • I
This self-acting valve is sufficiently efficient when the
boiler is of low pressure, or when the reservoir is more
than two feet two inches high above the surface or the
water for every pound of pressure per square inch
of the boiler. But it very often happens that the
boiler is fed with cold water in a different manner :
a force pump is attached to the steam-engine, by which
each stroke of the engine sends back into the boiler
a quantity of water equivalent to that which has
been evaporated out of the boiler in forming the
volume of steam which has given to the engine motion
through that stroke by which the pump has been
impelled. Now, if the size of the pump were accurately
proportioned, so as to replace in the boiler at each stroke
the precise quantity of water evaporated fiom it /
same interval of time by the engine, it is evident that
no further provision for adjustment would be necessary.
This quantity is exactly one cubic inch o water xoi
each cubic foot of atmospheric steam given to tie
engine, or one cubic foot = six gallons pei horse-powei
per hour. But the evaporation of the water to a s eam-
engine is not thus uniform, nor so easily determine .
The variations of intensity in the fire cause steam mo
or less dense to pass over into the engine, .e s
now raises the safety-valve and escapes into the air, ana
now falls below the standard; the boiler, now tight, and
again allowing waiter and steam to leak t roug
joints, consumes a greater or a less quanti ) o . ,
and thus, even with this automatic supp y, .
required a regulating or governing power, i A •
is attached to a pipe by which the feed-pump •
its supply of water to force into tiie )0’e1’ ‘ • ^
by impeding or facilitating the passage o ' „
the boiler, the attendant may regulate the ^PP . h
have said that this cock is attached to the p!Pe J ,
the pump obtains its supply of water, sw 11 tl]e
pipe by which the same pump forces its con
boiler it is about to supply; and we have done so forffus
reason, that it is dangerous to apply sm i a P jf
the pipe between the pump and the boi er,
the force-pump become once filled wit i V''V ^ wholly
forced down by the engine when toe s op ^ incom.
or nearly closed, the pipe will be burs , m ije go
pressibility of the water, unless its va ves •_ tlie reger.
leaky as to allow the water to pass hack hQyfeyeY) it
voir from w hich it has been withdrawn. >
is sometimes desirable to have the regulating cock on
the boiler feed-pipe, the following provision is made to
render that method of regulation safe and efficient.
Between the feed-pump and the boiler, there is
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
Macdi
all's Ft
lag Ap
ratus.
inserted, in connexion with the feed pipe F, at any point
V beyond the valve of the pump which prevents the
return of the water into the pump, a loaded escape-valve
V; its load W being so adjusted, that whenever the regu¬
lating stopcock R is turned so as to impede the passage
of water towards the boiler E, the force of the feed¬
pump pushes the water up against the loaded valve V,
and by it escapes through the return pipe r r r into the
reservoir of supply 11, again to be brought back into the
pump when required for the future supply of the boiler.
Still, however, this apparatus depends in some mea¬
sure on the adjustment of the regulator-valve R by an
attendant; and contrivances have been invented to ren¬
der this also automatic. In the boiler, and on the surface
of the water, is placed a weight W,
with a partial counterpoise to, so as
to rest on the surface of the water.
From the point m a small rod passes
downwards and up again, through
the feed-pipe L l to the point V,
where a conical valve or plug V
opens the communication with the
feed-pipe F F and the water of the
boiler when it is raised, and shuts it
again when depressed. Now, when the water is abundant,
tbe weight W floats high, and keeps down m and V ; and
when low, W descends, and raising m and V, admits the
lequired supply into the boiler without any assistance.
Where a high-pressure boiler is used for purposes in
winch a steam-engine is not employed, detached self-
acting feeding apparatus must be employed. Tbe fol¬
lowing elegant and most effective apparatus has been
invented by Mr Macdowall of Johnstown, and is now in
extensive use in Scotland. We have seen it in an effi¬
cientworking state, after being employed for many years,
and it only costs about £20. It is nothing less than a
small steam-engine, but it is applied in a most effective
and simple way to the purpose designed.
681
A very simple feeding apparatus, on a similar priitciple, Steam-
was adapted some years ago to the purpose of feeding a Engine
boiler without the assistance of a steam-engine. A close E°flers-
vessel or reservoir is placed above the level of the
boiler, and is in communication with the water in the Automatic
boiler through one pipe, and with the water to be sup- *eedino
plied to the boiler through another; a third small pipe APParatus-
connects the steam-chest of the boiler with the top of
the said reservoir. All these pipes being closed by
moveable regulators or stopcocks, the attendant is first
to open the steam communication, that the reservoir may
be emptied of air and filled with steam, and the stopcock
is then shut. In the next place, the communication with
the cold water to be supplied is opened, and the reser¬
voir on getting cool becomes vacuous, so that the pres¬
sure of the atmosphere fills it with cold water, and the
communication is then cut off. Lastly, the third stop¬
cock is opened, and the water in the reservoir having
free communication with the water in the boiler, it is
only necessary to open the steam-cock once more, and
the water, being in equilibrium by the pressure of the
steam, will run freely, by its own pressure, from its
height above the boiler, into it; and the process of alter¬
nately filling and emptying the boiler may be repeated
as often as required by turning the cocks in this suc¬
cession. A simple process renders all these valves self-
acting.
Fig. 239.
The reservoir, fig. 239, is a close vessel above the boiler
B ; R r is the cold-water pipe, by which the water is
obtained, and is regulated by the stopcock r ; F /'is the
feed-pipe for tbe boiler, regulated by the stopcock/; S s
is the steam-pipe opened by the stopcock 5. In the next
figure, there is a balanced float on a pivot o, and a slit bar
h connecting a small slide-valve s with a pin on the float-
bar ; r is a common ball valve, acting only upwards ;
and in F is a valve permitting the descent of the water
in the pipe F/ and preventing its return. The latter is
the self-acting form, of which the action once begun will
continue indefinitely. A commanding valve being con¬
nected with the boiler-float, would render the play of
this apparatus dependent on the requirements of the
boiler itself. The reader who is acquainted with the
steam-engine of Savary, will perceive at once that this
reservoir, with its apparatus, is a mere Savary’s steam-
engine, applied to pump water into the steam boiler; and
that this application of that engine is not liable to the
objection urged against it in other circumstances, namely,
that the water is heated as well as raised. In this in¬
stance, the communication of heat is attended with no
loss.
Indices of pressure and safety apparatus, form an im- indiCerof
portant series of appendages to a boiler. These are of Pressure
four kinds; dynamometers, safety-valves, fusible plugs,
and alarms.
The dynamometer, which is generally applied to mea¬
sure the force of steam in a boiler, is a simple tube
bent upwards at the end, and formed sometimes of glass
4 it
682
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
1
!v,
and often of iron. The two ends of this tube being curved
up, so as to give it the form of the letter U, one of these
extremities is applied to the boiler, and placed in com-
munication with the steam ; mercury is poured into the
Bent-tube tube, so as to fill one-half of it, and the pressure of the
Dynamo- steam upon one of the extremities FigS. 241,242. Fig.243.
meters. Gf tiie column of mercury, forces
the mercury to ascend in the
other, and to indicate, on a divided
scale, the amount of pressure,
which is about one pound on the
inch for each inch of height on
the scale. It is necessary, in all
these mercurial gauges, that the
tubebeof equal diameter through¬
out its length. If the tube be of
iron instead of glass, it is necessary that a float
of wood, or iron, or ivory, figure 241, resting on
the top of it, thould ascend above the tube, and
indicate on a scale the place of the mercury.
For high-pressure boilers a longer tube and
scale are, of course, necessary ; and a very con¬
venient form for this purpose is given in figure 243. From
afloat resting on the fluid stretches a string carrying a
counterpoise at the other end, and passing over a pulley
raises or depresses the index of a valve on which the
pounds of pressure are indicated by the inches of the scale.
Another very convenient index of pressure, preferable
The Pis- t0 any ot]ier with which we are acquainted, is the piston-
tomGauge. o.auge> ^ tu})e Gf small diameter, two or three inches,
Ts bored truly cylindrical, and attached to the steam
steam boilers in the way recommended by the Commis-
sion des Roddies Fusibles, the alloy does not melt in gine
’ ’ i. lift
inn.
de.
ffl ;trat
Fig. 244.
Fig. 245.
Cl:
the manner of an homogeneous metal, as has been sup
posed ; but that, in fact, the more fusible metal melts in ^
the minute cells of the less fusible metal, long before the F 4
whole mass becomes liquid; that the minutely divided,%
but more obdurate metal, forms a grating, or ratherJ;
sponge, in which the other lies melted, so that when ,q
the temperature of the steam rises to melt the first eci]
metal, the pressure of the steam gradually expels the one
metal out of the meshes of the other unmelted metal in
globules, in such a manner, that the plate at last consists
merely of the one unmelted metal, the other having, by
repeated heatings, completely exuded from it, and been
replaced by such particles of debris as the water of a
boiler in common use always supplies in abundance.
Thus, a plate of two metals, originally designed to give
way at 250°, may still deceive the unconscious attendant,
and withhold its warning till it have reached a temper-
ature of 500°, and contain a combination of caloric and
water as dangerous as gunpowder, and greatly more
treacherous.
The following experiment will illustrate the whole of
this enquiry. A plate of alloyed metals, of which the
melting point in the crucible was about 260°, was sub¬
mitted^) heat under pressure. Such a plate would be
applied to a boiler, of which the temperature was not
designed ever to exceed in the most extreme case one
atmosphere, and of which the usual working pressure
would not be more than 5 or 10 lbs. It was found that
at 256° small particles of melted metal began to ex¬
ude from the cells of the unmelted metal; the globules
thus driven out were carefully examined, and found to
be fusible at 222°. At 260°, a second portion exuded,
and their dross were found to melt by themselves at
2320* At 270°, the remaining metal was still tenacious,
and was not burst until the steam reached a temperature
of nearly 300°, with an explosive force of three times
that at which it should have given warning by fusion,
and the escape of water and steam, from the small aper¬
ture it had filled. This last residual porous plate of
metal was found not to melt until it reached the temper¬
ature of 345° instead of 260°. “ These experiments the
Safety Ap
paratus.
Fusible
Pluas.
chest of the boiler, figure 244. This cylinder has a solid
plug or piston truly turned, and ground exactly, hut not
loosely, into it. The pressure of the steam hearing up
the piston on the lever, one end of which is attached to
the spring indicator, gives the true indication of the
pressure on the piston. The spring is also applied di¬
rectly above the piston, as shown in the second figure;
but this instrument is used on a smaller scale than the
other. The ordinary safety-valves are described in an¬
other part of this article.
There is a species of safety boiler apparatus in which
" great faith has been placed by many mechanicians and
imen of science. It has been proposed and enacted
that boilers be furnished with fusible plugs, or that in
parts of a boiler exposed to high temperature and
pressure, there should be placed plugs, forming small
parts of the boiler, which plugs being composed of
metals easily melted, shall give way when by acci¬
dent too great pressure and heat have been employed,
and so, by a less evil, prevent the greater one of total
disruption of the boiler. This method of creating a less
evil to avoid a greater, has lately been shown to he
fallacious, and ought to be abandoned. For the com¬
plete exposure of the inadequacy of the system of
rodelles fusibles, we are indebted to the Committee
of the Franklin Institute, already so often named with
gratitude. The American experimenters found, that
when alloys of tin, lead, and bismuth are applied to
Committee (properly enough) deem conclusive, in regard
^ta!in flip ordinary way; and
to the use of fusible plates in the ordinary way;
they conceive that substituting fusible plugs of greater
thickness, say half an inch, as has been directed by a
recent ordinance in France, would not serve as a remedy
to the defect thus exposed.”
The true remedy for this evil was the next object 0
the enquiries of this excellent Committee. They pro¬
perly inferred, that the fusion of an alloy of metals at a
given temperature was only to be depended on ween 1
was not exposed to the mechanical action of steam, that is,
when not exposed to its pressure, but only to its tempei -
ature. “ The true remedy is to be sought in enclosing
the fusible metal in a case, in which it shall not be ex¬
posed to the pressure of the steam ; so that the moie
fluid parts of the metal shall not be exposed to being
forced out of the mass, but the whole become fluid, as
exposed to heat in a crucible.” With this view of t16 *
iect, trial was made of an apparatus described by ”
lessor Bache, in the Journal of the Franklin Ins 1
for October 1832, under the title of “An Alarm to
applied to Steam Boilers.” ,
The construction of Pz*ofessor Baches alarm s 1
ciently simple. “ A tube of iron or coppei, acc01 , jin
to the material of the boiler, closed at the °'yei
passes through the top of the boiler, its closet ent
ing the flue ?o which it is attached. This tube, d will
be observed, affords a ready access to the ue
tain its temperature, without any restraint from p
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS,
5 IB'
MIC
‘VS.
Fig. 24G.
A mass of fusible metal placed at the bottom of the tube
will become fluid very nearly as soon as the flue takes
the temperature of its fusion. To show when the metal
at the bottom of the tube becomes fluid, a stone is at¬
tached with a cord and weight, or with a lever and
weight. The weight and longer arm of the line, de¬
scending, may be made to ring a bell, or turn a cock, or
open a valve, permitting just
pi sor enough of steam to issue, to give
Ba s the alarm. A projection on the
JJj' lower end of the rod prevents
it from being drawn from the
metal until this latter is fused,
and by widening the lower part
of the tube the metal is kept
from being drawn out by the rod. BB, fig. 246, is part
of the boiler plate ; m the fusible metal in a tube; r the
rod to which it is, as it ■were, soldered, and when the
metal melts, the weight W will descend and give the
alarm, either by striking a bell, opening a steam whistle
or trumpet, or raising a valve. This apparatus of Pro¬
fessor Bache’s is a A'aluable addition to the mechanism
of steam.
Fitr. 247.
Fig. 248.
^ The common alarms
A), .j, the steam whistle, and
the steam trumpet, may
he made to give noisy in-
Tl> am dications of an excessive
* ■ pressure of steam. A
small box on the steam
chest is to cover a lock¬
up safety-valve, loaded at
the highest pressure the
boiler should endure. On
this box is to be placed a
steam whistle or a steam trumpet, so that an alarming
noise will be the consequence of any excessive pressure ;
for the steam issuing through the aperture of the instru¬
ment will give it Amice with an intensity proportioned
to the pressure.
In figs. 247, 248, a steam Avhistle is represented. A a
is a tube leading from the boiler ; in it is a stopcock.
On the top of the tube is a hollow piece bb, surrounded
by a thin cup cc, and carrying, by a pillar fixed on its
top, another inverted cup E. When the stopcock is
opened, the steam enters the cup cc through holes in the
foot of the hollow piece bb, and rushing out at the nar¬
row orifice dd, between the cup c and hollow piece,
strikes on the edge of the cup E, and produces an ex¬
ceedingly loud and shrill sound. No stopcock is, of
course, required when this alarm is placed on the box of
a safety-valve, in the manner stated above.
On the Proportions of Boilers.—That a boiler Avhen
constructed shall be capable of generating a sufficient
ijuantity of steam, without burning an excessive quantity
of fuel, without incurring an excessive expense in con¬
struction, and AA’ithout endangering the durability of the
uietal, subject to the intense heat of the fire, is a prob¬
lem of engineering of some difficulty, especially when it
attempted to obtain a maximum of effect at a mini¬
mum of means, whether the minimum desired be that of
weight, bulk, or expense. There are some simple rules
Reducible from the best practical results that have come
>mder our examination.
ofJLJ quantity of water to be evaporated in a common
req, ,j« 8team-engine, is generally reckoned at one cubic foot an
our for each horse power. But if allowance be made
°r accidental leakage of the boiler, for blowing off at
m safety-valves, for priming, and other accidents, an
addition of one-fifth part may be provided for. The
standard for calculating is, however, one cubic foot of
water for each horse poiver.
683
The area of the grating in the furnace on Avhich the 1 Steam-
fuel is laid, is an important element of efficiency in a Engine
steam-engine boiler. Here practice somewhat varies., Boilers.
The bars are generally about one inch wide on the Nia*V"a*,'/
top and the interstice from ^ to ^ an inch. These J^rea.of
apertures supply oxygen to the fuel, and regulate the^16 Eire
combustion, Avhich is only perfect when the supply
air to the incandescent fuel is ample. Jt is found that
a supply of air, such as Avill pass through each square
foot of the area of the grate of the fire, is adequate to
the effectual combustion of so much fuel as will, in a
proper boiler, evaporate one cubic foot of water an hour,
and supply one horse poAA'er in a steam-engine. Thus,
a fire grate 6 feet long by 6 feet Avide, containing
6x6 = 36 square feet, is found to give an ample sup¬
ply of air for the combustion of as much fuel as aauII
supply an engine of 36 horse power, evaporating 36
cubic feet of Avater an hour. But although this is a safe
and excellent proportion for ordinary practice, yet it has
been found, that with a quick draught a smaller amount
of fire surface is adequate to the effect required. So Ioav
a proportion of fire grate as f ds of a foot, and even E of
a square foot to each horse power, has been employed
by eminent engineers, and has succeeded, AArhiIe others
recommend a much larger allowance e\ren than one
square foot. It is certain that the larger area of fire¬
grate is conducive to economy and durability. The
standard of surface is, therefore, to be taken at the most
desirable proportion, and only to be deviated from where
limited space, as in locomotive-engine and steam-ship
boilers, renders this rule inapplicable. This standard is
one square foot of area of grate for each horse power.
The next condition on which the success of the boiler v
problem depends, is the extent of the surface of the^atin^
boiler acted on by the fire, so as to apply its heat to the surface,
AM^ater. This is also a subject on which practice varies per H.P.
Avidely; so widely indeed as from 8 square feet to 36
square feet per horse power. Eight square feet re¬
quire a clean thin copper boiler, and a very direct
impact of the hottest part of the flame, with the loss of
a portion of the heat; but 36 square feet, on the con¬
trary, imply the possession of profuse space, and a
desire to economise to the very utmost the poAvers of
the fuel. The standard of practical effect Avith the usual
iron boilers, in ordinary circumstances, is fifteen square
feet of heating surface for each horse power.
Of this surface, about one-third is horizontal, and Iavo-
thirds are vertical surface; and of these, the horizontal
surface is imagined to be twice as effective as the verti¬
cal surface. Arguing on this supposition, some have
given it as a rule to calculate each, vertical foot as only
half an effective foot of heating surface, and so to make
nine or ten square feet of effective heating surface the
standard of boiler power. But this rule, though giving
the same result as the former, proceeds oil a suppo¬
sition not yet established, and Avhich does not always
coincide with the fact. It Aviil be easily seen that 5
feet of horizontal surface, added to 10 feet of vertical
surface, making, according to the one mode of calcula¬
tion, 15 feet of surface, divided in the proportion of two-
thirds vertical and one-third horizontal surface, forms an
exact equivalent to the other mode—of reckoning the 10
feet of vertical surface only equal to 5 effective0 feet of
surface, and adding to the said 5 effective feet of surface
the 5 feet of horizontal surface, making in all 10 feet
called effective feet of heating surface. Area of
The next essential consideration is the area of the Chimney
chimney and flues. It has already been given as aand Flues,
standard, that the fire grate should have the area of one-
square foot for each horse power. Now, this area for
the admission of air should be accompanied with a suffi¬
cient passage to carry off the gaseous products, and hot
684
Steam-
Engine
Boilers-
Data for
fixing the
size of a
boiler.
Duty of
engines.
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
air and flame resulting from combustion. From an
examination of the best boilers, it appears to us decided
that one-fifth of tbe area of tbe fire grate, gradually
diminishing to a chimney, which shall have one-tenth of
the area of the fire grate, is an excellent proportion. We
therefore feel disposed to recommend it as a standard for
steam-engine boilers: one-fifth, diminished at the chim¬
ney to one-tenth part of the area of fire grate.
The chimney should be of tbe same diameter through¬
out its interior; and if of 40 feet height and one-tenth
part of the area of the fire grate, it will give an abundant
draught. If the height of the chimney be greater than
this, the area may be diminished as the square root of
the height is increased.
The quantity of water to be contained in a boiler is a
matter of some importance. If we consider bulk and
weight as of no consequence, and if the boiler be in con¬
stant work, there cannot, perhaps, be too much water.
On the contrary, if there be only a small quantity, many
evils are encountered. In the first place, a large mass
of water serves to regulate the production of steam from
a boiler, much in the same way as a fly-wheel regulates
the speed of an engine; whereas with a small charge of
water, the unavoidable oscillations that happen in the
supply of cold water or the additions to the fire, make
sudden and injurious changes in the production of steam.
In the next place, it is well known that steam is a
very bad conductor of heat, and has a single capacity in
its gaseous state for the acquisition of caloric. Hence it
is found that if the production of steam be rapid, and the
water present in a smaller proportion, the caloric is not
carried off from the metal heated by tbe fire sufficiently
fast, the boiler is overheated and rapidly deteriorates,
while the production of steam is greatly retarded. For
these reasons, it is necessary to have a large supply of
water. Eight to thirteen cubic feet are very commonly
allowed by practical men. As a standard, or perhaps as
a minimum, we may assign for the quantity of water in
the boiler, in its mean condition, ten cubic feet of water
in the boiler for each horse power. In like manner,
we will do well not to leave a smaller proportion of
capacity in a boiler for containing steam than the quan¬
tity assigned for the water, being ten cubic feet of steam
in tbe boiler for each horse power.
Economy of Fuel in Steam Boilers.—-The ordinary
consumption of coal by one of Mr Watt’s engines is
10 lbs. of fuel for each horse power every hour.
The work done by this fuel is equivalent to the power
of raising 150 lbs. 220 feet high in a minute, or of
raising 220 times 150, that is (220 x 150 zr 33,000)
33,000 lbs. one foot high, or any equal product of
mass by height in every minute, by the combustion of
10 lbs, of coal, or 3,300 lbs. of weight raised one foot
high every minute, which gives in every hour 198,000
lbs., raised one foot high by the combustion of one lb.
of coal. This, however, by care and economy, is often
exceeded by Mr Watt’s engines ; and the following are
about the standards of work done at a given expendi¬
ture of fuel in ordinary engines, which is called the
Duty of Steam Engines.
The Duty performed by Ordinary Steam Engines is—
One horse power exerted by 10 lbs. of fuel an hour.
Quarter of a million of lbs. raised one foot high by
one lb. of coal.
has this effort been successful, that one cubic foot of s m.
water has been converted into steam capable of exert- Einc.
ing one horse power by the combustion of less than B 3rs.
5 lbs. of coal; and this steam has been so managed
the engine as to raise one million of lbs. one foot
high by one lb. of coal, and in one case 125 millions of
lbs. by a bushel of coals was the duty obtained in Corn¬
wall. Of these improvements part is due to the
economy of steam in the engine itself, and does not
come under this head. That part, however, which is
the result of economy in the boilers deserves our atten¬
tion here.
By a series of experiments, carefully conducted orh-Mf-
colleeted, and ably discussed, by Mr. Parkes of Warwick,mtJI of
the statistics of steam-engine boilers have been placed^rl|;kei
in an aspect sufficiently clear to enable us to deduce
some general results of considerable economic import¬
ance. These experiments are contained in the table on
the opposite page.
The observations contained in this table are made
upon three great classes of boilers; tbe Cornish high-
pressure boiler, L to IV.; the waggon boiler and com¬
mon low-pressure boiler, V. to XIV.; and the locomo¬
tive-engine boiler, XV. and XVI. The waggon boiler,
V., was treated at Warwick in a peculiar manner by
Mr Parkes himself, who is the advocate of a peculiar
system of management, by which very slow combustion
of the fuel is produced.
The Cornish boilers I. to IV. are distinguished from
the common boilers, both in construction and treatment.
The surface which they expose to the fire is enormous,
being four or five times as great as the standard of usual
practice, as we find in I., where 34 horse power has
a surface of 2600 feet, and in II., where 48 horse power
has a surface of 3170 feet exposed to the fire. This
species of boiler is invariably cylindrical, and traversed
longitudinally by cylindrical iron flues. It is also sur¬
rounded by external flues, except on the upper surface,
which is placed under a roof, and enclosed to a consider¬
able depth in sawdust, or other nonconducting matter.
The circuit which the flame and hot gases perform, in
contact with the flues, is about 150 feet long. The
treatment of the Cornish boiler is as peculiar as its
structure, for instead of a strong draught, a tall chimney,
and an intense fire, the fuel is laid on in large masses, it is
allowed to cake and to consume very slowly, while its
products pass up the chimney after having paid a lei¬
surely visit to the twro or three thousand feet ot absorb¬
ent heating surface that surround its long and circuitous
passage towards the open air. Very perfect combustion
is obtained by the thorough combination of the oxygen,
and the ample time permitted for the communication ot
the heat thus developed. Durability in the materials
used, economy in the fuel employed, and increase of
useful effect, are obtained by the Cornish construction
and usage, to an extent that excels every other mode
of generating steam with which we are acquainted.
The economy of the Cornish boiler and its causes may
be estimated by comparison with the standards we have
already given of very ordinary practice. ________
Twenty millions of lbs. raised one foot by each bushel
of coals.
The constant aim of engineers is to increase the
amount of this duty; in other words, to make a less
quantity of fuel than 10 lbs. do tbe work of one horse,
or to obtain a greater duty than a quarter of a million
of lbs. from one lb. of fuel, or more than 20 millions of
duty from a bushel or 84 lbs. of fuel. To such an extent
CONDITIONS.
Area of fire grate in square feet
Area of heating surface in do....
Circuit of heat   
ORDINAP.Y
STANDAIID.
1
15
60 ft.
Fuel per horse power per hour 
Fuel consumed per hour per ft. of grate
Water evaporated by each lb- of coal
10 lbs.
10 lbs,
G lbs.
COKNISH
boiler.
2
60 to 70
150 ft-
5j lbs.
2| lbs.
111 lbs.
STEAM-ENGINE BOILERS.
;;ino
lers.
w
otical
bles.
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685
Steam-
Eng'no
Boilers.
Statistical
Tables,
686
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam-
Engine
Boilers.
The few selections from the valuable magazine of
practical facts presented in this table, serve to show how
much is to be gained even without the assistance or new
inventions, by judicious construction and treatment ot
ascertained and practical kinds ot boilers and ordinary
fuel. A saving of 50 per cent over ordinary practice
is gained in Cornwall by large fire grates, thick fires,
slow combustion, internal flues, extensive fire surface,
and external coverings. He who desires to improve
the construction or management of his boilers, has only
to fulfil the conditions that are now brought under his
attention. i • 11
The common waggon boiler stands contrasted m all
points with the Cornish boiler. Yet it is cheering to
see how much advantage may be gained by judicious
construction of fire grate, and a proper system iu stea:
managing the fire, as is shown in Mr Parkes's experi- Eng:
ments on his boiler at Warwick. The only peculiarities Bo>«
of the Warwick treatment appear to have been a large '
fire grate, 1| square feet to the horse power, and slow
combustion, the high result of 10 lbs. of water evaporated
by each pound of fuel, and the economical result of only
6 lbs. of fuel to each H.P. per hour, appear as the re -
Avard of this treatment.
The locomotive-engine boiler is in every point con¬
trasted with the Cornish boiler. To pursue this part
of the investigation more minutely than its exhibition
in the table, would not coincide with the objects of
this section.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam N&
vigation.
Toe application of steam-power to navigation is one
of the most wonderful triumphs of human ingenuity.
By this power vessels of gigantic size are impelled across
the trackless ocean ; and, in spite of its storms and resist¬
ing tides, establish a chain of communication between
the shores of the remotest regions, as safe and as cer¬
tain as if connecting the cities of a continent. Thirty
years have scarcely vet elapsed since the first steam-ship
of traffic was launched on the Hudson, and now there is
hardly a navigable river or an inland lake Avliose ivaters
are not agitated by the steam-boat paddle, and its atmo¬
sphere darkened by her smoke; while even the ocean
itself is crossed in almost every direction by lines of
steam-ships of immense size, and of beautiful construc¬
tion. Many individuals have claimed the merit or in¬
venting an art so pregnant with interest to mankind;
and almost every civilized country contends for the hon¬
our of its birthplace. If the mere suggestion of the
application of steam-power to the purposes of navigation
entitle an individual to the credit of having invented the
art, there are, doubtless, many who may be regarded as
its inventors ; for this suggestion Avas repeatedly made
almost as early as the invention of the steam-pump, al¬
though from the nature of steam machinery, then and for
long after, no advantage could be derived from it.
To show how the ingenious of that time were led to pro¬
pose steam as a motive power in navigation, Ave shall
give a brief account of the contrivances which had been
devised for the propulsion of vessels.
The substitution of other apparatus than oars, and of
other power than human labour, to impel vessels in a
calm or against the A\dnd, is of unknoAvn antiquity. The
Egyptians are said to have used, in their boats, Avheels
like the paddle-\Adieels of the present day, but moved by
oxen Avorking in a gin on the deck of the vessel. Val-
turius, in his treatise De -Re Militari, gives an account
of paddle-wheel boats used by the Romans as transports,
the paddle-wheels being driven by men or by horses;
and avo have, from many sources, abundant evidence of
the existence of similar boats elseAvhere. In a book
published in London in 1578, called Inventions and
Devices, by William Bourne, Ave find the following
passage: “ And farthermore, you may make a boat
to go without oars or sail, by the placing of certain
i For these historical notices, ending in p. 093, we are not in¬
debted to the same contributor who Avrote the rest of the article.
wheels on the outside of the boat, and so turning
the wheels by some provision, and so the Avheels shall
make the boat goe.” Thus avc see that the means of
making the boat go by paddle-wheels A\-as already dis¬
covered, and the “ some provision,” byAAdiich these pad¬
dle-wheels Avere to be moved, was the desideratum.
Horses, oxen, and human power had already been used
for this purpose ; and the first indication of some differ¬
ent power occurs in the Marquis of Worcesters Century
of Inventions, published in 1663. The marquis, describ¬
ing his quintessence of motion, says, “ By this I can make
a vessel of as great ’burthen as the river can bear to go
against the stream, Avhich, the more rapid it is the faster
it shall advance, and the moveable part that works it
may be, by one man, still guided to take the best advan¬
tage of the stream, and yet to steer the boat to any point.
And this engine is applicable to any vessel or boat what¬
soever, without being therefore made on purpose, and
worketh these effects—it roweth, it draweth, it driveth,
(if need be,) to pass London Bridge against the stream
at low Avater ; and, a boat laying at anchor, the engine may
he used for loading or unloading.’' What the marquis s
quintessence of motion Avas, or how applied to the mm-
ing of the vessel, we have not now the means of dis¬
covering ; but, in his proposed applications of it, he has
more than anticipated all that has yet been done; oi
Ave do not yet employ our steam-engines for loading or
unloading. Savary, the inventor of the next steam-en¬
gine, proposed to apply his engine to impel boats, ine
only way, however, in which a rotatory motion could be
derived from his engine aauis, by it to raise water into an
elevated cistern, whence it could fall upon the floats ot a
Avater-Avheel. This clumsy machine was not well adapted
for a boat; and Ave hear nothing of its application.
About the year 1688, the ingenious Dr Fapm> w 0 ia
been engaged with the project of an atmospheric vacu^’“
engine for moving machinery, proposed to form a vacua
in his cylinder Avith gunpOAvder, as had been prop
by Hautefeuille ten years before, and by Huyghen
1680 ; but this scheme being found impracticable,
proposed, about two years afterwards, “ to turn a ^
surface of water into vapour, by fire applied to
tom of the cylinder which contains it, which vapou ,
up the plug or piston in the cylinder to a cons.tobje
height, and which, as the vapour condenses,desceu I
by air pressure, and is applied to raise wa ' , ,
mine” Besides raising water from mines,he proposed also
Stcarl’a.
dgaifti-
wp
STEAM NAVIGATION. ' 687
i-Na-by a motion derived from the piston-rod of his engine, to
tion. impel the paddles of a boat. Here, with the discovery of the
\j y-**''high-pressure engine within his reach, Papin relinquished
his experiments ; and Newcomen, adopting his cylinder
and piston, and Savary’s mode of condensation, a few
years afterwards completed the atmospheric engine.
The difficulty of converting the reciprocating motion of
the atmospheric engine into a rotatory motion was the
great bar to the use of it in any other way than for
pumping water. Yet not a few speculators are to be
found at this time inventing other means of propelling
vessels than by paddle-wheels, so as to take advantage
of the single reciprocating action of the engine. In
1730, Dr John Allen proposed to give motion to vessels
by forcibly ejecting a stream of water or current of air
from their stern ; a scheme which, since his time, has
been again and again invented, patented, and abandoned.
Seven years after his proposal, Jonathan Hulls published
an account of a steam-boat invented by him. In this
boat, he had two paddle-wheels suspended in a frame
projecting from its stern. In the body of the boat were
two atmospheric engine cylinders with their pistons: to
each piston one end of a rope was fastened ; the rope was
then carried round a pulley on the corresponding paddle-
wheel, and one end was allowed to hang free, with a
weight attached to it. When one of the pistons was
pressed down in its cylinder by the weight of the atmo¬
sphere it pulled its rope, and, consequently, moved round
the paddle-wheel in a degree due to the length of the
stroke and the diameter of the pulley. While the piston
was ascending in the cylinder, on the admission of the
steam, the counterbalance weight, at the outer end of
the rope, dragged round the pulley in the contrary direc¬
tion; but the pulley being attached to the paddle-wheel
by a ratchet-wheel, the latter remained stationary during
the retrograde motion of the former. There being two
cylinders and two paddle-wheels in the boat, it was so
ordered that one should be in motion while the other re¬
mained stationary, and that thus the boat’s motion should
be continuous. However ingenious this plan of a steam¬
boat may be, we find no evidence that it was ever re¬
duced to practice; but in a tract which Hulls published
in 1737, he meets, and combats in a most masterly man¬
ner, every objection which he conceives might be urged
against his project.*
In 1757, the celebrated Daniel Bernoulli, in an essay
which obtained a prize from the Academy of Sciences,
after demonstrating the effect of many mechanical con¬
trivances which might be substituted for oars in moving
vessels, suggests paddle-wheels moved by steam-power
or the force of gunpowder. Another of the essayists,
Gautier, a canon of Nancy, in suggesting the same me¬
chanism and the same power, shows very great fertility
of invention, and skilful application of mechanical re¬
sources in the adaptation of the different parts of the
machinery.
In 1759, Mr J. A. Genevois, a minister of Berne,
invented a species of propellers, which, like a duck foot,
would expand, and present a large surface to the water
when moved against it, but would fold up into small
compass when moved in an opposite direction. It is
scarcely necessary to say, that these duck feet oars
ailed ; but it is a melancholy fact, that similar apparatus
has been frequently re-invented since the days of the
A Description and Draught of a new invented Machine for
tarrying Vessels or Ships out of, or into, any Harbour, Port, or
weragainst Wind and Tide, or in a Calm: for which his Majesty
as granted Letters Patent, for the sole benefit of the author,
or the space of fourteen years. By Jonathan Hulls. London,
l<oi> 12mo.
li
pastor of Berne, and with the same degree of practical Steam-Na-
success. vigation.
The Comte d’Auxiron, in 1774-, under the auspices of
a company formed for the purpose, made some expe¬
riments with steam-boats on the Seine. These unfor¬
tunately failed; but M. J. C. Perier, who had been
present, repeated them with improved machinery, a year
or two later. His success was so indifferent as to offer
no inducement to him to continue his experiments. It
is unnecessary to swell the present work with examples
such as these ; and we shall therefore at once proceed to
the time of Watt, whose labours gave to the steam-
engine its power of almost universal applicability, and
eminently fitted it for the moving of paddle-wheels.
Leaving undescribed the experiments of the Marquis
de Jouffroy on the Seine in 1782, and the attempts of
Rumsey, of Fitch, and of Evans in America, between
the years 1775 and 1787, which were attended with no
beneficial effect, we proceed to notice the first attempts
which were perfectly successful, and to which we more
immediately owe the benefits of steam navigation. These
were made in .1787, by a Scottislx gentleman, Patrick
Miller, Esq. ofDalswintoninDumfries-shire,who, in that
year, published an account of some experiments which
he had made on the best mode of impelling single, double,
and triple vessels, by the power of men and of horses
applied to paddle-wheels. In this publication, Mr Miller
states, “ I have reason to believe that the power of the
steam-engine may be applied to work the wheels, so as to
give them quicker motion, and consequently to increase
that ol the ship. In the course of this summer I intend
to make the experiment.” Pie owed the suggestion of
the steam-engine to a young man, Mr James Taylor,
who resided in his family as tutor, and who had assisted
him in his experiments ; but neither Mr Miller nor Mr
I aylor could devise a way of applying the engine to the
boat. In this dilemma, Taylor suggested that they
should have recourse to the aid of an old school-fellow of
his, Mr William Symington, an engineer, at that time
assiduously employed in endeavouring to adapt the steam-
engine to wheel carriages. Mr Taylor seems to have
sent an account of their project to Mr Symington, as we
find the latter thus writing to the former, on the 20th
August 1787: “1 must make some remarks on your
summer’s inventions, which, if once made to perform
what their author gives them out for, will undoubtedly
be one of the greatest wonders hitherto presented to the
world, besides its being of considerable emolument to the
projector. Great success to you, although overturning
my schemes.” In the winter of the same year, Mr Miller
was introduced to Mr Symington in Edinburgh, and saw
the model of his locomotive carriage. Convinced of the
perfect applicability of a similar engine to drive the
paddle-wheels of a boat, Mr Miller gave orders for the
construction of an engine on the same plan, under the
direction of Symington and Taylor. The engine was
accordingly made in Edinburgh, and sent to Dalswinton,
and by them put together in October 1788. The en- .
gine, in a strong oak frame, was placed on one side of a
twin or double pleasure boat on Dalswinton lake. The
boiler was placed on the opposite side, and the paddle-
wheels in the middle. In the middle of October, the
machine was first putin motion ; and the ingenious inven¬
tors had the gratification of witnessing the perfect suc¬
cess of the first steam-boat. Although the cylinders of
the engine were but four inches in diameter, yet the
boat attained a speed of five miles an hour. Mr Miller,
anxious to try the experiment on a larger scale, commis
sioned Mr Symington to purchase a gabert, or large boat
at the borth and Clyde Canal, and to get suitable engines
STEAM NAVIGATION.
G88
Steam-Na- constructed at Carron. Every tiling being completed, a
vigation. trial took place on a level reach ot the Canal, ot about
‘ four miles in length, at Lock Sixteen. The trial was made
in presence of many spectators, who were however disap¬
pointed in their expectations, owing to the bieaung o
the paddle-wheels. Stronger wheels were obtained, and
another trial took place on the 26th December 1789, and
the vessel moved at the rate of about seven miles an hour.
Next day and afterwards the experiment was repeated with
equal success ; and the following account of it was trans¬
mitted by Lord Cullen to several of the Edinburgh news¬
papers:—“ It is with great pleasure I inform you that the
experiment which some time ago was made upon the great
canal here by Mr Miller of Dalswinton, for ascertaining
the powers of the steam-engine when applied to sailing,
has lately been repeated with great success. Although
these experiments have been conducted undei a variety
of disadvantages, and with a vessel built formerly for a
different purpose, yet the velocity acquired was no less
than from six and a half to seven miles an horn. J his
sufficiently shows that, with vessels properly constructed,
a velocity of eight, nine, or even ten miles an houi may
be easily accomplished, and the advantages of so great a
velocity in rivers, straits, &c,, and in cases of emergency,
will be sufficiently evident, as there can be few winds,
tides, or currents which can easily impede or resist it,
and it must be evident that, even with slower motion,
the utmost advantage must result to inland navigation.
It is much to be regretted that Mr Miller, having
made so successful an experiment, carried his attempts
no further. The boat was dismantled and laid up at
Carron ; and this ingenious and public-spirited gentle¬
man directed his attention to other objects. His pursuits
had a greater tendency to improve the condition of his
country, than to enrich his own family.
In 1793, Rumsey, who, as we have already stated, had
been unsuccessful in his experiments in America, got
some American residents in London to defray the ex¬
penses of another experiment there. He, however, died
before his boat was finished; and when it was got afloat
by those engaged with him, it attained a speed of four
miles an hour against wind and tide. The propulsion (if
this boat was effected, on the principle of Dr John Allen’s,
by ejecting a stream of water at the stern.
' In 1795, Earl Stanhope revived the pastor of Berne’s
duck feet oars; but he could not cause his vessel to move
at a higher rate than three miles an hour.
In the year 1801, Thomas Lord Dundas employed Mr
Symington to make a tug-boat for dragging vessels on
the canal. With this view, a series of experiments were
made between 1801 and 1802, at a cost of £3000. In
March 1802, Lord Dundas, Mr Speirs of Elderslie, and
several other gentlemen, being on board of the newly-
constructed tug-boat, which was named the Charlotte
Dundas, it “ took in drag,” says Mr Symington, “ two
loaded vessels, each upwards of 70 tons burden, and
with great ease carried them through the long reach of
. the Forth and Clyde Canal to Port Dundas, a distance
of 191 miles in six hours, although the whole time it
blew a very strong breeze right ahead.”
In consequence of an impression in the minds of some
of the canal proprietors, that the paddle-wheels of the
boat injured the banks of the canal, the project of the
steam-tug was with great reluctance abandoned, and the
boat was laid up in a creek of the canal, where it re¬
mained for many years exposed to public view. A year
after this most successful experiment, Mr Fulton, an
American, made a similar experiment on the Seine at
Paris, under the auspices of the American chancellor,
Mr Livingstone. Owing to a miscalculation of the
strength of the boat, it had no sooner received the weight
of the engine than it broke through the middle, and went Stear:
to the bottom. Not disheartened, Fulton set about %
building a new vessel; and in August 1803 he launched 'w,.
it with its machinery. This vessel was 66 feet long and
8 feet wide ; but moved so slowly, that we may describe
the experiment as a failure. He afterwards came to
Scotland, and saw Mr Symington’s vessel. Of this visit,
a memorial of Mr Symington’s, which we have before
quoted, gives the following account:—“ When en¬
gaged in these last experiments, I was called upon by
Mr Fulton, who very politely made himself known, and
candidly told me that he was lately from North America,
and intended to return thither in a few months, but
having heard of our steam-boat operations, could not
think of leaving this country without first waiting upon
me, in expectation of seeing the boat, and procuring such
information regarding it as I might be pleased to com¬
municate ; he at the same time mentioned, however ad¬
vantageous such invention might be to Great Britain, it
would certainly become more so in North America, on
account of the many extensive navigable rivers in that
country; and as timber of the first quality, both for
building the vessels, and also for fuel for the engine,
could be purchased there at a small expense, he was de¬
cidedly of opinion it could hardly fail, in a few years, to
become very beneficial to trade in that part of the world;
and that his carrying the plan to North America could
not turn out otherwise than to my advantage; as, if I
inclined it, both the making and superintendence of such
vessels would naturally fall upon me, provided my en¬
gagements with steam-boats at home did not occupy so
much of my time as to prevent me from paying any at¬
tention to those which might afterwards be constructed
abroad. Mr Fulton having thus spoken, in compli¬
ance with his most earnest request I caused the engine-
fire to be lighted up, and in a short time thereafter put
the steam-boat in motion, and carried him from Lock
No. 16, where the boat then lay, four miles west the
canal, and returned to the place of starting, in one hour
and twenty minutes, to the great astonishment of Mr
Fulton, and several gentlemen who at our outset
chanced to come on board. During the above trip, Mr
Fulton asked if I had any objections to his taking notes
regarding the steam-boat; to which question I said, none,
as I considered the more publicity that was given to any
discovery intended for general good, so much the better ;
and having the privilege secured by letters patent, I was
not afraid of his making any encroachment upon my
right in the British dominions, though in the United
States I was well aware I had no power of control. In
consequence, he pulled out a memorandum-book, and,
after putting several pointed questions respecting the
general construction and effect ot the machine, which 1
answered in a most explicit manner, he jotted down par¬
ticularly every thing then described, with his own re¬
marks upon the boat, while moving with him on board
along the canal; but he seems to have been altogether
forgetful of this, as, notwithstanding his fair promises, 1
never heard any thing more of him, till reading in a news¬
paper an account of his death.
“ From the above incontrovertible facts, which can he
corroborated by a number of persons of respectability
living at this day, it is very evident that commerce is no
indebted to North America for the invention of steam-
packets, it being hereby established beyond the possibility
of doubt, to be truly British, both in the idea and practice;
and that Mr Fulton’s steam-vessel did not make its nrsi
appearance in the Hudson river earlier than 1860 or
1807, four years at least posterior to his having e
board the Charlotte Dundas steam-boat, and mmu J
examined it, when at work on the Forth and Cly >
STEAM NAVIGATION.
689
stf
n\
*
Na- and eigliteen years later than the date of the first experi-
m. ments made by me upon steam-boats, on the lake at
W Dalswinton, Dumfries-shire, in Great Britain.”
Fulton, having obtained what information he could, or¬
dered, under an assumed name, it is said, a steam-engine
from Bolton and Watt. He shortly afterwards returned
to America, and in conjunction with Mr Livingstone ob¬
tained a patent, securing to them the prospective advan¬
tages of steam navigation in America, by what they
rather insincerely termed their invention of steam-boats.
In 1806 Bolton and Watt’s engine arrived, and in 1807
the first steam-vessel in America was launched on the
Hudson river. It was called the Clermont, which was the
name of Livingstone’s residence. In spite of the advan¬
tages which it possessed over the Scottish vessels, in hav¬
ing better engines, and in its projectors having the benefit
of Symington’s experiments, it was a comparative failure,
attaining at the utmost a speed of only Jive miles an hour.
The boat had not been long under weigh, on its first trip,
when Fulton ordered the engine to be stopped. Having
observed that the paddle-wheel floats were too deeply
immersed in the water, he shifted them nearer to the
centre of the paddle, so that they did not enter so deeply
into the water ; and this alteration had the effect of in¬
creasing the speed of the vessel.
Shortly after this first experiment, it was announced
that the Clermont would sail from New York to Albany;
and of this first voyage the following account was sent
to the Editor of the American Citizen newspaper, by
Fulton himself:—
“ Sir,—I arrived this afternoon, at four o’clock, in the
steam-boat from Albany. As the success of my experi¬
ment gives me great hopes that such boats may be ren¬
dered of great importance to try country—to prevent
erroneous opinions, and to give some satisfaction to the
friends of useful improvements, you will have the good¬
ness to publish the following statement of facts. 1 left
New York on Monday at one o’clock, and arrived at
Clermont, the seat of Chancellor Livingstone, at one
o’clock : time, 24 hours ; distance, 110 miles. On Wed¬
nesday I left the chancellor’s at nine in the morning, and
arrived at Albany at five in the afternoon : distance,
40 miles; time, 8 hours. The sum is 150 miles in 32 hours,
equal to nearly 5 miles an hour.&c.— Robert Fulton.”
During the same season, the boat made many voyages
between New York and Albany, and in these she met with
not a few accidents, arising chiefly from the defective con¬
struction of her paddle-wheels, which were of cast-iron,
and bad no support beyond the vessel. She was likewise
injured by the sailing vessels, whose owners, dreading the
intruder, ran them against her. The Clermont was at
length laid up during the winter; and being enlarged and
strengthened, she was again, in the spring of 1808, em¬
ployed as a passage-boat between the same stations, and
continued during the summer crowded with passengers,
fbe success of their first vessel induced Messrs Living¬
stone and Fulton to build other two vessels, the Car of
Neptune, of 300 tons, and the Paragon, of 350 tons.
Thus it was that steam navigation in America origi¬
nated; and the enthusiastic and speculative Fulton en¬
joys the honour of having first shown to the world its
commercial value. It is now proper time to mention
that Fulton had been aided in his experiments on steam
navigation by Mr Henry Bell, by whom the first steam
passage vessel in Britain was constructed. The nature
of this connexion will be better seen from Mr Bell’s own
account of it, which was addressed to the Editor of the
Caledonian Mercury in 1816.
“ Sir,—I observed in your paper lately a paragraph
respecting steam-boats, in which the Americans claim
!e right to the discovery which is become of so much
vol. xx.
utility to the public. On this account I propose to give Steam Na-
you a full statement of what I conceive to be the truth, vigation.
Mr Miller of Dalswinton first wrote upon the method of
moving or impelling vessels or rafts through water by
paddles, wrought by a capstan, or by the wind, in the
manner of a wind-mill, which idea he afterwards gave to
all the different courts in Europe. It will be recollected
by most people in this country, that the French proposed
to erect rafts for conveying troops to invade this country,
by means of Mr Miller’s wind-mill or capstan plan ; for,
it may be stated that this gentleman built two vessels at
Leith, and put them in motion upon his new improvement,
and even sent one of them to the King of Sweden as a
present. After this, he thought that an engine could be
so constructed as to be applied to work his machinery
for the moving of his paddles ; and accordingly he em¬
ployed an engineer to put his plans in execution ; but
they failed for want of being properly executed. But to
give you a more correct account of the manner Mr F’ul-
ton, the American engineer, came to the knowledge of
steam-boats, that gentleman had occasion to write me
about the plans of some machinery in this country, and
beg the favour of me to call on Mr Miller of Dalswinton,
and see how he had succeeded in his steam-boat plan;
and if it answered the end, I was to send him a full
drawing and description of it, along w ith my machinery.
This led me to have a conversation with the late Air
Miller, and he gave me every information 1 could wish
for at the time. I told him where, in my opinion, he had
erred, and was misled by his engineer; and at the same
time I told him, that I intended to give Mr Fulton my
opinion on steam-boats. The friends of Mr Miller must
have amongst their papers Mr Fulton’s letter to me; for
I left it with Mr Aliller. Two years thereafter I had a
letter from Air Fulton, letting me know that he had con¬
structed a steam-boat from the different drawings of the
machinery I had sent him out, which was likely to an¬
swer the end, but required some improvement on it.
This letter I sent to Air Aliller for his information, which
must also be amongst his papers. This letter led me to
think of the absurdity of writing my opinion to other
countries, and not putting it in practice myself in my
own country; and from these considerations 1 was
roused to set on foot a steam-boat, for which I made a
number of different models before I was satisfied. When
I wras convinced that they would answrer the end, I con¬
tracted with Alessrs John Wood and Company, ship¬
builders in Port-Glasgow, to build me a steam-vessel
according to my plan, 40 feet keel, and 10 feet 6 inches
beam, which I fitted up with an engine and paddles, and
called her the Comet; because she was built and finished
the year that a comet appeared in the north-west part of
Scotland. This vessel is the first steam-boat built in
Europe that answered the end, and is at this present
time upon the best and simplest method of any of them;
for a person sitting in the cabin will hardly hear the
engine at work. She plies on the Frith of Forth betwixt
the east end of the great canal and Newhaven, near
Leith. The distance by water is 27 miles, which she
performs, in ordinary weather, in 34 hours up, and the
same down. There were many attempts to make steam¬
boats in this country before this one, but none of them
ever answered the end; and even three years after tho
Comet was set a-sailing, there was a number of our first-
rate engineers joined together, and obtained a patent for
what they conceived a new discovery on the paddles for
impelling the vessel forward. They were disappointed
in their plan, and had to return to the model of the
Comet.”
The Comet was a vessel of about 25 tons, and her
engine, which was a vertical one, exerted about three
4 s
690
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na-horses power. Bell’s success immediately excited com-
vigation. petition ; and a vessel called the Elizabeth, 58 feet m
deck, and with an engine of 8 horse power, was started
hy Mr John Thomson on the 9th of March 1815. Ine
spirit of enterprise was now roused, and steam-boats
rapidly succeeded each other, every succeeding one ex¬
celling its predecessor in power and beauty. -No longer
timidly confining themselves to the navigation of rivers,
the projectors of those steam-ships boldly steered into
the deep waters, crossing the channel between Great
Britain and Ireland, and performing the dangerous coast¬
ing voyages between Glasgow and Liverpool, Leith and
Aberdeen, and Leith and London. ■ . r
The first person who ventured beyond the precincts or
a river was in all probability R- L. Stevens of Hoboken.
This gentleman had been associated with Chancellor Li¬
vingstone, previously to the connexion of the latter with
Fulton, and had brought his experiments to a successful
issue nearly as soon as Fulton and Livingstone, h niton
having, however, secured to himself the exclusive privilege
of navigating by steam in the state of New York, bte-
vens at once conceived the bold idea of taking his vessel
by sea from the Hudson to the Delaware. To Mr Se¬
vens many of the improvements of steam navigation are
to be ascribed. He introduced the modifications of Watt s
engine, which we have represented in Fig. 2, p. 693, still
in use in American vessels. He introduced engines of
long stroke; and, as a necessary consequence, a long crank,
and the further peculiarity of upright guides for the
piston-rod, instead of the old parallel motion. To him
we likewise owe the paddle-wheel with divided ooaicu-', by
which the resistance of the water was renociel muie
uniform, and the concussions of tne common paddle-
wheels avoided. He improved the siiape of the Ameii-
can steam-vessels, by substituting for the full round bov. s
and sterns a fine entrance and a fine run. By this, and by
making the length of his vessels eight or ten times their
beam, he succeeded in raising their rate of sailing from
nine to thirteen miles an hour.
Reverting to Britain, we find from the first intro¬
duction of Bell’s Comet in 1813, steam navigation gra¬
dually improving as an art. The vessels were, however,,
of small dimensions, of low proportion of power, and of
little speed, until the year 1818, when Mr David Napier
directed his attention to the improvement of steam navi¬
gation. It is to this gentleman that Great Britain owes
the introduction of deep sea communication by steam
vessels, and the establishment of post-office steam-
packets. In 1818, Mr Napier established between
Greenock and Belfast a regular steam communication,
by means of the Rob Roy, a vessel built by Mr William
Denny of Dunbarton, of about 90 tons burden, and 30
horse power. For two winters she plied with perfect
regularity and success between these ports, and was after¬
wards transferred to the English Channel, to serve as a
packet-boat between Dover and Calais. Having thus
ventured into the open sea, Mr Napier was not slow in
extending his range. Soon after, Messrs Wood built
for him the Talbot, of 120 tons. With two of Mr
Napier’s engines, each of thirty horse power, this vessel
was in all respects the most perfect of her day, and was
formed on a model which was long in being surpassed.
She was the first vessel that plied between Holyhead and
Dublin. About the same time he established the line
of steam ships between the stations of Liverpool, Green¬
ock, and Glasgow. For the traffic of these stations he
built the Robert Bruce, of 150 tons, with two engines of
30 horse power each ; the Superb, of 240 tons, with en¬
gines of 35 horse power each ; the Eclipse, of 240 tons,
with two engines of 30 horse power each. All these
were established as regular deep sea traders before
the year 1822, on a station which has not since been St««L
surpassed for the power, beauty, and speed of its steam vig)n.
vessels.
In 1822 was built by Messrs Wood on the Clyde, the
James Watt steam-vessel, to ply between Leith and
London. This vessel was of 448 tons measurement, and
she carried two engines of fifty horse power each, made
by Messrs Watt and Bolton, and completed entirely
under the superintendence of Mr Brown of that firm.
The James Watt was remarkable for having its paddles
moved, not directly by the engine, but through the inter¬
position of toothed wheels, so that the number of revolu¬
tions of the axis of the engine was greater than that of
the paddles. With the exception of the low proportion
of its power to its tonnage, the James Watt possesses
almost all the qualities of the most improved vessels of
the present day.
The next great advance in the art was made in 1826,
when the first of the leviathan class of steamers, the
United Kingdom, was constructed. This steam-ship
was 160 feet long, 261- feet beam, and 200 horse power.
She was built by Mr Steele of Greenock, and the engines
were constructed by Mr Napier. Mr David Napier
was also one of the first persons to introduce surface con¬
densation in marine engines. He used it successfully
in the Post-Boy, a steam-vessel built by him. The con¬
denser was composed of a series of small copper tubes,
through which the steam passed towards the air-pump;
and, a constant current of cold water encircling the pipes,
the steam was cooled and returned into water, which was
again sent into the boiler for conversion into steam,
without being mixed with the cold salt-water, which, in
the usual plan, is injected into the condenser. But, like
YFatt, Cartwright, and others, who have tried this system
both here and in America, he did not find the rapidity ot
condensation sufficiently great, and he returned to the
old system of condensation by jet. Some years after¬
wards, however, he reverted to this system in peculiar
circumstances which rendered it desirable ; and, using flat
plates instead of tubes, was again perfectly successful,
and plied for years with no other condenser. But, like
all the other cases where it has been introduced, the ad¬
vantages of the system were not reckoned equivalent
compensation for its disadvantages. The plan of con¬
densation by tubes, again introduced at a recent date by
Mr Hall, has been tried in numerous vessels, in some ot
which it has been abandoned, and in others it still con¬
tinues to be employed. .
The next change introduced very extensively into
steam-vessels by Mr Napier, was the use of an upright
or vertical steam-engine, or engine of direct connexion.
The first engine of Bell was to some extent a vertical
engine, inasmuch as the axis of the cylinder and of the
crank were placed in one vertical line ; but there was no
direct connexion between the crank and the piston-io
to the paddle-axle, the communication of motion to it
being effected through the medium of toothed wheels.
In the common or lever engine the piston-rod acts on
a cross-head, the cross-head on side-rods, tue side-rocs
on side-levers, the lever on a cross-tail, the cross-tan oi
the connecting rod, the connecting rod on the crank-pin,
hy which through the axle the paddle-wheels revo ■
In the engine of direct communication, the side-ieve
and some other parts of the train of conimunica ion,
removed by a device which enables the piston io o
almost immediately attached by a connecting-ro
almost immediately attacneu uy « , ..j
cranks of the paddle-shaft. This plan was urs a J
by Mr Gutzmer of Leith, who built a vessel ca!^ „
Atbole, and another called the Tourist, on 11 1
ciple ; but his method, t?!111? 'Ine se-
applicable in ordinary cases; and Mr Napier
STEAM NAVIGATION.
691
St(
T
Na-veral modifications of tlie vertical engine, which, accor-
! on. ding to our judgment, include all the best that have yet
>sJ been introduced. It does not seem to have been practi¬
cally established that the engine of direct connexion is
preferable to the lever engine; but the plans of Mr
Napier appear to have been the best ever adopted.
It is now a considerable time since Mr David Napier
relinquished all connexion with such operations on the
Clyde; since his retirement, much has been done for
the advancement of steam navigation in Britain, and to
this work the ship-builders and engineers of the Clyde
have contributed their full share. We have already
stated that a regular communication by steam was early
established between Liverpool and the river Clyde. This
establishment has done much for the advancement of
steam navigation. It has afforded scope for two exten¬
sive companies, who, employing the most eminent steam-
engine and ship-builders for the construction of their
ships, have produced a very superior class of vessels.
The introduction of wrought-iron hulls for steam ves¬
sels, has been the means of introducing a great improve¬
ment in the art. This method of construction enables
builders to effect a combination of strength and lightness
of draught, peculiarly advantageous in some branches of
trade and in certain localities. One of the first iron steam-
vessels was the Alburkha, of 55 tons. It was built to
accompany the Quorra in the expedition to the Niger in
1832, and gave very great satisfaction. The builders of
the Alburkha, Messrs Laird of Liverpool, immediately
afterwards commenced another vessel, the Garry-Owen,
destined to run between Limerick and Kilrush. The
length of this vessel was 125 feet on deck, its beam 21
feet 6 inches, and its engines were fifty horse powrer
each. The Garry-Owen was driven on shore, with many
other vessels, in the great hurricane which happened
about that time, and alone escaped uninjured. This, and
other evidence of the power of iron vessels to withstand
the casualties of the sea, so raised them in the estimation
of builders, that their number was rapidly increased, and
their size greatly extended.
For a long period there had been much speculation
about the practicability of navigating the Atlantic by
steam. So early as 1791, and while the steam-boat was
yet in embryo, Fitch, the American, boldly predicted
that sailing vessels would soon be superseded in trans¬
atlantic navigation. In 1819> an American steam-ship,
the Savannah, of 300 tons’ burden, arrived at Liverpool
direct from the United States, having accomplished the
passage in 26 days, partly steaming and partly sailing;
, and nearly ten years after, the Curajoa, an English built
vessel of 350 tons and 100 horse power, made more
than one successful run in the same manner, between
Holland and the Dutch West India colonies. Men of
science, however, endeavoured to demonstrate that the
navigation of the Atlantic by steam-power alone, was
the dream of a visionary, and the tide of public opinion
seemed to set in in the same belief; but a strong under¬
current was at work, and in 1838 the following adver¬
tisement appeared in the daily papers ; “ Steam to New
Ihe well-known steam-ship, Sirius, Lieutenant
Roberts, R.N., Commander, is intended to leave London
tor New York on Wednesday 28th March, calling at
fork harbour, and to start from thence on Monday the
~d of April, returning from New York the 1st of May.”
Lms, a company of merchants was found sanguine
enough to disregard the demonstration of the impossi-
1 'ty °f an American voyage, and actually to advertise
«ot only the day of sailing, but also the days of arrival
t return. The Sirius was not expressly built for
ransatlantic navigation ; she belonged to the St George
earn-Packet Company, and had run with a good repu¬
tation between London and Cork. Her tonnage was Steam Na-
about 700 tons, and her engine about 320 horse power, vigation.
Although advertised to sail on March the 28th, circum-
stances delayed her departure till the morning of the 4th
April, when she started at ten o’clock, with 94 pas¬
sengers. Though first in the race, she was only three
days in advance ; for on the 7th of the same month, the
Great Western, built and fitted expressly for the pur¬
pose, followed her. In the interval, between the sailing
of these vessels and the reports of their arrivals, much
doubt prevailed as to the possibility of their accomplish¬
ing their task in safety, and the uncertainty was increased
by vessels having arrived from America at ports in
Britain, without having encountered either of the steam¬
ships ; people having, for a moment, forgotten that there
were more roads than one across the Atlantic. They
were at length, however, spoken with by the West¬
minster, the Sirius on the 21st, within six hours’ sail of
New York, and the Great Western on the 22d; and in
due time, reports of their having reached New York
arrived, the Sirius on the 22d, being 17 days clear on
the passage, and the Great Western on the 23d, be¬
ing 15 days. The Sirius again sailed on her home¬
ward passage on May 1st, afternoon, and the Great
Western on May 7th, and they arrived, the first on the
18th, and the latter on the 22d, being 16 and 14 days
respectively. The average speed, and expenditure of
fuel of the Great Western was as follows. The whole
distance run from Bristol to New York was 3125 miles,
averaging each day 208 miles, each hour 8-2 miles; the
distance run in returning from New York 3192 miles,
each day 213 miles, each hour 9 miles nearly. She de¬
parted with 860 tons of coals, and on her arrival at New
York she had 205 tons remaining. She left New York
with 570 tons of Newcastle coals, and had on board when
she arrived at Bristol 178 tons. Her average daily con¬
sumption was 27 tons ; and, with the expansion valves up,
32 tons. In page 707 there is given a table exhibiting
a comparative view of the size and power of six of the
largest of the transatlantic vessels.
The practicability of transatlantic navigation being
thus fully demonstrated, preparations for its continuance
on a gigantic scale commenced, and the British Queen,
the President, and other vessels of enormous size, were
launched in rapid succession. In addition to these, the
offspring of a state of peace, steam war vessels, of great
size, are daily constructing, and call for the highest in¬
genuity of the ship builders and engineers, in adapting
them for taking the advantage of their sails as well as of
their steam-paddles.
While the art Avas thus rapidly advancing, many in¬
genious men were making attempts to improve the form
of the paddle-wheels, or to substitute for them some
other impelling apparatus. Of the improvements in the
paddle-wheels themselves, Ave shall have occasion to speak
in the sequel. We shall, therefore, in this place, give some
account of the most important of the substitutes, the Archi¬
medes screw propeller. The idea of impelling a vessel
by means of a screw of a large diameter, lying in the direc¬
tion of the boat’s motion, was originated some considerable
time ago ; but its first successful application was to a ves¬
sel named the Archimedes, constructed under the direction
of the patentee of the screw, Mr Smith. From an interest¬
ing report of experiments made with this vessel by Cap¬
tain Chappell, R.N., Ave condense the folloAving statement:
—The burden of the Archimedes is 237 tons, its mean
draught of water 9 feet 4 inches. The diameter of the
engine cylinder 37 inches, and the length of stroke 3 feet.
The screw propeller consists of two half-threads of an
8 feet pitch screw, 5 feet 9 inches in diameter; each is
therefore 4 feet in length, and they are set diametrically
STEAM NAVIGATION.
692
Steam Na- opposite to each other on the propeller shaft, at an angle
vigation. of 45 degrees to the shaft. rlhe propeller is place <>n-
gitudinally in a hole cut in the dead wood, immediately
before the rudder, the keel being continued under the
screw. The average performance of the engines is 2b
strokes per minute, and the revolutions of the sciew in
the same time 138§. If there was no slip or recession,
the vessel might to advance 8 feet for every revolution ot
the screw, or 12.60 miles per hour, i he utmost speed
ever obtained by her, under the power of steam alone,
was 9.25 nautical miles per hour, showing a loss by le-
cession of rather less than J-th, under the most favourable
circumstances. It is necessary to state that the Arc n-
medes is not a fair exemplar of the screw-propelling
principle, its steam-power being insufficient to drive a
screw adapted to the size of the vessel.
The advantages of this species of propeller appear from
Captain Chappell’s statement to be these 1. It occupies
a position in the vessel in which it is not liable to injury,
and in which it materially augments the power of the helm,
enabling the vessel to be turned round and round in
circles gradually smaller, until at length it seems to re¬
volve on a pivot. 2. It retains its efficiency of action,
even in heavy seas, the rolling, pitching, or lurching o
the vessel not materially affecting it. 3. It ofters little
obstruction to the speed of the \essel, when the sails St«> ^
alone are employed. When to these are added the saving v bn.
of expense, which is said to be great, and the removing ^
the top-weight and unsightly paddle-boxes, we are of
opinion that there is enough in its favour to recommend
its further trial.
We have now traced the art of steam navigation from
its first suggestion to its present state of high perfection.
We have overlooked, it is true, much that is interesting
in the minute progression of the art; but we have en¬
deavoured to mark its greater advances. We have seen
its advancement in the short period of a quarter of a
century, from the canal boat experiment of Symington,
and the three horse steam-boat of bell, to the construction
of the monster ships, the British Queen and the President,
of 500 and 600 horse power. When, in 1820, steam¬
ships were first used for conveying merchandise, as well
as passengers, the tonnage of the whole of the steam-
traders amounted to only 505 tons. In 1S21, it amounted
to 36,194; in 1822, it had reached to 101,744 tons; and
thus advancing, it had arrived, in 1836, at the pro¬
digious amount of 5,429,226 tons. The number of ves¬
sels of the mercantile marine, with their power and ton¬
nage, is exhibited in the following table.
An Account of the Approximate Number, Tonnage, and Power of Vessels belonging to the Mercantile
Steam Marini of the United Kingdom and its dependencies, at the close of the gear in:-,'j.
SIZE OE VESSELS.
Under 50 Tons
From 50 to 100 Tons
100 „ 150 „
150 „ 200 „
200 „ 300 „
300 „ 400 „
400 „ 600 „
679 „
1,053 „
Number of vessels Regis- )
teredin 1838 . . . J
Not Registered ....
Total Number in Great 5
Britain and Ireland, >
1838  )
Isles of Guernsey, Jersey, 1
and Man, 1837 • J
British Plantations, 1S37
Total . . .
Total Number
of Vessels,
according to \
the Custom-
House
Returns in
1838.
No.
256
145
84
63
76
41
10
l
1
677
83
760
6
44
810
Total
Registered
Tonnage,
Tons.
6,106
10,267
10,034
10,982
16,654
14,247
4,488
679
1,053
74,510
4,154
78,664
832
8,411
87,937
Tonnage of
Engine-Room,
&c., not Re¬
gistered at
the Custom-
House.
Tons.
10,816
7,458
7,761
7,147
10,839
7,580
3.506
661
810
56,378
5,484
62,062
618
7,253
Total'
Computed
Tons.
16,922
17,725
17,795
18,129
27,493
21,827
7,994
1,340
1,855
131,080
9,638
140,718
1,450
15,664
69,933 | 157,840
Total
Computed
Amount
of
Horse power.
Horse power.
6,400
6,866
7,483
7,560
11,188
10,914
3,000
450
500
54,361
2,129
56,490
600
6,160
60,840
Average
Computed
Power
per
Vessel.
Horse power.
25
47
90
120
147
266
300
450
500
50
100
140
Average
Computed
Tonnage
per
Vessel.
Tons.
66
122
211
287
361
532
769
1,340
1,855
116
241
356
THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF MODERN STEAM NAVIGATION.
There is perhaps no popular error more injurious to the
welfare of a mechanical nation, like our own, than the no¬
tion that theory is opposed to practice ; and there is no
subject in which this error has ever been more disastrous
than in steam navigation, and naval architecture in general.
It is by the combination of theory and practice that most
is to be accomplished ; and it may be hazarded as a general
assertion, resting on all past experience, that the best
iromotersof the public welfare are—that theoretica m
vho has made himself best acquainted with the prac
if his art, and that practical man who has acquired
greatest knowledge of its scientific principles. 1 Here n,
lo art which does not attest this truth, and none attests
t more than steam navigation. It rs adnnHed,
>f every three steam vessels that are built, two
ar short of fulfilling the intention with which they
C a.%
STEAM NAVIGATION. 693
Na-constructed. We believe there is no error which it may
on. be possible to commit in steam navigation, that has not
^ already been perpetrated again and again.
To construct a perfect steam-vessel, it is necessary
first of all to make a perfect ship ; secondly, to construct
a perfect steam-engine and boilers of a very complex
description ; thirdly, to apply a propelling apparatus of
the most appropriate description ; and finally, to com¬
bine all of these in a perfect and well-proportioned
whole. Now, to construct a perfect ship, is itself a
problem of the highest order, requiring a combina¬
tion of the most profound resources of analysis, with
the highest practical sagacity; a problem on which
the reasoning of the mathematician, and the tact of the
artist, have long been engaged, with few examples of
complete success. To construct a sufficient, effective,
powerful, durable, and safe engine and boilers for marine
purposes, is a problem more easy, yet one in which there
has been encountered continual failure. Then, the means
of propelling the vessel over the element on which it
floats, give rise to questions in the resistance of fluids
which all the resources of hydrodynamic science, in the
hands of the ablest mechanical philosophers of the last
century, have failed to resolve. Then, last of all, the
combination of all of these together, in the best possible
way to bring about the precise effect desired, is a problem
still more arduous ; and all the skill of the analyst, the
geometer, the mechanical philosopher, of the naval archi¬
tect, the engineer, the mechanic, and the sailor, if com¬
bined in a single individual, or concentrated on a single
object, are not more than sufficient to the arduous task
of directing the wealth, enterprise, and resources of this
country, in the attempt to render available to her own
prosperity, and the interests of the human race, this
most admirable of all her creations.
In the following enquiry, we shall soon see that nei¬
ther practical experience without systematized know¬
ledge, nor superficial theory ignorant of practical wants
and practical means, will suffice to ensure success. Both
physical science and practical sagacity will, in the art
of steam navigation, find enough to exhaust their united
resources.
We regret that we cannot record in the present work,
that at this day the science of steam navigation is con¬
structed and can be presented to our readers. Even the
elementary principles of hydrodynamics are yet to be
learned, before we can apply them to the ends of steam
navigation. What seems the law of a fluid to-day, to¬
morrow shows to be a plausible fiction, or doubtful
verisimilitude. How then can it be expected that a
science should be determined, when its very founda¬
tions are yet to be laid ? We shall, however, endea¬
vour to generalize what we with certainty know, con¬
vinced that a clear statement of our ignorance is often the
stepping-stone to truth. The steam-ship consists of three
integrant parts : the marine-engine, with its boilers, by
which the moving power is furnished ; the propelling ap¬
paratus, by which it is rendered locomotive ; and the ship
itself, which contains both. We shall consider each
apart, and then their combination.
The Marine Steam-Engine.—The marine steam-en¬
gine is of a structure more complex than the common
xed steam-engine, inasmuch as its function is locomotive,
an,d ^ difters from a land-engine in those peculiarities
which adapt it to the unstable nature of its support. He
who looks at the ponderous masses of matter that form
and sustain the shock of a powerful engine on land, the
cams of iron, the blocks of stone, the deep buttresses,
n the powerful walls which form its bed, on which it is
a(jlisted at once with the greatest accuracy and power,
and which it nevertheless causes to quiver and tremble Steam Na-
by its giant strokes, will readily understand the incre- vigation.
dulity with which the first projectors of steam naviga-
tion were regarded.
The earliest application of the steam-engine was to the
pumping of water. We find that when it was first used
to the effect of making machinery revolve, the great lever
of the pumping-engine was retained. So was it in the
application of the steam-engine to navigation ; and the
marine steam-engine, most generally used at the present
day, both here and in America, is called the beam-en¬
gine, or lever-engine.
The first of the following diagrams represents the
beam-engine, or lever-engine, as used on land to turn
round machinery ; the second represents the lever-engine,
as used in America to give revolution to the paddle-
wheels of a steam-boat; and the third represents the
lever-engine of British steam-vessels.
Fig. 1. Fig. 2.
In all of these figures, S represents the place of the
steam-cylinder, in which, by the alternate action of the
steam on opposite sides of the piston P, that and the
piston-rod P B are forced alternately to the top and
bottom of the cylinder; and so the end of the lever or
great beam B B is carried up and down around the
centre M, carrying with it the connecting rod KB', by
whose reciprocation the crank-pin K, of the crank radius
K X, is carried round on the great revolving shaft X;
which, in the case of the marine engine, is the axis of
the paddle-wheel, and in the case of the stationary en¬
gine, is the axis only of the fly-wheel. V is the place of
the valves by which steam is admitted from the boiler
into the cylinder, and, after having done its duty, is
educted into the condenser C, where, by a jet of cold
water constantly playing, it is immediatelycondensed into
water of the seventeen-hundredth part of its bulk, and
so leaves the cylinder empty, i. e. nearly a perfect va¬
cuum ; and as this condensing receptacle would soon,
by the jet of cold water flowing into it, and the accumu¬
lation of condensed steam, be filled with water and its
evolved gases, the air and water are pumped out at each
stroke of the engine by the air-pump A, worked from
the lever or working-beam B B, and so the vacuum is
kept perfect and the condenser effective. The feed¬
pump b replenishes the boiler G with some of the water
extracted from the condenser, at a temperature of about
90°, and so supplies the deficiency caused by the con-
694
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Differ¬
ence be¬
tween the
Marine
Steam Na- tinual evaporation of tlie water, at the rate of G gallons
vigation, for eac]x horse power every hour.
The differences between the arrangements of the ma¬
rine steam-engine used in Great Britain, and the land
steam-engine, are chiefly these: the lever or great
„ . beam, which, in the land-engine, is above the top ot the
Sw and engine, and which in large engines is generally composed
the Land of a pair of thin deep beams of cast-iron, united side by
Engine. side into one ; this single beam is brought down m the
marine engine to the bottom of the engine, or rat.ier
one-half of the great beam is placed on either side of the
cylinder, the two being connected together from the op¬
posite sides of the engine, so as to act simultaneously^ as
a single lever. This form of engine, sometimes applied
to other purposes as well as to navigation, is called, from
this disposition of the working beam, the side lever
engine.
Another peculiarity in the marine-engine, sometimes
however adopted in land-engines, is the place and ai-
rangement of the condenser C, which, instead of being
placed in a cistern of water, is set immediately on the
centre of ihe engine, the condensation being wholly
effected by the play of the jet of water in the interior of
the condenser, Avithout surrounding its external surface
Avith cold water, as in the stationary engine. When
thus placed, the condenser has also the advantage of giving
support to the main centre of the engine, around which
the levers move in giving revolution to the paddle-wheels.
Before proceeding further Avith this article, the reader
is requested to make himself familiar with the parts and
arrangements of the engine already described, by refer¬
ring to the plates of the marine-engines given at the end,
and to the descriptions of them.
It Avill be observed that the air-pump A is generally
placed on the side of the engine furthest from the cylin¬
der. This arrangement is convenient in point of room,
and keeps the moving parts of the engine itself more
perfectly in equilibrio.
Beside the air-pump is generally placed the feed-pump,
designed to force Avater out of the air-pump or dis¬
charge-pipe into the boiler. This is the general dis¬
position of parts, which the reader will easily be able to
recognise in the plates given with this article.
Although the leA^er-engine is the form most commonly
employed for marine purposes, it is by no means the
only form. Very many attempts have been made to
obtain engines more compact and of less weight and
bulk than the lever-engine. These are distinguished
from the lever-engines by the names vertical engines,
steeple-engines, and engines of direct connexion. It is
still doubtful whether any of them, except in very pecu¬
liar circumstances, are practically to be preferred to the
lever-engine ; on the contrary, objections of a serious
nature are alleged against them.
We have already seen that the first steam-boat, the
Comet of Mr Bell, had a vertical engine. It Avas re¬
marked of this vessel that the strain of the engine on the
vessel Avas very small; but this has been attributed to the
low proportion of power to the tonnage of the vessel.
diate connexion have been recently tried on a larger
scale ; but the method has the disadvantages of admit- V1? 3n-
ting only a short stroke and a short connecting rod, and ^
requires that the height of the axis above the bottom of
the cylinder should be at least three times the length
of the stroke. Thus, one of the extremes, too short a
connecting rod, too short a stroke, or a paddle-axis too
high above the floor of the vessel, is incurred.
To obtain the same object Avithout incurring those
evils, many descriptions of engine have been contrived.
The following admits of placing the paddle-axis at little
more than double the height of the stroke of the en¬
gine, and gives a connecting rod of lb or 2 times the
stroke. The piston-rod P is inserted into a cross-head
d d, to the extremities of which tAVO vertical rods d e,
d e, are attached. With the lower extremities of these
rods the side-rods gf gf are connected; the upper ends
of these side-rods are attached to the cross-head g g, to
the centre of Avhich the crank-rod is attached.
Fig. 4.
Fi<r. 5.
Fig. 6.
Fijr. 7.
fpPn
cr
This species of engine has the great disadvantages of
a multiplicity of shafts, bearings, and cranks. It AATas
afterwards simplified by Mr David Napier in the manner
represented in the following figures ; Ariz. by uniting into
one forked cross-head each cross-head Avith its side-
rods.
Fig. 8.
Fig. 9.
The first steam-vessel
Avhose engines Ave had
the pleasure of seeing,
had a pair of vertical
engines, made by Gutz-
mer of Leith; the paddle-
shaft B being directly
over the axis of the
cylinders A, as in figs. 4.
and 5.
Modifications of this
plan of direct or imme-
Even thus, however, limits are placed on the length of
stroke and height of shaft, so as to give rise ^
venience in many circumstances. 1 fnllow-
evils, Mr Napier appears to have invented j
ing class of engines, to which the cant term of steeply
engines appears to be sufficiently appropria .
steeple-engine the piston-rod - a
cated, so as, passing round the shaft, to ris 0 con_
considerable height, from which again , • ti,at
necting rod to the crank. The following e^mple
Stffli
rig;
Vert
Mari
STEAM NAVIGATION.
695
a-of the engine of a vessel named the Clyde, the first of
!■ the kind we ever saw :—
J
Fk. 17.
Fi<r. 18.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
A £=5/1
Fig. 10.
Fig. j2.
Fig. II.
Hum¬
phrey’s
Engine.
be called the trunk-en¬
gine. The axis is placed
at the height of half the
stroke, or more, above the
cylinder, and a connect¬
ing rod unites immedi¬
ately the crank-pin with
the centre of the piston. In this way
the connecting rod, passing through the
top of the cylinder, would allow the steam
to escape but for a large trunk or casing
with which it is surrounded, and which,
passing through a chasm of large area
conceived to be steam-tight, rises and
falls with the piston to which it is at¬
tached. In fig 17, A A is the cylinder: to its piston is
attached a trunk B, which works through a stuffing-
box in the cylinder cover ; to the piston the connecting
rod c c is attached. Fig. 18 represents the top of the
cylinder A A, with its stuffing-box and the trunk B.
For a like purpose, oscillating cylinders have been
used with some measure of success. Rotatory engines
have been unsuccessfully tried. The reader may now
examine the vertical engines in the plates.
In short, it does not appear that any vessel, either on
a large or small scale, constructed with an engine differ¬
ent from the ordinary side lever engine, has been found
to be practically superior to it; and therefore we shall
for the future speak of the lever-engine of the ordinary
The top of the piston-rod carries a quadripartite cross- construction, when we treat of the marine steam-
head A /i, on each end of which stands a pillar h h ; these engine, unless when another species is expressly men-
four pillars again unite in another quadruple cross- tioned. The lever-engine possesses three advantages of
head, sustained upright by a vertical guide ; and it is an important nature :—first, its parts are nearly in equi-
from this summit that a connecting rod descends to the librio; secondly, its basis embraces a large part of the
crank A. We believe that this principle of continuing vessel’s bottom for strength; thirdly, the lever presents
the piston-rod round the axis by a forked frame was first great facility for working its appendages.
devised, at the end of the last century, by Trevithic, The Cylinder of the Marine Steam-Engine.—The cy-0yj;n(jer
the famous high-pressure engineer, and by him applied Tinder of the steam-engine being that portion of its ap-the‘Marine
to steam-carriages,
tions
It is drawn in his patent specifica- paratus, by means of which the elastic force of the steam Engine.
is directly applied to the mechanical arrangements by
which the force of the machine is developed, is there¬
fore the principal member of the engine, on the size of
which its powers and the dimensions of the other parts
seen united to a triangular frame, from the apex of depend.
which the connecting rod descends to the crank. In It is according to the dimensions of the cylinder that
16, this frame is shown to be square, and fig. 13 is an engine receives its denomination, and is bought or
the side view of both varieties. ' 11 * ’ ' ” 1 '*'v ^ ^ 1
After passing through a great variety of phases, the
steeple-engine appears to have settled down into the two
following shapes. In figs. 14 and 15, the piston-rod is
Fig. 13. Fig. 14. Fig. 15. Fig. 16.
nother method of accomplishing the direct connec-
ion without encumbering the deck, has twice been pa-
n e • m the last instance by Mr Humphreys. It may
sold. An engine is called a 10, 20, 50, or 100 horse¬
power engine, according to the number of inches in the
diameter of the cylinder. It is not to be expected, howr~
ever, that every steam-engine will develope the power
of a given number of horses, simply because it has a
cylinder of a given number of inches. This depends
equally on the proper proportion, construction, and con¬
dition of all the other parts, without which the engine
will be incapable of doing its proper duty. The engines
of some makers will develope double the power of those
made by inferior engineers, even although in name and
dimensions identical. Hence, the dimension of cylinder
is taken according to a rule somewhat arbitrary, of the
value both dynamical and pecuniary of the engine under
the term nominal power; and the actual efficiency of the
engine under given circumstances, is called the real or
effective power. Hence an ambiguity is incurred in
speaking of the relative powers of engines, when it is
not determined whether the real or nominal power is
referred to. An engine of 100 horse power, which ought
to be capable of giving out an effective power of 100
horses, may, from bad workmanship, bad arrangements,
or modified circumstances, only give out the real power
of 50 horses; and an engine of the same dimension of
696
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Cylinder
of the
Marine
Engine.
cylinder, and of the same nominal power, but of better
construction, may give out, and frequently does give
out, real and effective power equal to that of 150 horses.
Real or effective power, and nominal or mercantile
power, are seldom identical, and should always be dis¬
tinguished from each other.
Even the nominal or mercantile standard of power is
not so perfectly invariable as may be desired. It varies a
few inches according to the practice or policy o t le
engineer, who is frequently called upon to give an inch
or two more in his mercantile dimensions, than the strict
letter of his agreement might demand. Another cause
of variation is this, that some engineers will prefer to
sell a larger actual dimension under the name of a less
number of horse power, that their engines of a given
nominal power may apparently do more work than those
of other people. It is a third cause of variation, that
some engine-makers give more than the actual dimen¬
sion belonging to the power, in order that, under even
the most unfavourable circumstances, the possessors of
the engine may derive from it more than the full measure
of the actual effective power which they require.
This table shows that the power of the steam-engine Steak- ,
vorkhllxr than the area of the cvlinder nr- virJ
J. Ills l/dlUItj ollv »» *3 UllMiU V* V* £ ^ '
increases more rapidly than the area of the cylinder or vig ;n
the square of the diameter. By the rule of the square of ^ J
the diameter, the power of an engine of 74 inches would r .-I
me uiaiuetei, mo jjvjrTc*. v.. .... — . -    "''“•'iCyli
be about 200 instead of about 225; and 100 inches dia-
V 1 1      -w-V w-w. .-fc — Vv . 4- ♦ 1 * /V f**   ..
oe auuui, Z.UU JllBtocrvA u.   > *    
meter would give only 333 horse power ; but the same Mar
rule would give too small a diameter for the lower Engl
powers. We believe that engines of the dimensions of
this table will all work to more than their nominal
power.
The best proportion between the diameter of theLenJ
cylinder and the length of the stroke, has been the sub-stroi
ject of much dispute, and of opposite practice. In Ame¬
rica, a diameter of 40 inches is sometimes combined with
a stroke of 10 or 11 feet, being more than double the
length given in this country. On the Clyde, we have
seen the opposite extreme, a diameter of GO inches with
a stroke of only 4 feet. For sea-going ships, the pro¬
portions we have given are the most convenient. In
deviating from this proportion, a longer stroke will be
preferable to a shorter ; and with the necessary altera¬
tions required for high velocities of piston, a longer stroke
working the steam expansively is likely to be attended
with many advantages.
By means of a long stroke or great velocity of piston,
considerable advantages are gained. The pressure upon
the journals and working parts of the engine, and the
consequent strain, is lessened in proportion to a given
power. All the parts of the engine might be lighter
than with a shorter stroke and a greater diameter of
cylinder. A short stroke has however this advantage,
that with a given length ot lever and connecting rod,
the angles of oblique pressure are smaller, and the
intervals of time between maximum and minimum pres¬
sure are shorter. There are other peculiarities of
smaller importance. On the whole, a longer stroke
than that of the present British engine, as given in the
table, is to be reckoned considerably preferable to a
shorter one.
The velocity of the piston in the cylinder of a steam-
engine is generally reckoned in this country at 220 feet a-
minute, and all the arrangements of the engine and its
work are made on that principle. We can find no better
reason for this than that a horse going at that speed,
viz. two miles an hour, can draw 150 lbs. eight hours
a-day, all the year round. Tredgold finds it to be a
law of nature. It is strange how much this arbitrary
dogma, transmitted without question, has retarded the
improvement of steam navigation. It is a rule as uni¬
versal in its acceptation as it is groundless and inju¬
rious. With large condensers, and large ports and valves,
double the speed may be employed with great advantage.
The Condenser and ^*>-P«mju.-The condenser isCo
the most wonderful part of the marine-engine, as indeedanf-
of the ordinary steam-engine. It is here that the wholeH •'
The following table has been constructed from a
comparison of the practice of the most eminent marine
steam-engine makers, with the principles of their con¬
struction. But under the dimensions given, the engines
of best construction will give out from one-fourth to one-
third more than their nominal power. We know, tor
example, that a cylinder of 74 inches diameter has been
constructed under the designation of 200 horses, whereas
its proper nominal power is above 225 horses, and its
actual effective power, as given out in the ship, was
more than 300 horses. The contraction H.P. is gener¬
ally used instead of the words horse power.
Table of the Dimensions of the Cylinder of a Marine
Steam-Engine of given Horse power.
Nominal Power.
10 H.P.
15 „
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
60
70
80’
90
100
110
115
125
130
150
165*
175
200
225
250
OS
Dimensions of Cylinder.
Diameter (within.)
20 Inches.
24
Length of Stroke.
2 Feet 0 In.
300
350
400
500
27
30
32
34
36
38
40
43
46
49
52
55
57
57
59
60
62
65
66
70
73
76
79
82
87
92
100
3
4
4
4
4
5
5
5
5
6
6
6
6
6
7
7
7
7
8
8
9
10
2
6
10
2
3
6
9
0
3
6
9
0
6
6
9
0
0
3
6
6
0
3
6
9
0
6
2
0
of the ordinary steam-engine. It is Here ^
process carried on in the boiler in so En.
process carneu uu m me ... — .
much expense, is instantly reversed, and all_its laborious
effects at once, as it were, annihilated. It is the in.ta
taneity of condensation that is its virtue: without tins
the whole of its virtue in the steam-engine is os • Jj
pose a condenser capable of condensing t le s
fast as it is generated by the boiler, and given off m
the cylinder, and no faster, what would be the come
quence? The power of the engine wouid cease, W
elastic force of {he steam above the atmosphere would
alone act, the steam being only condense P
carried it out of the cylinder ; the engine d b^e
nothing else in power but a high-pressure e g ^
steam is merely condensed before gf™g ^
atmosphere. It is by forming a perfect va
STEAM NAVIGATION.
697
Att< f5
toet
conii
lion |'1-
cut i
Bon I ser.
Size 'the
condier.
Vari
mod! i
ivhic lie
injee
fy
cylinder on the moment when the steam is about to
enter on the opposite side, that the full power of the
steam can alone be obtained in useful effect. A perfect
condenser must, therefore, have much greater capability
than that of merely condensing the steam as fast as the
boiler is capable of evacuating it, or the engine of
passing it through.
We have insisted the more strongly on this point,
inasmuch as it is here principally that power is to be
gained at smallest expense. Many other modes of con¬
densation have been tried besides condensation by jet,
and without effect. Newcomen tried to condense by
cold water outside his condenser; so did Savary, so did
Watt, so did Cartwright, so did Napier on the Clyde,
so did Stevens of Hoboken in America, so did Trevi-
thic, Symington, Mills, arid many others; but without
success: for though they all succeeded so far as, by hav¬
ing cold water on the outside of the vessels, to condense
the steam in the inside, yet this condensation by con¬
tact, however perfect in quantity, has always been
slower in time than condensation by jet, and has conse¬
quently failed in developing the full power of the engine.
In this list we have not mentioned the name of the
ingenious and enterprising Mr Hall of Basford, as he
still continues to persevere against the difficulty of in¬
troducing successfully into use the system which has baf¬
fled the efforts of his predecessors; and perhaps his
uttempt may be attended with a higher degree of suc¬
cess than theirs.
It appears difficult to assign a volume to the con¬
denser which shall give it most efficiency. We have
seen efficient condensers from one-fourth of the volume
of the cylinder up to its full size. One-half the volume
of the cylinder appears to be a size sufficiently con¬
venient and effective.
The proper distribution of the water forming the jet,
throughout the whole volume of the condenser, seems
the most important point of efficacy in the condenser.
Some engineers accomplish this by allowing the water
to rise from the bottom of the condenser in sl jet d’ean,
which striking the top, falls down in a shower, filling
the whole condenser; others make this shower radiate
in all directions from a perforated horizontal pipe ; and
a third most effective method is, to spread out the jet
in a thin film or sheet, like a waterfall, through which
the steam is compelled to pass. In marine engines, the
water is permitted to flow into the condenser through
a pipe in the ship’s side, regulated by a cock,
p Much has been said regarding the perfection of the
vacuum found in the condenser of a steam-engine, espe-
L cially a marine engine. It does not appear to be known
that a vacuum may be too good. We hear it boasted
every day by rival engineers that their engines have the
best vacuum. Some boast their vacuum at 27 inches,
others at 28, others at 29, some at 30, and at last an
engineer appears who boasts a vacuum of 30^ inches.
It is to be regretted that time and talent should be thus
wasted. It is a fact of great importance, confirmed by
experiment and by practice, that a vacuum may be too
good, and become a loss instead of a gain. The truth
is simply this, and should be known to every engineer :
fff/ie barometer stand at 29|- inches, the standard of this
country, the vacuum in the condenser is too good
jit raise in the barometer more than 28 inches of mer -
cury.' This important truth is incontrovertible, and is
practically exhibited every day.
fhe following is a simple proof of this doctrine, di-
'ested as far as possible of” a technical form, and put in
the shape of an enquiry into the best state of a con¬
denser.
V°L. xx.
Let t = the caloric of water of 1°. Steam Na-
c — the constituent caloric of water in the state vlgation.
of steam.
e rr the total force of steam in the boiler in inches
of mercury;
and x = the elastic force of steam at the temperature
of best condensation which we seek to dis¬
cover.
Then from the law which connects the elastic force of
steam with temperature, as already determined in the
article Steam, it follows, that in the case of maximum
effect, or the temperature of best condensation,
t x . et
—— —• that is xzz —
c e c
now cz= 1000, and if the steam in the boiler be at 5 lbs.
above the atmosphere, or if e = 40 inches of mercury,
and t = 1,
40
'r“]ooo = 0'04
Again, if the steam be at 7^ lbs. zr 45 inches,
45
*=Iooo = 0-045
Again, if the steam be at 10 lbs. — 50 inches,
x— —-Q05 *
*-1000-U-U5
Hence, we find that the best elasticity or temperature
in the condenser depends on the elastic force of the
steam in the boiler.
With steam of 5 lbs. in the boiler, the elasticity of
maximum effect in the condenser is at 930 of Fahrenheit,
and the best vacuum in the barometer is 28. With
steam of 7^ lbs. in the boiler, the elasticity of maximum
effect in the condenser is 95° of Fahrenheit, and the
best vacuum in the barometer is 27.8. With steam of 10
lbs. in the boiler, the elasticity of maximum effect in
the condenser is 97", and the best vacuum in the baro¬
meter is 27.5. In like manner it would be found that
with steam of 50 lbs. in the boiler, worked expansively,
as in Cornwall, the best vacuum in the condenser would
be about 26° on the barometer.
It is hoped, therefore, that engineers will not in fu¬
ture distress themselves, at finding the vacuum of their
condenser much less perfect than the vacuum of others
who have obtained 30, and 301 inches, at so great a loss
of fuel and power. To obtain a vacuum of 291 with
the weather-glass at 29.75, and steam at 71 lbs., "would
be to sacrifice four horse power out of every hundred.
In a day when the barometer is as low as 281 inches,
the vacuum in the condenser should indicate 2G.8.
In speaking of the vacuum in the condenser, it would
save much ambiguity to indicate the elasticity merely of
the gas in the condenser. Thus, if the baimmeter stands
without at 291, and the barometer of the condenser at 28,
it might be stated that the steam in the condenser stands at
1-^-, beingthe pointof maximum effect; andthe indication
would at all times convey more precise information.
An air-pump is an appendage rendered necessary by Air-pump
the condenser, and especially by condensation by jet marine
d’eau. Ordinary water contains about 5 per cent. 0fenSines'
air and other gases, which become disengaged in the
condenser, and must be withdrawn, to maintain the
vacuum. Hence the air-pump, which is also used to
withdraw the water which accumulates in the conden¬
ser. A valve between it and the condenser is called
the foot valve ; and a valve at the exit from the top of
the air-pump is cnlled the discharge valve. They are
thus arranged : S the cylinder, C the condenser, A the
air-pump, F the foot valve, and D the discharge valve.
4 x
698
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Fig. 19.
sages.
Various
kinds of
in marine
engines.
The four-port slide valve is a recent invention, having Steai -
been the subject of a patent so lately as 1833. Since that ’'r%:r 'a
time they have been used to a considerable extent in ^ j
one part of Scotland. The same kind of valve was Tim
subsequently patented by another party in England, and port
these valves were put on board of some of her Majesty’s valve:
frigates. The following figures represent the four-port
slide valve, in two positions. A the cylinder; pp the
piston ; S the steam-pipe; VVVV the slide valves. The
arrows show the direction of the steam.
Fig. 22.
Fig. 23.
The dimensions of the air-pump seem to vary much,
from l to } of the volume of the steam-cylinder. I do not
know any disadvantage of importance in having a large
air-pump; as, if properly constructed, the force which is
required to work it will be nearly in the proportion of
the elasticity of the gas which it has to remove from
the condenser. To give the air-pump half the stroke of
the cylinder and ^ of the area of the cylinder, or } of
the stroke of the cylinder and ^ the area of the cylinder,
are common proportions.
„ . The Valves and Valve Passages—The notion that
valves and because a horse can do most work at the rate of 2\
valve pas. miles an hour, or 220 feet a minute, therefore a steam-
engine should also move at that rate, is a prescriptive
error almost ridiculous; but from which it will never¬
theless be difficult for us to escape, especially as the pro¬
portions generally in use are derived from this absurd
dogma. There is no doubt that the passages and valves
should simply be as large as possible, and those valves
should be used which can be most enlarged with least
inconvenience. Such valves we possess in the class of
equilibrium valves. These valves may have an area as
large as the tenth-part of the cylinder without disad¬
vantage, and the velocity of the piston may thus be in¬
creased, and consequently the power of the engine, with
great advantage, especially in steam navigation. We
have the best possible means of knowing, that with pro¬
per valves and passages, the speed of the piston may
very advantageously be increased to 250, 300, 400, and
500 feet a minute. The pistons of the swiftest vessels
in the world move at that rate.
The kind of valve most commonly in use in steam-
vessels is the long D-slide, as it is called; and next to
valves used that is the short I)-slide. There are scarcely any other
kinds in use in Britain. A valve called the four-port
slide valve has been used to a limited extent, as have
also conical valves, and equilibrium valves, or double heat
valves in this country, the latter very extensively in
America. The following are diagrams of the long and
short D-slides.
Fig. 20. Fig. 21.
The D-’
slide valve.
the article Steam-Engine.
The size of the valves is a matter of some conse¬
quence. That the valves, passages, and ports by which
the steam enters the cylinder should allow a free pas¬
sage of gV of the area of the cylinder, is an old and pretty
general rule. It is equally certain, however, that the
eduction valves, ports, and passages by which the steam
enters the condenser should be much larger. They
have been made and y\jth of the area of the cylin¬
der with advantage, in the case of high velocity of the
piston.
The Eccentric—The valves, by means of which theTlie
steam is alternately admitted to the cylinder on oneEccejSi
side, and educted from the other side, into the condenser,
are moved by the machine itself; and the very simple
and beautiful automatic contrivance for that purpose is
called the eccentric.
We have already described the actions of the eccen-itspji
trie in the article Steam-Engine. In the marine en-inma p
gine it is placed on the axis of the paddle wheels. JnenSmk
fig. 24 its usual arrangement is shown, and in the Plates
many examples will be found.
Fig. 24.
As the shaft A moves round, it is plain that the pro¬
jection of the eccentric, first on one side of the shaft and
then on the other side, will draw the eccentric rod in op¬
posite directions; and the distance of the centre of the
eccentric from the centre of the shaft, will be placed now
on one side and now on another side of the axis. The
motion thus produced is called the throw of the eccen¬
tric ; and half the throw is equal to the eccentricity.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
699
:i Na- An importiint point in setting the valves is what is called
tion. the lead on the centres. What is the best instant of time
' at which to allow the steam to enter or escape from the
l ^ofcylinder ? At first sight we should say, precisely at the
I jives- instant of reversing the direction of the motion. This
is not the case. Great advantage is gained by letting
the steam out of the condenser before the end of the
stroke. A little of the force of the steam in the cylinder
may thus be sacrificed ; but it is a very little, say ^th of
the stroke, and is much more than compensated by
this, that the steam escaping thus early into the con¬
denser, time is allowed for effectual condensation, and
there is an excellent vacuum in the cylinder by the time
Avhen the back-stroke begins. In like manner, the steam-
port may be slightly opened before the engine comes to
the centre; and as there are vacuities at the top of the
cylinders to be filled, and as time is wanting for the
passage of the steam, this is allowed. By the same
means also the steam is cut off a little before coming to
the end of the stroke, which allows the engine to work
expansively; and the vacuum port may in like manner be
shut, as the vapour will have been perfectly condensed
in the cylinder long before the end of the stroke. Much
of the efficiency of an engine depends on the adjustment
of the slide.
The eccentric of the marine engine is generally a
loose eccentric, capable of turning the valves either so
as to give the engine motion forwards or backwards.
By placing the eccentric loose upon the axis, only with
a projection on one side, which is carried round by a
corresponding projection on the axis, it is left free, ex¬
cept when this check comes in contact with the projec¬
tion at either end of the stroke. To effect this, it is
necessary to open the valves by hand through at least
one half-stroke.
The Hand-Gear.—The hand-gear is generally a lever
or series of levers, which enables the engineer to shut
and open the valves by hand before placing them in con¬
nexion with the eccentric. By this means he places the
machine either in the condition to keep moving forwards
or backwards. For examples see the Plates.
The Expansive Valves—It is of advantage to cut off
Ec itric
in rine
rll is
loc on
the aft.
a part of the steam which would be required to fill the
cylinder, so as to allow that quantity which has partly
filled it to expand with its elastic force, and fill the rest
of the cylinder without further supply from the boiler.
The advantage of doing this, especially in long voyages,
has now become pretty generally known. A stop-
Fig. 25.
valve V, fig. 25,
is placed on the
steam-pipe S S',
before it joins the
casing of the com¬
mon valves, which
are applied as
usual. The prin¬
cipal axis A of the
engine carries a
cam, with two pro¬
jections caoropor-
tioned in nreadth
to the extent of
the stroke which is cut off. On this cam rolls a small
pulley 6, pressed close by a weight w; and by a simple
connecting rod the cam opens and shuts the valve with
great velocity twice in each revolution. On this cam
here may be various grades at which the steam may be
• mnhe stroke of the engine. This apparatus is
atM m all vessels calculated for long voyages.
he Propot tion of Powev to 1 onnuge.—Large power
or small power has always been one of the vexatce ques- Steam Na-
tiones of steam navigation. The early steam-boat en- vigation.
gines had but a small power proportioned to the ton-
nage of the vessels in which they were placed. The Proper-
Comet had 25 tons burden and only three horse power; tion of
being about one horse power to eight tons, or a pro- power to ’
portion of power to tonnage amounting to one-eighth, tonnage, j
On this subject modem practice and modern opinion
seem to offer no guide. A low proportion of power
and a high proportion of power have both their advo¬
cates. The East India Company have advocated and
used low proportions of power to tonnage, and in this
they appear to have followed the general maxims of
southern engineers. The Government also appears to
have adopted the same course ; but without going to the
same extreme. The Clyde engineers adopt the oppo¬
site maxim, and place as much power in their vessels as
can be conveniently applied. There appears at the pre¬
sent moment to be a strong feeling in favour of a high
proportion of power to tonnage. It has been found by
some of the best mercantile companies, that a high pro¬
portion is not only better for expedition, but also more
economical of fuel and of capital than a smaller propor¬
tion ; and instances are frequent of an increase in the
power of a steam-vessel, producing a diminution in the
consumption of fuel.
As this question is becoming every day of greater
importance, it is proper to examine it carefully. In the
first place, it is well known that the proportion of power
must be very much increased to gain a given increase of
speed. Thus, if 120 horse power propel a vessel through
water five miles an hour, it will require forty horse¬
power to propel the same vessel ten miles an hour, or it
will require a quadruple power to obtain a double speed;
and, in like manner, it will require a ninefold power to
triple the speed. In fact, the increased speed requires
an increased power in a duplicate ratio of the increased
speed; or if the speeds be as the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
9, 10, &e., the powTer required to attain those speeds
must be 1, 4, 9, 15, 25, 81, 100 horses ; or according to
the well known law of the resistance of fluids, the re¬
sistance which the water opposes to increased speed is
nearly in the duplicate proportion of the speed. Thus,
to increase the speed in a given proportion, the fire of
the engine and the consumption of fuel, which is nearly
as the power of the engine, must be increased in a very
high proportion. Hence the seeming great economy of
a lowr power of engine and a small consumption of fuel.
Thus a large power of engine occupies much of
the useful space of the vessel, which might have been
filled with cargo. It consumes much coal, and the speed
is by no means proportioned to the expense of fuel and
machinery. But this is a very limited view of the sub¬
ject. If time as an element, and a very important one
in the value of mercantile conveyance, be calculated,
then it will in many cases be found, that high speed at
any expense of fuel ivill compensate for that expense.
This is the case to a great extent in Britain, and
especially in America, where a quarter of a mile an hour
between the speed of two vessels ruins the fortunq
of one owner, and makes the fortune of another. But
it is not on the value of speed at the present day, that
we proceed in this enquiry ; that can at once be appre¬
ciated by the local peculiarities of a given case. We are
to enquire what may be the best proportion of power
to tonnage in sea-going vessels, apart from the mere
price of speed in the market.
We have seen that the lowest speed in a steam-vessel
is the most economical, and that it requires great and
expensive additions of power to gain high velocities.
700
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Propor¬
tion of
power to
tonnage i
steam-
vessels.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
But in arriving at this conclusion, we have taken only the
case of smooth and still water. Here it is obvious that the
slowest rate and smallest power will he most economical;
hut it should be remembered that the great purposes
of steam are generally of a different nature from the
mere generation ot motion through a quiescent fluid.
The force of adverse winds and waves is to be opposed,
stream-tides and currents are to be stemmed ; and it is
the success of steam in conquering those obstacles, and
obtaining regularity and speed in spite of them, which
constitutes its superiority over wind or animal power in
navigation.
Now, if we take a simple case of one of these, we
shall soon find that a higher proportion of power to ton¬
nage may be essential, not only to speed, but even to
economy. Suppose a steam-boat with a small propor¬
tion of power, capable of propelling the vessel at the ve¬
locity of three miles an hour through still water, to be
applied to stem a current ot three miles an hour, is it
not plain that the vessel would make no head way, and
thus a low proportion of power would burn an immense
quantity of coal in doing nothing but standing still ?
Let us again suppose that the same vessel, capable of
steaming three miles an hour, meets with a moderately
strong breeze opposed to her, such as prevents her fiom
making any progress at all against it; then it is plain
that by the continuation of this breeze, the vessel burning
a continual supply of fuel would consume an indefinite
quantity of coal in standing still. This extreme case of
too little power, shows that there is at least one propor¬
tion of power, which is too small for economy of fuel;
viz , that proportion which, being very economical of
fuel in fine weather, is brought up altogether by adverse
winds. In this case, the consumption of fuel is rendered
indefinite, and the useful effect of fuel completely anni¬
hilated by too small a proportion of power.
As, then, we have plainly established the existence of
a limit to diminution of power, in the vicinity of which
it must be followed by extravagant consumption of fuel,
we may now proceed to investigate the question of best
proportion, or the point where the attainment of high
speed is accompanied by absolute saving of fuel as
compared to lower velocity. For this purpose, we
merely take it for granted that the speed through
the water will be nearly as the square root ot the
power, according to the general law of the resistance
of fluids ; that the resistance offered by bad weather
or adverse winds has been ascertained and is de¬
termined on a particular station : that is, that it is
known that on a given station a given vessel with a given
power makes a voyage in adverse circumstances in,
suppose, double the time of her most prosperous voyage;
say her most prosperous voyage is in fourteen days, and
her adverse voyage in twenty-four days, being a retard¬
ing power of ten days out of twenty-four ; we take this
retardation of ten days as the measure of the retarding
power of adverse weather in the given circumstances.
And further, let the following quantities be thus re¬
presented :—
f- Tc h 1
v
f =zkh s
v'
a given quantity,
a given quantity.
and
- k h!-
hence f" =
J v"
sh) y
ffp: on, j
'Hy
f>ra lion
offer
to t iag8
in s q,
vesF.
t atr
Putting/'" — h' — x, and differentiating, we get
du
dx
whence by reduction, in the case of a minimum, we ob¬
tain the value
x 2 h —
.(A.)
Whence we obtain the very simple rule for finding the
best proportion of power to tonnage : From the square of
the velocity of any given vessel in good weather, subtract
the square of the velocity of the same vessel in the worst
iveather, divide the difference by the square of the velocity
in good iveather, and the quotient multiplied into double
the horse-power of the said vessel will give the power
which would propel the same vessel in the same circum¬
stances ivith the smallest quantity of fuel.
We have also from (A) h' -=z 2 h ^ v
(B) v" = s/2 (v2 — v’fz
(C) vr" = (y — v'fz
m/" = vs ~<y
■ v,r)1
(E) /" =
(F) r -
y 2 (a2 — v12)
(GK =
Let h be the power, v the velocity, / the fuel]k
consumed, t the time in good weather, (vessel! on1
Let h' be the power, v' the velocity,/' the fuel f
consumed, i' the time in bad weather, )
Let A" be the power, v" the velocity,/" the fuel^ in another
consumed, i" the time in good weather, ( g/ver^
Let A'" be the power, v'" the velocity,/"' the fuel ( p°wer °n
consumed, ?" the time in bad weather, j station.
y V* — Vrl
It appears from the comparison of (B) with (C), that
a vessel has its power in the most economical proportion
to its tonnage on a given station, when its worst voyage
does not exceed the time of its best in a greater propor¬
tion than a/2 to 1; that is, than 14 to 10, or 7 to o.
From (D) and (E) it further appears that in a vessel,
whose power is thus proportioned, the consumption ot
fuel in the worst voyage will not exceed that of the bes
voyage in a greater proportion than 10 to 7 ; that is o
say, for 70 tons of fuel burned on a good voyage, it will
not be necessary to carry more than 100 tons, in oi ei
to provide against the worst. ,.
Let us take as an example a transatlantic steam-s p,
which has a proportion of 1 horse power to !>11* 0
capacity. Her unfavourable voyage being betwee
England and America twenty-two days, and hex a
able voyage fourteen days, being a comparative ve }
of 7 and 11, then
V2 — v'1 9 121—49 _ 2. __
 m. i2i
A' = 2A-
Also, let /c represent the consumption of fuel per horse¬
power per hour, and s the length of the voyage or dis¬
tance performed. Then
in
— ^-nearly.
10 ^
Hence, the power of such a vessel should be increased
the”ratio o/six to five; that is to say, the engmes at
STEAM NAVIGATION.
701
^a-present capable of exerting1 a power of 500 horses,
should have been capable of exerting a power of 600
w* horses, and would in this case have consumed less fuel,
ion as well as have produced greater regularity and a higher
r velocity.
Se The following results are obtained :—
' The vessel of less power burns thirty tons per day, per¬
forms the distance in fourteen days, consuming 420
tons of coals in fair weather.
The vessel of less power burns thirty tons per day, per¬
forms the distance in twenty-two days, consuming 660
tons of coals, in foul weather.
The vessel of greater power burns thirty-six tons per
day, performs the distance in twelve and one-half
days, consuming 468 tons of coals, in fair weather.
The vessel of greater power burns thirty-six tons per
day, performs the distance in seventeen days, con¬
suming 630 tons of coals, in foul weather ; being a con¬
sumption of sixty-four tons less fuel, and performing
the voyage in four and a half days less than the
other.
It is manifest that the store of fuel carried in the ves¬
sel with less power, must ou all occasions be equal to
the greatest consumption of fuel, that is, to at least 660
tons, whereas 630 tons will be sufficient for the vessel of
greater power; and as in all vessels for long voyages,
coals carried are much more costly than the mere price of
coals, or as the freight of the vessel is more costly than
the fuel, coals carried are to be reckoned at least as ex¬
pensive as coals burned. Moreover, as the gain in time
and in capital is four one-half out of twenty-two, being
twenty-five per cent, it is plain that the vessel may be
calculated to perform the distance oftener in a year; be¬
cause as the times of starting must always be regulated,
not by the shorter but by the longest period of a voyage,
seventeen one half days in the one case, stand in the
place of twenty-two days in the other.
As another example, let us take the case of a vessel
calculated to stem the monsoon in the Indian seas. A
vessel of 600 tons and 200 horse power, steaming in fair
weather at the rate of eleven miles an hour, has been
found to have her speed diminished by the monsoon to
five miles an hour. What would be the best proportion
of power in such circumstances?
/,'=2 h
IT V2
IF—5*
16 i
= jo llear]>r-
v- IF
Hence we see that the power being increased in the
ratio of sixteen to ten, that is, engines of 320 horse¬
power being substituted for those of 200, the speed on
the quick voyage would be twelve three-fourth miles an
hour, instead of eleven, the speed against the monsoon
increased from five to nine miles an hour, with a saving
of coals amounting to forty tons out of 320; and when,
it is remembered that the voyage for which eighteen
days would be required as continual allowance in the one
case, might always be calculated on as performed in ten
days in the other, the advantage is placed beyond all
doubt. It appears, therefore, that for long voyages es¬
pecially, great advantages in point of economy, certainty,
and speed, are to be obtained by the use of vessels of a
higher power than usual; and that, in a given case, the
best proportion of power to tonnage may readily be de¬
termined from the rules already given.
In regard to absolute or definite proportion, it may be
stated as the result of the best vessels, that the propor¬
tion of power to tonnage should not be greater than
nne horse power to two tons; the greater proportion
.ding 'n hi16 smaller, and the less proportion of power
ln the greater vessel.
The Proportions, Form, and Mechanical Structure of
1 team-Ships.—In the article Shipbuilding, the reader
will find the elements of construction of ships developed Steam Na-
and applied in a satisfactory and lucid manner. There vlgation.
he will also learn, that naval architecture is scarcely
recognised as a science in England. The reader will Proper,
therefore be prepared for the announcement that theform,
proportions and structure of steam-vessels is an enquiry‘l^eso™c"
which has hardly as yet systematically commenced; andsteam,
it is with much hesitation that we set the example of en- ships,
deavouring to eliminate from the rude mass of practical
truth and practical error, some general results worthy of
confidence. We may premise, that the drawing and
finding the displaceffient, centres of gravity, and buoy¬
ancy, and the calculations of stability, &c„ may be per¬
formed for steam-ships by the methods, and on the prin¬
ciples developed in the article to which the reader has
already been referred.
The proportions of steam-vessels were originally taken
from sailing vessels ; the length being three or four times
the breadth. Six breadths to the length is now a common
proportion. The proportion of depth varies with dimen¬
sion, being about one-half the breadth in vessels of 100
tons, two-thirds of the breadth in vessels of about 600
tons, and three- fourths of the breadth in vessels of 1500
tons. The qualities of a vessel depending much on its
form, it is not possible to deduce a very precise rule for
proportion abstracted from shape ; but the following list
of dimensions is deduced from a comparison of the di¬
mensions of the best vessels, and will serve as a standard
of reference for the existing state of practice. The fol¬
lowing are dimensions of flush-decked vessels without
poops or forecastle. Where these exist, the depth must be
diminished so as to leave the mean depth the same.
Thus, in the table, a vessel of 180 feet long by thirty
feet beam, has twenty feet depth; but with a half-poop
she would require to be only about eighteen one-half
feet deep.
Table of Dimensions of Sea-going Steam- Vessels of the best
proportions, in conformity with the best practice in
Dritain.
Length b -- i Breadth be-
twe3 > the per. tween the
pendiculars. I paddles.
90 feet,1
96
102
108
114
120
126
132
138
144
150
156
162
168
174
180
186
192
200
205
210
216
222
228
235
240
250
300
16 feet,
164
17“
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
40
50
Depth, hold
and
midships.
7 feet,
74
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
30
30
40
Tonnage.
Old law.
1lOtons
118
140
168
197
230
266
306
350
397
450
505
565
630
700
776
856
941
1044
1136
1231
1240
1455
1576
1712
1838
1923
3590
702
Steam Na¬
vigation.
Propor¬
tions, form,
and struc¬
ture of
steam¬
ships. .
The form of the ship, of course, affects very materi¬
ally its qualities, and the choice of proportions to produce
those qualities. The dimensions in this table apply to
vessels of fine proportions, having a fine entrance and
run, and a side nearly upright. If however the area of
the load-water line be very large, the vessel will be un¬
easy even with these extreme dimensions; and in such a
case the beam in the table is rather excessive, while
the height might probably be augmented without incon¬
venience. Again, if the midship section of the vessel be
very square, or merely rectangular, these dimensions
will suffice. If however the bilges be round, and the
sides slope outwards, more breadth may be usefully em¬
ployed, so as to leave the breadth at the load-water line
nearly equal tc, or rather greater than, the beam given
in the table.
River steam-vessels are, in this country, and especi¬
ally on the Thames, made of great length in proportion
to beam. Some of the swiftest river boats have their
length equal to seven, eight, nine, and even ten times
their beam, with advantage. In America they often have
twelve times more length than breadth.
The Form of Steam- Vessels.—To determine the best
form of a steam-ship may appear to be a much simpler
case of the great problem of naval construction, than the
formation of a sailing vessel. The principal desideratum
in a steam-ship being the power of going fast through
the water in the single direction of the propelling power,
this case of the problem appears to approach much more
closely to the construction of a solid that shall receive
the least resistance in passing through the water, than
to the case of the sailing vessel, which has to work with
a propelling power which is generally in some other
direction than that in which the vessel is designed to
make way. In this point of view, the problem of the
steam-ship is really a simpler case of the general pro¬
blem than that of the sailing vessel. If, however, the
steam-ship is also to be a good sea boat, and to work on
some occasions under canvass alone, as well as under
steam alone at other times, the problem at once assumes
an aspect more complex than that of either problem taken
by itself.
There is, however, a single fact which is important,
as it very much simplifies the subject. Vessels built
expressly for the purpose of steaming, and adapted
for that purpose in the best possible way, have been
found, when under canvass, to equal the fastest ships
in sailing qualities. Their great length and fine ends
prevent them from falling to leeward ; their fast for¬
mation adapts them for going through the water;
their boilers and machinery form a well placed and
well distributed ballast; their fine ends and flaring
bows render them lively as sea boats ; and the small
amount of their midship section, and small resistance,
give them great speed under comparatively little can¬
vass, This practical fact, that a vessel formed exclu¬
sively for steaming, and adapted for that alone, in the
best possible manner, is found to be a good and fast
ship under canvass, greatly facilitates the enquiry con¬
cerning the best form of a steam-ship. To this we now
add another confirmatory fact, that the fastest schoon¬
ers, cutters, smugglers, yachts, and slavers, approach
more nearly to the form of the best steamers than any
other class of sailing vessels. The problem of the best
form of a steam-ship becomes thus not only simpler, but
doubly interesting, from the reflex influence it may be
expected to produce on sailing ships.
It is difficult, without going into minute technical
details, to explain the peculiarities in the shape of the
best steam-ships. The present state of practice shows
that systems perfectly opposite are adopted by different
builders. It is at all times difficult to convert into ver-
STEAM NAVIGATION.
hal statistics forms so delicate and complex as the sur- N;
faces ef double curvature formed by the bottom of ^
ship ; hut the following considerations of a general na-^
ture may probably be intelligible. ^ ^
In the formation of steam-ships, it has been stated that shiy
there are opposite schools. One adopts and advocates
a sharp bottom, a great rise of floor, great beam, exten¬
sive hearings on the surface, round sides, round water-
lines, adopting altogether the formation of a full, capa¬
cious, stable, sea-going ship, only employing such dimen¬
sions and proportions as are given in the table of di¬
mensions already produced. Another school adopts a
flat bottom, long floor, more angular bilge, upright sides,
straight entrance, clean run, sharp ends, comparatively
small moment of stability, formed with the idea of goino'
directly through the water in all weathers with the least
proportion of resistance, and the smallest change of po¬
sition. A third school, of recent origin, adopts the hollow
wave lines and new formation, of which the principles
have been established by the writer of this article.
The fastest steam-vessels of the present day are built on
this principle.
The question of form may be taken up under several
heads.
The Transverse Section, or Midships—The simplest MicJjb
and one of the earliest sections of a steam-vessel is the sectV
rectangle, fig. 26. the bottom being flat, the sides vertical,
and the bilges almost angular. This form is rendered
necessary when the breadth of the vessel over the paddles
is to be rendered as small as possible. But this form,
although it gives the greatest capacity when the breadth
and depth of water are limited, is at once weak at the
bilges, liable to crankness, and uneasy at sea. To re¬
medy these evils, the bilges have been rounded, and the
floor sharpened, in order to give more easy lines on the
bottom, and an easier bilge, as in fig. 27.
Fig. 26. Fig. 27.
And again, this method has been carried to an extreme,
or with the intention of producing the best possible
sea boat, by making the floor very sharp, and the sides
extremely round, thus:
Fig. 28.
But such boats are
both unstable at
sea, and pitch most
violently. The next
modes of construc¬
tion have had for
their object to pro¬
duce the greatest
capacity with the
least material, and least surface of adhesion to the water.
For this purpose semicircular and elliptical bottoms
have been tried, thus:
Fig. 29. Fig. 30.
STEAM NAVIGATION.
703
ra gat both of these, and especially the former, although
i. well suited for fast steamers, have a great tendency to
^oscillate continually, and roll witli great latitude at sea.
It appears from experience, that there is great difficulty
in determining that section of vessel best suited to a steam-
vessel. The rectangular figure first given is, as we have
said, at once weak, and crank, and uneasy. The sharp¬
ening of the bottom, as in the figures which follow it,
removes the engines up from the floor, and effectively
diminishes the height of the engine-room, as well as ren¬
ders the vessel crank, by raising the centre of weight, and
of the engines, &c., too high; and if, to counteract this
evil, the beam at the surface of the water be increased as
in the third section, the vessel is rendered laborious, un¬
easy, and ineffective at sea by the excessive beam. Again,
in the round bilges the vessel swings like a pendulum,
and it seems as if her oscillating would never stop.
From the multitude of practical experiments which have
come under our notice, we are led to the following con¬
clusions.
1. That the existence of a fixed mass in the shape
of engine and boilers, renders the usual mode of deter¬
mining the midship section of a ship inapplicable to
steam-ships; and that the form must be determined with
immediate reference to these. 2. That the engines of
a vessel of 300 horse power occupy a space of about §
of the beam of a ship, which necessarily is perfectly
flat; and that the engine can only be firmly connected
with this floor of the ship by being placed as directly in
contact with it as possible ; and further, that the weight
of the said engine must be placed as low as possible, on
account of the place of the paddle-wheel; all of which
desiderata can only be obtained by making the floor
of the vessel parallel to the bottom of the engine.
Hence the bottom of the ship should be nearly flat across
about 4 of her beam, thus :—B to B, fig. 31, nearly flat,
E E the engines. 3. That no displacement is desirable on
each side of the engines beyond what is required to give
an easy turn to the bilge ;
Fig. 31. for it is found, as indeed
it should be expected, that
all displacement on each
side of the engines, at the
lower part of the bilge,
being vacant space, or very
inefficient stowage-room,
is not only wasted, but
tends to impair the stabi¬
lity and sea-worthiness of
the vessel; and, further, the engines being placed low,
a species of stability of the most valuable nature is ob¬
tained. 4. That there are two ways of obtaining sta¬
bility ; one by having the weight of engines and boilers
as low as possible, which is obtained by the means
already described, and by depth in the water; the other
by considerable beam. Now, beam in excess is one
of the worst features of a steam-vessel. It produces a
rolling oscillation, when the wind is in any degree on
the beam, which impairs exceedingly the action of the
paddles; it gives a species of roll, which is at the same
time most distressing to passengers, and most injurious
to the ship. All these bad effects are diminished, and
oan alone be corrected, by obtaining stability as far as
possible from depth of the centre of weight rather than
beam, according to the midship section already given.
The Water Lines. — Opinions on the subject of
water lines, or on the degree and manner of fulness
or fineness which the ends of a vessel should possess in
reference to the middle, are as various as the deviations
which one may conceive possible from any given shape.
When with these we combine the differences of opinion
concerning midship sections, which differences must also
affect very materially the form of water line, we get Steam Na-
into a labyrinth of difficulties, in the intricacies of which vigation.
the good qualities of a steam-ship are so often lost.
Full round ends, convex outwardly at the bow, full Form of
above at the stern, and fine enough below to steer well,st(;ani-
so rendering the form as like as possible to an American
cotton ship, with a long straight narrow body in the 1
middle; such a form has been introduced for steam-ves¬
sels, in the hope that the vessels, by having a small
midship section and great buoyancy, might be easily
propelled through the water. Even when they are
made seven times as long as broad, we have seen vessels
of this class turn out failures. They have, in the first
place, been crank, in the second place wet, in the third
place slow, and in the fourth place weak; for, by having
too much bearing at the ends, and too little where the
chief weight is to be supported, viz. in the middle, they
have invariably bent down in the middle, and risen up
at the ends.
Full round ends, combined with a full round midship
section, are a modification from which much has been
expected, as forming a ship of large capacity. This
has been one of the worst and most extensive errors
perpetrated in the construction of large steam-ships.
The great breadth along the whole water line, arising
from the full lines, gives an excess of superficial sta¬
bility, which, with a cross sea, causes the vessel to roll
violently, with an extent and abruptness of motion
which the round form of the section has no tendency to
prevent or retard. Then the full ends of the vessel pre¬
vent her speed through the water, and increase her mo¬
tion in a heavy sea, by increasing to excess her longitu¬
dinal stability. In the next place, if the ends of the
ship be used for stowage, it is plain that the great mass
of matter at the two ends must render the ship labour-
some, or the reverse of lively, according to the nautical
phrase; and the ship will less readily obey the helm.
Such are some of the evils which, in many instances,
and those especially in steam-ships of the largest class,
have been seen to result, and which necessarily must
result, from the full and round-bodied vessel used in
steam navigation.
These are not all the evils of the full form. The
stowage of such vessels is by no means effective in pro¬
portion to the weight, capacity, and displacement of the
ship. In the first place, by giving much space on both
sides of the engine-room, a very inferior species of stow¬
age is obtained to that which results from additional
length of hold. Next, the stowage-room in the end of
the ship, for which so much speed is sacrificed, cannot be
made effective without rendering the ship unseaworthy
and unmanageable; for it is notorious, that in order to
rectify the erroneous fulness for which so much is sacri¬
ficed, the ends of the ship are bulkheaded off to obtain
the valuable quality of liveliness. First, then, fulness
is obtained at a sacrifice of speed and seaworthiness for
some supposed advantage in capacity, &c.; then, that very
capacity is rendered ineffectual by the injudicious mode
of its application.
An opposite school from this recommends the long
straight centre body of a ship, with rectangular sections
and sharp, fine, wedgelike ends. This form possesses the
advantage of small transverse sections, and gives great
stowage: it is an easy sea boat, and is lively from its
fine ends. The principal fault in this form of vessel is
its liability to crankness—its weakness at the bilge.
Many of the finest steam-ships belong to this class.
The last class to which it is necessary to make a par¬
ticular reference, are the steam-ships recently constructed
on the wave-lines, or the hollow entrance line—on the
principle v/hich the writer of this article, by experi¬
ment and by example, has laboured to introduce. The
STEAM NAVIGATION.
704
steam Na-first vessel of this form was an experimental one of 75
vigation. feefc fieel, laid down in 1834. The next was a steam-
vessel of 100 feet keel, constructed in 1835. The next
Form of were two pleasure yachts of Mr Ashton Smith, a wea t ly
Steam- proprietor in Wales, whose observation on vessels had
ships. independently led him to the conclusion that hollow
^ ater ancl a pecuijar midship section gave the easiest and
meS' best sea steamers ; and both of these vessels, of 1838-39,
though merely approximations to the true wave-lines,
were remarkable for their speed and other excellent
qualities. The fourth vessel ot this class was the Shan-
don steam-vessel, altered from the old to the new lines,
1840, with a gain from the same engine of from two to
three miles an hour in speed. This vessel is the pio-
perty of Mr Robert Napier. The next and last vessel
is the Flambeau, built in 1840, on the wave principle,
by Mr Duncan of Greenock, with the co-operation of the
pi-esent writer. This vessel, with the smallest proportion
of power to tonnage, and with the smallest supply of
steam, is, nevertheless, by far the swiftest vessel on the
Clyde. The Fire-king, the largest of this new class of
vessels, is 660 tons, and has engines of 220 horse power.
The Flambeau has only 70 horse power to 280 tons
measurement. Vessels of this class have been found
at sea to be both easy, stiff, dry, and lively; while they
are by far the fastest vessels of their power. The
speed of the Fire-king, now the property of Mr Robert
Napier, is fifteen miles an hour in still water. The
speed of the smaller vessel, the Flambeau, with very
deficient steam, is fourteen miles an hour ; a velocity
which, with her small proportion of steam-power, is only
to be attributed to her superior form, and the slight de¬
gree of resistance which she encounters from the water.
The principle on which these wave-ships are con¬
structed is, that the hollow lines forming the entrance
are to correspond, as nearly as may be consistent with
the form of a ship, to the form of a certain wave ca¬
pable of moving with the same velocity a^ the lessel.
The analogy between the displacement of the natei by
a wave or the first order, and its displacement by a ves¬
sel moving with the same velocity, being- so very close as
to approach to identity, rendered it probable that the
same mode of displacement would be followed in both
cases with the same result, viz. the production of minimum
resistance. It was further to be anticipated, that as a
wave, when allowed to follow the usual mode of dis¬
placing the particles of water over which it passes, pre¬
sents a smooth and unbroken swelling surface, so the ves¬
sel, if of the proper shape, according to these wave-
lines, would divide the water at the bow in a smooth,
unbroken sheet, instead of showing the usual head of
water or surge exhibited at the bow of ordinary vessels
at high velocities. On the other hand, when a wave
encounters a shapeless rock, or breaks on a rugged coast,
it exhibits the same violent surges which are presented
on the bow of vessels of the usual form. Thus, then,
the analogy leads us to suppose, that the smooth, conti¬
nuous, resisting displacement of a wave, would be the
best method of displacement for a vessel. On submit¬
ting the question of least resistance to the elementary
calculation, it appeared that the form of least resistance
was very close indeed to that of the wave. The science
of hydrodynamics is not, however, sufficiently matured
to enable us to place implicit dependence on all the re¬
sults of its calculations, uidess where they are supported
by actual observation ; and it therefore became necessary
to make the experiment.
For the purpose of determining whether this form
Avere that of least resistance, an experimental vessel, about
seventy-five feet long, was constructed on a hypotheti¬
cal form of least resistance, tvith the Avave water lines.
When this vessel Avas propelled at the rate of seven-Stan jj
teen miles an hour through the water, it was found, that 6
instead of the usual surge exhibited at the bow of^*^
other vessels, the water Avas parted so smoothly andlYof
quietly, that no Avhite spray nor other symptoms of high St a-
speed and great resistance were visible, and the parted ■
water returned peaceably to the place it had occupied jj r
previous to the transit of the boat, with only a slight
translation forwards. It appeared, therefore, from the
experiment, that no greater quantity of motion was com¬
municated to the water than was necessary to permit the
vessel to pass through, and with no greater velocity than
the speed of the vessel demanded. It was then presumed
that this form was that of least resistance ; and all subse¬
quent experiment appears to demonstrate the truth of
this inference from fact, as predicted by analogy and cal¬
culation.
It is also worthy of remark, that this form is capable
of being combined Avith all the good qualities of a steam¬
ship, such as strength, dryness, easiness, as well as great
speed ; but as the construction of such vessels may still
be deemed an experiment in progress, the Avriter Avill
not occupy more space Avith observations on his own
researches. Thus much he felt it his duty to communi¬
cate, in order to adapt this article to the most recent
condition of steam-navigation.
The immediate Mechanism of Propulsion.— ThePrlllin
paddle-wheel of the ordinary form (as given in theM-ln-
plates) seems to be the most perfect, as it is the most™
simple means of propelling vessels through the Avater.
The idea soon occurred, that as the steam-engine is cal¬
culated to turn round wheels, it is only necessary to place,
on a wheel on the outside of a boat, large teeth or paddle-
boards to take hold of the water, and so drive the vessel
forward by simply turning the wheel. It was this plan
that \A’as adopted by Jonathan Hulls, in the first plan of a
steam-vessel. But there is no piece of mechanism (if we
except, perhaps, the crank of the steam-engine,) which has
been more despised, or which more strenuous and frequent
attempts have been made to improve or supersede, than
the common paddle-wheel. It is remarkable, that like
the crank steam-engine, the paddle-wheel is almost uni¬
versally employed in practice, after the f ullest experi¬
ment of many diversified improvements. In fact, after
experiments of all sorts of oars, propellers, paddles,
chaplets, screw's, &c., the common paddle-wheel conti¬
nues to predominate as “ the propeller.”
The numerous faults attributed to the common paddle-
wheel, are chiefly faults of misconception or malconstruc-
tion. It is easy to account for both.
When a steam-vessel is at rest in a harbour, and pre- Cotjoi
vented from moving, or when in the act of setting outPac ’-
into motion after having been at rest, the defects of theWt •
common paddle-wheel appear to be A'ery great. 1 lie pad¬
dle-boards, fig. 32. on entering the water, press obliquely
down into it, tending to raise
or lift the vessel up out of the F ig- 32.
Avater with a force which pro¬
duces no useful effect. Again,
when the paddle is rising out
of the water behind, it seems
to do little mure than raise or
drh'e the water upwards in
the form of back water. It is
only, therefore, in the middle
of its path that the propul¬
sion of the paddle seems ex¬
erted in forwarding the boat,
and that only for a very short
time. A large part of the force of the steam-engine
seems thus to be expended in raising up the A'essei, an
STEAM NAVIGATION.
705
Stij' Na'
v: | on-
Pr ling
i4®-
in elevating back water, and only a small portion in
carrying forward the ship. But this is the case of a
vessel at rest or not in rapid motion. Now it is argued
from this view of the case, that the only way in which a
paddle-wheel could be made efficiently to perform its
propelling duty, would be, by giving the paddle-boards
such a motion upon themselves as to keep them always
in a vertical position, both on entering the water and on
emerging from it. This was effected about the com¬
mencement of steam navigation by Mr Buchanan of
Glasgow, in what may be designated the parallel paddle-
wheel.
Pal
V! ..
Bu1 ci¬
vil
Fig. 33.
The parallel wheel,
fig. 33 is constructed on
this principle, “ that if
two equal circles be
equally divided, and
so placed, that the dis¬
tance between two of
the points of division
is equal to the distance
between the centres
of the circles, then
will all the other
points of division be
also equidistant, and
all the straight lines
joining them be pa¬
rallel.'’ By giving to
each paddle-board re¬
volution on an axis, and placing an arm at right angles
to it, connected by a junction-bar with an eccentric strap
around the axis, the geometrical problem is mechanically
constructed, and we have Buchanan's parallel paddle-
wheel. This wheel, with and without alterations in me¬
chanical structure, has been invented and reproduced
over and over again. It has always failed, being radi¬
cally bad.
An is of In truth, the phenomena of a paddle-wheel revolving
the ion on a steam-boat, when the vessel is in motion, differ es-
mo Iseil,ially *n their form and effects from the phenomena
tvii a wheel revolving around a centre which stands still.
When the vessel is only starting, or as yet moving very
slowly, all the evils here mentioned do in some degree
take place; but by the motion of the vessel forwards,
which is the result of the revolution of the paddles, the
evils complained of are at once remedied, and the pad¬
dle of a common wheel in a quick vessel is actually “ fea¬
thered,” according to the most dexterous toss of the
practised rower. A little study of the geometrical con¬
ditions of a paddle moving forwards and in a circle at
the same time, will make this plain. Let us trace for
this purpose the motion of a single paddle. At the
point o, the paddle-board O' being in the position O', the
o, p, q, in the same intervals of time, and these motions Steam Na-
being simultaneous, the paddle-board describes a path in vigation.
reference to the water which is the result of both, and the
successive positions of the paddle-board are aA, &B, cC, Propelling
dD, eE, /F, gG, &c. The paths described by the boards ,^echan-
are trachoidal curves, being of the family of the cy-lsm‘
cloid. Now, from the study of the actual motion thus Analysis
performed by the paddle-board of the common wheel, °* the
it is plain, first of all, that the paddle is inserted into of
the water in an angular position resembling closely the monPaddlo
entrance of an oar into the water ; that it is then made Wheel,
to act horizontally on the water during a short interval;
after which it is withdrawn from the water, edgeways, in
an easy and elegant manner, which the dexterous rower
might envy and try to equal, but which he could hardly
excel.
All this, however, takes for granted that the paddle
and the boat are well proportioned and placed; other¬
wise all this perfection may be impaired or lost. To this
exposition of the subject, it may be added, that the com¬
mon paddle-wheel is in practice, as it ought to be in
theory, exempt from the faults generally attributed to it;
and that experiment has shown that its action presents
as much perfection in operation, as its simple form and
mechanical arrangements do in enabling the artist to
give it durability and strength.
When the paddle-wheel is badly proportioned, badly
placed, attached to a very slow or full boat, or immersed
too deep in the water, its action becomes impaired or
impeded. Hence much attention has been devoted to
the construction of a paddle that should be more effec¬
tive in these unfavourable circumstances than the com¬
mon wheel; in short, to construct a paddle-wheel that
should be an effective propeller, even when immersed to
its axis, or wholly placed under water. This may be
properly enough called the radiating paddle, as distin¬
guished from the parallel paddle.
The radiating paddle is not constructed on the falla- Radiating
cious view of the subject which gave rise to the inven- Paddle
tion of the parallel paddle-wheel. On the contrary, it
proceeds on the hypothesis, that the actual motion of a
paddle-wheel on a moving ship is cycloidal; and its in¬
tention is to adapt the wheel with greater perfection to
that cycloidal motion. The theorem on which it is
founded is as follows. Let the circle in the following
diagrams, figs. 35, 36, represent that circle in a paddle-
wheel which is described by a point moving in the com¬
mon cycloid, that is, where velocity in the circle is equal
to the velocity of the vessel, o being the centre of the
paddle-wheel,
Fig. 35.
Fig. 36.
-A.
'NT
--OJ
' '
f,v
/' 'l
ccPoT’
Fig. 34.
£/\
" Vy 1
/ / /
' / /
T __
O
\
\ \
V
v <t
H
> / /
V /
A. /
r
a
9
j
'T:
\\ 'A
\ WV'R
\ \ H
\ \ ,\c
\ \ /
' V
\ Ad
-A
K —/ X
.A.
V/l\Vx
ai'CA
\
V / \ v
A / i \ A
A I \A
AM—-A
a _ m
ry
K AAfc>
A
H'liw!, turning on n stationary axle, would bring the
'°ai'Y successively into the positions U, c', d', e', f, g>,
\ c,; . ut ^le axle being advanced by the motion of the
boat into the places «, b, c, d, e, f g, h, i, k, /, m, n,
V0L. XX.
then, by the property of the cycloid, all lines drawn from
the point M at the superior extremity of the vertical
diameter of that circle to A, B, C, D, E, F, &c., points
in its circumference, will be parallel to the cycloid of
progression, or rather to its tangents, at the points of
its periphery which correspond to A, B, C, D, E, &c.,
when in motion. If it were possible to construct this
4 u
706
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- geometrical problem in a mechanical apparatus, this
vigation. paddle-wheel would have great efficacy even when very
"*»^ deeply immersed. It is, however, difficult to make this
Propelling motion perfect at M. But this species of mechanism
Meehan- iias been Very beautifully combined and arranged by
ism- Morgan, Seaward, Cave, and others, whose geometrical
apparatus is very beautiful. Unhappily the apparatus,
even in its most perfect state, is only correct for a single
velocity of vessel and of wheel: for a different velocity,
the point of radiation of the paddles must be changed, or
loss is at once incurred. Hence it is found that this
apparatus, like the common paddle, is liable to imperfec¬
tions of action, with every change of immersion and ve¬
locity. When to this there are added the complexity,
friction, cost, wear and tear, liability to accident, of this
moving mechanism, introduced for obtaining the partial
remedy or slight amelioration of an evil which by proper
arrangement is but slightly felt under the old method, it
becomes manifest, that the general abandonment of the
radiating paddle-wheel, and the return to the common
one, has not been without sound practical icason.
Divided T^ie species of paddle-wheel is that with the fixed
Paddle. float; in other words, the simple paddle-wheel with
boards placed around its rim. Of this there are various
modifications. A very simple modification is that men¬
tioned by Mr David Stevenson, in his excellent work on
the civil engineering of America. rlhe paddle-board of
the usual wheel is, as it were, cut in two, one-half being
placed half an interval in advance of the other, as in figs.
Split
Paddle.
37 and 38. This may be called the divided paddle-wheel.
The concussion of a paddle-wheel striking the wrater is
much lessened by this means, and the propelling force is
rendered more nearly uniform. Another form of this
wheel may be named the split paddle-wheel, from having
the paddle-board, as it were, split into twro or more hori¬
zontal sli ps,by which the same ad vantage is obtained as from
the divided paddle-wheel. It pig. 39.
has been proposed to place
these stripes in a cycloid; but
no advantage results from
the arrangement, although
the dignified name of the
cycloidal paddle-wheel has
been applied to it. Again,
it has been proposed to place
the paddle-boards at all sorts
of angles with the axis of the
wheel, both horizontally and
vertically, but as yet without
advantage. Split Paddle-Wheel.
A very simple expedient tends to remove all con¬
siderable irregularity or concussion from the common
paddle-wdieel. It is to allow the extremity of the paddle-
board nearest the side of the boat, to descend from six
to twelve inches deeper in the water than the outer ex¬
tremity. This plan was carried into effect by the writer
on a steam-vessel in 1836. The desired object was at¬
tained without any sacrifice of power or speed. For dig- Stear a.
tinction we may call this the conical paddle-wheel. Itisvigat 1
shown in figs. 40, 41.
Fig. 40. Fig. 41. lsra'
In the three following figures we have represented
the single oblique paddle-wheel. Fig. 44 shows the de¬
velopment or stretch-out of a part of the circumfer¬
ence of the wheel, to exhibit more clearly the arrange¬
ment of he paddle-boards.
Fig. 42. Fig .43.
Single Oblique Paddle-Wheel.
In figs. 45> 46, the double oblique paddle-wheel is re¬
presented ; and in figure 47 the development of a portion
of its circumference is given.
Fig. 45. Fig. 46.
The Beefing Paddle.—One of the greatest improve-
mens on paddle-wheels, and one of especial nnpor ’
ance to steam navigation, still remains to be innven et
STEAM NAVIGATION.
707
Stc
vii
Ka- We mean sucli a mechanism as shall enable the steam
m. commander to set out on a long voyage deeply
laden, with a small diameter of paddle-wheel; that is,
with the paddle boards near to the axis, and to in¬
crease the (effective) diameter of the paddle, that is, to
remove the paddle-boards farther from the axis, as the
vessel proceeds on her voyage and is lightened by the
consumption of coal. The invention of a durable, eco¬
nomical, and safe apparatus still remains to be made. In
the infancy of steam-navigation, Mr Buchanan of Glasgow-
published an account and drawing of a reefing paddle ;
Messrs Bolton and Watt are also in possession of a very Steam Na-
old method of reefing paddles ; the Society of Arts in Navigation.
Scotland offered a prize several years ago for the inven-
tion, without obtaining, out of many plans, one to be re¬
commended for practice ; and, finally, the indefatigable
inventor, Mr Hall of Basford, has patented a very elegant
mechanism for the same purpose. It still, however, re¬
mains to introduce and establish a perfect reefing appa¬
ratus, and the author of such a system will render the
common paddle-wheel a perfect propeller.
The following Table exhibils a comparative view of the Size and Power of six of the largest of the recently
constructed Vessels for Transatlantic navigation.
Length from Figure Head to Taffrail,..
Length of Upper Deck, 
Breadth within the Paddle-Boxes, 
Breadth over all,.. 
Depth of Hold, 
Diameter of Paddle-Wheels, 
Diameter of Engine Cylinder, 
Length of Stroke, 
Power of Engines,  
NAME OF VESSELS.
British Queen
Ft. In.
275 0
245 0
40 0
61 0
27 0
31 0
6 5i
7 0
500 h p.
President.
Ft. In.
273 0
243 0
41 0
68 0
30 0
30 0
7 6
7 6
600 h. p.
New York.
Ft. In.
235 0
0 0
36 6
60 0
22 0
o o;
0 0
0 0
0 0
Great Western.
Ft In.
240 0
0 0
0 0
57 0
20 0
0 0
0 0
0 0
460 h. p.
Liverpool.
Ft In.
234 0
212 0
35 4
58
23
28 0
450 h p.
Acadia.*
Ft. In.
228 0
206 0
34 4
56 0
22 6
28 0
6 0
6 10
* The three other North American lloyal mail steam-ships Britannia, Caledonia, and Columbus, are of the same dimensions as the
Acadia.
DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES ON STEAM-ENGINE AND STEAM NAVIGATION.
Plate cccoLXvm. Figs. 1 and 2. These figures ex¬
hibit a front and side elevation of one of the simplest
forms of the non-condensing steam-engine. Its prin¬
cipal parts are the cylinder A, the piston-rod P p,
and connecting rod p K, acting directly upon the crank
K X, and fly-wheel W W. Besides these there are
only an eccentric and valve-rod xx x, and governor tv w.
Two columns and an entablature support one extremity
of the crank axle, and give attachment to minor ap¬
pendages. The other extremity of the axle rests on the
wall of the building. To the columns is attached g g,
a guide for the top of the piston-rod. The feed-pump/^/;
| is worked by an eccentric on the crank-shaft.
Figs. 3 and 4. The form of engine here exhibited, is
of still greater mathematical simplicity than the last, al¬
though its mechanical arrangements are probably more
intricate. In this engine no member intervenes between
the piston-rod and the crank. A cross-head carried by
the piston-rod, open in the centre, permits the crank-pin,
in its circle of rotation, to oscillate freely on alternate
sides of the piston ; and being itself powerfully confined
to motion in the vertical direction only, by the slides on
the columns of the framing, the vertical motion of the
piston-rod is precluded from the production of any other
dynamical effect than the most direct of all possible con¬
versions of rectilineal into rotatory motion. The cross¬
head is marked H II in the figure, the columns being
marked m m. The other letters refer to the same parts
as in the last figure.
Figs. 5 and 6. In these figures the high-pressure en¬
gine is represented in its most improved form for sta¬
tionary purposes. It is analogous, in the arrangement
of its principal parts, to the usual construction of Bolton
and Watt’s condensing-engine. A cast-iron base sup¬
porting six columns and an entablature, forms a framing
upon which the parts of the engine are distributed,
so as to form what is called a Portable Engine, being
entirely independent of the building in which it may
happen to be placed. At one extremity of the base is
placed the cylinder A A, and at the other the crank-
axle X, and fly-wheel W W. The motion is transferred
from the piston P p, through the great lever L L L, and
connecting rod or crank-rod L K. The feed-pump//’
is in this instance worked from the point m of the paral¬
lel motion, in the way generally adopted in condensing
engines for working the air-pump, whose place in fact it
here occupies. The valve is a short D-slide, worked by
eccentric gear, x x x x. S is the steam-pipe. The educ¬
tion pipes E are seen descending on both sides of the
valve-casing; they unite in a common chamber beneath
the cylinder, whence a pipe conveys the educted steam
to the chimney, or to serve some other purpose, as the
case may be. The governor acts as in the previous case.
This drawing is taken from the form of engine manufac¬
tured by Messrs Caird and Company.
Figs. 7 and 8 is a form of the upright condensing en¬
gine manufactured by Messrs Carmichael of Dundee, and
successfully applied by them to various purposes. It is
compact and has been found to work well.
The cylinder A A is placed upon the floor, and on
either side of it stands a cast iron column. These co¬
lumns are hollow and are used as steam-pipes, S S S S,
to convey the steam to the jacket of the cylinder, from
which it finds its way into the valve-chest D. On the
top of the columns is a cross-beam sustaining the crank
axle, and the columns support guides m m m m, on
which, by means of wheels g g, and a cross-head g p g,
the piston-rod P p is maintained in its vertical position,
so that the connecting rod p K is directly attached to the
crank-pin K. The air-pump G is worked from the crank¬
shaft by means of a second crank or bend, and an eccen¬
tric a; .r works directly the slide valve;//'is the feed¬
pump for the boiler, worked directly from the air-pump
cross-head ; w w w w is the governor, witli its appenda¬
ges ; C is the condenser ; N the cold well.
Plate cccclxix. In fig. 1. of this plate we have
given a sectional elevation of a land-engine of twenty-
five inch cylinder and five feet stroke. In fig. 2. we have
given its horizontal section at the level of the base of the
cylinder, and in the remaining figures the details of its
708 STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na- different parts. In figs. I and 2 A A is the cylinder, P the x the eccentric, W W, 1,2,3, 4 details of the fly wheel, SteaiL
vigation. piston, Yp the piston rod, B6 the parallel motion, LLL O main centre or gudgeon for the great lever. PP ] vigjj^
the great lever. The pillow blocks hi, in which the centre plan and section of the piston, w; id 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 details of J
of the great lever works, rest on the spring beam UU, the governor, w the spindle, w the slide, 1 1 the radius
whose ends are secured to the walls of the building in the arms to which the balls 5 5 are attached, 2 2 the radius
manner shown on the next plate. The centre of the spring arms which cause the balls to act on the sliding collar w,
beam is sustained by the columns VV and their enta- 3 and 4 the stay for confining the motion of the balls, t
blature u, which crosses the building and has its ends 1 2 is the slide-valve rod and side rods, £ 3 is the slide-
secured to the walls like those of the spring beams. At valve cross-head, R R' a side and front view of the con
the other end of the great lever are the connecting rod necting rod.
LK, the crank KX, and fly-wheel WW. Returning Plate cccclxx exhibits a Sectional Elevation of a
to the cylinder we have, DD the slide-valves and their Condensing Engine. This description of house engine
casing ; dd the packing ports. The valve-casing termi- is the design of Mr M‘Naughtof Glasgow', and has been
nates below in EE the eduction-pipe leading into the extensively applied by him to cotton, silk, and saw-mills,
condenser C. G is the air-pump, F the place of the foot- The principal peculiarity in its structure is the arrange-
valve, h the air-pump piston-rod. The condenser and ment by which no further masonry is required for its
air-pump with their appendages are placed in the cold foundation than the building in which it stands, the usual
well N. M is the hot well into which the contents of cold well being dispensed with, and the whole structure
the air-pump are discharged, and from which the hot connected by cast-iron beams with the walls of the house,
water pump m draws its supply by the pipe m'. The The cylinder AA is attached immediately to TT, the
pipe oo leads from the hot water pump for the sup- cast-iron beams of the floor, which are deeply bedded in
ply of the boiler. The cold well is supplied from the the wall at T and T, and rests directly upon the large
cold water pump n by the pipe n n'. The rods for vessel C, which forms the condenser, and is supported
working the hot and cold water pumps hang from a stud likewise by beams YY, which are bedded in the walls,
at either side of the lever at m. The governor ivw is The condensation is effected by injection alone, without
supported on a bracket tt, which bridges across the the usual accompaniment of a cold well around the con-
main shaft. The influence of the governor is conveyed denser, an appendage that may safely be regarded as
to the throttle-valve by the levers and connecting rods by no means indispensable to the practical perfection of
wwivw. The valves are worked by the eccentric xxxx. the vacuum—when the vessel itself is formed with few
y/is the eccentric shaft which carries the gab-lever f on joints. The transverse beams of the buildings are sup-
which the eccentric rod acts; it also carries the levers ported by two pillars directly under the centre of the
for working the side rods of the valves, the levers which great lever LLL, so as to support the main centre L;
carry the counterbalance weight, and the socket for the and the crank-axle X and the axis Z of the fly-wheel W,
starting lever. The small pillars TT, which surround are supported on UU, another beam of cast iron,
the cylinder, are surmounted by an entablature which The steam enters the house through the pipe SS,
serves as a support for a gangway round the cylinder. passes round the cylinder to SS, around the long slide-
The remaining figures on the plate represent in detail valve DD, being confined to the middle of it by the valve
the different parts of the engine which we have just de- packing M, and after performing its duty in the cylin-
scribed, separated from each other, in order more clearly der, passes out at EEE into the condenser C, where it is
to exhibit their construction. Figs. A. A* a a' show the finally condensed into water. Hence it is drawn off at
details of the cylinder. In A A' is shown the upper and the foot-valve F by the piston H of the air-pump G, and
low’er ports of the cylinder at 1 and 2, and the steam delivered by the discharge-valve M into N, the hot well,
port at 3. In A', 4 is the cylinder cover, and Sthestuf- The slide-valve DD is worked by tlm eccentiic geai
fing box. a is a horizontal section of the cylinder, and xxxx and the rod dD through a moveaole stuffing-box
d a plan of the cylinder cover. dx.
Figs. DD' dd' show the slide-valve casing; D a front Plates cccclxxi, cccclxxii. These plates represent
view”, D' a side view. 1 and 1 are the packing ports, 2 the high-pressure engines which are employed to work
and 2 the packing-port covers, 3 the eduction pipe, d the inclined plane at the Liverpool station on the Liver-
the cover of the slide-valve casing, 4 its stuffing-box, d' pool and Manchester Railway. They are beautiful and
a section of the casing. Figs. C, G, F, show a side ele- in many respects highly judicious ; they are the work o
vation of the condenser, foot-valve, and air-pump ; C,' G', Messrs Mather, Dixon & Co., Liverpool.
F', a section of these; and c, g,fi a plan of them. 1 is the WYV\Y, Plate cccclxxii, is the great wheel u nc
cover of the foot-valve, 2 and 3 a section and front view works the rope that draw's the railw'ay train up the in-
of the v'alve. Fig. L shows a side view of the great dined plane; the rope is contained in a groove in the e ge
lever, L 1 a top view, and L 2 a transverse section of the wheel. A clutch kk connects or disconnects to
through the centre of it. Figs. KK' show a front view crank-axle XXX wdth the wheel WW; the cranks ,
and section of the crank. Figs. XX# show a side view, KX, KX are placed at right angles, so that when one is
an end view, and a plan, of the crank shaft pillow block, on the centre the other is at the furthest distance roin
Figs. I, 11, 12, show a side view, an end view', and apian it. K&, the connecting rod, hangs down from LL, e
of the pillow block for the main centre of the great lever, ends of the levers. The centre of the side evers.
Figs. mm! show a vertical and horizontal section of the IV., rests on a truss at no greater height than three ee
hot water pump, and figs, nri of the cold water pump, above the floor of the engine-room, hp is a side ro
Figs. B 1, 2, 3 are the details of the main links of the by which the levers are united to the cross-hea rpr.
parallel motion ; 6 4, 3,6, 7, 8 details of its air-pump links; The steam in this instance comes about a quarter o a
9, 10, 11, 12 side and top view’s of its radius and parallel mile from the boilers to the cylinders A A by the stea™
bars. 13, 14 is the clutch for the top of piston-rod ; 15, pipe SSS. Fig. 2 is a section of the steam-valves a
16, gudgeon and clutch for the top of air-pump rod; 17, cylinder. The valves DD are short D-slides, s'lirou^
18, top and side views of the ring gudgeon to which the ed by steam, and by the underside of the valves^^
parallel rods are attached; P piston-rod, Hair-pump escape takes place through the space E ; e?D is the
piston-rod, h air-pump rod, gg cold water pump-rod and rod moved by the usual valve-gear xxx. jhe eccen^
piston-rod, and g'g' hot w’ater pump-rod and piston-rod; xxx, Plate cccclxxi., is placed on a long shatt ion
t - g?
STEAM NAVIGATION.
709
Xa- crank-axle at X, which shaft is also employed to work
ion. the governor-balls ww. The whole foundations are solid
red sandstone rock, in which excavations are made for
the shafts and ropes.
Plates cccclxxiii, cccclxxiv, cccclxxv. This very
beautiful pair of engines was constructed by Mr Fair-
bairn of Manchester ; and they are the property of
Messrs Bailey and Co. of Staley Bridge, near Man¬
chester. They are employed to drive a cotton-mill, and
possess many excellent adaptations to this purpose.
These engines are of a similar form to those employed
in large steam-vessels, and will serve very well to conduct
the student from the common to the marine engine. The
working beam or great lever LLL is, as it were, split
in two, one of the halves being placed on each side of
the engine, but united at the middle by a large gudgeon
or main-centre, LL, and at the one end by a cross-head,
LjoL, and side rods, RL and RL, and at the other end
by a cross-tail of similar form, and the connecting rod
KL, which turns the crank KX. The moving mass is
thus placed lowrer,and the whole rendered more compact,
than the common house-engine.
This double marine engine is reckoned preferable in
the manufacture of cotton to an engine of the common
kind. The double engine gives a considerable degree of
uniformity to the velocity produced ; and the approxima¬
tion to uniformity is rendered still more perfect by the
short stroke, in which the variations of force recur at
shorter intervals than with a long stroke. A striking
peculiarity in this pair of engines is the large fly-wheel,
WWW, formed of toothed segments, which receives the
moving force of both engines, and gives it out directly,
and with a high velocity, to the mill-shafts, YY. Not
only is the requisite speed of revolution attained very
readily and quickly by this means, but the momentum of
the wheel is immediately conveyed to the shaft, instead
of passing through a series of wheel and axle work. The
durability and excellence of this arrangement are unques¬
tionable.
The section, fig. 1, plate cccclxxiv, shows the details
of many of the parts. The steam-pipe SSS from the
boiler conducts the steam into a space SS, forming a
jacket round the cylinder AA. The piston P has metallic
rings on its periphery as packing; U and V, the upper
and lower steam-ports, are wholly formed in the cover
and bottom plate of the cylinder, and are closed and
opened alternately by two short D-slides in two separate
valve-chests above and below. The steam enters the
upper chest from the jacket at S, where the throttle
valve is inserted, and passes through the valve. The
packing on the back of the valve is screwed down from
above by a vertical spindle, and the eduction takes place
through E by a hollow vertical column on one side of the
valve-chest, while the steam passes down to the lower
port through another column. The condenser C is a
single casting, placed immediately below the valve-chest,
and is entered by the injection pipe cc at c, of which the
aperture is regulated by a slide-valve and vertical spindle
ending in a screw. F is the foot-valve, governing the
communication between the condenser and air-pump G;
His the air-pump piston, with common clack-valves ; and
is the delivery-valve, opening outwards into the hot
well. The waste-pipe is immediately below M; and the
feed-pump and pipe / are in the masonry below the lever,
so as to draw the feed-water from the waste-pipe.
The valves DD receive motion by an apparatus some-
wnat peculiar. A stud in the crank-pin K carries round
a small radius rod xx on an axis, concentric with the
crank; a smaller crank on this axis or shaft has a length
equal to half the throw of the valve, or equal to that
which would be given to the usual eccentric, and by a
bar xx similar to the eccentric rod, the valve is moved by
this lesser crank, just as by an eccentric. This gearing Steam Na«
has the advantage of lightness and precision, mmm are I vigation.
the usual links of the parallel motion ; d is a counterpoise
to the weight of the valve, w w are the weights of the
governor.
Plate ccccxxlvi. This is one of that class called the
rotatory steam-engine; a class comprehending many varie¬
ties, of which we hear much and see but little. The en¬
gine is here given as an illustration of this very unsuc¬
cessful class of engines, by one of its least exception¬
able examples. It has actually been in use for some
years, being frequently employed to turn the machinery
of a large establishment. We have seen it working
smoothly and well. Yet we have not been able to recog¬
nize in it any reason for giving it an equality, much less
a preference, in comparison with the common engine. It
can be reversed in the same way as a common engine.
It was invented by Mr Yule of Glasgow, by whom it
was patented, and is still in the works of Thomas
Edington, Esq., at Glasgow.
SSS is a double steam-pipe, either branch of which
may be employed according as the engine is to go forward
or backward. A A is the cylinder firmly fixed on a stone
foundation, and in its centre is an axis XX, upon one side
of which and eccentric to the cylinder is an inner cylin¬
der or barrel turned quite true, and fixed to revolve with
the axis X, and so to form the piston P, which is to receive
and give out the force of the steam. RR furnishes the
'point d'appui, the surface of reaction, which resists the
force of the steam and forms a fixed obstacle. It is a
flat slide or sluice, (see fig. 5,) resting on the barrel pis¬
ton P, and maintained by guides always in a vertical posi¬
tion. It passes into the cylinder through a rectangular
stuffing box, and is raised and depressed by a small ec¬
centric pin xx, so as to remain always upon the surface
of the piston drum. All the working surfaces are ren¬
dered steam-tight by metallic packings. EEE is the
eduction passage into the condenser or the open air,
I)D are slide-valves to be reversed when the engine is to
go backwards. On the revolving axis of the piston X
are toothed wheels, gg, working other two, gg, which
have a common axis zz, carrying a fly-wheel, and driv¬
ing the machinery to be worked by the engine. Fig 6.
show's the ports at DD. Fig. 7 shows the guides of
the slide RR.
Plates cccclxxvii, cccclxxviii, cccclxxix exhibit
views of a pair of beautiful marine engines, constructed
by Mr Napier, for the four British and North American
royal mail steam-ships Britannia, Acadia, Caledonia,
and Columbia, plying between Liverpool, Halifax, (Nova
Scotia) and Boston, (U. S.) The following are the
general dimensions of the vessel and engines.
Length from figure-head to taffrail,
Length of keel and fore-rake,
Breadth of beam between paddles,
Depth of hold,
Diameter of paddle-wheel,
Length of floats,
Diameter of cylinder,
Length of stroke,
Ft. in.
228
206
34 6
22 6
28
26
6
6 10
The power ot the engines is about 240 horse pow'er.
The paddle shafts make 16 revolutions per minute. The
tonnage of the vessel by the old law is about 1200 tons.
Plate cccclxxvii is a side elevation of one of the
engines.
Plate cccclxxviii is the elevation of the crank end
of the engines, and Plate cccclxxix the elevation of
the cylinder end. By an inspection of these engravings
it will be seen, that the parts of the engines are sus-
710
STEAM NAVIGATION.
Steam Na» tained by an elegant and rigid Gothic framing^ render-
vigation. them, notwithstanding the ponderosity of their differ-
‘ ent parts, entirely independent of the vessel on which
they are placed. A A are the cylinders, B the slide-valve
casing, C the condenser, D the hot well and air-vessel
placed on the top of the condenser. E the air-pump,
FF the feed-pumps. The moving parts of the engine
are as follow:—K the cylinder piston-rod, I the cross¬
head, H the cylinder side rods descending to the great
side levers GGG. Connected with the parts last de¬
scribed are the radius rods of the parallel motion L,
the motion side rod L', and the parallel motion shaft
V the valve or weigh- shaft on which isfixedthevalve lever
W, whose other end is inserted into a clutch on the slide-
valve link c. On either side of the centre of the great
lever depends a side rod//, to work the bilge and brine
pumps, and to its extremitty are attached the links ot
the cross-tail of the connecting rods, P the links, Q the
cross-tail, R the connecting rod. To the upper end of
the connecting rod is attached the crank S; T is the inter¬
mediate or crank-shaft, TT' the paddle-wheel shafts. On
the crank-shaft is placed the eccentric U ; and uu is the
eccentric rod working the eccentric gab-lever v on the
valve or weigh-shaft t t*. Y yy the expansion valve
apparatus, h Ziescape valves at top and bottom of cylinders,
X paddle wheels, k lever for starting the engines, 1 1
steam-pipes, 2 2 waste water pipes from hot well, 3 double
force-pump for filling boilers, extinguishing fires, and
washing decks, 4 4, engine beams, 5 5 5 5 midship section
of vessel, 6 6 thick planks checked in upon and bolted
through the timbers thus :—
Plate cccclxxx. Side and end elevation of one of
the engines of her Majesty’s mail packet, Urgent, and
also of the Actieon, built by Messrs Caird and Company
of Greenock. The Urgent plies between Liverpool and
Dublin ; the Action between Liverpool and Glasgow.
Both vessels have been very successful: they are swift
boats, and consume a small amount of fuel. Their gene¬
ral dimensions are here noted.
Actseon.
Ft. in.
171
25 10
17 3
Urgent.
Ft. in.
Length of keel and fore-rake, 172 1
Breadth within paddle space, 26
Depth of hold, 17 5
Diameter of paddle-wheel, 24 6
Length of floats, which in the Urgent are
of Galloway’s patent, in 3 breadths of
about 9 inches each, 8 10
Diameter of cylinder, 5 2 5 2
Length of stroke, 5 9 5 9
The power of each of the engines is 140 horse power.
The paddle-shaft makes about twenty revolutions per
minute. The tonnage of the Urgent, by the old law, is
502||—of the Actceon 551^. A A is the cylinder, C
the condenser, Ethe air-pump, H the cylinder side rods,
1 the cylinder cross-head, B the valve-casing, W thevalve
lever, W' W the back balance, G GG the side levers, P the
cross-tail links, Q the cross-tail, R the connecting rod,
S the crank, U the eccentric, N the air-pump side rods,
M the air-pump cross-head.
Plates ccccnxxxi, cccclxxxii, cccclxxxiii, represent
the engines of the Achilles, also built by Messrs Caird
and Company, to ply between Liverpool and Glasgow.
Plates cccclxxxi, cccclxxxii, show the two side eleva¬
tions of one of the engines; and plate cccclxxxiii a
section of the vessel to a lesser scale, with the engines,
paddle-wheels, &c., in situ. The arrangement of the
framing of these engines is highly beautiful. The^
entablature supported by the columns, uniting both
engines in one design, gives massiness of appearance, as
well as great strength to the structure. In plate
cccclxxxii is seen the apparatus for working the en¬
gines expansively. On the crank-axle T is placed a series
of cams, tt t, which act upon the roller of the expansion-
valve tumbler. Y yyy are the expansion-valve connectinu1
rods and levers. Z is the valve-chest, and the Aralve is of
the kind called equilibrium valves, or crown valves.
The other parts are A the cylinder, B the valve-chest,
C the condenser, D the hot well, E the air-pump, F the
feed and bilge pumps, GG the great lever, G' its main
gudgeon, H the cylinder side rods, I the cross head, K
the piston-rod, L L the parallel motion, M the air-pump
cross-head, N the air-pump side rods, O the air-pump
piston-rod, P the connecting rod cross-tail links, Q the
cross-tail, R the connecting rod, S the crank, U the
eccentric pulley or cam, u u u the eccentric rod, V the
valve-shaft, W W the valve-lever and counter balance
lever.
Plates cccclxxxiv, cccclxxxv, cccclxxxvi. The
engines exhibited in these plates are a pair of 110
horse power each, constructed by Messrs Fawcett, Pres¬
ton & Co. of Liverpool.
Plate cccclxxxiv shows the side elevation of one
of these engines. Plate cccclxxxv shows the eleva¬
tion of the crank end of both engines; and plate
cccclxxx vi the cylinder end of the engines, drawn to
a somewhat smaller scale. The letters refer to the same
parts as in the engines already described, and it is unne¬
cessary here to repeat the description.
Plate cccclxxxvii. In this plate is given a repre¬
sentation of a single marine engine of 65 horse power,
with a stroke of four feet. Fig. 1 is a side elevation;
fig. 2 a plan or bird’s-eye view; fig. 3 an elevation of
the cylinder end; and fig. 4 an elevation of the crank
end. The same letters indicate the same parts as in the
former figures.
Plate cccclxxxviii, fig. 1. is an end view, and fig. 2 a
side view', of a double towing-engine of forty-five horse
power and three feet six inches’ stroke. The most strik¬
ing peculiarity of this engine is, that the paddle-wheel
shaft is separate from the crank-shaft, and driven by it
through the intervention of toothed wheels. T is the
cranks haft, with its spur wheel driving the spur wheel
of the paddle-shaft rP. The other letters refer to the
same parts as before.
Plate cccclxxxix. In this plate are represented two
engines of direct connexion, constructed by Messrs lod
and M'Gregor, Glasgow. . c ,
In figs. 1 and 2 of this plate, the crank b ot tne
engine is placed directly above the cylinder i , t ie
piston-rod K carries a cross-head I, which is gm e
move in the vertical direction by two cross guides gg,
one at each extremity, wdiose ends slide upon the vmica
pillars pp, which sustain the framing fin t ic suppor
the crank-axle. From each end of the piston cross-head
depends a side rod HH, whose lower extremity, togetnei
with the ends of the side reds PP wh.ch
the cross-tail Q of the connecting rod R, are att
the end of a side lever GG. To the opposite end ofth
side levers are attached the side rods N of 1 1 Pj
and on either side of its centre the rods of tl
and bilge pumps F. The parts not already de cn
are aa the slide-valve, C the condenser, E the air ^ ^Pj
S the crank, U the eccentric, and uuu the eccenti
and valve-gear. , . the pjs.
In the engine represented in figs- 3 anu >
STEAM NAVIGATION.
st(? Ua- ton-rod K terminates in a triangular frame III, from the
re i n, apex of which the connecting rod R descends to the
crank S; and to the extremities of its base are attached
the piston-rods 00 of the air-pumps EE, which are in
this case two in number, and situated one on each side of
the cylinder. The triangular frame III is confined to
move in a vertical direction, by its cross-head gg being
guided in the slide pp. The remaining parts are, A the
cylinder, CC the condensers, aa the valve-chest, F the
feed-pumps, worked by an eccentricyjtj Uu the eccentric
and valve-gear, and eee e the framing of the engine.
Plate ccccxc. Fig. 1 of this plate is a side-eleva¬
tion, and fig. 2 an elevation of the cylinder end, of a pair
of marine engines constructed by Messrs Seaward of the
Canal Ironworks, Limehouse, for H. M. steam-frigates
Gorgon, Cyclops, Prometheus, and Electo. These en¬
gines are of a peculiar construction; the crank, as in the
engines of the last plate, being directly above the cylin¬
der, the connecting rod only intervening between it and
the piston-rod. They are of the class of the vibrating
pillar-engines, the pillar which supports the beam tuz-n-
ing upon a centre at its lower end. A is the cylinder,
B the valve-chest, C the condenser, E the air-pump, K
the piston-rod, R the connecting rod, S the crank, GGG
the beam, g the vibrating pillar, L the radius rod, N
the air-pump side rod, M the air-pump cross-head.
STEEL.—As good iron is the basis of good steel, all
that has been said under the articles iron and smelting
in reference to the sources and means of procuring that
metal in a state of purity, may be advantageously refer¬
red to as a preliminary to the present.
Steel is a carburet of iron, with probably a slight
mixture of other substances which are more or less
essential to its perfection, and certainly in most cases
with some alloy which is not essential, but which, on
the contrary, is to some extent injurious. This descrip¬
tion would equally apply to cast-iron, which differs
from steel as to its ingredients principally in the
quantity of carbon, cast-iron having sometimes one-
fifteenth part, and good steel seldom more than one
two-hundredth part of that substance. The difference
between the proportions of the carbon does little, how¬
ever, to explain the difference between cast-iron and
steel; for, while the condition of cast-iron is retained, it
is found that diminishing the quantity of carbon renders
it still less like good steel. It appears, in short, that the
good qualities of steel—and they are very various—
depend upon circumstances partly chemical and partly
mechanical, which have hitherto defied analysis. It is not
even precisely known whether the union of the iron and
carbon is a chemical or mechanical union : perhaps it may
be partly one and partly the other, for reasons which
will presently be given.
In consequence of this ignorance as to what constitutes
the essential qualities of good steel, the processes by
which favourable results have been obtained have in nearly
all cases been empirical, and in many instances have been
real or pretended secrets. The processes are of a nature
to forbid any very nice calculations, and they are liable to
great and unappreciable modifications in the execution.
Tor example, steel being, as before stated, a carburet
ol iron, and having generally a slight admixture of oxyde
of iron, must be subject to many incalculable changes
during its successive exposures to violent heat in contact
with carbonaceous fuel and atmospheric air. Moreover,
dm hammering, on which many of its good properties
depend, is obviously an operation which cannot be meted
out with very scrupulous nicety, and is besides liable to
be very much influenced by the temperature of the metal
and by the direction of the blows in reference to the
Mechanical structure of the mass.
A good practical essay on steel, it is therefore evi¬
dent, would consist in an exceedingly minute detail of
the actual operations applied to a certain description
ot ore, or to a known specimen of manufactured iron,
which, with certain sorts of fuel, had been found uniformly
produce steel peculiarly adapted to certain purposes.
uch an essay would form a volume, and it would still
convey imperfectly what it professed to teach, because
in all the processes there are certain stages of the con¬
version whose advent is judged of by the experienced
eye and hand of the skilful workman, from symptoms
which can be explained only to the sight and touch.
Here we only propose to describe, in very general
terms, some of the principal processes, so as to convey
a knowledge of the theory of steel-making without pro¬
fessing to give the actual practice. We must pre¬
mise, that the destination of the steel is of great im¬
portance in estimating even the theory of those pro¬
cesses, as may be well supposed when it is recollected
that a lancet will fracture almost like glass, while a
bricklayer’s trowel is required to cut the most refractory
lump of semi-vitrified clay in the shape of a brick. These
two instruments are perhaps at the extremities of the
scale, the perfect hardness and brittleness of the lancet
contrasting with the extraordinary toughness and tena¬
city of the trowel.
It was at one time, indeed, thought so difficult to com¬
bine these last-mentioned qualities with sufficient hard¬
ness to sever a good stock-brick, that trowels were
made of a plate of iron to supply the toughness, and an
edge of steel to give the hardness. Even at the present
time it is supposed that the peculiar qualities of certain
sword-blades result from their being combinations of
hard steel with soft tenacious iron fibre; and that the
variegated or damasked surface of such blades is owing to
the different appearances presented by the iron and steel.
By some this effect has been supposed to result from
chemical changes acting partially upon the original car¬
buret, depositing the carbon more profusely in some parts
of the iron than in others. It may arise, as already
hinted, from some portions of the carburet being in a
chemical, and others only in a mechanical state of union.
According to other authorities, the structure in question
has been manufactured expressly by binding up portions
of soft iron wire with ingots of steel, and hammering the
whole into a mass at a high temperature. Such a process
will, it is known, produce very similar appearances.
Whatever be the truth in regard to the sword-blades,
certain combinations of iron and steel in parallel laminae
are advantageously employed for some purposes. The
carpenter’s plane-iron, for example, consists of a very
thin hard steel face on an iron back ; because this instru¬
ment requires to unite a cutting edge nearly equal to that
of the lancet writh a tenacity which shall encounter unin¬
jured the hardest knots; a trial almost as severe as that
applied to the trowel.
One great cause of the uncertainty and obscurity attend¬
ing the practice of steel-making, is the importance of the
hammering or other mechanical parts of the operation. If
711
Steam Na¬
vigation.
712
STEEL.
Steel.
the distinction between good and bad steel were princi-
1 pally chemical, the production of the former would long
since have been rendered easy and determinate. How
little this is the case may be inferred from the fact, that
the elaborate series of experiments conducted a few years
since by Dr Faraday and Mr Stodart have scarcely added
a new fact to the science of steel-making; while, on the
other hand, the immense value of mechanical action is
shown, among numerous instances, by the increased
strength of dvciivn iron wire as compared with Tollad iron
of equal size, a difference amounting sometimes to sixty
or seventy per cent.
The remarkable qualities of the trowels for which a Mr.
Walby was celebrated about forty years since, resulted
in a great measure, if not entirely, from good and rapid
hammering at a moderate temperature. The object of
hammering being to condense the steel, it is evident that
when at a white heat, in a state approaching to fusion,
the mass is so plastic, it yields so freely, that hammering
is perfectly inoperative, except to change the external
form ; while, on the other hand, if the mass be cold, it is
so unsusceptible of what may be called intestinal move¬
ment among its particles that the most violent hammering
can do little more than dislocate portions of the surface,
which will accordingly crack or scale off. Between these
extremes a medium may be found, and was, we believe,
found by Mr Walby. His hammering was principally
performed at a low cherry-red heat; and, by means of a
peculiar and ingeniously mounted hammer of considerable
weight, he was enabled to do all that was required before
the temperature was sensibly lowered. But, as we are
informed, he did more than this. It is quite certain
that in hammering any mass, and especially in a thin
plate, the central cannot be under the same circumstances
as the exterior portions. Not only will the centre retain
its heat somewhat longer, but, what is of more conse¬
quence, the tendency of the central portions to spread
laterally under the hammer, is resisted by the marginal
parts; while these latter not being so protected by a belt,
spread freely, and perhaps separate into detached pieces.
If, for example, a circular disc of steel at a low tem¬
perature were violently beaten under a flat hammer, it
would be very much condensed in the middle, while the
circumference would gradually separate, showing radial
splits or cracks. The most perfect way to condense
a circular disc of metal would obviously be to coniine
it in a very strongly defended cavity, whose walls
should prevent all lateral spreading, and thus the full
effect of each blow would be felt in condensation. Such
a process is, however, inapplicable to trowel making,
and perhaps to all other purposes except the striking
of medals, where we see it employed; but Mr Walby
obtained nearly all the effect of such an arrangement
by forging each trowel considerably larger than it was
ultimately intended to be, and cutting off about an
inch of superfluous metal after the hammering was com¬
pleted ; cutting off, that is to say, the wall which had acted
to restrain the spreading of the central portion of the
blade, and which had probably become loose and spongy
itself for want of such restraint, thus leaving only the
close compact metal in the finished trowel.
Having thus endeavoured to direct the reader’s atten¬
tion to some of the qualities demanded in steel, and to
the causes which affect their production, we shall briefly
describe some of the operations.
Steel is most frequently made from rolled bars of good,
by which we mean pure iron. To communicate to these
bars the desired quantity of carbon, they are formed into
bundles, and are placed in a large stove or furnace alter¬
nating with layers of carbon, (hard-wood charcoal is
preferred,) and a high temperature being maintained
for a week or ten days, the iron gradually absorbs the Stt
required quantity of carbon, and becomes converted into
steel. The completeness of this conversion is judged of
from time to time by the examination of certain of the
bars, which are so disposed as to be accessible for this
purpose. If the carbon has not penetrated to the centre
of the metal, this Avill be evident on breaking the bar
transversely, as the section will exhibit a colour in the
centre different from that near the surface: it will show
what the workmen call a pith. Towards the end of the
process, the watching requires to be skilful and constant,
because, if tbe absorption of carbon becomes very exces¬
sive, tbe metal may be rendered so fusible as suddenly
to melt; and though this would be of little consequence
in a sound crucible, it would be attended with great loss
in a large stove or hearth. The surface of the bars
becomes so nearly in this condition that it is always
blistered by the escape or rarefaction of air or gas front
the interior of the metal; and hence bars so prepared
have acquired the name of blister or blistered steel.
The process itself is called cementation.
The bars thus prepared do not differ very greatly from
cast-iron, except in the smaller quantity ot carbon which
they contain, and in their freedom from impurities. They
have somewhat more malleability and tenacity than cast-
iron, but not so much as is imparted to that substance
during its conversion to bar-iron, and which must now,
except for very coarse purposes, be communicated to
these bars of cementation—wdthout, however, depriving
them of their carbon. With this view the bars so pre¬
pared are broken up into short lengths, are made into
bundles, heated almost to a white heat, hammered,
welded together, re-broken and re-hammered till they
are reduced as nearly as possible to a compact homoge¬
neous mass of greater specific gravity than in their for¬
mer state. In all these weldings, care is required to
preserve the surfaces clean and unoxydized, as upon
this depends the perfect union of the two surfaces.
This care is dispensed writh in the processes for making
cast-steel, the nature of which has been already indicated
in describing that of cementation. The pure iron and a
certain proportion of carbon are fused together in a
crucible, and being cast into ingots, these are treated,
somewhat like the bundles of the cemented bars. 1 hey
are hammered at a high temperature till they are rendered
malleable and dense, and till a certain portion of the carbon
is displaced, that substance being generally in excess.
Various modes of applying the carbon have been pro¬
posed ; but it is very difficult to determine in the abstract
wdiich of these is the best. One mode of application is
by the introduction of a stream of gas. Cast-steel is fiee
from the defects which are liable to attend the imperfect
weldingof the bars, and is likely to supersede allothersfor
the finer purposes of cutlery. It requires, however, the
most skilful manipulation as the point of sufficient fusion
is reached, and this must be performed under the most
severe exposure to heat ; so severe as to demand that
the workmen should be protected, by clothing of wetted
sackcloth, from the joint effects of the opened furnace
and the glowing crucible. This combination of s i
and severe labour secures high wages, and enhances the
price of the article.
The experiments of Faraday and Stodart, e <>
alluded to, were undertaken not so much to nn
prove the mode of manufacture as to determine
effect of various alloys ; it having been inferred, pai y
from the condensation which frequently accompam -
chemical unions, and partly from the examination m
certain specimens of steel which wrere known to
good qualities, that a small portion of foreign ui<h
might be beneficially introduced. W ith this view, a
S T E
of steel with gold, silver, platinum, and many other
J metals, in various proportions and combinations, were
made, without however producing any very definite
results. One of the best was a mixture of 500 parts of
steel with one part of silver. While the silver was in
this small proportion, it appeared to diffuse itself equally
throughout the mass, and the union appeared to he
chemical. No remarkable increase of specific gravity
accompanied the union; and the opinion formed at the
time, that the steel was improved by the addition, is
beginning to be shaken. Jt is worth mentioning, that
if the quantity of silver much exceeded the five-hun¬
dredth part, the excess was distributed in small distinct
fibrous masses, in such a manner as to unfit the steel for
most purposes of utility.
Having by any of the means now mentioned manufac¬
tured a good steel or a good alloy, it is found to have
acquired a property on which its great value in the arts
entirely depends; we mean the property of becoming
very hard when suddenly cooled from a high tempera¬
ture. If heated to whiteness, and then plunged into
water, instead of the malleable tenacious substance which
had been produced under the welding hammers, it has
become nearly as hard as a diamond and as brittle as
glass. The sudden cooling from a white heat would,
however, be found to have damaged considerably the
compactness of the steel; and practically it is known,
that the lower the temperature on which the sudden
cooling can be made to act with effect, the better will be
the quality of the metal. It is also supposed that the
lower the temperature at which the steel is manufac¬
tured—that is to say, hammered into compactness and
malleability—the lower wilt be the temperature necessary
to give it hardness. When all these points have been
determined to the greatest exactness, there remains an¬
other consideration which has been well pointed out by
a recent writer on the subject. Since the perfection of
every steel instrument depends upon its receiving a hard¬
ness very exactly proportioned to its intended use, and
as the subsequent operations will equally alfect every
part of the hardened steel, it is most important that the
hardening be equal in every part, in order that the
hardness of the whole, when reduced, shall be equal.
If then the heated steel, at the moment of its plunge
into the water, be in some parts coated with an oxyde of
iron while in other parts it is clean, the rapidity of the
cooling in the various parts will be so different as to
affect seriously the uniformity of the result, in this
way, among others, we can understand how it happens
that one part of a razor or other instrument shall be
much harder than another. To avoid this inequality, it
has been proposed that the instrument shall be perfectly
cleansed upon a stone previously to hardening, and then
heated with the utmost care to prevent the formation, or
at least the unequal formation, of oxyde upon the surface,
various opinions and practices prevail as to the mode
cooling. Besides water at various temperatures, saline
solutions, mercury, and a current of air, have been sug¬
gested; but it is doubtful whether any of them is pre-
lerahle to water at a moderate temperature.
The steel having now been made indefinitely hard, too
ard generally for any practical purposes, it requires to
je tempered or softened down more or less, according to
ne nature and uses of the intended instrument. This
one by the application of a moderate heat, varviner
rom 430° to 600° of Fahrenheit; tire higher tempe-
theTow S0^en*n^ Ineta^ ProPol'tionaliy more than
Formerly the heat applied in tempering was judged
V(^tlle colour assumed by the steel, a portion being
S T E
always ground clean, to enable the operator to observe
exactly when the required shade of colour was obtained.
These colours, it may be stated, are produced by the
action of the oxygen in the air upon the heated metal;
and though their indications are sufficiently accurate for
most purposes, it has been found desirable in some cases
to substitute a fusible metallic bath, by which a regulated
temperature may with certainty he communicated.
'fhe following table, showing the temperatures accord¬
ing to Fahrenheit which correspond with various colours,
was drawn up by the late Mr Stodart;—
1. Very pale straw yellow,  430°
2. A shade of darker yellow,    450
3. Darker straw yellow,  470
4. Still darker straw yellow,  490
5. A browner yellow,  500
6 Yellow slightly tinged with purple,  520
7. Light purple,  530
8. Dark purple,  550
9. Deep blue,  570
10. Paler blue  590
11. Still paler blue,   610
12. Still paler blue, with a tinge of green,... 630
When the hardened steel is heated only within the
limits here specified, it matters not how it is cooled;
the softening or tempering equally takes place, and is
proportioned to the temperature. The knowledge of
the proper degrees of heat or colour adapted to various
instruments, is obtained wholly by experience. The fol¬
lowing table, extracted from the work before mentioned,
is perhaps as accurate as any': 
COLOURS.
INSTRUMENTS.
1. Razors and instrn- )
ments with a stoutStraw’ colour
hack and fine edge, j
2. Scalpelsandpenknives, Full yellow. 470°
3. Scissors and small j ,, „
shears, J Brown yellow. 490°
TEMPERATURES.
430° to 450°
shears,
4. Pocket and pruning ( First tinge of / r.
knives, j" purple. ( ol°
5. Watch-springs
swords, &c.
/
Purple.
550° to 560°
After the operation of tempering, nothing is required
but the final grinding, fashioning, and polishing of the
article, which it is not here requisite to disenss. (C. K.)
Steel-Yard. See Weighing-Machines.
SI EELE, Sir Richard, was born in Dublin about
the year 1670. One branch of the family was possessed
of a considerable estate in the county of Wexford. His
father, a counsellor at law’ in Dublin, was private secretary
to James, Duke of Ormond ; but he was of English ex¬
traction ; and his son, while very young, being carried to
London, he put him toschool at the Charter-house, whence
he was removed to Merton College in Oxford. He left
the university without taking any degree, in the full reso¬
lution to enter into the army. This step was highly dis¬
pleasing to his friends ; but’the ardour of his passion for
a military life rendered him deaf to any other proposal.
Not being able to procure a better station, he entered as
a private gentleman in the horse guards, notwithstanding
he thus lost the succession to his Irish estate. However,
as he had a flow of good nature, a generous openness and
frankness of spirit, and a sparkling vivacity of wit, these
qualities rendered him the delight of the soldiery, and
procured him an ensign’s commission in the guards.’ In
the mean time, as he had made choice of a profession
4 x
713
Steele-
714
S T E
Steele. which set him free from all the ordinary restraints in
youth, he spared not to indulge his inclinations in the
wildest excesses. Yet his gayeties and revels did not pass
without some cool hours ot reflection ; it was in these
that he drew up his little treatise entitled The Christian
Hero, with a design, if we may believe himself, to be a
check upon his passions. For this purpose it bad lain tor
some time by him, when he printed it in 1/01, with a
dedication to Lord Cults, who had not only appointed
him his private secretary, but procured for him a com¬
pany in Lord Lucas’s regiment of fusiliers.
During the same year he brought out his comedy, called
The Funeral, or Grief a la Mode. This play procured
him the notice of King William, who resolved to give
him some essential marks of his favour ; and though, upon
that prince’s death, his hopes were disappointed, yet, in
the beginning of Queen Anne’s reign, he was appointed
to the profitable place of gazetteer. This post he owed
to the friendship of Lord Halifax and the Kail of ©n^*
derland, to whom he had been recommended by his
schoolfellow Mr Addison. That gentleman also lent
him a helping hand in promoting the comedy called I he
Tender Husband, which was acted in 1704 with great
success. But his next play, The Lying Lover, had a very
different fate. Upon this rebuff from tbe stage, lie
turned the same humorous current into another channel;
and early in the year 1709, he began to publish the
Tatler; which admirable paper was undertaken in con¬
cert with Dr Swift. His reputation was perfectly esta¬
blished by this work; and, during the course of it, he
was made a commissioner of the stamp-duties in 1 /10.
Upon the change of the ministry the same year, he joined
the Duke of Marlborough, who had several years enter¬
tained a friendship for him; and upon his Grace s
dismission from all employments in 17H.» Mr Steele
addressed a letter of thanks to him for the services
which he had rendered to his country. As, how¬
ever, he still continued to hold his place in the stamp-
office under the new administration, he wisely declined
the discussion of political subjects ; and, adhering more
closely to A ddison, he dropped theTatler, and afterwards,
by the assistance chiefly of that steady friend, he car¬
ried on the same plan, much improved, under the title
of the Spectator. The success of this paper was equal
to that of the former; and, before the close of it, he was
thus encouraged to proceed upon the same design in
the character of the Guardian. This was opened in
the beginning of the year 1713, and was laid down in
October the same year. But in the course of it his
thoughts took a stronger turn to politics: he engaged
with great warmth against the ministry; and being
determined to prosecute his views by procuring a seat
in the House of Commons, he immediately removed all
the obstacles that stood in his way. For that purpose
he took care to prevent a forcible dismission from his
post in the stamp-office, by a timely resignation of it to
the Earl of Oxford; and at the same time gave up a
pension, which had hitherto been paid to him by the
Queen as a servant to the late Prince George of Den¬
mark. He now wrote the famous Guardian upon the
demolition of Dunkirk. It was published August 7,
1613; and the parliament being dissolved next day,
the Guardian was soon followed by several other warm
political tracts against the administration. Upon the
meeting of the new parliament, Steele having been
returned a member for the borough of Stockbridge in
Hampshire, took his seat accordingly in the House of
Commons; but was expelled in the course of a few days,
for writing the close of the paper called the Englishman,
and one of his political pieces entitled the Crisis. Pre-
S T E
gently after his expulsion, he published proposals for S» le.
writing the history of the Duke of Marlborough. At the w. ^
same time he also wrote the Spinster ; and, in opposition
to the Examiner, he set up a paper called the Reader,
and continued publishing several other papers and tracts
in the same spirit till the death of the queen. As a
reward for these services, he was immediately taken
into favour by her successor to the throne, King George
I.; was appointed surveyor of the royal stables at
Hampton Court, and governor of the royal company of co¬
medians was put into the commission of the peace for the
county of Middlesex, and in 1715 received the honour
of knighthood. In the first parliament of that king, he
was chosen member for Boroughbridge in Yorkshire;
and, after the suppression of the rebellion in the north,
was appointed one of the commissioners of the forfeited
estates in Scotland. In 1718, he buried his second wife,
who had brought him a handsome fortune with a good
estate in Wales; but neither this, nor the ample addi¬
tion lately made to his income, was sufficient to answer
his demands. The thoughtless vivacity of his spirit
often reduced him to little shifts of wit for its support;
and the project of the fish-pool this year, owed its birth
chiefly to the projector’s necessities. This vessel was
intended to carry fish alive, and without wasting, to any
part of the kingdom; but notwithstanding all his tower¬
ing hopes, the scheme proved very ruinous, to him ; for
after he had been at an immense expence in contriving
and building his vessel, besides the charge of the patent,
which he had procured, it turned out upon trial to be a
mere project. His plan was to bring salmon alive from
the coast of Ireland; but these fish, though supplied by
this contrivance with a continual stream of water while
at sea, yet uneasy at their confinement, shattered them¬
selves to pieces against the sides of the pool; so that
when they were brought to market they were worth very
little. , ....
The following year he opposed the remarkable peer¬
age bill in the House of Commons; and, during the
course of this opposition to the court, his license for
acting plays was revoked, and his patent rendered inef¬
fectual at the instance of the Lord Chamberlain, kle
did his utmost to prevent so great a loss; and finding
every direct avenue of approach to his royal master
effectually barred against him by his powerful adversary,
he had recourse to the method of applying to the public,
in hopes that his complaints would reach the ears ot his
sovereign, though in an indirect course, by that channel.
In this spirit he formed the plan of a periodical paper,
to be published twice a-week, under the title ot the
Theatre ; the first number of which appeared on the
of January 1719-20. In the mean time, the misfortune
of being out of favour at court, like other misfortunes,
drew after it a train of more. During the course of this
paper, in which he had assumed the feigned name of Sr
John Edgar, he was outrageously attacked by Mr Dennis,
the noted critic, in a very abusive P^phlet, entitled
The Character and Conduct of Sir John Edgau
this insult he made a proper reply in the Theatre.
While he was struggling with all his might to s
himself from ruin, he found time to turn his Pei\ar,‘ ,
the mischievous South Sea scheme, which had nearer
brought tbe nation to ruin in 1720 ; and the ne y
he was restored to his office and authori y in P J
house in Drury-Lane. Of this it was W beJee.
he made an additional advantage, by bringing 1
brated comedy called the Conscious Loversuym that stage,
where it was acted with prodigious success , s
receipt there must have been very considerable besides
the profits accruing by the sale of the copy, 1
S ;^e
gi ‘ enj.
S T E
S T E
715
of £500 given to him by the king, to whom he dedicated
it. Yet notwithstanding these ample supplies, about the
year following, being reduced to the utmost extremity,
he sold his share in the playhouse ; and soon after com¬
menced a lawsuit with the managers, which in 1726,
was decided against him. Having now again, for the last
time, brought himself by the most heedless profusion into
adesperatecondition, he was rendered altogether incapable
of retrieving the loss, by being seized with a paralytic
disorder, which greatly impaired his understanding. In
these unhappy circumstances, he retired to his seat at
Languanor near Caermarthen in Wales, where he died
on the 21st of September 1729, and, according to
his own desire, was privately interred in the church of
Caermarthen. Among his papers were found the manu¬
scripts of two plays, one called The Gentlemen, founded
upon the Eunuch of Terence, and the other entitled The
School of Action, both nearly finished.
Sir Richard was a man of undissembled and extensive
benevolence, a friend to the friendless, and, as far as his
circumstances would permit, the father of every orphan.
His works are chaste and manly. He was a stranger to
the most distant appearance of envy or malevolence;
never jealous of any man’s growing imputation ; and so
far from arrogating any praise to himself from his con¬
junction with Mr Addison, that he was the first who de¬
sired him to distinguish his papers. His great fault was
want of economy; and it has been said of him, he was
certainly the most agreeable and the most innocent rake
that ever trode the rounds of dissipation.
STEERAGE, on board a ship, that part of the ship
next below the quarter-deck, before the bulk-head of
the great cabin, where the steersman stands in most
ships of war.
STEERING, in Navigation, see Seamanship.
STEEVENS, George, the most successful of all the
editors and commentators of Shakspeare, was born in
the year 1735. We know nothing respecting his parents;
but they appear to have been in affluent circumstances.
He received the rudiments of his education at Kings-
ton-upon-Thames, and had Gibbon the historian for
a companion at that school. From hence he went to
Eton, and in a few years was admitted a fellow com¬
moner of King’s College, Cambridge ; but no mention is
made of his peculiar course of studies. It appears how¬
ever that he had liitle relish for the mathematics, which
lead at Cambridge to academical honours. On the first
establishment of the Essex militia, he accepted of a
commission ; but he spent the concluding years of his
life in almost total seclusion from the world, seldom
mingling with society but in the shops of booksellers,
in the Shakspeare gallery, or in the morning conversa¬
tions of Sir Joseph Banks.
Although not an original writer, we cannot in justice
refuse him a place among the literary characters of the
age, when we consider the wmrks which he illustrated,
and the learning, sagacity, taste, and general knowledge
which he brought to the task. With a versatility of
talents, he was eminent both by his pen and his pencil;
but his chief excellence lay in his critical knowledge of
an author’s text; and the best specimen of his abilities
is his edition of Shakspeare, in which he has left
every competitor far behind him. He had studied the
age of Shakspeare, and employed his persevering in¬
dustry in becoming acquainted with the writings, man¬
ners. and laws of that period, as well as the provincial
peculiarities, whether of language or customs, which
prevailed in different parts of the kingdom ; but more
particularly in those where Shakspeare passed the early
years of his life. He was continually increasing this Stegano-
store of knowdedge, by the acquisition of the obsolete grapby
publications of a former age, which he spared no expense „ ^.
to obtain. His critical sagacity and observation were ^ ‘ ‘ _%
constantly employed in calling forth the hidden meanings
of the dramatic bard, and of course enlarging the display
of his beauties. This advantage is apparent from his
last edition of Shakspeare, which contains so large a
portion of new, interesting, and accumulated instruction.
In preparing it for the press, he gave an instance of ac¬
tivity and perseverance wdthout example. To this work he
exclusively devoted a period of eighteen months, during
which he left his house at Hampstead every morning at
one o’clock, going to his friend Mr Isaac Reed's chambers
in Barnard’s Inn, without any consideration of the weather
or the season, and there he found a sheet of the Shakspeare
letterpress ready for correction. Thus, while the
printers slept, the editor was awake, by which means he
completed, in less than twenty months, his splendid edi¬
tion of Shakspeare in fifteen volumes octavo; a labour
almost incredible, and by which the energy and perse¬
vering powers of his mind were fully proved.
He probably rested satisfied with being a commentator
from the particular habits of his life, and his devotion to
the name of Shakspeare. But at the same time he was a
classical scholar of a respectable order, and well acquainted
with the polite literature of Europe. He studied ancient
and modern history, and particularly that of his own
country. His genius was strong and original, his wit
abundant, his imagination of every colour ; and his senti¬
ments were enlivened with the most brilliant expressions.
His eloquence was logical and animated; his descriptions
were so true to nature, his figures so curiously selected,
and so happily grouped, that he might be regarded as a
speaking Hogarth. He scattered his wit and his humour
too freely around him, and they were not lost for want
of gathering.
Mr Steevens had a very handsome fortune, which he
managed with discretion. His generosity was equal to
his fortune; and though not profuse of his money to
sturdy beggars, few persons distributed with more libe¬
rality to truly deserving objects. He possessed all the
graces of outward accomplishment, at a period when
civility and politeness were characteristics of a gentle¬
man. He bequeathed his valuable Shakspeare, illus¬
trated with about 1500 prints, to Earl Spencer; his
Hogarth, perfect, with the exception of one or two
pieces, to Mr Windham ; and his corrected copy of
Shakspeare, with 200 guineas, to his friend Mr Reed.
He died in the month of January 1800, about sixty-five
years of age.
STEGANOGRAPHY, the art of secret writing, or
of writing in ciphers, known only to the persons corre¬
sponding.
STELLIONATE, in the civil law, a kind of crime,
committed by a fraudulent bargain, where one of the
parties sells a thing for what it is not; as if he sells an
estate for his own which belongs to another, or conveys
a thing as free and clear which is already engaged to
another, or puts off copper for gold, &c.
STEMPH1LA, a word used by the ancients to express
the husks of grapes, or the remains of the pressings of
wine. The same word is also used by some to express
the remaining mass of the olives, after the oil is pressed
out.
STEMPYLITES, a name given by the ancients to a
sort of wine pressed hard from the husks.
STEMPLES, in mining, cross bars of wood in the
shafts which are sunk to mines.
716
STENOGRAPHY.
Steno- STENOGRAPHY.1 The art of stenography, or short
graphy. writing, was known and practised by most of the ancient
 v civilized nations. The Egyptians, who at an early period
were distinguished for learning, at first exjiressed their
words by a delineation ot figures called hieroglyphics. A
more concise mode of writing seems to have been afterwards
introduced, in which only a part of the symbol or picture was
drawn. This answered the purpose ot short-hand in some
degree. After them the Hebrew's, the Greeks, and the
Romans, adopted different methods of abbreviating their
words and sentences, suited to their respective languages.
The initials, the finals, or radicals, often served for whole
words; and various combinations of these sometimes formed
a sentence. Arbitrary marks were likewise employed to
determine the meaning, and to assist legibility ; and it seems
probable that every writer and every author of antiquity
had some peculiar method of abbreviation, calculated to
facilitate the expression of his owm sentiments, and intel¬
ligible only to himself. It is also probable that some might
by these means take down the heads of a discourse 01 oia-
tion; but few, very few', it is presumed, could have followed
a speaker through all the meanders of rhetoric, and, in a
manner legible even to themselves, could have noted with
precision every syllable as it dropt from his mouth. To
arrive at such consummate perfection in the art was re¬
served for more modern times, and is still an acquisition by
no means general.
In every language of Europe, till about the close of the
sixteenth century, the Roman plan of abbreviating (viz. sub¬
stituting the initials or radicals, with the help of arbitraries,
for words) appears to have been employed. Till then no
regular alphabet had been invented expressly for steno¬
graphy, when an English gentleman of the name of Willis
invented and published one.2 His plan was soon im¬
proved, or at least altered. One alteration succeeded an¬
other ; and at intervals, for a series of years past, some men
of ingenuity and application have composed and published
systems of stenography, and doubtless have themselves
reaped all the advantages that attend it. But among the
various methods which have been proposed, and the dif¬
ferent plans which have been adopted by individuals, none
has yet appeared fortunate enough to gain general appro¬
bation, or proved sufficiently simple, clear, and concise, to
be universally studied and practised. Some systems are
replete with unmeaning symbols, perplexing arbitraries, and
ill-judged contractions; which render them so difficult to
be attained by a common capacity, or ordinary application,
that it is not to be wondered at if they have sunk into ne¬
glect, and are now no longer known. Other systems, by
being too prolix, by containing a multiplicity of characters,
and those characters not simple or easily remembered, be¬
come ineffectual to the purpose of expedition, and are only
superior in obscurity to a common hand. Some, again, not
only reject all arbitraries and contractions, but even prepo¬
sitions and terminations ; which last, if not too lavishly em¬
ployed and badly devised, highly contribute to promote both
expedition and legibility; and though they reduce their
characters to fewer than can possibly express the various
modifications of sound, yet they make nearly one half of
them complex. In the disposition of the vowels there is
the greatest perplexity in most systems. A dot is sometimes
substituted for all the vowels indiscriminately, and the judg¬
ment is left to determine which letter out of six any dot is
intended to express ; or a minute space is allotted them;
so that unless they be arranged with mathematical precision, s
they cannot be distinguished from one another; but such
a minute attention is inconsistent with the nature of short¬
hand, which should teach us to write down in a short time,
as w'ell as in small bounds, what we wish to preserve of
what we hear. Nor is the plan of lifting the pen and put¬
ting the next consonant in the vowel’s place, in the middle
of words, less liable to objections; or that of representing
all the vowels by distinct characters, being obviously ill cal¬
culated for facility and despatch, and consequently inad¬
missible into any useful system.
It is to be confessed, that the person wffio first proposed
the omission of vowels in the middle of words,3 which
it is obvious are not wanted, and invented letters which
could be connected as in a running hand without lifting the
pen in the middle of the word, made a real improvement on
the works of his predecessors. But, in fine, most systems,
either in their plan or execution, labour under some capital
defect, attended with circumstances highly discouraging to
the learner, and which in a great measure defeat the end of
their invention, by being too complicated to be learned with
ease and remembered w ith accuracy, or to be practised with
the expedition which is requisite; and so difficult to be de¬
ciphered, that a man can scarcely read what he has just
written. To obviate these defects, to provide against pro¬
lixity and conciseness, which might occasion obscurity, to
exhibit a system founded on the simplest principles, which
might be easily learned and read, and yet be capable of the
utmost expedition, were the motives that gave rise to the
present attempt.
This method will be found different from any yet pub¬
lished, and superior to all in the disposition of the vowels
and the facility of arranging them ; the confusion in placing
which seems to detract from the merit of the best perform¬
ances on the subject; and it may without ostentation be
affirmed, that characters simpler in their form, and more per¬
fect in their union, have not been applied to the art of ste¬
nography. As wrell as it could be determined, the simplest
characters are appropriated to the letters most usually em¬
ployed; indeed, as far as possible, those which are complex
have been rejected; but as it was an object always kept in
view that the writing should be on a line, a few are admit¬
ted into the alphabet for that reason. The characters for
the double and triple consonants are the easiest that could be
invented, consistent with perspicuity ; for care has been
taken to provide against all obscurity which might arise by
adopting letters too similar in their formation ; and with re¬
spect to the prepositions and terminations, those which oc¬
cur most frequently are expressed by the simplest charac¬
ters, which will be found perfectly easy in their application.
The arbitraries are few in number, and the arbitrary abbre¬
viations, as they are entirely from the letters of the alpha¬
bet, and chosen from some thousands of words in common
use, will well repay the learner for an hour’s trouble m com¬
mitting them to memory.
The last section lays down a scheme of abbreviation,
comprised in a few rules, perfectly easy to be understoo
and practised by proficients in this art; and we hope it wi
answer the expectation of the writer, and wnl be toum
free from the perplexity complained of in many systems
Ste«
graii 1
1 The value of stenography is not unknown to the learned ; and the care and success with which it has been lately cultivated * ^
kingdoms will, in all probability, soon render it an object of general attention. No one, however, appears to us o iave p
improved the art so much as Dr Mayor, author o£ (Tniver sal Stuiiography. , . _ . . ti,P rase: and
3 Mr Locke says, a regular method of short writing seems to be known and practised only in Britain. 1 his is ninved in any
indeed there is no reason to doubt whether characters may not be invented to express the various sounds or le ers, emp y
language, either ancient or modern. _ . . . , •i.:rauv examining
1 Mr Bvroin rejected vowels entirely in the middle of words, as others before him had only done partially. ) i itnout .cri •/ t0 exceed
the executive part of his performance, which is very defective, it must be owned that it is above the reach of human mge y
his general plan, which for ever must be the basis of every future rational system.
STENOGRAPHY.
717
s
Tin ne-
ral i<:*‘
pies ste-
nog! 7-
where abbreviation is admitted. The principal rules are
new, are so easy, so extensive in their use, and so consist¬
ent with expedition and legibility, if applied with judgment,
that they alone might suffice. The learner is however ad¬
vised by no means to adopt any of them till experience has
convinced him that they may be used without error, or
injury to legibility. All abbreviating rules are suited to
those only who have made some progress in the steno¬
graphic art; for although they certainly promote expedi¬
tion in a wonderful manner, and afford the greatest ease to
a proficient, yet a learner, as expedition is not his first,
though his ultimate view, should admit of nothing that in
the least renders the reading difficult.
II. The English alphabet consists of twenty-six letters;
six of which are vowels, a, e, i, o, u, and y; and the other
twenty consonants, 6, c, d, f g, h, j, k, l, rn, n, p, g, r, s, t,
v, w, x, and z. This alphabet, as is observed by the best
grammarians that have written on the language, is both de¬
fective and redundant in expressing the various modifica¬
tions of sound.1 Custom or prejudice has assigned some
letters a place, when others would with much more pro¬
priety express the same sound ; and to this may be added,
that several letters, sometimes in one word, seem to be
admitted for no other reason than to perplex a young be¬
ginner or a foreigner, as an obstruction to true pronuncia¬
tion, and to add to the apparent length of the word, when
they are entirely quiescent and useless. That this is the
genius of the orthography of our language, must be per¬
ceived by the most superficial observer ; but no modern
tongue is absolutely free from the same exceptions. In
particular, the French has a great number of dormant
letters, which, it is obvious, render the pronunciation more
difficult and perplexing to learners. In this respect, the
Latin and Greek claim a just superiority over the modern
tongues. In them no confusion or doubt can arise from
the manner of spelling ; and the reader can scarcely be
wrong, unless in quantity, in sounding all the letters that
he sees.
But as it is neither our business nor our intention to
propose a mode of spelling different from that in common
use, when applied to printing or long-hand writing (since
several innovators in orthography have fallen into contempt,
and their plans have been only preserved as beacons to
warn others of the folly of endeavouring to subvert esta¬
blished principles2), we shall only observe, that in steno¬
graphy, where the most expeditious and concise method
is the best, if consistent with perspicuity, the following
simple rules are studiously to be regarded and practised.
1. All quiescent consonants in words are to be dropped,
and the orthography to be directed only by the pronuncia¬
tion; which being known to all, will render this art attain¬
able by those who cannot spell with precision in long-hand.
2. When the absence of consonants, not entirely dor¬
mant, can be easily known, they may often be omitted
without the least obscurity.
3. Two or sometimes more consonants may, to promote
greater expedition, be exchanged for a single one of nearly
similar sound; and no ambiguity as to the meaning ensue.3
4. When two consonants of the same kind or same
sound come together, without any vowel between them,
only one is to be expressed; but if a vowel or vowels in¬
tervene, both are to be written: only observe, if they are
perpendicular, horizontal, or oblique lines, they must only
be drawn a size longer than usual; and characters with
loops must have the size of their heads doubled.
Might is to be written nut, fight jit, machine mashin,
enough, emf, laugh laf, prophet profit, physics fisiks.
through thru', foreign foren., sovereign soveren, psalm sam, Steno-
receipt reset, write rite, wright rit, island Hand, knavery RraPby-
navery, temptation temtation, knife nife, stick sd/t, thigh
thi, honour onour, indictment inditement, acquaint aquaint, exempii.1
chaos kaos, &c. tied.
Strength strentk, length tenth, friendship fremkip, con-Second rule
nect cortek, commandment comanment, conjunct conjunt, exempli-
humble humte, lumber lamer, slumber slumer, number*1^'
numer, exemplary exemlary, &c.
Hocks rox, acts aks or ax, factsor fax, districts dis- Third rule
triks or distrix, affects afiks or afix, afflicts ajliks or ajlix, ’
conquer honkr, &c. L
Letter leter, little litle, command comand, error eror, Fourth rule
terror teror, &c. But in remember, moment, sister, and such exempli-
like words, where two consonants of the same name have1^-
an intervening vowel, both of them must be written.
These four rules, with their examples, being carefully
considered by the learner, will leave him in no doubt con¬
cerning the disposition and management of the consonants
in this scheme of short writing; we shall therefore proceed
to lay down rules for the application of the vowels with
ease and expedition.
1. Vowels, being only simple articulate sounds, though Rules for
they are the connectives of consonants, and employed fit the vowel*,
every word and every syllable, are not necessary to be in¬
serted in the middle of words ; because the consonants, if
fully pronounced, with the assistance of connection, will
always discover the meaning of a word, and make the
writing perfectly legible.
2. If a vowel is not strongly accented in the incipient
syllable of a word, or if it is mute in the final, it is likewise
to be omitted; because the sound of the incipient vowel is
often implied in that of the first consonant, which will con¬
sequently supply its place.
3. But if the vowel constitutes the first or last syllable
of a word, or is strongly accented at its beginning or end,
that vowel is continually to be written.
4. If a word begins or ends with twro or more vowels
though separated, or when there is a coalition of vowels, as
in diphthongs and triphthongs, only one of them is to be
expressed, which must be that which agrees best with the
pronunciation.
5. In monosyllables, if they begin or end with a vowel, it
is always to be inserted, unless the vowel be e mute at the
end of a w ord.
Such are the general principles of this art; in vindica¬
tion and support of which it will be needless to offer any
arguments, when it is considered that brevity and expedi¬
tion are the chief objects, if consistent with legibility ; and
the subsequent specimens in the orthography recommended
will, we hope, be sufficient to show that there is no real
deficiency in the last-mentioned particular.
He who md us mst be etrnl, grt, nd mnptnt. It is or Specimen
dty, as rsnl bngs, to srv, Iv, nd oby hm A mn tht wd avd of the mode
blm, slid be srkmspk in al hs axns, nd ndvr wth al hs mt to0^ sPeHing
pis evry bdy.—I wd nt Ifm any knxnswth a mn who hd
rgrd fr hmslf; nthr wd I blv a mn who hd ons tld me a li.° "
—Onr is of al thngs the mst dfklt to prsrv ntrnshd; nd who
ons mpchd, Ik the chstty of a wmn, nvr shns wth its wntd
Istr—Wth gd mnrs, kmplsns, nd an esy pit adrs, mny mk
a fgr in the wrl, whs mnl ablts wd skrsly hv rsd thm abv
the rnk of a ftmn—Idlns is the prrit of a thsnd msfrtns,
wch ar nvr fit by the ndstrs: it is a pn nd a pnshmnt of
itslfi and brngs wnt nd bgry in its trn—Vrtu is the frst
thug tht slid be rgrdd; it is a rwrd of itslf; mks a man
rspktbl hr, nd wl mk hm etrnly hpy hrftr.-—Prd is a mst
prnss psn, wch yt vvs plntd by hvn in ur ntr, to rs ur emlsn
I HvTr* S G.ra™mar: Priestley’s Grammar. Sheridan’s Lectures on Elocution. * Preface to Johnson’s Dictionary,
of an IwT e llrWIse 1 T1 !:the m\ddle of words, but never in the beginning, may be exchanged for » and /, when they admit
- ier connecting with the following character, or will make the writing appear neater
718
STENOGRAPHY.
Steno¬
graphy.
Stenogra-
to imtt grt nd wrthy krktrs or axns, to xt in us a si fr wht
is rt nd gst, and a Idbl ndgnsn gnst oprsrs nd wrkrs of ny
' knd of nkyty; in shrt, to mk us st a prpr vlu upn urslvs, nd
dsps a wrthls flo, hu evr xltd. Ths fr prd is avitu, nd my
gstly be kid a grtns of si. Bt prd, Ik othr psns, gnrly fxs
upn rng obgks, or is apld in rng prprsns. Hu kmn is it to
se a rtchwhm evry vs hs rndrd msrbl, nd evry fly kntmbl,
vlng hmslf on hs hi brth, nd bstng ths ilstrs nsstrs, of whm
he nhrts nthng bt the nm or ttl! nsstrs who, if thy nu hm,
wrd dsn thr dsndnt wth kntmt. But al prd of ths srt is fly,
nd evr to be avdd.
III. As the whole of this art depends upon a regular
method and a simple alphabet, we have not only endea¬
voured to establish the former on satisfactory principles,
but have been careful to appropriate, according to the com¬
parative frequency of their occurrence, such characters for
the letters as, after repeated trials and alterations, were con¬
ceived to be the best adapted for despatch.
The stenographic alphabet consists of eighteen distinct
phic alpha- characters (viz. two for the vowels and the rest for the con-
^ sonants), taken from lines and semicircular curves ; the for¬
mation and application of which we shall now explain, be¬
ginning with the vowels.
For the three first vowels, a, e, and i, a comma is appro¬
priated in different positions; and for the other three, o, u,
and y, a point. The comma and point, when applied to a,
and o, are to be placed at the top of the next character;
when for e and u, opposite to the middle; and when for i
and y, at the bottom.
This arrangement of the vowels is the most simple and
distinct that can easily be imagined. Places at the top, the
middle, and the bottom of characters, which make three dif¬
ferent positions, are as easily distinguished from one another
as any three separate characters could be; and a comma is
made with the same facility as a point.
Simple lines may be drawn four different ways; perpen¬
dicular, horizontal, and with an angle of about forty-five de¬
grees to the right and left. An ascending oblique line to
the right, which will be perfectly distinct from the rest when
joined to any other character, may likewise be admitted.
These characters being the simplest in nature, are assigned
to those five consonants which most frequently occur, viz.
I, r, t, c hard or k, and c soft or s.
Every circle may be divided with a perpendicular and
horizontal line, so as to form likewise four distinct charac¬
ters. These being the next to lines in the simplicity of their
formation, wre have appropriated them for b, d, n, and m.
The characters expressing nine of the consonants are all
Z, as it is a letter seldom employed in the English lan- Si
guage, and only a coarser and harder expression of s, must g> y.
be supplied by s whenever it occurs; as for Zedekiah write^^
Sedekiah, &c.
IV. The prepositions and terminations in this scheme Ruf q,
are so simple, that the greatest benefit may be reaped from Pret: •
them, and very little trouble required to attain them; as!10n i(i
the incipient letter or the incipient consonant of all the pre-Jf'
tionj
Lines.
Circles.
positions and of several of the terminations is used to ex¬
press the whole. But in order to give every assistance, we
have subjoined the following directions.
L. The preposition is always to be written without join¬
ing, yet so near as plainly to show what word it belongs to;
and the best way is to observe the same order as if the
whole was to be connected.
2. A preposition, though the same letters that constitute
it may be met with in the middle or end of a word, is never
to be used, because it would expose to obscurity.
3. Observe that the preposition omni is expressed by the
vowel o in its proper position ; and for anti, anta, ante, by
the vowel a, which the radical part of the word will easily
distinguish from being only simple vowels.
The first rule for the prepositions is to be observed for
the terminations ; and also the second, mutatis mutandis;
except that whenever sis, sus, sys, cious, tious, and ces oc¬
cur, they are to be expressed as directed in the fourth rule
for the consonants, whether in the beginning, middle, or
end of words.
4. The terminative character for tion, sion, cion, cian,
tian, is to be expressed by a small circle joined to the
nearest letter, and turned to the right; and the plurals
lions, cions, dans, tians, by a dot on the same side.
5. The terminative character for ing is to be expressed
likewise by a small circle, but drawn to the left hand; and
its plural ings by a dot.2
6. The plural sign s is to be added to the terminative
characters when necessary.
7. The separated terminations are never to be used but
in polysyllables, or words of more syllables than one.
These rules duly observed will point out a method as
concise and elegant as can be desired, for expressing the
most frequent and longest prepositions and terminations in
the English language. If it should be thought necessary
to increase their number by the addition of others, it will
be an easy matter for any one of the least discernment to
do so, by proceeding on the principles before laid down.
Y. Though a more concise method of writing, or more RuM
Curves and
Laes.
perfectly distinct from one another; eight only remain which
are needful, viz./, g or/ h, p, q, v, w, and x; to find cha¬
racters for which we must have recourse to mixed curves
and lines. The characters which we have adopted are the
simplest in nature after those already applied, admit of the
easiest joining, and tend to preserve lineality and beauty in
the writing.
It must be observed, that we have no character for c when
it has a hard sound, as in castle ; or soft, as in city ; for it
naturally takes the sound of k or s, which in all cases will
be sufficient to supply its place.
R likewise is represented by the same character as l;
only with this difference, r is WTitten with an ascending
stroke,1 and l with a descending; which is always to be
known from the manner of its union with the following
character; but in a few monosyllables where r is the tmly
consonant in the word, and consequently stands alone, it is
to be made as is shown in the alphabet, for distinction’s sake.
numerous abbreviations, may not be indispensably neces-^
sary, if the foregoing directions be practised lor a consider¬
able time, yet contractions will be found extremely useful
and convenient to those who have attained a proper know¬
ledge of the subject, and will lead to a greater degree of ex¬
pedition, at the same time that they diminish the labour o
writing. It has been observed in the introduction, that ab¬
breviations are only to be employed by proficients in tins
art; because expedition is not the first, though the ulti¬
mate, object in view ; and that an easy legibility is or t ie
utmost consequence to the learner ; which however cannot
be preserved, if he adopts too soon those very rules \v nc1
in time will afford him the greatest ease when applied wit
judgment. . . u P
The following short and practical rules will be fount, w
hope, fully adequate to every purpose for which they weie
intended, and are far superior in the facility of their app i
cation to any which we have seen.
1. The usual abbreviations in long-hand are always
1 The character for h, when lineality requires it, may be made from the bottom and inverted. And often h may e
or a vowel may be substituted in its stead, without any injury to legibility, it being rather a breathing than a letter* rWacters the
* In horizontal characters, by the left hand is meant the top, and by the right the space below the letter. In ail ot i
right and left positions will naturally be known.
STL
iro- be followed ; as Mr for Master, M. D. for Doctor of Physic,
S ic and Abp. for Archbishop, &c.
,e 2. Substantives, adjectives, verbs, and participles are to be
^ expressed by their initial consonant with distinguishingmarks,
viz. a substantive must have a dot exactly over its initial con¬
sonant; an adjective must have a dot under it; a verb is to
be expressed by a comma over its initial consonant; and a
participle by a comma under.1 These, being the four prin¬
cipal parts of speech, will be sufficient; and an adept will
never be at a loss to know when he can with safety apply
this rule to them.
3. To render the writing more legible, the last letter of
the word may be joined to the first, and the proper mark
applied.
4. The constituent or radical part of words, especially if
they are long, will often serve for the whole or sometimes
the first syllable : as we ought to moderate our ex. by our
circum.; a man’s man. commonly shape his for.
5. All long words without exception may have their pre¬
positions or terminations expressed by the incipient conso¬
nant of such preposition or termination.
6. When there is a great dependence between the parts
of a sentence, the initial letter will often suffice ; as L. is
the capital of Great B.; the eldest S. of the king of Great
B. is styled prince of W. Every one, it is presumed, will
allow this to be perfectly legible in long-hand; then why
may it not in stenography ?
7. The terminations ness and less may be omitted; as
faithfulness is only to be written faithful; forwardness, for¬
ward; heedless, heed; stubbornness, stubborn, &c.
8. The second and third persons of verbs, ending in eth
and est, may be expressed by s ; as, he loves, thou teaches;
instead of he lovelh, thou teachest: or even without s; as,
he love, &c.
9. Words may often be entirely omitted, and yet no am¬
biguity ensue; as, In beginning God created heaven and
earth, for In the beginning God created the heaven and the
earth.
10. When there is an immediate repetition of a sentence
or word, a line is to be drawn under the sentence or word
to be repeated ; as, Amen, Amen, is to be written Amen;
but if any words intervene before a word or sentence is to
be repeated, the line must be drawn as before, and a A
or mark of omission placed where the repetition should be¬
gin ; as, Is it just the innocent should be condemned A re-
I viled ?
STENTOROPHONIC Tube, a speaking trumpet; thus
called from Stentor, a person mentioned by Homer.
STEP, in a ship, a block of wood fixed on the decks or
bottom of a ship, and having a hole in its upper side, fitted
to receive the heel of a mast or capstern. The steps of
the main and fore masts of every ship rest upon the kelson,
to which they are firmly secured by knees, bolts, or spike-
nails. The step of the mizen-mast usually rests upon the
lower deck.
STEPHANO, St, a city of the province of Mazzara, in
the island of Sicily. It stands on the sea-shore, in a situ¬
ation rather unhealthy, on the declivity of Mount Quisquina,
and at the distance of forty-eight miles from Palermo. It
contains about 6000 inhabitants.
STEPHANOPHORUS, in Antiquity, the chief priest
of Pallas, who presided over the rest. It was usual for every
god to have a chief priest; that of Pallas was the Stepha-
nophorus, and that of Hercules was called Dadouchus.
Stephanophorus was also a priest who assisted the women
in the celebration of the festival Thesmophoria.
STEPHANUS Byzantinus, a learned grammarian, who
flourished about the close of the fifth century. He wrote
S T E 719
a large work, in which he made a great number of obser- Stephanas,
vations, borrowed from mythology and history, which show- -v-*-''
ed the origin of cities and colonies; of which we have little
remaining but an abridgement by Hermolaus the gramma¬
rian. Even in this state, it has been found a work of no
inconsiderable value. It is alphabetically arranged, and
bears the inscription Ilsg/ IIoXswv, or “ Concerning Cities.”
The first edition was printed by Aldus, Venet. 1502, fol.
This was followed by an edition printed by the heirs of P.
Junta, Fiorent. 1521, fol. The text received many emen¬
dations in the edition of Xylander, Basil. 1568, fol. All
these editions contain the Greek text, without any Latin
version. An edition, with a translation, and copious anno¬
tations, was published by Thomas de Pinedo, Amst. 1678,
fol. Another edition, with a translation and a commentary,
was prepared by Berkelius, and after his death was com¬
pleted by J. Gronovius, Lugd. Bat. 1688, fol. Nor must
we here omit the posthumous “ Notae et Castigationes” of
Holstenius, Lugd. Bat. 1684i, fol.
Stephanus, Henry, the founder of a most remarkable
and meritorious family of printers, was born at Paris in the
year 1470. The French name is Estienne, which is fre¬
quently transformed into the English Stephens, although the
correct translation would be Stephen. He began the busi¬
ness of a printer about the year 1503. This is the date of
Boethius’s treatise on arithmetic, the first book that is
known to have issued from his press. A great proportion
of the books which he published were Latin. They are
printed in the Roman letter, and are not inelegant, though
some of them abound rather too much in contractions. He
died about the year 1520, and left behind him three sons,
Francis, Robert, and Charles. His widow married Simeon
de Colines (Colinceus in Latin), who thus got possession of
Henry’s printing-office, and continued the business till his
death.
Of Francis, the eldest son, little more is known than
that he carried on business along with Colinaeus, and that
he died at Paris in 1550.
Robert Stephanus, the second son, was born at Paris in
1503. In his youth he made great proficiency in the Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew languages, and at the age of nineteen
had acquired so much knowledge that his step-father in¬
trusted him with the management of his press. He soon
afterwards began business himself, and married Perrete, the
daughter of Jodocus Badius, a printer and an author. She
was a woman of learning, and understood Latin, which in¬
deed was the necessary consequence of her situation. Her
husband always entertained a number of learned men as
correctors of the press. Being foreigners, and of different
nations, they made use of no other language but Latin;
which Perrete being accustomed to hear, was able in a
short time not only to understand, but even to speak witli
tolerable ease.
In 1531 he published his “Thesaurus Linguae Latinae;”
a work of great labour, and of great value. The device which
he exhibited in all his books was a tree branched, with a man
looking upon it, and these words Noli altum sapere, to which
he sometimes added sed time. In 1539, Francis I. made
him his printer, and ordered a new set of elegant types to
be founded for him. His frequent editions of the New
Testament gave great offence to the doctors of the Sor-
bonne, who accused him of heresy for his annotations, and
insisted upon the suppression of some of his books. Al¬
though Henry, the French king, in some measure protected
him, the persecution of these divines rendered him so un¬
happy, not to mention the expense and loss of time which
an almost constant attendance at court unavoidably occa¬
sioned, that in 1552 he abandoned his country and settled
1 The dot or comma being placed thus will never occasion them to be mistaken for vowels, because they should always be on one side or
other; whereas the mark for parts of speech may constantly be placed exactly over or under.
720 S T E
Stephanus. at Geneva. Here he embraced the Protestant religion, and
thus justified in some measure the suspicions of his theolo¬
gical enemies. It has been affirmed by several writers that
he carried along with him the royal types, and the moulds
in which they were cast; but it is certain that he never
afterwards made use of those types. Besides, is it possible
that the author of so daring a theft could have been not
only protected in Geneva, but even courted and honoured
by the most eminent men of the age ? Is it credible that
such a crime could have been concealed for sixty years;
or that Henry, the son and heir of the perpetrator, would
have enjoyed the favour of the French king, if Robert Ste¬
phanus had acted such a shameful part ? If he was burnt
in effigy at Paris, it was not for theft, but for having re¬
nounced the popish faith. After his arrival at Geneva, he
published an account of the dispute between him and the
Paris divines, which does as much honour to his abilities as
his Thesaurus does to his learning. He died in 1559, after
a life of the most extraordinary industry. The books of
which he was the editor were not fewer than 360. Many of
them were ancient classics in different languages. Several
were accompanied with annotations which he collected, and
all of them were corrected by the collation of manuscripts.
He was so anxious to obtain perfect accuracy, that he used
to expose his proof’s in public, and reward those who dis¬
covered % mistake. His books consequently were very cor¬
rect. It is said that his New Testament, called O Mirifi-
cam (because the preface begins with these words), has not
a single fault. It was Robert Stephanus who first divided
the New Testament into verses, during a jouimey between
Paris and Lyon. The advantages of this improvement
are fully counterbalanced by its defects. It has destroyed
the unity of the books, and induced many commentators to
consider every verse as a distinct and independent aphorism.
By his last will his estate was left exclusively to such of his
children as should settle at Geneva. He left behind him
three sons, Henry, Robert, and Francis.
Charles Stephanus, the third son of Henry, was, like
the rest of his family, familiarly acquainted with the learn¬
ed languages. This recommended him to Lazarus de Baif,
who made him tutor to his son, and in 1510 carried him
along with him to Germany. He studied medicine, and
took his doctor’s degree at Paris. He did not however
forsake the profession of his family, but exercised it at Pa¬
ris, where he became the editor of many books remarkable
for neatness and elegance. He wrote above thirty treatises
on different subjects, particularly on botany, anatomy, and
history. Having been unsuccessful in business, he was im¬
prisoned for debt in the Chatelet in 1561, and died there
in 1564.
Robert Stephanus, the son of Robert the first of that
name, did not accompany his father to Geneva, but con¬
tinued to profess the Romish religion, and to reside at Paris.
His letter was remarkably beautiful. He was made king’s
printer, and di^l about 1589. His brother Francis, who
was also a printer, embraced the Protestant religion, and
resided at Geneva.
Henry Stephanus, the eldest brother, was born at
Paris in 1528. He became the most learned and most
celebrated of all his family. From a very early age he
gave proofs of uncommon abilities, and displayed an ar¬
dent passion for knowledge. The Medea of Euripides,
which he saw acted while at school, first kindled his love
for poetry, and inspired him with the desire of acquiring
the language in which that tragedy is written. He entreat¬
ed his father not to condemn him to study Latin, which he
already understood from conversation, but to initiate him
at once in the knowledge of Greek. His father willingly
acceded to his request; and Henry applied with such vi¬
gour, that in a short time he could repeat the Medea by
heart. He afterwards studied Greek under Danesius, who
S T E
was tutor to the Dauphin, and finally heard the lectures of Step ^
Tusanus and Turnebus. At an early age he became eager «w
to understand astrology, and accordingly attended a pro¬
fessor of that mysterious art; but he was not long in dis¬
covering its absurdity. At the age of nineteen he began
his travels, which he undertook in order to examine foreign
libraries, and to become acquainted with learned men. He
spent two years in Italy, and returned into France com¬
pletely master of Italian, and bringing along with him
copies of several scarce authors, particularly a part of Ana¬
creon, which previously was supposed to be lost. He found
his father publishing an edition of the New Testament, to
which he prefixed some Greek verses. Soon after, he vi¬
sited England and the Netherlands, where he met with John
Clement, an Englishman, to whom he was indebted for the
remaining odes of Anacreon. During this journey he learn¬
ed the Spanish language, which was very much spoken at
that time in the Low Countries.
Whether Henry accompanied his father to Geneva, is
uncertain : if he did, he must have returned immediately
to France, for we find him soon after established at Paris,
and publishing the odes of Anacreon. In 1554 he went
to Rome, and thence to Naples. This journey was under¬
taken at the request, and in the service, of the French go¬
vernment. He was discovered, and would have been ar¬
rested as a spy, had he not by his address and skill in the
language of the country been able to pass himself for a
native of Italy. On his return to France, he assumed the
title of printer to Ulric Fugger, a very rich and learned
German nobleman, rvho allowed him a considerable pen¬
sion.
In 1560 he married a relation, as is generally supposed,
of Henry Scrimger, a Scotish scholar and civilian, with
whom he was intimately acquainted. She was a woman, as
he himself informs us, endowed with the noblest spirit and
the most amiable disposition. Her death, which happened
in 1586, brought on a disease that had twice attacked him
before. It was a disgust at all those pursuits which had
formerly charmed him, an aversion to reading and the sight
of books. It was probably occasioned by too constant and
severe an application to literary pursuits. In 1572 he pub¬
lished, in four vols. folio, his 'Thesaurus Linguae Grceca,
one of the greatest works, perhaps, that ever was executed
by one man, if we consider the wretched materials which
more ancient dictionaries could furnish, the size and per¬
fection of the work, and the immense labour and learning
which must have been employed in the compilation. In
1573, he added Glossaria duo, e situ vetustatis eruta. This
work had been carried on at a greater expense than he
could well bear. He expected to be reimbursed by the sale
of the book, but he was unfortunately disappointed. Scapula,
one of his own correctors, extracted from it whatever he
thought would be most serviceable to students, and pub¬
lished it beforehand in quarto. By this act of treachery
Henry was reduced to poverty.
About this time he was much beloved by Henry III. of
France, who treated him so kindly, and made him such
flattering promises, that he resided frequently at court. But
these promises were never fulfilled, owing to the civil wars
which soon after distracted France, and the unfortunate
death of Henry himself. During the remainder of his life,
his situation was very unsettled. We find him sometimes
at Paris, sometimes at Geneva, in Germany, and even in
Hungary. He died at Lyon in 1598, at the age of seventy.
His temper during the latter part of his life is representec
as haughty and severe, owing probably to his disappoint¬
ments. He was twice married, and by his first wife ha a
son and two daughters, one of whom was married to the
learned Isaac Casaubon. ,.
This most erudite printer was fond of poetry from us
very infancy. It was his practice to compose verses on
S T E
ianus horseback, and even to write them, though he generally
rode a very mettlesome steed. His Thesaurus was his
ome' great work, but he was also the author of many other treo-
j^tises in the French and Latin languages. His poems are
numerous. His “ Apologie pour Herodote” is a very sin¬
gular performance. It has been illustrated by the annota¬
tions of Duchat. The number of books which he publish¬
ed, though fewer than his father, was great, and they were
superior in elegance to any thing which the world had then
seen. A great proportion of them were Greek. He was the
editor, however, of many Latin and even of some oriental writ¬
ings. His Greek classics are remarkably correct; and many
of his editions are accompanied by most learned notes. His
Thesaurus still maintains an unrivalled reputation. An edi¬
tion, with very ample additions, was recently published by
Barker and Valpy; and another elaborate edition is now' in
progress at Paris.
Paul Stephanus, the son of Henry, continued his father’s
profession at Geneva. He was a man of learning, executed
translations of several books, and published a considerable
number of the ancient classics ; but his editions possess
little of his father’s elegance. He died in 1627, at the age
of sixty, after selling his types to one Chouet, a printer. His
son Antony, the last printer of the family, abandoned the
Protestant religion, and returned to France, the country of
his ancestors. He received letters of naturalization in 1612,
and was made printer to the king; but managing his affairs
ill, he was reduced to poverty, and obliged to retire into an
hospital, where he died in 1674, miserable and blind, at the
age of eighty.1
Stephen’s Island, in Torres Strait, north of Darnley’s
Island. Long. 143. E. Lat. 9. 0. S.
Stephen’s Islands, two small islands in the Eastern Seas,
the one about three miles long, and the other about six.
The passage between them is three miles broad. Lonff.
138. 39. E. Lat. 0. 22. S.
STEPNEY, a parish of the county of Middlesex, in the
hundred of Ossulton, adjoining to London, and forming one
of the suburbs, or rather a part of the metropolis. It w as
very extensive, and comprehended the districts on the side
of the Thames, and extending till it united with Hackney,
but has been divided into the distinct parishes of Stratford,
Whitechapel, Limehouse, Wapping, Shadwell, Ratcliff
Highway, Spitalfields, and Bethnal Green. It is commonly
said by seamen, that all children born at sea are parishioners
of Stepney, and that all the colonies of England are part
and parcel of this parish, so as to make it the largest in the
world. The population of the present division, containino-
four hamlets, Mile End Old Town, Mile End New Town,
Poplar with Blackwall, and Ratcliff, amounted in 1801 to
25,260, in 1811 to 37,199, in 1821 to 49,163, and in 1831
to 67,872.
STERCORARIANS, or Stercouanist^;, formed from
siercm, “ dung,” a name W'hieh those of the Romish church
anciently gave to such as held that the host was liable to
digestion, and all its consequences, like other food.
STEREOGRAPHIC Projection, is the projection of
the circles of the sphere on the plane of some one great
circle, the eye being placed in the pole of that circle.
SIEUEOMETER, an instrument invented in France
for measuring the volume of a body, however irregular,
without plunging it in any liquid.
STEREOMETRY, Sresso^srg/a, formed of crj^soj, solid,
and iMrgw, measure, that part of geometry which teaches
how to measure solid bodies, i. e. to find the solidity or so-
hd contents of bodies ; as globes, cylinders, cubes, vessels,
ships, &c.
S T E
721
it
Sterne.
S i EREO xOMY, formed from grtgeo;, and ro/tiri, section, Stereotomy
the art or act of cutting solids, or making sections thereof; 11
as walls and other membranes in the profiles of architec-,
ture.
S 1 EREOT YPE Printing, a method of printing, which
was introduced into this country by William Ged of Edin¬
burgh, before the middle of the eighteenth century. See
Printing.
STERLING, an epithet by w'hichgenuine English money
is distinguished. It is unnecessary to mention the various
conjectures of antiquaries about the origin and meaning of
this appellation. The most probable opinion seems to be
this, that some artists from Germany, who were called Es-
terlings, from the situation of their country, had been em¬
ployed in fabricating our money, which consisted chiefly of
silver pennies ; and that from them the penny was called
an esterling, and our money esterling or sterling money.
STERN, the posterior part of a ship. The stern is ter¬
minated above by the taftarel, and below by the counters;
it is limited on the sides by the quarter-pieces, and the in¬
termediate space comprehends the galleries and wundowrs
of the different cabins.
STERN-Fast, a rope used to confine the stern of a ship
or boat to any wharf or jetty head, &c.
SrsEN-Most, in sea language, usually denotes that part
of a fleet of ships which is in the rear, or farthest a-stern,
as opposed to headmost.
Stern-Pos(, a long straight piece of timber erected on
the extremity of the keel, to sustain the rudder and ter¬
minate the ship behind.
Stern-Sheets, that part of a boat which is contained
between the stern and the aftmost or hindmost seat of the
rowers. It is generally furnished with benches to accom¬
modate the passengers.
SI ERNE, Laurence, an eccentric writer of fiction, has
left behind him a sketch of the principal events of his life,
and some particulars of his family history. From that out¬
line it appears that, he was born at Clonmel!, in the south of
Ireland, on the 24th November 1713. His father was a
lieutenant in the army, and grandson of Dr Richard Sterne,
archbishop of York. When his son was about eight years
of age, Lieutenant Sterne placed him at a school in Hali¬
fax, to which town he had been conducted by his profes¬
sional duties. That officer died in 1731, and in the follow'-
ing year, young Sterne, by the bounty of a relation and
namesake of his own, was transferred from the school of
Halifax to Jesus College, Cambridge.
Having completed his studies at the university, he pro¬
ceeded to York ; and his uncle, Dr Jacques Sterne, pre¬
bendary of Durham, and canon residentiary and precentor
of York, procured him the living of Sutton, and afterwards
a prebend at York. At York he formed an acquaintance
with the lady who afterwards became his wife, under circum¬
stances sufficiently romantic. From a friend of hers he ob¬
tained the living of Stillington, but continued for twenty
years to reside at Sutton, relieving the burden of his double
charge, as he informs us, “ by books, painting, fiddling, and
shooting.” In the library of Shelton Castle, the residence
of his friend and relation, John Hall Stevenson, author of a
licentious production, entitled Crazy Tales, Sterne found
among the dross of antiquity many a brilliant gem, which
he transferred without scruple to his own pages. In this
stolen garb he cut a most imposing figure, until Dr Ferriar
of Manchester, twenty years after the death of the cele¬
brated plagiary, restored the pilfered trappings to the Tudit-
ful owners.2
In 1759, Sterne produced the first two volumes of Tris-
*«lleftom!0xiiieilpd3MitiS Stephanorum A,nst- 1683’ 8v0< Maittaire’ Historia Stephanorum. Lend. 1709, 8vo. Biographic Univer-
* See Dr Ferriar’s Illustrations of Sterne. Loud. 1798, 8vo.
vol. xx.
4 Y
722
Sterno-
raaiitis
II
Stettin.
S T E
tram Shandy, which procured him both money and repu¬
tation. In these volumes there was abundance of mattei
which every one could relish ; and what was unintelligiole
was thought profound. Much ingenious speculation was
squandered upon the black leaves and marbled pages, w ncn
were long contemplated with wronder, before they were dis¬
covered to mean nothing. “ The republic of dark authors,
says Swift, “ have been peculiarly happy in the variety, as
well as extent, of their reputation.”
Before this period, Sterne had only printed two sermons.
The two volumes of Tristram Shandy were succeeded by
two volumes of Sermons. In 1/61 appeared the tnird and
fourth volumes of the novel, and the fifth and sixth in tne
year following. The seventh and eighth volumes were puo-
lished in 1765; but these monstrous births had by that time
ceased to please. Four volumes of Sermons were produced
in 1766; and in 1767, these were followed by the ninth
and last volume of Tristram Shandy. In 17 68 Steine ie-
turned from Italy, whither he had repaired in the hopes ot
finding relief for a consumptive complaint with winch he
had long been afflicted. He only survived to prepare for
the press the first part of his Sentimental Journey, which
was published in 1768. In the month of March of that
year he expired at his lodgings in Bond Street, suirount.ed
by strangers ; a mode of death which he consideied as most
The English writer to whom the author of fristram
Shandy is most indebted for his matter is Burton ; and his
manner bears some resemblance to the capricious, whimsi¬
cal, and digressive Tale of a Tub. He even mimics Swift in
sneering at “ the great Dry den but in the writings of his
prototype he might have found many things infinitely moie
worthy of imitation. In order to make room for his pathos,
however, he eschewed the misanthropy of the dean of St
Patrick’s, and set up for a lover of his species, to which
character his claims were less than equivocal, for his phi¬
lanthropy did not extend so far as to his owm mother.
That sensibility is worthy only of ridicule that bestows a
tear with greater promptitude than a shilling. For the
irony of Swift, Sterne substituted buffoonery, which, in con¬
formity with the opinion of Aristotle, the dean regai ded as
the less liberal species of pleasantry But the strongest
objection to much of the satire in Tristram Shandy is, that
the author threw away his ridicule upon pedantry that had
become altogether obsolete.
It wculd be harsh justice to conclude, that the beauties
of Sterne’s writings are drawn from some yet undiscovered
source, because he is known to have had confused notions
on the subject of literary honesty, and to tear the laurel
from his brows, because some of its leaves are purloined
from the tombs of the dead. “ Every man’s wit,” he says,
“ must come from every man’s owm soul, and no other body’s.”
That he had much wit of his own, there is reason as well as
charity in supposing, although his propensity tn make free
with the wit of others may justify some suspicion on the
subject, upon the principle that a rich man, who retains the
use of his reason, is seldom guilty of theft. And it cannot
be denied, that the world would be indebted to the writer
who could produce such another tissue of reproductions, if
such it is, as “ The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy,
Gent.”
STERNOMANTIS, in Antiquity, a designation given
to the Delphian priestess, more usually called Pythia.
Sternomantis is also used for any one that had a prophesy¬
ing demon within him.
STERNUTATIVE, or Sternutatory, a medicine
proper to produce sneezing.
STETTIN, one of the governments into which the Prus¬
sian province of Pomerania is divided. It extends over
4895 square miles, comprises forty cities and market-towns,
and 1510 villages. It is divided into eleven circles. The
uf ■
Stev i.
S T E
inhabitants amounted in 1817 to 327,002, and in 1831 to Steve
432,570; the whole of them adhering to the Lutheran
church, writh the exception of about 3000 Catholics and ^
1500 Jews. It has been formed out of the whole of the for¬
mer province of Pomerania and the western part of Hither
Pomerania. The. capital is the city of the same name,
situated on the left bank of the river Oder, from which it
has a gradual ascent. It is a well-built city, but some of
its streets are steep. It is strongly fortified, has a cita¬
del, and a fine place of arms, and storehouses for muni¬
tions of war. From its position near the mouth of such a
river, it has facilities for carrying on a very extensive com¬
merce. The productions of foreign countries are conveyed
from it to the cities of Kustrin, Frankfurt, Breslau, and even
to Cracow ; and it is the best shipping port for the produc¬
tions of the districts which surround those cities. The
larger classes of vessels cannot ascend to Stettin, but are
loaded or discharged by means of barges at the port of
Swinemunde, near the discharge of the hresh HafFinto the
Baltic. It contains a fine old royal palace, a Gothic cathe¬
dral with two lofty towers, a gymnasium, to which belong
an astronomical observatory, a library, and museums. It
has considerable manufactories of linen and woollen goods,
tobacco and snuff, several sugar refineries, tanneries, soap¬
boilers’ works, and extensive breweries and distilleries.
Many vessels are built at Stettin, and more than 200 are
owned by the merchants of the city. About 800 ships
yearly enter and clear out. The city, with the suburbs,
contains 32,191 inhabitants, and the markets are well and
cheaply supplied. Long. 14. 50. 25. E. Eat. 52. 25. 36. N.
STEVENAGE, a town of the hundred of Broadwater,
in the county of Hertford, thirty-one miles from London.
It formerly belonged to the abbot of Westminster. The
church, which stands on a hill, is an ancient building, with
a large square tower. There is a free grammar-school, and
an endowed alms-house. This town has a market on W ed¬
nesday. The inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 1254, in
1811 to 1302, in 1821 to 1664, and in 1831 to 1859.
STEWARD (senescallus, compounded of the Saxon
steda, i. e. “ room” or “ stead,” and weard, “ a ward ” or
“ keeper”), an officer appointed in another’s stead or place,
and always taken for a principal officer within his jurisdic¬
tion. Of these there are various kinds. The greatest
officer under the crown is the lord high steward ol Eng¬
land, whose office was anciently the inheritance of the earls
of Leicester, till forfeited by Simon de Montfort to king
Henry HI. But the power of this officer is so very great,
that it has not been judged sare to trust it any longer m
the hands of a subject, excepting only for a particular oc¬
casion ; as to officiate at a coronation, or at the arraignment
of a nobleman for high treason or felony. During his ot-
fice, the steward bears a white staff in his hand ; and vv len
the trial is ended, he breaks the staff, and with it his com¬
mission expires. There is likewise a lord stewarc, o ic
king’s household, who is the chief officer of the king s court,
has the care of the king’s house, and authority over all tne
officers and servants "of the household, except such as De¬
long to the chapel, chamber, and stable.
The court of the lord high steward of Great Britai,
is a court instituted for the trial of peers indicted ror -
son or felony, or for misprision of either. When su.cl
indictment is found by a grand jury of freeholders m tl^e
king’s bench, or at the assizes before the justices of
terminer, it is to be removed by a writ of certiorcn
court of the lord high steward, which has the on y l ^
to determine it. A peer may plead a pardon bef
court of king’s bench, and the judges have P°^r t0 /U
it, in order °,o prevent the trouble
prevent me uuuutc ^ , t
steward merely for the purpose of receiving such p • v ^
he may not plead in that inferior court any o P ’
guilty or not guilty of the indictment, but only in th
723
S T E
S T E
s
,rt,
jw.
because, in consequence of such plea, it is possible that
judgment of death might be awarded against him. The
king, therefore, in case a peer be indicted of treason, felony,
or misprision, creates a lord high steward pro hoc vice by
commission under the great seal; which recites the indict¬
ment so found, and gives his Grace power to receive and
try it secundum legem et consuetudinem Anglice. During
the session of parliament the trial of an indicted peer is not
properly in the court of the lord high steward, but before
the court of our lord the king in parliament. It is true, a
lord high steward is always appointed in that case, to regu¬
late and add weight to the proceedings ; but he is rather
in the nature of a speaker joro tempore, or chairman of the
court, than the judge of it; for here the collective body of
the peers are the judges both of law and fact, and the high
steward has a vote with the rest in right of his peerage.
But in the court of the lord high steward, which is held in
the recess of parliament, he is the sole judge of matters of
law, as the lords triors are in matters of fact; and as they
may not interfere with him in regulating the proceedings
of the court, so he has no right to intermix with them in
giving any vote upon the trial. In the conviction and at¬
tainder of a peer for murder in full parliament, it has there¬
fore been held by the judges, that in case the day appoint¬
ed in the judgment for execution should lapse before exe¬
cution done, a new time of execution may be appointed by
either the high court of parliament during its sitting, though
no high steward be existing, or, in the recess of parliament,
by the court of king’s bench, the record being removed in¬
to that court.
STEWART, Matthew, D.D., an eminent mathemati¬
cian, was in 1717 born at Rothsay in the Isle of Bute, of
which parish his father was minister. Being intended for
the church, he passed through the usual course of a gram¬
mar-school education, and was in 1734 received as a stu¬
dent into the university of Glasgow. There he had the
happiness of having for his preceptors in moral science and
mathematics the celebrated professors Hutcheson and Sim-
son, by the latter of whom he was instructed in what may
not improperly be called the arcanao\W\e ancient geometry.
His views making it necessary for him to remove to Edin¬
burgh, he was introduced by Dr Simson to Mr Maclaurin,
that his mathematical studies might suffer no interruption ;
and he attended the lectures of that great master with such
advantage as might be expected from eminent abilities, di¬
rected by the judgment of him who made the philosophy
and geometry of Newton intelligible to ordinary capacities.
From his intimacy with Simson he had however acquired
such a predilection for the ancient geometry, as the modern
analysis, however powerfully recommended, could not les¬
sen ; and he kept up a regular correspondence with his old
master, giving him an account of his progress and his dis¬
coveries in geometry, and receiving in return many curious
communications respecting the Loci Plani, and the porisms
of Euclid.
^ hile the second invention of porisms, to which more
genius was perhaps required than to the first discovery of
them, employed Dr Simson, his pupil pursued the same sub¬
ject in a different and new direction. In doing so, he was
led to the discovery of those curious and interesting pro¬
positions which were published under the title of General
Theorems in 1746. They were given without the demon¬
strations, but did not fail to place their discoverer at once
among the geometers of the first rank. They are for the
Most part porisms, though Mr Stewart, careful not to anti¬
cipate the discoveries of his friend, gave them no other name
taan that of theorems.
^ Before this period he had entered the church, and through
tne patronage of the Duke of Argyle and the Earl of Bute
m obtained the living of Roseneath, a retired country pa-
nsh in the west of Scotland; but in 1747 he was elected to
the mathematical chair in the University of Edinburgh, Stewart,
which had become vacant the year before by the death of Matthew.
Mr Maclaurin. The duties of this office gave a turn some- v"’—'
what different to his pursuits, and led him to think of the
most simple and elegant means of explaining those difficult
propositions which were hitherto only accessible to men
deeply vei'sed in the modern analysis. In doing this, he
was pursuing the object which of all others he most ardently
wished to attain, namely, the application of geometry to such
problems as the algebraic calculus alone had been thought
able to resolve. His solution of Kepler’s problem was the
first specimen of this kind which he gave to the world; and
it was impossible to have produced one more to the credit of
the method which he followed, or of the abilities with which
he applied it. On this problem the utmost resources of the
integral calculus had been employed. But though many
excellent solutions had been given, there was none of them
at once direct in its method and simple in its principles. Mr
Stewart was so happy as to attain both these objects; and his
solution appeared in the second volume of the Essays of the
Philosophical Society of Edinburgh for the year 1756. In
the first volume of the same collection there are some other
propositions of Mr Stewart’s, which are an extension of a
curious theorem in the fourth book of Pappus. They have
a relation to the subject of porisms, and one of them forms
the ninety-first of Dr Simson’s Restoration. They are be¬
sides very beautiful propositions, and are demonstrated with
all the elegance and simplicity of the ancient analysis.
The prosecution of the plan which he had formed of in¬
troducing into the higher parts of mixed mathematics the
strict and simple form of ancient demonstration, produced
the Tracts Physical and Mathematical, which were pub¬
lished in 1761, and the Essay on the Sun’s Distance, which
was published in 1763. In this last work it is acknowledg¬
ed that he employed geometry on a task which geometry
cannot perform; but while it is granted that this determi¬
nation of the sun’s distance is by no means free from error, .
we may venture to affirm that it contains a great deal which
will always interest geometers, and will always be admired
by them. Eew errors in science are redeemed by the dis¬
play of so much ingenuity, and, what is more singular, of so
much sound reasoning. The investigation is everywhere
elegant, and will probably be long regarded as a specimen
of the most arduous inquiry which has been attempted by
mere geometry.
The Sun’s Distance wras the last work which Dr Stewart
published ; and though he lived to see several animadver¬
sions on it made public, he declined entering into any con¬
troversy. Elis disposition was far from polemical; and he
knew the value of that quiet which a literary man should
rarely suffer his antagonists to interrupt. He used to say,
that the decision of the point in question was now before
the public ; that if his'investigation was right it would never
be overturned, and that if it was wrong it ought not to be
defended. A few months before be published the essay just
mentioned, he gave to the world another work, entitled Pro-
positiones Geometricce more Velerum demonstratce. This
title, it is said, was given to it by Dr Simson, who rejoiced
in the publication of a work so well calculated to promote
the study of the ancient geometry. It consists of a series
of geometrical theorems, lor the most part new ; investigat¬
ed first by an analysis, and afterwards synthetically demon¬
strated by the inversion of the same analysis. Dr Stewart’s
constant use of the geometrical analysis had put him in pos¬
session of many valuable propositions which did not enter
into the plan of any of the wmrks that have been enumerat¬
ed. Of these not a few have found a place in the writings
of Dr Simson, where they w ill for ever remain to mark the
friendship of these two mathematicians, and to evince the
esteem which Simson entertained for the abilities of his pupil.
Soon after the publication of the Sun’s Distance, Dr
724 S T E
Su w,'iff, Stewart’s health began to decline, and the duties of his
iJugald. 0ffjCg became burdensome to him. In the year 1772 he
retired to a small demesne which he possessed in Ayrshire,
where he afterwards spent the greater part of his life, and
never resumed his labours in the university. But though
mathematics had now ceased to be his business, they con¬
tinued to be his amusement till a very few years before his
death, which happened pn the 23d of January 1785, at the
age of sixty-eight.
The habits of study, in a man of original genius, are
objects of curiosity, and deserve to be remembered- Con¬
cerning those of Dr Stewart, his writings have made it ne¬
cessary to remark, that from his youth he had been accus¬
tomed to the most intense and continued application. In
consequence of this application, added to the natural
vigour of his mind, he retained the memory of his disco¬
veries in a manner that will hardly be believed. He rarely
wrote down any of his investigations till it became neces¬
sary to do so for the purpose of publication. When he
discovered any proposition, he would put down the enun¬
ciation with great accuracy, and on the same piece of
paper would construct very neatly the figure to which it
referred. To these he trusted for recalling to his mind at
any future period the demonstration or the analysis, however
complicated it might be. Experience had taught him
that he might place this confidence in himself without any
danger of disappointment; and for this singular power he
was probably more indebted to the activity of his inven¬
tion than the mere tenaciousness of his memory. Though
he was extremely studious, he read few books, and veri¬
fied the observations of M. d’Alembert, that of all men of
letters, mathematicians read least of the writings of one
another. His own investigations occupied him sufficiently;
and indeed the world would have had reason to regret the
misapplication of his talents, had he employed in the mere
acquisition of knowledge that time which he could dedicate
to works of invention.
Stewart, Dugald, the illustrious son of the eminent ma¬
thematician whose merits are recorded in the preceding ar¬
ticle, was born at Edinburgh on the 22d of November 1753.
As a pupil in the High School of his native city, he was re¬
markable for the command of language exhibited in his ex¬
ercises; and at college his turn for mental science began
unequivocally to develop itself. In his nineteenth year he
attended at Glasgow a course of lectures delivered by Dr
Reid, of whose doctrines he was destined to be the most
distinguished amender and expounder. In the course of
that winter he composed, and read in a literary association,
an essay on Dreaming, which afterwards took its place as
an interesting section in his principal work.
But his youthful talents and acquirements were speedily
subjected to a much more decisive test. Soon after the
period of his studies in Glasgow, he assumed, on the decline
of his father’s health, the sole charge of his classes in the uni¬
versity of Edinburgh, and on the completion of his twenty-
first year was appointed to the mathematical professorship,
as assistant and successor. His popularity as a teacher in
this department was remarkable; but when he was just
twenty-five years old, an opportunity was fortunately afiorded
him of proving his qualifications for communicating know¬
ledge in his favourite branch of philosophy. Dr Ferguson,
the professor of moral philosophy, having gone to America
on a public mission, Mr Stewart undertook to fill his place
during the session of 1778-9: he entered on the duties of
the situation within a week after having promised to dis¬
charge them; and for six months, besides teaching his two
mathematical classes and a new class of astronomy, he de¬
livered a course of lectures on ethics, thinking over every
morning the subject of lecture for the day, and addressed
his pupils without having written the discourse or made any
further preparation. Those w ho then heard him considered
S T E
his extemporaneous lectures as possessing an energy and live- Stet t
liness even exceeding that which distinguished his later ad- biif,
dresses. He was soon transferred permanently to the post »
which he thus had temporarily filled; Dr Ferguson retiring in
1785, and Mr Stewart, then thirty-tw o years old, being ap¬
pointed to the chair of moral philosophy in his room. While
his fame as a lecturer rapidly spread all over Great Britain, he
long abstained from communicating his speculations to the
world in any more durable form. His earliest published
work, the first volume of his Elements of the Philosophy of
the Human Mind, did not appear till 1792. In 1793 he
published his Outlines of Moral Philosophy, an unpretending
text-book, but which exhibits his powers of generalization
in the most favourable point of view. During several subse¬
quent years his only publications were, the life of Dr Smith
in 1793, that of Dr Robertson in 1796, and that of Dr Reid
in 1802. These lives appeared in the Transactions of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh. But, in the mean time, among
his pupils he numbered many of those young men whose
talents have since illustrated the northern division of the
island ; and, without naming those who have shone in po¬
litical or professional life, it is enough to say that his Ele¬
ments and his Lectures were the spark that first kindled the
metaphysical genius of his own successor. As early like¬
wise as 1780, before his first marriage, he had begun to re¬
ceive into his family a few private pupils of rank; and some
years after his second marriage in 1790, he again opened
his house for the same purpose, and superintended the
education of several who have occupied a prominent place
as British statesmen. His ready command over his own
mind wus shown, not only by the ease with which he dis¬
charged the duties involved in these various avocations,
but by his adding to his former course of instruction, in
1800, a series of lectures on Political Economy, which how¬
ever were not continued. Nor is it unimportant to add,
that on several occasions when his colleagues were incapa¬
citated from acting, he temporarily gave lectures on natural
philosophy, logic, and rhetoric.
In the winter of 1808-9, Mr Stewart, still in the zenith
of his fame, but suffering under ill health, and dejected hy
the recent loss of his younger son, found himself obliged
for a time to discharge the duties of his chair by deputy.
In the following session his indisposition was more prolong¬
ed ; and, strongly attached to private study, and sensitive¬
ly alive to his reputation as a public teacher, he resolved
to retire altogether from active life. In May 1810, Dr
Thomas Brown, his late assistant, was in consequence con¬
joined with him as the acting professor.
After his retirement he lived constantly, as he had for¬
merly done occasionally, at Kinneill House, situated on the
Firth of Forth, about twenty miles w;est from Edinburgh.
In this retreat he finished his volume of Philosophical Es¬
says, which was published in 1810, and attained very exten¬
sive popularity. The second volume of his Elements ot the
Philosophy of the Human Mind appeared in 1813; and in
the end of 1815 that Dissertation on the Progress of Meta¬
physical and Ethical Philosophy, which, originally w’ritten
for the Supplement to this Encyclopaedia, has now its place
as the opening treatise of the present edition. He pub¬
lished nothing further between that time and the year 1822,
when he suffered a severe stroke of palsy. But his mind
was unshaken and untouched ; and his compositions after
this time were as vigorous in every respect as those which
had preceded. The third volume of the Elements was pub¬
lished in 18271 and in 1828, a few weeks only before h s
death, his view of the Active and Moral Powers ot Man
was given to the world, in two volumes octavo. On tne
11th of June 1828, he died at Edinburgh, in the seventv-
fifth year of his age, and was buried in the Canongate church¬
yard. A monument to his memory, erected by his friemis
and admirers, and successfully imitated from one of the most
b’s
sis
^r-
S T E
beautiful structures of Athens, forms a prominent object on
the Gallon Hill.1 (n. l.)
Stewart’s Islands, a cluster of small, hw islands, in the
South Pacific Ocean, discovered by Captain Hunter in 1791.
i They are five in number. Long. 163. 18. E. Lat. 8. 26. S.
STEYER, a city of Austria, in the province of the Up¬
per Ens, the capital of the circle of Traun. It stands at
the junction of the two rivers Steyer and Traun, which,
when united, flow into the Danube. It is a place of great
industry, and contains various manufactories. There are
some of cotton and of linen goods ; but the chief occupa¬
tion is that of preparing cutlery and arms of various kinds,
the latter chiefly for the imperial armies. The other ne¬
cessaries for the equipment of armies are also extensively
fabricated. The city contains 10,64-0 inhabitants, having
of late years greatly increased. Long. 14. 14. 45. E.
Lat. 48. 4. 45. N.
STEYERMARK, or Steiermark, one of the provinces
of the Austrian empire. Its name is derived from an an¬
cient palace at the junction of the Steyer with the Ens,
which in the twelfth century was inhabited by a Count
Trungau, who was ruler over a part of Carinthia, then an
independent duchy. It extends in north latitude from 45°
54' to 47° 50', and in east longitude from 13° 26' to 16°
19", being an extent of 8600 square miles. It compre¬
hends twenty cities, ninety-six market-towns, and 3540 vil¬
lages, with a population, according to the last census, of
869,000 persons, all adhering to the Catholic church, with
the exception of four Lutheran congregations and a few
Jews. It is bounded on the north by the province of
Lower Ens, on the east by Hungary, on the south by the
Illyrian province of Laybach, and on the west by that pro¬
vince and the Upper Ens. The northern and western
divisions of the province are covered with the lofty moun¬
tains of the Julian Alps, divided into two branches.' These
mountains in no case reach the line of perpetual snow, the
highest of them, called the Grossenberg, being but 8380 feet,
and the others from 3250 to 7600 feet. The southern and
eastern parts of the province are less elevated, consisting
of plains and undulating hills. The mountains give rise to
numerous rivulets, which form within it large rivers, ail of
which terminate in the Danube. The principal of these
are the Mur, the Drave, the Ens, and the Raab. There
are no extensive lakes, but many of small extent, and some
of them in very elevated situations. It abounds in mineral
springs, both wrarm and cold, and containing various combi¬
nations of iron, salt, and sulphur; but they are not much re¬
paired to by invalids. One half of the province is covered
with woods, which yield fuel and timber for building, and
contain abundance of game both of the larger and smaller
kind. Of the former kind are roebucks, wild sw ine, gem-
sen, and bears, as well as beasts of prey, especially wolves
and lynxes. The land in the valleys is fertile and w7ell
cultivated, and produces good corn, a great proportion of
which is maize, forming the chief food of the labouring
classes. More than 60,000 acres are cultivated with vines,
which produce tolerable wine. Hemp and flax are suffi¬
ciently raised to provide clothing, with the aid of the wool
of about 150,000 sheep. The mineral productions are va-
nous. Salt is the most considerable in quantity. Iron is
produced, and is converted into utensils for internal use, but
not for exportation. Silver is raised to the extent of about
11,000 ounces yearly, and likewise some copper, cobalt,
a um, vitriol, and sulphur. The commerce is not exten-
Sl.ve’ exc8pt between the upper and low-er parts of the pro¬
vince, though some is carried on both with other parts of
Germany and with Austrian Italy. One of the great roads
S T I
725
mg.
to Lombardy passes through this province. It still retains Steyning
some privileges respecting the assembling of the states, , . II .
but they are of little practical efficacy. The capital is
Gratz, a city of 40,000 inhabitants. v
STEYNING, a town of the hundred of that name, in
the rape of Bramber and county of Sussex, fifty-one miles
from London. It is ill built, but has a curious church, of
Norman architecture, and was the burial-place of some of
the Saxon kings. It returned two members to the House
of Commons, but was disfranchised by the act of 1832. It
has a market on Wednesday, and several fairs at which
great numbers of sheep are sold. The inhabitants amount¬
ed in 1801 to 1174, in 1811 to 1210, in 1821 to 1324, and
in 1831 to 1436.
STIBADIUM, among the Romans, a low kind of table,
couch, or bed, of a circular form, which succeeded to the
triclinia, and was of different sizes according to the number
of guests for which it was designed. Tables of this kind
were called hexaclina, octaclina, or enneaclina, according
as they held six, eight, or nine guests, and so of any other
number.
STICCATO (ItaL), a rude musical instrument, formed
of a number of sticks of hard wood of different lengths,
generally attached to each other by strings at the ends,
but so as to hang separate from one another when sus¬
pended by the top. It is played upon by striking the
sticks with rods of cane or whalebone tipped with ivory
balls. Mersenne, in his Harmonia Universalis, calls this
instrument ligneum psalterium.
STICHOS, a name given by the old writers to a pec¬
toral confection, the principal ingredient of which was the
herb marrubium or horehound.
STIGMATA, in Natural History, the apertures in dif¬
ferent parts of the bodies of insects, communicating with
the tracheae or air-vessels, and serving for the office of re¬
spiration.
Stigmata, in Antiquity, certain marks impressed on the
left shoulder of the soldiers when listed.
Stigmata were also a kind of notes or abbreviations,
consisting only of points disposed various ways; as in tri¬
angles, squares, crosses, &c.
Stigmata is likewise a term used among the Franciscans,
to express the marks or prints of our Saviour’s wounds,
said to have been miraculously impressed by him on the
body of their seraphic father St Francis.
STIGMATIZING, among the ancients, was inflicted
upon slaves as a punishment, but more frequently as a mark
to distinguish them : in which case it was done by applying
a red-hot iron marked with certain letters to their foreheads,
till a fair impression was made; and then pouring ink into
their furrows, that the inscription might be the more con¬
spicuous. It was customary to stigmatize the worshippers
and votaries of some of the gods. The marks used on these
occasions were various ; sometimes they contained the name
of the god, sometimes his particular ensign, as the thunder¬
bolt of Jupiter, the trident of Neptune, the ivy of Bacchus;
or they marked themselves with some mystical number, by
which the god’s name was described. To these three ways
of stigmatizing St John is supposed to refer (Rev. chap. xiii.
ver. 16, 17). Theodoret is of opinion that the Jews were
forbidden to brand themselves with stigmata, because the
idolaters, by that ceremony, used to consecrate themselves
to their false gods. Among some nations, stigmatizing was
considered as a distinguishing mark of honour and nobility.
In Thrace, as Herodotus informs us, it was practised by none
but persons of credit, nor omitted by any but persons of the
meanest rank. The ancient Britons are also said to have
detiu)5 ^'tor *la<? hoP6/!to have the gratification of introducing into this work, so deeply indebt d to this great and good man, a
bri.F,Lu.UW0UI‘t hls Il(^ and writings; hut circumstances induced him to abandon the des gn, and to give a place only to tie .
vud nohee contributed7 by one of his literary assistants. * •
more
libove
S T I
imprinted on the bodies of their infants the figures of ani¬
mals, and other marks, with hot irons.
STILLINGFLEET, Edward, bishop of Worcester, was
the son of Samuel Stillingfleet, gentleman, and was born at
Cranborn in Dorsetshire in 1635. He was educated at bt
John’s College, Cambridge; and having received holy or¬
ders, was, in 1657, presented to'the rectory of Sutton in
Nottinghamshire. By publishing his Origines Sacra;, one
of the ablest defences of revealed religion that has evei been
written, he soon acquired such reputation, that he was ap¬
pointed preacher of the Rolls Chapel; and in January 166o
was presented to the rectory of St Andrews, Holborn. 1 e
was afterwards chosen lecturer at the Femple,and appointed
chaplain in ordinary to King Charles II. In 1668 he took
the degree of D.D.; and was soon after engaged in a dis¬
pute with those of the Romish religion, by publishing Ins
discourse concerning the idolatry and fanaticisrn of the
church of Rome, which discourse he afterwards defended
against several antagonists. In 1680 he preached at Guild¬
hall chapel a sermon on Phil. hi. 26, which he published
under the title of “ The Mischief of Separation and this
being immediately attacked by several writers, he in 1683
published his Unreasonableness of Separation. In 168^
appeared his Origines Britannicce, or the Antiquities of the
British Churches, in folio. Dur'ng the reign of King James
II. he wrote several tracts against popery, and was prolocu¬
tor of the convocation, as he had likewise been under Charles
II. After the revolution he was advanced to the bishopric
of Worcester, and was engaged in a dispute with the So-
cinians, and also with Mr Locke; in which last contest he
is generally thought to have been unsuccessful. He died
at Westminster in 1699, and was interred in the cathedral
of Worcester, where a monument was erected to his memory
by his son. Dr Stillingfleet wrote other works besides those
here mentioned, which, with the above, have been reprinted
in 6 vols. folio.
Stillingfleet, Benjamin, an ingenious naturalist, born
in 1702, was the bishop’s grandson. His father, Edward
Stillingfleet, M.D., was fellow of St John’s College, Cam¬
bridge, and Gresham professor of physic : but marrying in
1692, he lost his lucrative offices and his father’s favour;
a misfortune that affected both himself and his posterity.
Having however entered the church, he obtained, by his
father’s means, the living of Newington-Butts, which he
immediately exchanged for those of Wood-Norton and
Swanton in Norfolk. He died in 1708. Benjamin, his only
son, was educated at Norwich school, which he left in 1720,
with the character of an excellent scholar. He then went
to Trinity College in Cambridge, at the request of Dr
Bentley, the master, who had been private tutor to his
father, domestic chaplain to his grandfather, and much in¬
debted to the family. Here he was a candidate for a fel¬
lowship, but was rejected by the master’s influence. This
was a severe and unexpected disappointment, and but little
alleviated afterwards by Bentley’s apology, that it was a
pity that a gentleman of Mr Stillingfieet’s parts should be
buried within the walls of a college.
Perhaps, however, this ingratitude of Dr Bentley was not
of any real disservice to Mr Stillingfleet. By being thrown
into the world, he formed many honourable and valuable
connections. He dedicated some translations of Linneeus
to the late Lord Lyttelton, partly, he says, from motives of
private respect and honour. Lord Barrington gave him, in
a very polite manner, the place of master of the barracks
at Kensington ; a favour to which Mr Stillingfleet, in the
dedication of his Calendar of Flora to that nobleman, al¬
ludes with the greatest politeness, as well as the warmest
gratitude. His Calendar of Flora was formed at Stratton
in Norfolk in the year 1755, at the hospitable seat of his
very worthy and ingenious friend Mr Marsham, who had
made several observations of that kind, and had communi-
S T I
cated to the public his curious observations on the growth S 0
of trees. But it was to Mr Wyndham of Felbrig in Nor-
folk that he appears to have had the greatest obligation : he
travelled abroad with him, spent much of his time at his
house, and was appointed one of his executors (Mr Garrick
being another), with a considerable addition to an annuity
which that gentleman had settled upon him in his lifetime.
Mr Stillingfleet’s genius seems, if we may judge from his
works, to have led him principally to the study of natural
history ; which he prosecuted as an ingenious philosopher,
an useful citizen, and a good man. In this walk of learning
he mentions as his friends, Dr Watson, Dr Solander, Mr
Hudson, Mr Price of Foxley, and some others; to whom
may be added the ingenious Mr Pennant. Nor can we omit
the flattering mention which Mr Gray makes of him in one
of his letters, dated from London in 1761 : “ I have lately
made an acquaintance with this philosopher, who lives in a
garret here in the winter, that he may support some near
relations who depend upon him. He is always employed,
consequently (according to my old maxim) always happy,
always cheerful, and seems to me a very worthy, honest
man." His present scheme is to send some persons, properly
qualified, to reside a year or two in Attica, to make them¬
selves acquainted with the climate, productions, and natural
history of the country, that we may understand Aristotle,
Theophrastus, Ac. who have been heathen Greek to us for
so many ages; and this he has got proposed to Lord Bute,
no unlikely person to put it in execution, as he is himself a
botanist.”
Mr Stillingfleet published a volume of Miscellaneous
Tracts, which is in much esteem, and does great honour to
his head and heart. They are chiefly translations of some
essays in the Arncenitates Academica;, published by Linnams,
interspersed with some observations and additions of his
own. In this volume he shows also a taste for classical
learning, and entertains us with some elegant poetical ef¬
fusions of his own. But his Essay on Conversation, pub¬
lished in the first volume of Dodsley’s Collection of Poems,
entitles him to a respectable station among our English
poets. This poem is addressed to Mr Wyndham, with all
that warmth of friendship which distinguishes Mr Stilling¬
fleet. As it is chiefly didactic, it does not admit of so
many ornaments as some compositions of other kinds., How¬
ever, it contains much good sense, shows a considerable
knowledge of mankind, and has several passages that, in
point of harmony and easy versification, would not disgrace
the writings of our most admired poets. Here more than
once Mr Stillingfleet shows himself still sore for Dr Bent¬
ley’s cruel treatment of him; and towards the beautitu
and moral close of it, where it is supposed he gives us a
sketch of himself, seems to hint at a mortification of a more
delicate nature, which he is said to have sufxered fiom tie
other sex. To these disappointments it was perhaps owing
that Mr Stillingfleet neither married nor went into ordeis.
His London residence was in lodgings in Piccadilly, wbeie
he died in 1771, at the age of sixty-nine, leaving several
valuable papers behind him. He was buried in bt James s
church, without the slightest monument to his memory.
STILPO, a celebrated philosopher of Megara, nourish¬
ed under the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes. In his you i
he had been addicted to licentious pleasures, from wliicti ne
religiously refrained from the moment when he raiue urn
self among philosophers. When Ptolemy Sotei, at
taking of Megara, offered him a large sum of irioney, an
requested that he would accompany him into Egyp >
accepted but a small part of the offer, and retntc o^
island of fEgina, whence, on Ptolemy’s departure, m i
turned to Megara. That city being again taken by Deme¬
trius the son of Antigonus, and the philosopher rWu.h
give an account of any effects which he had lost un^
hurry of the plunder, he replied that he had lost no .
S T I
S T I
i z /
jti
i s
turn for no one could take from him his learning and eloquence.
So great was the fame of Stilpo, that the most eminent phi-
!'?• losophers of Athens took pleasure in attending upon his
“^discourses. His peculiar doctrines were, that species or
universals have no real existence, and that one thing can¬
not be predicated of another. With respect to the former
of these opinions, he seems to have taught the same doc¬
trine with the sect afterwards known by the appellation of
Nominalists. To prove that one thing cannot be predi¬
cated of another, he said, that goodness and man, for in¬
stance, are different things, which cannot be confounded
by asserting the one to be the other. He argued further,
that goodness is a universal, and universals have no real ex¬
istence ; consequently, since nothing cannot be predicated
of any thing, goodness cannot be predicated of man. Thus,
while the subtile logician was, through his whole argument,
predicating one thing of another, he* denied that any one
thing could be the accident or predicate of another. If
Stilpo was serious in this reasoning, if he meant any thing
more than to expose the sophistry of the schools, he must
be confessed to have been an eminent master of the art of
wrangling; and it w^as not wholly without reason that Gly-
cera, a celebrated courtezan, when she was reproved by
him as a corrupter of youth, replied, that the charge might
be justly retorted upon himself, who spent his tinm in filling
their heads with sophistical quibbles and useless subtleties.
In ethics he seems to have been a Stoic, and in religion he
had a public and a private doctrine, the former for the mul¬
titude, and the latter for his friends. He admitted the ex¬
istence of a Supreme Divinity, but had no reverence for the
Grecian superstitions.
STILOBATUM, in Architecture, denotes the body of
the pedestal of any column.
SlILiON, a town of the hundred of Normancross, in
the county of Huntingdon, seventy-four miles from Lon¬
don. It stands on the great north road, and has many good
inns, with post-horses. It has long been celebrated for the
excellence of its cheese. The inhabitants amounted in
1801 to 509, in 1811 to 663, in 1821 to 710, and in 1831
to 793.
STIMULANTS, in Medicine, substances which increase
the action of certain parts of the body. In particular, they
quicken the motion of the blood, increase the action of the
muscular fibres, and affect the nervous system.
SUNG, an apparatus in the bodies of certain insects,
in the form of a little spear, serving them as a weapon of
offence.
STIPULA I ION, in the civil law, the act of stipulating,
that is, of treating and concluding terms and conditions to
be inserted in a contract. Stipulations were anciently per-
lormed at Rome, with abundance of ceremonies; the first
of which was, that one party should interrogate, and the
other answer, to give his consent, and oblige himself. By
the ancient Roman law, nobody could stipulate but for
himself; but as the tabelliones were public servants, they
were allowed to stipulate for their masters ; and the no¬
taries succeeding the tabelliones, have inherited the same
privilege.
STIRLING, one of the most ancient towns in Scotland,
and capital of the county of the same name, is situated in
45' west longitude, and 56° 6' north latitude, in a plain
oafied the Carse, watered by the river Forth, and on the
sloping ridge of a rock, at the western and precipitous ex¬
tremity of which the castle is built. The town is very ir¬
regular, the street upon the crest of the hill being broad
and spacious, but the other streets narrow and inconve¬
nient. n itbin the last few years great improvements have
wen undertaken. The pavement of the streets, which was
cl the worst description, has been rendered equal to that
of almost any other place in the kingdom ; and the open¬
ing of the town at its lower extremity is affording scope for
the most marked improvements. Many elegant houses and
fine shops have been erected. In the suburbs there are
many handsome villas; in Southfield, Melville Terrace, Al¬
lan Park, Wellington Place, and Dunbarton Road. Stir¬
ling is a most convenient place for the residence of people
of small but easy fortune. House-rents are low'; and ground
for gardens may be procured upon easy terms. There are
no local public burdens of any kind; the streets being
lighted and cleaned, and water brought to the town, at the
expense of the corporation. The situation of Stirling is
very convenient in other respects. The steam-boats sup¬
ply an easy and cheap conveyance to and from Edinburgh ;
and many coaches pass through the town in different direc¬
tions. “ In point of extent, variety, and magnificence, the
view from Stirling Castle is perhaps unequalled by any other
in Britain.”1
The public buildings are the two parish churches, both in
the Gothic style, with a modern erection between them, which
adds nothing to their beauty: they are called the East and
West Churches. The former is a fine building, erected in
the year 1494. In the two churches there are three clergy¬
men, and in one of the United Secession churches two.
The town council has the patronage of the churches, and
two of the ministers are entirely supported by the corpora¬
tion. It also bears the whole expenses of the jail for the
counties of Stirling, Clackmannan, and Kinross, except a
part of the jailer’s salary, paid by the counties. Besides
two chapels belonging to the United Associate Synod, there
is an Old Light church, the minister of which, and a ma¬
jority of the congregation, have within a few weeks joined
the established church. There are likewise an Episcopal
and a Roman Catholic chapel, the latter a neat building,
erected within the last two years ; a Cameronian, a Congre¬
gational, and several Baptist places of worship. The town-
house, with a spire, in which there is a set of music-bells,
which play a tune before the striking of each hour, and the
jail behind, which is very insecure, form two sides of a quad¬
rangle, the third side of w’hich is finely fitted up as a court¬
room, in which the circuit court sits twice a year, and
also frequently the sheriff court. The fourth side of the
quadrangle is private property, which is very inconvenient.
In the town-house are still kept the pint jug, the ancient le¬
gal standard for liquid measure in Scotland, and two silver
keys, representative of the keys of the two ancient gates of
the town ; and in the circuit court-room about a dozemof
the fine ancient carvings known by the name of the Stir¬
ling heads. In the narrow lane leading to the castle, there
is a military hospital. The building was once the property
of the Argyle family, and is still called Argyle House. Near
it, and close beside the two churches, is situated a ruin, called
Mar’s Work. It is an unfinished house, begun, but never
completed, by the regent Mar. The Athenamm is a hand¬
some house in King Street, with a spire 120 feet high. In
the ground-floor there are shops, but the two upper stones
contain, the first a public reading-room, to which respect¬
able strangers have access at all times, and the second a
subscription library, containing about 5000 volumes. Close
beside the Athenaeum is the corn-market, for the accommo¬
dation of which a splendid hall has been erected within the
last twelvemonths. There are three public school-houses
in the town. The parish school has four departments, viz.
a grammar-school, a mathematical, and two English schools.
In addition to their fees, the teachers have each a salary of
fifty pounds from the town council; and the master of ‘the
grammar-school has twenty pounds more for an assistant.
Education is cheap and good. In the town there are four
charitable endowments, commonly called hospitals, in full
Stirling.
1 McCulloch’s Statistical Account of the British Empire, vol. i. p. 299.
728 S T I 3 T I
Stirling, operation, two for the support of the aged poor, and two for brary, consisting of upwards of 1000 volumes, which are 8: nj
 v"—’ educating the young. One of the former has an income very much read. The price of admittance to all the bene-
approaching to L.3000 annually, wholly arising from land ; fits of the institution is only four shillings a year. All that
but when public burdens are paid, with necessary repairs, is wanting to render it a most useful institution, is a house
there remains scarcely one half for the support of the poor, to contain its literary wealth. In almost every one of the
who receive from 8s. to Is. 6d. per week, according to cir- churches and chapels there is also a congregational library,
cumstances. Two of the others have incomes of about chiefly consisting of theological, although some admit histo-
L.700 each, derived in the same way, and bearing the same rical works. Besides those of a general nature, there is also
burdens. The fourth has the interest of L.40Q0. The two a consulting library for the legal profession, a medical, and
latter educate, clothe, and allow 2s. 6d. a week to between likewise a horticultural library. There is likewise a singular
forty and fifty boys. ’ The funds of the whole of these are kind of library, of which Stirling is the centre. It circulates
distributed to parties designated by the founders ; all hav- among the landed gentlemen chiefly in the neighbourhood,
ing their operation according to the old constitution of the and the subscription is at least two guineas a year. The
borough. They are, like every thing else in the town, un- funds are expended upon publications of the current year,
der the patronao-e and management of the town council, at the end of which they are sold, and the proceeds are add-
with the addition in one case of the first, and in another of ed to the stated contributions. This town has two weekly
the second, minister. In addition to these, the late Mr newspapers, the Stirling Journal and the Stirling Observer,
John Maclaren of Liverpool, a native of Stirling, has be- the former Tory, and the latter Whig, both having an aver-
queathed a sum, the amount of which is not yet fully known, age provincial circulation.
for the purpose of founding and endowing schools upon a The chief article of domestic trade in Stirling, situated
most liberal scale, for the instruction, not wholly gratui- as it is in a large and fertile district, now under the best
tons but at a very low rate, of children from four to six- culture, is grain of all kinds, amounting, it is said, to the
teen years of age. A clause in his will provides that no value of upwards of L.500,000 annually, there being a great
clergyman shall have any control or management of his deal of barley consumed in the distilleries and breweries,
fund. One of the above charities had an hospital built for which are numerous and upon extensive scales around
the accommodation of twelve decayed members of the in- Stirling. The manufactures are chiefly tartans, carpets,
corporation of guildry, but nobody could be persuaded to plaid-shawls, trouser-stuffs, and wool-spinning, which is be-
inhabit it, although pleasantly situated. The consequence ginning to be conducted with spirit in the town. Stirling
was, that the funds accumulated, until what was originally shalloons, which figured so long in the statistics of the town,
L.2222 sterling, has now increased to about L.3000 yearly, have now wholly disappeared, and their place is supplied by
As in these circumstances the intentions of John Cowane, the articles enumerated above. Coach-building seems also
the founder, could not be carried into effect, the town coun- to thrive here, as one establishment employs nearly seventy
cil and the first minister, who are the governors, have for a people, that of Mr Kinross, who within the last twelvemonth
long period been in the habit, and latterly with the consent has been honoured with the distinction of coach-maker to
of the Court of Session, of dividing the funds among the the queen for Scotland. There are other two establish-
poor belonging to the incorporation, so that now upwards ments, one ot which has been lately commenced. To faci-
of 180 persons are deriving benefit to the amount of from litate commercial and manufacturing industry, there are four
8s. to Is 6d. a week, from a fund which w'as intended for stationary banks, and one which does business only on one
the support of only twelve. The hospital stands near the day in each week, namely, on Friday, the market-day. They
East and West Churches, ornamented with a small spire are all branches of banking establishments in Edinburgh or
and a statue of Cowane ; and its hall is now used for the Glasgow'. The commerce ot the town is very limited, con-
meetings of the guildry. The other charity had also an sisting chiefly of timber, grain for the distilleries, and a tew
hospital, which is still standing, without however being the other articles of little importance. There is a line ot packets
property of the charity; and the funds are divided in a simi- between Stirling and Leith, and another conveyance for
lar manner among the poor of the seven incorporated trades, goods by steam twice a week. But until the nyer be deep-
They are all at present in a thriving condition. Besides ened, little improvement can be expected in this respect, as
the above charities, the general poor of the towm are sup- vessels above seventy tons burden cannot reach the town
ported by the kirk-session, the various churches to which even at spring tide. The town council of Stirling ‘S ratvf
they belong, and by a voluntary subscription denominated an important body, having the management of considerable
the poor-scheme; the people preferring this mode to a regu- funds; for, besides the sum already mentioned be onging o
lar assessment, of w'hich they have a salutary dread. There the charities, the town’s finances, arising fiom sa m°n* *
is also a public dispensary, which affords relief to many, eries, customs, shore-dues, &c., amount to between .>
Notwithstanding all these provisions, public mendicancy is and L.4000 ; all of which revenue is expended for t le ene
exceedingly common ; nor do the authorities, from false no- fit of the public, in paving the streets, building an rfTai|
tions of humanity, exert themselves to put a stop to this prac- ing the public markets, and other purposes, as las een a
tice, so degrading to the poor, and annoying to the public, ready mentioned.
The literature of the place is sustained by two reading- The castle, at the western extremity of the eminence
rooms, one of which belongs to artisans. The public library, upon which the town is built, is of greater antiquity an
already noticed, is under excellent management, excepting the town, and still exhibits marks of royal magtn cence.
that the entry-money and annual payment are both too Here James II. was born ; and here also with his own an
high ; it has about 140 subscribers. The School of Arts, he stabbed William earl of Douglas. Ihe ha m I
or Mechanics Institution, generally supports a course of James III., who resided much here, for the meeting o pa
lectures in the winter season, attended by from 200 to 300 liament, is now used as barracks. Ihe chapel roja, 111
males and females. It possesses also a chemical and elec- by James VI. (who was educated here under t it tui 1(|,n
trical apparatus, and various other philosophical instruments, the celebrated George Buchanan) for the baptism o »
and something like the foundation of a museum. To the son Prince Henry, and which was at that time t c sceri ^
care of this institution, a gentleman in Manchester, a native one of the most pompous ceremonies ever extnbite in
of Stirling, has committed a number of fine casts, princi- land, is now’ fitted up as a store-room and aimouiy.
pally from the antique, which form a small but interest- palace of James V. is a large quadrangular bull ing,
ing gallery of statuary. It is daily open for the inspec- mented externally with many grotesque figures, an enc ^
tion of the public. This society lias also an excellent li- ing a small court called the lion’s den. fhe lower s o y ^
S T I
jji L. now converted into barracks, with a canteen or sutlery ; and
the upper flat into apartments for the officers. In one of
—' ^e apartments, called the king’s room, the roof was cover¬
ed with rich carvings in oak, which have been engraved
and described in a work published in 1817, under the ap¬
pellation of Lvcunar Strevelivense. The quaint appellation
of James Y. the gudeman of BaUingeich, was derived from
a hollow place immediately on the outside of the castle.
Besides the places already noticed, the castle contains a
large space, also surrounded by the exterior wall, in which
magazines are built, called the Nether Baillery. The de¬
fences are the French, the Seven- Gun, and Queen Anne’s
Batteries, with several pieces of ordnance here and there,
amounting in all to twenty-six. On the south side of the
castle is a piece of flat ground called the Valley, which was
appropriated for tournaments. It is now used as a horse-
market. There is an adjoining rock called the Ladies Hill,
whence they viewed the sports below. From the castle
not fewer than twelve battle-fields are seen. In 1831 the
population of Stirling was 8556.
Step STIRLINGSHIRE, a county in Scotland, partly mari-
aid M-time, being situated at the upper extremity of the Firth of
P' Forth, and lying between 52° 30' and 56° 17' north lati¬
tude, and between 3° 35' and 4° 40' west longitude, upon
the isthmus between the Forth and Clyde. It is bounded
on the north by the counties of Perth and Clackmannan,
on the east by the Firth of Forth and Linlithgowshire, on
the south chiefly by Dunbartonshire ; but at both the east
and west extremities it is bounded for a few miles by La¬
narkshire, and on the south-west and west by Dunbarton.
: Eit< Its length, upon the average of three measurements, is forty-
two and a half miles ; and its breadth, upon the average of
six measurements, thirteen and a half, although in one pa¬
rallel it extends to eighteen miles ; and it contains 502
square miles, or 821,280 acres, divided into twenty-two en¬
tire parishes, with portions of other four which partly be¬
long to the adjoining counties. The river and Firth of
Forth is, for the most part, the boundary on the north,
though parts of two parishes are on the north side of that
river; on the west it includes part of Lochlomond, and a
narrow neck extends to the north-west, the east side of which
touches Loch Katrine. Like many other of the Scotish
counties, it is of a very irregular form ; yet most of its out¬
line is well defined. Besides the Forth on the north and
. north-east, the Avon marks its separation from Linlithgow¬
shire on the east and north-east, the Kelvin flows along a
great part of the southern boundary, and the Endrick, be¬
fore entering Lochlomond, divides it for some extent from
Dunbartonshire on the west.
Ss:f About two thirds of Stirlingshire consist of hills unfit for
cultivation, but affording good pasturage for sheep, being
chiefly covered with green herbage, though sometimes in¬
termixed with heath. The principal chain of this descrip¬
tion, called the Lennox Hills, but having other distinctive
names, as Campsie Fells, Fintry Hills, runs across the coun¬
ty, from Dunbartonshire on the west, nearly to the town of
Stirling on the north, but it seldom presents an elevation of
more than 1500 feet. In other quarters, however, the ele¬
vation is greater; Benlomond, on the north-west, on the
hanks of Lochlomond, beingS 191 feet high ; andBencleuch,
in the parish of Alva, on the north side of the Forth, up¬
wards of 2400 feet. On the north, and still more on the
east of the I >ennox Hills, the country is low; the summit-
level of the Forth and Clyde Canal, which passes through
the south-eastern side, being only about 162 feet above the
sea; and much of the land along the Forth is a very rich
plain, only a few feet higher than the water. Towards the
western and southern extremities the surface is more vari-
e[l) presenting tracts of heath, moss, and green pastures, in¬
termixed with cultivated land; the latter confined, for the
west part, to the banks of the streams.
VOL. XX.
S T I 729
Stirlingshire has every variety of soil common in Scot- Stirling,
land ; but that for which it is chiefly distinguished is the al- s*)ire
luvial or carse land on the Forth, which is computed to ex-
tend to about 40,000 English acres w ithin this county, and
twice as much more in the adjoining counties of Berth,
Clackmannan, and Linlithgow, or in all to about 187 square
miles; certainly by far the richest tract in Scotland. It
consists of the finest particles of earth, without stones ;
in point of friability approaching to the character of loam ;
in some places 30 feet deep, and seldom more than 25 feet
above the level of the sea at high water ; and contains beds
of shells, moss, and clay marl. In one instance, at the depth
of 19 feet, there have been found in a stratum of moss the
roots of large trees, deers horns, and bones, while the su¬
perior strata were composed entirely of fine earth. In an¬
other instance, the skeleton of a whale, now in the museum
of the university of Edinburgh, covered with four feet of
soil, was found in a field, the surface of which is 18 feet
above the present average level of the Forth, from which it
was a mile distant.
Coal, limestone, ironstone, and sandstone, abound in this Minerals,
county. Coal has not been found to the north and w'estof
the Lennox Hills, but prevails very generally along their
southern base, from Baldernock on the west, to Denny, St
Ninian’s, Falkirk, Larbert, and Airth, on the east; and gene ¬
rally throughout all the eastern quarter, on both sides of the
Forth and Clyde Canal. By means of the Union Canal car¬
ried from the city of Edinburgh to the Forth and Clyde Ca¬
nal near Falkirk, these extensive coal-fields have been ren¬
dered of easy access to the metropolis, which already re¬
ceives large supplies of coal from that quarter, at little more
than two thirds of the price which the inhabitants formerly
paid for this necessary article. Limestone abounds in the-
same quarters with the coal, and in many instances there is one
stratum of it above and another below the coal, the former
always of the best quality. Sandstone also frequently ac¬
companies both, though it is found in other parts. At Kil¬
syth there is a quarry of white sandstone, which takes a fine
polish, and has been often used in ornamental work. Iron¬
stone is in great abundance throughout the coal district,
and is wrought in several places to a considerable extent,
chiefly for the use of the Carron Works. It is also found
in the parish of Kilsyth, in balls from a quarter of an inch
to a foot in diameter, which are richer in metal than the
common stone. Copper has not been discovered in veins
so rich as to encourage their working, though mines were
formerly opened at one or two places. Veins of silver were
discovered, about sixty years ago, in the parishes of Logie
and Alva, on the northern extremity of the county, and lor
a few weeks the working was very successful, but was soon
abandoned. Cobalt was found in the same quarter. There
are indications of other minerals in different parts of the
county. In connection with the minerals it may be no¬
ticed, that in the parish of Logie, near to the beautiful vil¬
lage of Bridge of Allan, the mineral springs of Airthrey
were discovered some years ago, and recommended to public
notice. They are now attracting a great many visitors, and
Bridge of Allan is rapidly assuming the appearance of a
handsome town.
Besides the Forth, the Avon, the Kelvin, and the Endrick, Rivers,
which, though having their sources in Stirlingshire, soon
cease to belong to it exclusively, flowing for the most part
on its boundaries, this district is well supplied with other
streams, which traverse its interior. The Forth, however, The Forth,
is by fiir the most important. It rises from a spring on the
northern side and near the summit of Benlomond. After
a course of eight or ten miles, under the name of the Water
of Duchray, it passes into Perthshire, where it is called
Avendhu, or Black River ; and soon after, on returning to
the borders of this county, it obtains the name of tire Ft rth
A few miles above Stirling it receives the Teith, and after-
4 z
730
STIRLINGSHIRE.
Stirling- wards the Allan, from the north, and the Bannockburn from
shire- the south. The tide, which flows a little above Stirling,
v " v “ renders it navigable to that town for vessels of (0 tons.
Below Stirling the river winds in a remarkable manner
across its valley, making so little progress, that, following its
course to Alloa, the distance from Stirling Bridge is about
16 miles, while in a direct line it is scarcely seven. -These
windings are called the Links of the Forth, iwo miles
above Alloa it receives the Devon from the north-east.
Below Alloa it expands into the large estuary called the
Firth of Forth, which washes the north-eastern side of the
county, till it meets with Linlithgowshire, a little to the
south of Grangemouth. Next in importance, and the only
other stream worthy of particular notice, is the Garron,
which, rising in the interior, pursues an easterly course, and
joins the Firth of Forth at Grangemouth. It is navigable
for vessels of 200 tons as far as the village of Canon Shore,
the shipping place of the Carron Company, nearly two miles
from its confluence with the Forth. Besides Lochlomond,
of which the greater part is in Dunbartonshire, several
small pieces of water occur in different parts, none of them
remarkable. Salmon are caught in the Torth, and also in
Lochlomond, and in 1839 the fishery afforded a revenue of
L.650 a year to the town of Stirling. Formerly the sal¬
mon-fishings were let as high as L.1400, part of which be¬
longed to another proprietor.
Valuation The valued rent of Stirlingshire is L. 108,509. 3s. 3d.
and rental. gcots, arul the real rent of the lands and houses in 1815
was L.218,761 sterling. In 1811 the number of estates
was 147, of which 109 were below L.50O Scots, and only
nine above L.2000 of valuation, thus indicating that the
landed property was much divided ; and not a fourth of the
whole was entailed, a smaller proportion than in most parts
of Scotland. The estates of the duke of Montrose, Lord
Dundas, Sir Charles Edmonstone, Mr Forbes of Callendar,
Mr Murray of Polmaise, the principal proprietors, are rented
at from L.6000 to L.14,000, and several others are worth from
L.1000 to L.4000 a year ; but the greater number are below
L.1000. Some of the proprietors have increased the value
of their estates by means of embankments on the Firth of
Forth. Several hundred acres, many of them worth as high
a rent as any in the county, have thus been reclaimed and
brought into cultivation, and a great deal more may be gain¬
ed in the same manner. All the small proprietors, and most
of the great ones, reside upon their estates ; and several of
the latter occupy considerable farms of their own, which
they have improved, and continue to cultivate in a very ju¬
dicious manner. There is accordingly a great number of
seats over all the lower parts of the county. Before the
union between Scotland and England, considerable tracts
were granted to the retainers and dependants, or the ten¬
ants, of the principal proprietors, and their heirs, for ever ;
subject only to the payment of the rent of those times,
which is now very trifling. These are called feuarsox por-
tioners, and in some parishes, especially Denny, form a pretty
numerous class.
There is a good deal of both natural and planted wood in
Stirlingshire, about 13,000 acres of the former, and 10,000
of the latter ; and much of the former, in the state of coppice,
has long yielded a regular income to the proprietors, little
if at all inferior to the average rent of the arable land. The
Buchanan woods, belonging to the duke of Montrose, seem
to be under very regular management, being divided into
twenty-four hags or portions, of which one is cut every year.
About twenty-five years ago, this produced from L.16 to
L.24 the Scots acre, after leaving a number of reserves to
stand for timber- Every acre gives at a medium about one
ton and a half of Lark, which, during the late war, sold at
L.I8; and the small timber generally pays expenses. This
does not now hold true, as bark does not bring above L.7.
Much of the land on which this wood grows is of little value
Wood¬
lands.
for any other purpose ; not worth half a crown an acre. On Sti; g.
the same estate, and also in other parts of the county, ex- si-
tensive plantations have been formed within the last seventy ^ ^
years. ib noqu rtl .moiled mil m obiw eariani xj*
The mountainous parts of Stirlingshire are occupied withGvi a
sheep of the black-faced or heath breed, but of late years
many Cheviot and other breeds have been introduced; and
the lower hills by Highland cattle ; and there the farms are
necessarily of considerable extent. The arable land, how¬
ever, is for the most part divided into small farms, especially
the Carse lands on the Forth, where the general size does
not exceed from 40 to 100 or perhaps 120 acres.
The agriculture of this county, which a few years ago
was in a very inferior condition, is now (1840) in the high-
est state of improvement. Stirlingshire farmers and farm-
servants are anxiously sought after in every part of the
united kingdom. Landed proprietors even in East Lothian
and Berwickshire, where farming had long been managed
in a very spirited manner, and with decided success, have ,
latterly confessed that an inoculation of Stirlingshire farm¬
ing would prove highly beneficial to the agriculture of those
counties. For the attainment of this confessed superiority,
Stirlingshire is indebted to a variety of favourable circum¬
stances, to which we shall now shortly advert in quite a
practical manner, as the theory has already been submitted
to our readers in the article upon Agriculture. Among
these circumstances may be chiefly noticed the Deanston
or thorough-draining system, the subsoil or deep plough¬
ing system, and the encouragement given to both by many
of tire landed proprietors. But betbre proceeding to state
these circumstances, we may premise, that had not the far¬
mers in this county been morally prepared to admit innova¬
tion, and to follow good example, these improvements, like
many others equally beneficial in various departments of
practical knowledge, must have fallen to the ground, to be
again resuscitated and pressed upon public attention in more
auspicious times. It is therefore to the zeal and indefati¬
gable industry, stimulated by enlarged notions alike of pub¬
lic and private interest, and exercised by Stirlingshire far¬
mers, that we and the whole empire have to congratulate
ourselves upon those immense improvements in agriculture,
which are enabling a small, and, generally speaking, a sterile
country, to support a rapidly increasing population, while at
the same time we regret to add, that those very farmers are,
notwithstanding these improvements, scarcely able to main¬
tain their position, in consequence of the depreciated and still
depreciating value of the products of arable husbandry.
This admirable system, which was either invented by Mrlleata
Smith of the Deanston Works, or by him carried to the'
highest state of perfection, consists in running longitudinal^!’
cuts or drains to the depth of three feet, or at least two and •
a half, parallel to the ridges of the field, taking care that at
the lower extremity they all terminate in a main drain run¬
ning at right angles to the other drains, and which must at
least be six or twelve inches deeper than the longitudma
or proper drains for the field. This cross drain is techni¬
cally called the “ mainand, besides its greater depth, it
should otherwise be more capacious, that it may with ease
carry off the accumulated waters of the whole or grea er
part of the field. When the farm is drained wholly at the
expense of the farmer, the main is frequently left open, al¬
though he incurs a considerable loss of ground, an some
expense annually for clearing it out. I he best moce o
covering is to form an arch both below' and above, or,
other words, make a cylinder of it. 4 he building may
either w ith or without mortar ; but with mortar it is mi
more durable, and leaves a smoother run for the water,
drain or main is sometimes covered vvith flag-stones,
soil to the depth of eighteen inches laid over all, r‘“o1 ^
to the level of the field; and so nothing is lost, but som
thing gained. It must however be confessed that tf \
STIRLINGSHIRE.
kt. cess is too expensive for a tenant. With respect to the
longitudinal drains, they ought, as already stated, to be at
least three feet or two and a half deep, and from three to
six inches wide at the bottom. If upon dry-field ground,
where stones can easily and cheaply be procured, they are
then filled to the height of from nine to twelve inches, with
the stones broken so small as to pass through a ring of two
and a half inches in diameter. They are then covered with
sod having the grassy side under, or, when sod cannot be pro¬
cured, with damaged hay or straw, old thatch, ferns, or even
roots of quickens (triticum repens), saved for the purpose
in cleaning the same and other fields of the farm. Over
these looser materials, care must be taken to spread a layer
of soil of a few inches in depth, w hich must be trodden down
and well compacted together, that it may serve as a perma¬
nent close cover to the looser materials below, to prevent
the crumbling and loose soil from dropping in among the
small stones, and thus preventing the run of the water.
Simple as this mode of covering is, it has hitherto been found
to answer the purpose effectually ; as some drains at Dean-
ston constructed in this manner fifteen years ago are still
as efficient as at first. These various preparations must not
be raised higher than half the depth of the cut, as the super¬
incumbent soil, to meliorate which all this labour has been
undertaken, has now to be thrown in ; and it must have an
average depth of eighteen inches, in order that the subsoil-
plough, in traversing the field, may not by any possibility
injure the drain.
qije. The expense of this mode of draining is very considera¬
ble, and has in most cases been deemed beyond the means
of ordinary farmers, without some stipulated aid from their
landlords. This we believe to be far the best way of manag¬
ing so expensive an improvement; because the practical
farmer, when the operations are entirely left to himself, will
devise expedients for lessening expense, in direct outlay at
least, of which expedients the landlord could not be sup¬
posed to avail himself. In some cases the drains must be dis¬
tant from each other only ten feet. This is the most expen¬
sive system that has hitherto been thought necessary, even
upon the wettest land or the most tenacious bottom. The
other extreme is at the distance of forty feet, which is deemed
sufficiently wide for any land that requires draining; and
there is little in Scotland, except what is incumbent upon
pure sand or fine gravel, which draining may not improve.
It is thus evident that the expense of draining each acre
must depend upon circumstances. We shall give Mr Smith’s
calculations, which we believe not to be overrated where
every thing has to be paid for in money. It is unnecessary
to give the whole table : it will be sufficient to state the ex¬
pense at ten, twenty, thirty, and forty feet distance between
the cuts. At ten fleet between the cuttings, where the sub¬
soil is an obdurate till, almost if not altogether impervious
to water, the cost will amount to L. 12; at twenty feet, which
implies sandy clay partially pervious to water, L.6 ; at thirty
feet, which implies a free open stony bottom, L.4 ; at forty
feet, which implies the most open bottom or subsoil requir¬
ing draining, L.3. These sums, especially the first twro, are
large, but not larger than the work can actually be done
for in money value ; nor are they too great for the benefit
to be derived from such judicious outlay ; for if the work be
properly executed, experience has not yet taught the real
benefit which may be derived from such efficient drainage,
ut nor how long it will endure in an effective state.
pr The actual outlay to a practical farmer, who calculates
m nothing but the cutting of Uhe drains, breaking the stones,
and putting them into the drains, his own people gathering
the stones which are found in the field, carting them, and
731
filling up the remaining part of the cuts, so as to bring the Stirling-
field to its proper level, for which he estimates no charge, the shire- ^
labour being performed by the force upon the farm, amount- v
ed to L.2. L4s. the acre. This was only eightpence more
upon the acre than the sum stated in Mr Smith’s table for the
distance of thirty feet between the drains, which was the
scheme executed by the farmer referred to upon a field of
thirteen acres since last autumn, and which field afterwards
produced an excellent green crop of potatoes and turnips.
Here then is an admirable example of what may be accom¬
plished by an active and enterprising farmer, wholly at his
own expense, and without losing either the whole or any
part of a crop. This was accomplished upon the farm of
Bearside, near Stirling, the property of William Murray,
Esq. of Touchadam and Polmaise, and possessed by Mr
James Gray, whose active and enlightened industry is ra¬
pidly converting a piece of moorland, which some years ago
bore only an unprofitable crop of tall furze, affording shel¬
ter to some scores of rabbits, into one of the most valuable
farms upon the Polmaise estates. He has been busily en¬
gaged upon the same laborious task for the last six years,
and two or three more will complete the object which he has
in view. He may then with confidence rely upon his expense
and toil being rewarded.1 When stones have to be quar¬
ried and carted a greater distance, the expense will be
somewhat greater.
When stones cannot be procured in sufficient quantity, Draining
or at moderate expense, recourse is had to tiles made for whh tile?
the purpose. The accompanying figure represents a sec¬
tion of the tile f~^\ . They are about five inches deep and
four across, and generally fourteen inches long; and in most
cases flat tiles are placed in the bottom of the drain, and
the arched ones placed over them ; but where the subsoil is
very stiff, the extra expense of sole tiles is dispensed with.
As draining with tile is the cheapest mode in clayey land,
such as the Carses in Stirlingshire, and with stones as de¬
scribed above in dry-field, and as the filling-in process in
both is the same, it is needless to repeat the description
already given. With respect to the comparative merits of
the two modes, the most competent judges prefer the small
stone-drains, when at all practicable, to those formed with
tile, both as concern durability and practical utility. Cer¬
tain it is, they possess one decided advantage over tile, as
they present a perfect barrier to the admission of vermin,
as moles, rats, &c. and therefore the chances of being
choked by the ravages of these noxious animals are greatly
diminished, and the durability increased. It may be useful
to add, that “ the frequent drain system” is another appel¬
lation by which it is pretty generally known.
Not satisfied, however, with this expensive system of Subsoil
draining, Mr Smith of Deanston has had recourse to a system,
system of ploughing invented by himself, and denominated,
aptly enough, “ subsoil-ploughing.” The implement by
which the work is accomplished, is just like any other old
Scotish plough, without a mould, but larger, heavier, and
stronger. It is never wrought w ith fewer than three, most
commonly with four, and not unfrequently with six horses,
according to the nature of the soil in which it has to ope¬
rate. Where it is desirable to bring up any of the subsoil,
this is performed by another large plough, called a “ trench-
plough,” which has a mould attached to it like an ordi¬
nary plough, and is generally drawn by three horses.
The mode of procedure consists in *n ordinary plough with
two horses going before it, with the usual depth of furrow,
the subsoil-plough following with a depth of at least ten or
even twelve inches more, and forcing to the surface, besides
To some it may appear invidious to select the names of individuals, when so many are at least equally active in improving. It will sene
as our apology, that some names were absolutely necessary to verify our statements; and Mr Murray took the lead os a landlord in intro-
iicing these improvements, while among the tenantry Mr Gray has not been the least active.
J
732
Stirling¬
shire.
STIRLINGSHIRE.
Expense.
Beneficial
results of
these im¬
prove¬
ments.
stirring the soil below, whatever stones of the weight of not
more than four hundredweight it may encounter in its pro¬
gress. When stones exceed the above weight, a lad fol¬
lowing the plough marks their situation with a tally, that
they may afterw ards be removed with crowbars. These,
with others found upon the surface, are the stones with
which the drains are filled ; and thus, while the drains serve
as leaders for conveying the water away when collected, the
thorough stirring of the subsoil permits a more rapid per¬
colation, and also evaporation, by which the ground becomes
very speedily dry, and consequently much better fitted^ foi
the reception and nourishment of seed of every kind. Ihe
expense of subsoil-ploughing, when paid in money, gene¬
rally varies from 24is. to 30s. the acre ; but it is now becom¬
ing a part of the routine labour of the farm. Supposing it,
however, to be contracted for, and paid in cash, the extra
expense does not exceed one fifth of the cost of trenching
with the spade, and yet the work is as effectually done.
The reader ought to remember, that the calculations are
adjusted to the Scotish acre, and that four Scotish are equal
to five statute acres ; so that the amount of money requir¬
ed to execute four Scotish, will cover the expense of five
imperial acres.
In noticing this part of the subject, we shall first copy two
short extracts from a writer in the Quarterly Journal of Agri¬
culture for June 1839, pp. 69 and 70. Speaking principally
of the draining, he says, “ This so great benefit, not for Scot¬
land only, but for the whole kingdom, is as yet in its infancy.
Already the fame and the utility of it is spreading all over
the island; and we have not a doubt, in a short time, there
will not be found a spot that has not been made anew by
means of this simple yet powerful and efficient system of
draining....It is perfectly wonderful to behold the mighty
change this thorough-drain system is making in the different
parts of the country where it is in operation. Wet land is
made dry, poor w7eeping clays are converted into turnip-soil,
and even what would formerly have been accounted dry is
advanced in quality. Whole parishes in the vicinity of Stir¬
ling are completely transformed from unsightly marshes into
beautiful and rich wheat-fields; and where the plough c©uld
scarcely be driven for slush and water, we see heavy crops
per acre, and heavyweight per bushel, the quantity and the
quality alike improved.” But these statements, although true,
and in no degree exaggerated, are yet of too general a nature
to fix the attention of the reader. We shall therefore simply
state two facts, which are well authenticated, as illustrative
of the beneficial results of these decided improvements in
agriculture. In the Carses, which have been cultivated from
time immemorial, and have always been very productive,
and which have sometimes been considered beyond the
reach of improvement, the most distinct improvement is
visible even in the best years; and in wet seasons the con¬
dition of the crop is still more distinctly marked for the
better. In the driest seasons it is not beyond the truth to
say, that the crop is larger from a sixth to a fourth, and the
quality vastly improved in weight and fineness, while in wet
and cold seasons, such as 1838 and 1839, it is impossible^
estimate the value of these admirable improvements. Again,
with respect to the other kinds of soil in Stirlingshire,
namely, the dry-field, our remarks must be understood to
apply less generally, as the soil is not so uniformly good ;
yet are the effects more decisively manifested here than
in the Carses, as in wet seasons, without the draining
and subsoil-ploughing, many fields would scarcely carry any
crop at all, and so both seed and labour would be lost. The
following statement may be received as applicable to many
different instances of management. A small field of seven
Scotish acres had during sixteen years of a nineteen years’
lease produced upon an average the sum of from 10s. to 15s.
the acre as its whole return. At this period, when the farmer
felt himself secure in the prospect of another lease, he drain¬
ed the ground at intervals of only fifteen feet, in consequence Stirlit
of the great wetness of both the active and subsoil. It was diin
then subsoil-ploughed, and covered with acrop of potatoes and
turnip. This was in 1836, a very wet season. The product
was a good fair crop of both. In 1837 it was sown with
barley, and produced the heaviest crop of that grain that
had hitherto been produced on the farm. This yielded
more pounds per acre than it had formerly given shillings.
In 1838, although an exceedingly bad season, it yielded
fully two tons of hay per acre; and in the ensuing year, al¬
though only seven acres in extent, it produced more food
to the same number of milk-cows than thirteen acres of an
undrained field did in the preceding year. As these were
the first crops after being drained, there is reason to believe,
that when again subjected to tillage after pasture it will be
still more productive, as the drains will have had more time
thoroughly to dry the field. Many such instances of bene¬
ficial influence could easily be pointed out in dry-field farm¬
ing, but this would only be a useless repetition. It is per¬
tinent enough to add, that not only are the crops improved,
but both the seed-time and the harvest are rendered earlier
than formerly ; a circumstance of vital interest in the up¬
land districts, where, under the ordinary modes of culture, it
has not unfrequently been difficult, and sometimes impossi¬
ble, to get the corn to ripen at all in wet seasons, which so
frequently occur in our climate.
The encouragement of the landlords, most of whom are
resident in this county, has been prompt and judicious,
especially in patronising the introduction of the draining
system, which is the basis of modern agriculture. Decidedly
the most active of these were Mr Murray of Polmaise, the
late Mr Graham of Airth, and Mr Moir of Leckie, who
were among the first to direct their attention to this subject,
and who effectually introduced the new system among their
tenantry, and thus obtained for it a fair field. Since then
its advantages have been so manifest as to induce the most
prejudiced and stubborn of the farming population to adopt
it to a greater or less extent. Nor has any popular clamom
ever been raised against the improved culture ; a proof that
even the rural population are beginning to admit new ideas.
Another circumstance which has risen out of this im-Drum
proved agriculture, is the establishment of Drummonds Ag-mond|
ricultural Museum; an institution which, while it may
called the offspring of the improved culture, has yet had a'
very beneficial effect in promoting the objects which gave
rise to it. It was begun in the year 1831 by the Messis
Drummond, the spirited seedsmen in Stirling, and was
founded, and for the first two or. three years conducted, at
their own expense. The gentlemen, and some of the more
public-spirited of the farmers, of the district, have since con¬
tributed so much towards its expense, that the public are now
admitted gratis. It is still, however, the Drummonds Mu¬
seum, and they are at this moment building large premises
for containing it and their own business establishment.
The principal object contemplated by this museum is the
collecting together under one view practical working spe¬
cimens of every possible, or at least known implernen ,
connected with agriculture, from the twisting of a straw-
rope to the ponderous draining plough, the invention
Mr Macewan, farmer at Blackdub, near Stirling, an w nc
is drawn by twelve horses. Few persons, even of those who
are most conversant with the details of agnculture I
the most extensive and complicated scale, could ha\
slightest idea of the immense variety of implemen
exhibited, both for show and sale. To specify P^cnla
would answer no purpose. Besides the implemen ,
are also specimens of every kind of gram, !’00, ’
which will bear exhibition, along with soils, sectl0"
drains, corn and hay stacks, amounting in a11 t0 b 1 ith.
six and eight thousand specimens; and few weeks p ^ ^
out additions being made to the number. It io Y
S T I
, ;jng- add, that the landlords and farmers of the adjoining coun-
ae. ties of Perth and Clackmannan, which, although politically
. ^■"'separated, form only one district, the basin of the Forth,
have as promptly availed themselves of these improvements
as those of Stirlingshire.
The land on the banks of the Forth is exceedingly well
adapted for orchards, of which there are a few, but of no
great extent. The island of Inchmurrin, in Lochlomond,
the property of the duke of Montrose, has been stocked
with fallow' deer for more than a century, the number being
about 240, which are properly attended to, and kept always
in a thriving condition.
I viifac- The manufactures are carpets, tartans, plaid-shawls, trou-
tll ser-stuffs, and other w'oollens, in the town of Stirling, but
more in the neighbourhood. These within the last ten
years have increased in nearly a tenfold degree, so that this
district has now become one of the principal seats of the
w'oollen manufacture in Scotland, and promises soon to take
the lead. Paper, cottons, alum, copperas, soda, Prussian blue,
&c. are produced on an extensive scale; spirits at sevei’al
large distilleries, the amount of duty from home-made spirits
being greater than in any other district in Scotland; and iron
I cipn goods at Carron. The Carron Works, celebrated over all
I " p* Europe, W’ere established upon the banks of the river of
that name about eighty years ago, by Dr Roebuck and
Messrs Cadell and Garbet, who were joined in the under¬
taking by several other gentlemen. By the charter of
the company, they are authorized to employ a capital of
L.150,000, which is divided into 600 shares; and ten of
these are required to give a vote in the management. Du¬
ring the late w'ar they employed upwards of 2000 able-bo¬
died men, and paid in w^ages above L. 120,000 yearly ; and
this is nearly true at the present day. At these works all
sorts of cast-iron goods are made, and also bar-iron, said to
be equal to the Russian, but particularly cannon, and that
kind called carronades, w hich having been invented here,
take their name from the w-orks. The boring of the can¬
non is a very interesting operation, which is performed in
about forty-eight hours, by machinery moved by water.
One of their engines raises upwards of thirty tons of water
in a minute; and so extensive are the works, that they are
said to consume every day about 200 tons of coals. They
have water-carriage from the Firth of Forth by means of
the Carron, and to the Firth of Clyde by the Forth and
Clyde Canal, which passes through the district a little to
the south of the Carron. The number of vessels in the
London trade alone is seven, and about as many more are
constantly trading to other places.
^ "k Some years ago another extensive foundery was projected,
0 ery- and it is at present in operation upon a respectable footing,
manufacturing goods equal to those of Carron.
I 1 ierce. Notwithstanding the favourable situation of Stirling¬
shire, on a navigable river, and between the east and west
seas, which for many years have been connected by a canal,
it has but a small town-population, and till lately its com¬
merce was inconsiderable. Even now, half its exports, not
including its agricultural produce, is supposed to be fur¬
nished by the Carron Works. In consequence of the in¬
crease of the woollen manufacture, commerce must neces¬
sarily be increased also. The principal town is Stirling,
containing, in 1831, 8556 inhabitants ; a place of great an¬
tiquity, which, though situated on the navigable part of the
forth, has little trade by w^ater, and is chiefly indebted for
its importance to its situation on the confines of the High¬
lands. Falkirk, on the eastern side of the county, a little
to the south of the Forth and Clyde Canal, had a popula-
tmn, including a large and populous parish, in 1831, of
17’. > and is distinguished for its great fairs or trysts,
J'mch are held on the second Tuesday in August, Septem¬
ber, and October, where cattle, sheep, and horses are brought
or Sa^e the annual value of L.650,000. Grangemouth,
S T I 733
founded by Sir Laurence Dundas in 1777, on the angle Stirrup,
formed by the junction of the Carron and the Forth and
Clyde Canal, is now a considerable town, and the principal
seaport of the county. Its trade is chiefly with the north
of Europe and along the east coast. It has a custom-house,
a dry dock, and other necessary works. The depth of wa-
ter in the harbour is generally^, in spring tides from sixteen
to eighteen feet, and in neap tides from ten to twelve. The
only other towns are Kilsyth, Bannockburn, Denny, Campsie,
and Balfron. On the east side there is a number of small
villages, occupied partly by agricultural labourers and me¬
chanics, and partly by weavers employed by the Glasgow
manufacturers.
Besides the Forth and Clyde and Union Canals, the Railway.
Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, now constructing, passes
through this county, in a direction nearly parallel to the
canals, and must be productive of great benefit to its popu¬
lation.
The county, which in 1831 had only 118 freeholders, has Represen.
now a constituency of 2332, who send one member to par-tation.
liament. Stirling, its only royal borough, is associated with
Culross, Dunfermline, Inverkeithing, and Queensferry, in
the elections for the Scotish burghs ; and Falkirk, a par¬
liamentary borough, with Airdrie, Hamilton, Lanark, and
Linlithgow ; Stirling and Falkirk being both the returning
burghs. A poor-rate is only levied in a few parishes, the
poor being chiefly supported, as in most parts of Scotland,
by voluntary contributions.
Stirlingshire exhibits remains highly interesting to theAntiqui-
antiquary, and has been the scene of some of the most re-ties
markable events in Scotish history. The Roman wall, call¬
ed the Wall of Antoninus, and vulgarly Graeme’s Dyke,
which traversed this county, may still be traced in several
places. The battles of Stirling, in which Wallace defeated
the English under Warren earl of Surrey; of Falkirk, in
which he in his turn was defeated ; of Bannockburn, which
secured the independence of Scotland; of Sauchie-burn,
between James III. and his rebellious subjects, in which
the former wus defeated, and was afterwards treacherously
slain at Milton ; were fought in this county. Stirlingshire
was in former days the battle-ground of Scotland. Here
we may refer to Nimmo’s History of Stirlingshire, Ray’s
Military Antiquities, and Chalmers’s Caledonia.
The population of Stirlingshire, according to the census Population,
of 1801, was 50,825, in 1811 it amounted to 58,174, in
1821 to 65,376, and in 1831 to 72,600. The increase of
population from 1811 to 1831 was 21,775.
S1IRRUP, in the manege, a rest or support for the
horseman’s foot, for enabling him to mount, and for keeping
him firm in his seat. Stirrups were unknown to the an¬
cients. 1 he want of them in getting upon horseback was
supplied by agility or art. • Some horses were taught to
stoop to take up their riders ; but the riders often leapt up
by the help of their spears, or w-ere assisted by their slaves,
or made use of ladders for the purpose. Gracchus furnished
the highways with stones, which were intended to answer
the same end. Ihe same was also required of the survey¬
ors of the roads in Greece, as part of their duty. Menage
observes that St Jerom is the first author who mentions
stirrups. But the passage alluded to is not to be found in his
epistles; and it it were there, it would prove nothing, be¬
cause St Jerom lived at a time when stirrups are supposed
to have been invented, and after the use of saddles. Mont-
ikueon denies the genuineness of this passage ; and, in or¬
der to account for the ignorance of the ancients with regard
to an instrument so useful and so easy of invention, he ob¬
serves, that while cloths and housings only were laid upon
the horses’ backs, on which the riders w ere to sit, stirrups
could not have been used, because they could not have been
fastened with the same security as upon a saddle. But it is
more probable, that in this instance, as in many others, the
734
S T O
holm
Stiviere progress of human genius and invention is uncertain and
II slow, depending frequently upon accidental causes.
Stock- STIVIERE, a market-town in the delegation of Mantua,
in Austrian Lombardy, usually distinguished by the name
Castiglione della Stiviere. It stands in a strong position,
and has a castle, eight churches, and 5460 inhabitants ; and
is remarkable for the victory of the French over the Aus¬
trians in 1796. Long. 10. 47. E. Lat. 45. 42. N.
STOBdSUS, Joannes, whose compilations have been
found so highly valuable, is supposed to have been bom at
Stobi, a city of Macedonia. Heeren has endeavoured to
render it probable that he must have lived between the
years 450 and 500. He does not appear to have been a
Christian. From about five hundred writers, in verse as
well as prose, he extracted and digested an immense col¬
lection of passages; which has most commonly been con¬
sidered as one work divided into four books, the first two
being described as “ Eclogae Physic® et Ethic®,” and the
other two as Sermones. But, according to Heeren, they
constitute two distinct compilations. As many ot the books
quoted by Stob®us have scarcely left any other vestiges be¬
hind them, his merit in preserving these numerous and varie¬
gated reliques of antiquity cannot well be too highly estimat¬
ed. Of the third and fourth books, otherwise called the b lo-
rilegium, the Greek text was published by Victor Tnncavel-
lus, Venet. 1536, 4to. An edition, accompanied with a Latin
version, was published by Conrad Gesner, Tiguri, 1543, fob
It wTas reprinted at Basel in 1549, and at Zurich in lo5 .
Other editions succeeded; but they have all been nearly
superseded by that of Gaisford, Oxon. 1822, 4 tom. 8vo.
The text, which has been adjusted with great industry and
skill, is not accompanied with a Latin translation. Of the
Eclogarum libri duo,” the Greek text was first published
together with a Latin version by Canter, Antverp. 1575,
fob The editor made use of tw o manuscripts belonging to
Sambucus and Sirlet; and hence a certain bibliographer
has described this as Sirlet’s edition. A valuable edition
oi' the Eclog® was long afterwards published by Heeren,
Getting®, 1792-4, 2 tom. 8vo. The Florilegium and the
Eclog® had been published in the same volume, under the
title of “ Stob®i Sententi®, ex thesauris Grmcorum delec-
t®.” Lugduni, 1608, fob Some copies have a new title, with
the date of 1609. Here we must not overlook the elegant
labours of Grotius : “ Dicta Poetarum qu® apud Stob®um
exstant, emendata, et Latino carmine reddita.” Pans. 1623,
4to.
STOCKBRIDGE, atown of the hundred of Kings bom-
borne, in the division of Andover, in the county of Hamp¬
shire, 66 miles from London. It stands in a pleasant val¬
ley, with various streams running through it, which afford
great sport to parties who repair to them to enjoy trout-
fishing. It is an ancient borough, and returned two mem¬
bers to parliament till 1832, when it was disfranchised. It
has a small market on Thursday. The inhabitants amount¬
ed in 1801 to 643, in 1811 to 663, in 1821 to 715, and in
1831 to 851.
STOCKHOLM, the capital of the kingdom of Sweden,
stands in the centre of the province of that name. It is
built on two peninsulas, and several islands of difterent di¬
mensions, which are connected by numerous bridges and
ferries, and, including the water, is of great extent, being
two and a quarter miles in length, and near two miles in
breadth. A great part of this enclosure is not covered with
houses; and in many parts the rocks are interspersed among
patches of land and gardens, so as to give it an appearance
very different from that of any other of the European capi¬
tals' The whole is divided into ten districts, the most im¬
portant of which, called the city (Stadt), is small but inte¬
resting, from being the residence of the higher classes of the
inhabitants, and the site of the most prominent buildings.
In this division the streets are narrow', dark, and badly
S T O
paved. They run parallel to each other, and are united by Stocli
. 1— .. 4- *2 ^.11 4-H /-wv* 4" Vv 111o vc i n F I'wa *v-\I /-J „ x- „
cross streets; but in all of them the gutters in the middle
are very repulsive to more than one sense. The houses
however are large, firmly built, and not destitute of taste.
The royal palace is of colossal dimensions, and erected in a
noble style of architecture. Being rather elevated, it com¬
mands a view of the whole city on one side, and is sur- •
rounded with tasteful gardens on the other. Within it is
contained the presence-chamber, tbe royal museum, a li¬
brary of 30,000 volumes, the collection of the Swedish aca¬
demies, a square with a monument and figure of Gustavns
HI., and the German church, with a tower of 120 feet in
height. In the same part are also the exchange, the bank,
the cabinet of coins and medals, the mint, the college of
mining, and the town-hall. The royal stables are in an¬
other division. On one of the islands, forming a district,
are the naval storehouses, and the hall of the admiralty.
On another island, also a district, is a fort with twelve can¬
non and a lazaretto. On many of these districts, though
each has some good buildings, the others are poor wooden
houses, without taste or ornament, and destitute of cleanli¬
ness. The city is under the government of a stadtholder,
with inferior officers ; and under the police are organized
bodies of watchmen and firemen. Here both the civil and
the criminal courts are held. The ecclesiastical affairs aie
managed by the consistory, with a superintendent as presi¬
dent. Under it are fourteen pastorates ot the Lutheran
religion ; and there are besides places of worship for Ger¬
man and French Ualvinists, for Catholics, and for binnish
Lutherans. 1 here are many schools both for elementary
and classical learning, and also an academy of sciences, with
an astronomical observatory, a society of antiquaries, and
other bodies for promoting the different branches of know¬
ledge. There are abundance of benevolent institutions,
adapted to alleviate the various calamities to which man¬
kind are subject, but especially hospitals for seamen and
widows. Stockholm is the chief manufacturing place of the
kingdom, and supplies silk, woollen, and cotton clothing,
much linen, and also refined sugar, tobacco and snuff, pot¬
tery and china ware, glass, jewellery, brandy, and many
smaller articles, but almost exclusively for domestic use.
It is also the chief mart of foreign trade, to which the ex¬
cellence and security of its harbour greatly contributes.
About 500 or 600 vessels, of different burdens, are year¬
ly despatched. Some of these arrive with cargoes of corn,
but many in ballast. They are loaded with the excellent
iron of Sweden, with copper, tar, pitch, anchors, nails, can¬
non, bar-steel, planks, masts, cordage, hides, leather, tiles,
and in some years a large quantity of preserved herrings.
The city has establishments for recreation in two theatres,
several public walks, and a variety of clubs and other so¬
cial assemblies. The population has been fluctuating. In
1795 it amounted to 74,378, in 1800 to 75,oil, m 805 o
72,652, in 1814 to 62,830, in 1818 to 6o,«4 18 6 to
77,273, in 1832 to 79,526. Long. 17. 59. 30. E. Lat. 09.
19. 15. N. i ,1
STOCKING, that part of the clothing of the leg am
foot which immediately covers and screens them from
rigour of the cold. Anciently, the only stocking* in us
were made of cloth, or of milled stuffs sewed together,
since the invention of knitting and weaving stock g ^
silk, wool, cotton, thread, &c. the use o cloth st0' kl ? h
quite discontinued. Dr Howell in his of the
World, vol. ii. p. 222, relates, that Queen thzabeth, i
1501, was presented with a pair of black km on^,s
by her silk woman, and thenceforth she never w 0’ yjjj
any more. The same author adds, that King Henry V i i
ordinarily wore cloth hose, except th<:re(r ^"His^on, King
by great chance, a pair of silk stockings. „ l
Edward VI., was presented with a pair of long Spanish ^
stockings by Sir Thomas Gresham, and the p
s T O S T O 735
^ortthen much taken notice of. Hence it should seem that
‘—''the invention of silk knit stockings originally came from
Spain. Others relate, that one William Rider, an appren¬
tice on London Bridge, seeing at the house of an Italian
merchant a pair of knit worsted stockings from Mantua,
took the hint, and made a pair exactly like them, which he
presented to William earl of Pembroke, and that they were
the first of that kind worn in England, anno J564-.
The modern stockings, whether woven or knit, are form¬
ed of an infinite number of little knots, called stitches, loops,
or meshes, intermingled in one another. Knit stockings
are wrought with needles made of polished iron or brass
wire, which interweave the threads and form the meshes of
which the stocking consists. At what time the art of knitting
was invented, it is perhaps impossible to determine, though
it has been usually attributed to the Scots, as it is said that
the first works of this kind came from Scotland. It is added,
that it was on this account that the company of stocking-
knitters established at Paris in 1527 took for their patron St
Fiacre, who is said to have been the son ofa king of Scotland.
But it is most probable that the method of knitting stockings
by wires or needles was first brought from Spain.
Woven stockings are generally very fine. They are
manufactured on a frame or machine made of polished iron,
the structure of which it is needless to describe, as it may
be seen in almost every considerable town in Great Britain.
The invention of this machine is, by Mr Anderson, attri¬
buted to William Lee, M. A. of St John’s College, Cam¬
bridge, at a period so early as 1589. Others have given
the credit of the invention to a student of Oxford at a much
later period, who, it is said by Aaron Hill,1 was driven to
it by dire necessity. This young man falling in love with
an innkeeper’s daughter, married her though she had not a
penny, and he by his marriage lost a fellowship. They
soon fell into extreme poverty; and their marriage pro¬
ducing the consecjuences naturally to be expected from it,
the amorous pair became miserable, not so much on ac¬
count of their sufferings, as from the melancholy dread of
what would become of their yet unborn infant. Their only
means of support was the knitting of stockings, at which the
woman was very expert. “ But sitting constantly together
from morning to night, and the scholar often fixing his eyes,
with stedfast observation, on the motion of his wife’s fingers
in the dexterous management of her needles, he took it
into his imagination that it was not impossible to contrive
a little loom which might do the work with much more ex¬
pedition. This thought he communicated to his wife, and
joining his head to her hands, the endeavour succeeded to
their wish. Thus the ingenious stocking-loom, which is so
common now, was first invented ; by which he did not only
make himself and his family happy, but has left his nation
indebted to him for a benefit which enables us to export
silk stockings in great quantities, and to a vast advantage,
to those very countries from whence before we used to
bring them at considerable loss in the balance of our traffic.”
STOCKPORT, a town in the hundred of Macclesfield
and county of Chester, 173 miles from London. It stands
on the banks of the river Mersey, over which is a neat
stone bridge of a single arch, resting on rocks on both
sides. By means of a canal this town has water communi-
eation with the rivers Dee, Ribble, Trent, and Severn, and
thus with the greater part of the kingdom. The trade
^hich it carries on is very extensive. It was formerly con-
ned in a great measure to making cotton goods; but of
ate years the silk-manufacture has been introduced, and
has been prodigiously extended. There are two parish
o urches. The oldest, called the Red Church, is built on
a solid rock, and has a neat square tower, with a good set
of bells. There are also many places of worship for the Stockton
various dissenting sects. By the act of 1832 it has been II
created a borough, and returns two members to the House Stone‘
of Commons. There is a large market on Fridays. The
inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 14,830, in 1811 to 17,545,
in 1821 to 21,726, and in 1831 to 25,469.
STOCKS, or Public Funds in England. See Fund¬
ing System.
STOCKTON, a town in the ward of that name, in the
county of Durham, 248 miles from London. It stands on
the river Tees, which is navigable to it; and consists prin¬
cipally of one well-built, long, and wide street, in w hich is
the church, the town-hall, and grammar-school. It is an
ancient borough, governed by a mayor, a recorder, and al¬
dermen, but elects no members to the House of Commons.
It formerly contained a castle, which has been demolished,
and the stones applied to the erection of more modern
buildings. The bridge over the Tees is an elegant ob¬
ject. The inhabitants carry on a considerable trade in
making coarse linens, huccabacks, table-cloths, and sail¬
cloths ; and several ships are built on the river. Stockton
is well supplied with coals, vegetables, fruit, fish, and other
necessaries ; and it has a market on Wednesday and another
on Saturday. The number of inhabitants amounted in
1801 to 4009, in 1811 to 4229, in 1821 to 5006, and in
1831 to 7763.
SI OKESLEY, a town in the north riding of the county
of York, and in the wapentake of Langborough. It is 242
miles from London, and forty-three from York. It stands
on the river Leven, and consists of one well-built, long
street, with no remarkable building except the manor-
house, adjoining to the churchyard, which at an early pe¬
riod was granted to Guy de Baliol, whose family came to
England with William the Conqueror. The town depends
on the fertility of the land around it, from which a market
on Saturday is well supplied. The parish comprises four
small townships. The population amounted in 1801 to 1755,
in 1811 to 1759, in 1821 to 2290, and in 1831 to 2376.
S l OICS, the name given to a sect of Grecian philoso¬
phers, from 2roa, the porch in Athens, which the founder
of the sect chose for his school.
S iOLE, a sacerdotal ornament worn by the Romish pa¬
rish priests above their surplice, as a mark of superiority in
their respective churches; and by other priests over “the
alb, at celebrating of mass, in which case it goes across the
stomach; and by deacons over the left shoulder, in the form
of a scarf. The stole is a broad swath, or slip of stuff, hang¬
ing from the neck to the feet, and is marked with three
crosses.
Groom of the Stole, the eldest gentleman of the king’s
bedchamber, whose office it was to present and put on his
majesty’s first garment, or shirt, every morning, and to order
the things in the chamber.
STOLPE, a town of Prussian Pomerania, in the govern¬
ment of Koslin, the capital of a circle of the same name.
It stands on the river Stolpe, which is navigable to it. It
contains 650 houses, with 5840 inhabitants, who are chief¬
ly employed in linen and woollen manufactures, in fisheries
on the river for salmon, and in distilleries and breweries.
Long. 16. 50. E. Lat. 54. 27. 29. N.
STONE, a town in the hundred of Pirehill and county
of Stafford, 141 miles from London. It is pleasantly situat¬
ed on the banks of the river Trent, is neat and well built;
and by means of a canal has an easy communication with
most parts of the kingdom. The church is a fine structure,
with a square tower and a good set of bells. The inhabi¬
tants amounted in 1801 to 2305, in 1811 to 2314, in 1821
to 2855, and 1831 to 3460.
1 See an Account of the Rise and Progress of the Beech Oil Invention, &c. 8vo, 1715.
736
S T O
S T O
Stone
Edmund
II
Stone¬
haven.
. , , i trntp<! who are authorized bv the charter to preside in the
Stone, Edmund, a distinguished self-taught ma em i- ^ ot- ce court5 are appointed by the superior and
cian, was born in Scotland, but neither the P1^6 nor e ^ ^ / WGeklv market is held here, and also five an-
time of his birth is well known ; nor have we any memoirs
of his early life, except in a letter from the Chevalier Ram-
- say to Father Castel, a Jesuit of Paris, and published in toe
Memoires de Trevoux. Born the son of a gardener of the
Duke of Argyle, he arrived at eight years of age before he
learned to read. By chance a servant having taught him the
letters of the alphabet, there needed nothing more to disco¬
ver and expand his geniusl He applied himself to study, and
StOK
feuars. A weekly market is held here, and also five an¬
nual fairs. In the vicinity of Stonehaven stand the parish
churches of Dunnotar and Fetteresso. The town itself
contains other two places of worship, one of which is an
Episcopal chapel, and the other a meeting-house of the
United Associated Synod. The population amounted in
1821 to 2150, and in'1831 to 2965.
STONES, in Natural History, have been defined bodies
• and expand his genius. He applied Imnse o s uc.y, an insipid, not ductile, nor inflammable, nor soluble
ived at the knowledge of the most sub .me geometry and '“W > . of the ’ck5sification of stones, and of
analysis, without a master, without a conductor, without any
other guide but pure genius. He was author and translator
of several useful works, viz. 1. A New Mathematical Dic¬
tionary, in 8vo, first printed in 1726. 2. Fluxions, in 8vo,
1730. The Direct Method is a translation from the french
of De 1’Hospital’s “ Analyse des infiniment Petits and the
Inverse Method was supplied by Stone himself. 3. 1 he
Elements of Euclid, in 2 vols. 8vo, 1731. Stone was a fel¬
low of the Roval Society, and had inserted in the 1 hdoso-
phical Transactions (vol. xli. p. 218) an “ Account of two
species of lines of the 3d order, not mentioned by Sir Isaac
Newton or Mr Stirling.” In 1758 he published “ 1 he Con¬
struction and principal Uses of Mathematical Instruments;
translated from the French of M. Bion. In 1742 or 1743
his name was withdrawn from the list of the Royal Society;
and in his old age he appears to have been left to poverty
and neglect. He survived till March or April 1768.
Stone, Jerome, the son of a seaman, was born in the pa¬
rish of Scoonie, Fifeshire. His father died abroad when he
was but three years of age, and his mother, with her young
family, was left in very narrow circumstances. Jerome
having obtained the ordinary school education, reading Eng
in water. For a view of the classification oi stones, and of
their distribution, see Mineralogy and Geology.
Some philosophers say that stones are vegetables; that
they grow and increase in size like a plant, fins theory,
we believe, was first offered to the world by M. Tournefort,
in the year 1702, after returning from his travels in the
East. It was founded on a curious fact. In surveying the
labyrinth of Crete, he observed that the names which visi¬
tors had engraved upon the rock were not formed of hol¬
low, but of prominent letters, like basso-relievos. He sup¬
poses that these letters were at first hollowed out by knives;
that the hollows have since been filled up by the growth of
the stone; and hence he concludes that stones vegetate.
We wish we were fully assured of the fact, that the letters
were at first hollowed, before we attempt to account foi
their prominency. But even allowing the supposition to be
true that they were at first hollow, we reply it is only a
single fact, and that from a single fact it is altogether unphi-
losophical to deduce a general system. In the second place,
this protuberancy of the characters is very improperly called
vegetation, for it is not produced by a process in any re¬
spect like the vegetation of a plant. Vegetation supposes
having obtained the ordinary school education, reading Eng- 1 tainin,r fluids, and growth by expansion; but who
lish, writing, and arithmetic, betook h.mself to the busmess “ in’ a st(f„e> of (Amoving in them,
of a pedlar. He began h.s ph.lolog.cal pursmts w th the ever beam ot t iing and swelling like the
study of the Hebrew and Greek tongues, and made h.mself 'a tree ? Even the fact which Tourne-
so far master of these, without any ass.stance, as be ab e nmhinn. He does not prete
to interpret the Hebrew Bible and Greek testament into
English'™/ aperturam libri. At this time he did not know
one word of Latin. Some time afterwards, he was en¬
couraged to prosecute his studies at the university of St An¬
drews; and an unexampled proficiency in every branch of li¬
terature recommended him to the esteem of the professois.
Having finished his studies, he settled as schoolmaster at
Dunkeld, where he died in 1757, in the 30th year of his age.
STONEHAVEN, or Stonehive, a seaport town in
Kincardineshire, Scotland, occupies part of the parishes of
Dunnotar and Fetteresso. It is situated in a south-westerly
direction from Aberdeen, from which it is distant fifteen
miles. The more ancient part of the town, which was built
in the reign of Charles II., stands on the south side of the
Carron, and presents an appearance somewhat paltry, but
on the north side of the stream some elegant streets, with
a square in the centre, have risen up under the auspices or
Captain Barclay of Ury, upon whose ground they are built.
Between the old and new towns there is a communication
by means of a bridge. There is safe anchorage for shipping
in the harbour, which is a natural basin, sheltered on the
south-east by a high rock, and on the north-east by a quay,
where goods' can be landed with convenience and despatch.
The harbour has been recently improved by the erection
of a ietty. The vessels that sail out of this port are chiefly
employed in the coal and lime trade, but the amount ot
tonnage is inconsiderable. Here many persons reside who
occupy themselves in the herring-fishery; and there was
formerly employment for a number of weavers, but their
trade has in a great measure deserted them. The prospe¬
rity of the place depends in some degree upon the persons
connected with the sheriff' court of the county, which is
held here. Although the capital of Kincardineshire, Stone¬
haven is only a borough of barony, of which the magis-
fort mentions proves nothing. He does not pretend to say
that the rock itself is increasing, but only that a few small
hollows are filled with new stony matter, which rises a little
above the surrounding surface of the rock. Ibis matter
evidently has been once liquid, and at length has congealed
in the channel into which it had run. But is not this easily
explained by a common process, the formation ot stalac¬
tites? When water charged with calcareous matter is ex¬
posed to the action of air, the water evaporates, and leaves
the calcareous earth behind, which hardens and becomes
like a stone. „ .
Rocking Stone, or Logan, a stone of a prodigious size,
so exactly poised that it would rock or shake with the
smallest force. Of these stones the ancients give us some
account. Pliny says, that at Harpasa, a town of Asia,
there was a rock of such a wonderful nature, that i ou
with the finger it would shake, but could not be raov®(
from its place with the whole force ot the body. 0 ei .
mentions a gygonian stone near the ocean, which was agi¬
tated when struck by the stalk of an asphode, m
not be removed by a great exertion of force. 1
gygonius seems to be Celtic; for gwingog signifies motiiai ,
the rocking stone. , . 1>ir . narie nf
Many rocking stones are to be found m diffeien p
this island; some natural, others artificial, or placet in 1
position by human art. In the parish of St Leven, ^
wall, there is a promontory called Castle Ireryn.
western side of the middle group, near the top, lie 7
large stone, so evenly poised that any hand m
from one side to another; yet it is so fixed on it
no lever nor any mechanical force can remove i
present situation. It is called the Logon-
such a height from the ground that no person c b ^
that it w as raised to its present position by art.
S T O
ie- are other rocking stones, which are so shaped and so situat-
,re. ed, that there can he no doubt but they were erected by
human strength. Of this kind Borlase thinks the great
Quoit or Karn-lehau, in the parish of Ty widnek, to be. It
is thirty-nine feet in circumference, and four feet thick at
a medium, and stands on a single pedestal. There is also
a remarkable stone of the same kind in the island of St
Agnes in Scilly. The under rock is ten feet six inches
high, forty-seven feet round the middle, and touches the
ground with no more than half its base. The upper rock
rests on one point only, and is so nicely balanced that two
or three men with a pole can move it. It is eight feet six
inches high, and forty-seven in circumference. On the top
there is a basin hollowed out, three feet eleven inches in
diameter at a medium, but wider at the brim, and three
feet deep. From the globular shape of this upper stone, it
is highly probable that it was rounded by human art, and
perhaps even placed on its pedestal by human strength. In
Sithney parish, near Helston, in Cornwall, stood the famous
logan or rocking stone, commonly called Men Amber, q. d.
Men an Bar, or the top-stone. It was eleven feet by six,
and four high, and so nicely poised on another stone that a
little child could move it, and all travellers who came this
way desired to see it. But Shrubsall, Cromwell’s governor
of Pendennis, with much ado caused it to be undermined,
to the great grief of the country. There are some marks
of the tool on it, and, from its quadrangular shape, it was
probably dedicated to Mercury.
That the rocking stones are monuments erected by the
Druids, has by some writers been taken for granted ; but
tradition has not informed us for what purpose they were
intended. Mr Toland thinks that the Druids made the
people believe that they alone could move them, and that
by a miracle ; and that by this pretended miracle they con¬
demned or acquitted the accused, and brought criminals to
confess what could not otherwise be extorted from them.
How far this conjecture is right, we shall leave to those who
are deeply versed in the knowledge of antiquities to deter¬
mine.
Sonorous Stone, a kind of stone remarkable for emit¬
ting an agreeable sound when struck, and much used in
China for making musical instruments which they call king.
The various kinds of sonorous stones known in China differ
considerably from one another in beauty, and in the strength
and duration ot their tone; and what is very surprising is,
that this difference cannot be discovered either by the dif¬
ferent degrees of their hardness, weight, or fineness of
grain, or by any other qualities which might be supposed
to determine it. Some stones are found remarkably hard,
which are very sonorous; and others exceedingly soft, which
have an excellent tone; some extremely heavy emit a very
sweet sound; and there are others as light as pumice-stone
which have also an agreeable sound.
STONEHENGE, a celebrated monument of antiquity,
stands in the middle of a flat area near the summit of a hill
six miles distant from Salisbury. It is enclosed by a circu¬
lar double bank and ditch near thirty feet broad, after cross¬
ing which we ascend thirty yards before we reach the work.
The whole fabric consisted of two circles and two ovals. The
outer circle is about 108 feet in diameter, consisting, when
entire, of sixty stones, thirty uprights and thirty imposts, of
which remain only twenty-four uprights, seventeen standing
and seven down, three and a half feet asunder, and eight
imposts. Eleven uprights have their five imposts on them
y the grand entrance. These stones are from thirteen to
twenty feet high. The smaller circle is somewhat more than
eight feet from the inside of the outer one, and consisted
forty smaller stones (the highest six feet), of which only
nineteen remain, and only eleven standing: the walk be¬
tween these two circles is 300 feet in circumference. The
adytum or cell is an oval formed often stones (from sixteen
V0L. xx.
to twenty-two feet high), in pairs, with imposts, which Dr Stone-
Stukeley calls trilithons, and above thirty feet high, rising henge.
in height as they go round, and each pair separate, and not
connected as the outer pair ; the highest eight feet. With¬
in these are nineteen smaller single stones, of which only
six are standing. At the upper end of the adytum is the
altar, a large slab of blue coarse marble, twenty inches
thick, sixteen feet long, and four broad; pressed down by
the weight of the vast stones that have fallen upon it. The
whole number of stones, uprights, imposts, and altar, is
exactly 140. The stones are far from being artificial, but
were most probably brought from those called the Gray
Weathers, on Marlborough Downs, fifteen or sixteen miles
off; and if tried with a tool, they appear of the same hard¬
ness, grain, and colour, generally reddish. The heads of
oxen, deer, and other beasts, have been found on digging
in and about Stonehenge ; and human bones in the circum¬
jacent barrows. There are three entrances from the plain
to this structure, the most considerable of which is from
the north-east, and at each of them were raised on the out¬
side of the trench two huge stones, with two smaller within,
parallel to them.
It has been long a dispute among the learned, by what
nation and for what purpose these enormous stones were
collected and arranged. The first account of this structure
we meet with is in Geoffrey of Monmouth, who, in the reign
of King Stephen, wrote the history of the Britons in Latin.
He tells us that it was erected by the counsel of Merlin the
British enchanter, at the command of Aurelius Ambrosius,
the last British king, in memory of 460 Britons who were
murdered by Hengist the Saxon. The next account is that
of Polydore Virgil, who says that the Britons erected this
as a sepulchral monument of Aurelius Ambrosius. Others
suppose it to have been a sepulchral monument of Boadicea,
the famous British queen. Inigo Jones is of opinion that
it was a Roman temple; from a stone sixteen feet long and
four broad, placed in an exact position to the eastward, altar-
fashion. Dr Charlton attributed it to the Danes, who were
two years masters of Wiltshire. A tin tablet, on which were
some unknown characters, supposed to be Punic, was dig¬
ged up near it in the reign of Henry VIII., but is lost; pro¬
bably that might have given some information respecting
its founders. Its common name, Stonehenge, is Saxon, and
signifies a “ stone gallows,” to which these stones, having
transverse imposts, bear some resemblance. It is also called
in Welch choir gour, or “ the giants’ dance.”
Mr Grose thinks that Dr Stukeley has completely proved
this structure to have been a British temple, in which the
Druids officiated. He supposes it to have been the metro¬
politan temple of Great Britain, and translates the words
choir gour “ the great choir or temple.” The learned Mr
Bryant is of opinion that it was erected by a colony of
Cuthites, probably before the time of the Druids ; because it
was usual with them to place one vast stone upon another
for a religious memorial; and these they often placed so
equably, that even a breath of wind would sometimes make
them vibrate. Of such stones one remains at this day in
the pile of Stonehenge. The ancients distinguished stones
erected with a religious view by the name of amber; by
which was signified any thing solar and divine. The Gre¬
cians called them irzrgui aiiQzoaiai, petrce ambrosice. Stone¬
henge, according to Mr Bryant, is composed of these amber
stones: hence the next town is denominated Ambresbury;
not from a Roman Ambrosius, for no such person ever ex¬
isted, but from the Ambrosice petrce, in whose vicinity it
stood. Some of them were rocking stones; and there was
a wonderful monument of this kind near Penzance in Corn¬
wall, which still retains the name of main-amber, or the
sacred stones. Such a one is mentioned by Apollonius
Rhodius, supposed to have been raised in the time of the
Argonauta', in the island Tenos, as the monument of the
5 A.
738
S T O
S T O
Stoppers
II
Stove.
two winged sons of Boreas, slain by Hercules; and there
are others in China and other countries.
STOPPERS, in a ship, certain short pieces of rope,
which are usually knotted at one or both ends, according
to the purpose for which they are designed.
STORNOWAY, a parish, seaport, and chief town in the
island of Lewis, Scotland. The town is situated on a point
of land at the head of Loch Stornoway, and was originally
placed there by James VI. and erected by him into a borough
of barony, in order to act as a means ol civilization for the
Western Islands. The harbour is capacious and of good
depth, and the shipping belonging to the port is much more
extensive than could be supposed for a place so remote and
uninviting. The town consists of several streets of well-
built slated houses, having numerous shops. Its public
buildings are a neat and commodious custom-house, a town-
house, a parish church, an assembly-room, and two school-
houses. The town is a fishing station, and a large propor¬
tion of the inhabitants are therefore employed in the white
and herring fisheries. The resident feuars and burgesses
elect the town council and magistrates, consisting ot two
bailies and six councillors. The revenue of the borough is very
small. The gross custom-house receipts collected here in
1838 amounted to L.519. 2s. 4d. The population of the pa¬
rish in 1821 amounted to 4119, and in 183 i to 5422. The
increase of the population is ascribed to the gradual improve¬
ment of the parish, but more particularly to the erection of
new stations or villages for the purpose of improving the soil
and prosecuting the fisheries.
STOURBRIDGE, a town in the hundred of Halfshire
and county of Worcester, 123 miles from London. It stands
on the river Stour, over which is a good stone bridge. By
a canal it has communication with most parts of the king¬
dom, and thus distributes its productions, which consist of
glass-ware, ironmongery, and pottery. From some excel¬
lent clay to be found in the vicinity, the inhabitants make
a great number of crucibles. It is an ancient borough, go¬
verned by bailiffs and other officers, but sends no members
to parliament. It has a market on Fridays, ihe inhabi¬
tants amounted in 1801 to 3431, in 1811 to 40/2, in 1821
to 5090, and in 1831 to 6148.
STOURPORT, a market-town of the county of Wor¬
cester, which owes its origin to the recent formation of basins
at the junction of the river Stour with the Severn. In
these basins the barges that pass on the canals in the north
of England meet the vessels which ascend the Severn from
Bristol and Gloucester; and thus goods are transmitted from
one part of the kingdom to the other with regularity and
economy. The vicinity abounds in coal, much of which
supplies the salt-makers at Droitwich, as well as the glass-
makers in and around the place, and the iron-workers also,
who abound in the neighbourhood. The town is well built,
most of the houses being of recent erection. There is a
handsome chapel of ease, and a magnificent iron bridge over
the Severn, with a single arch of 150 feet span. On Wed¬
nesdays and Saturdays it has markets, which are well sup¬
plied. It is 124 miles from London, and eleven from Wor¬
cester. As it is a part of the parish of Old Swenford, which
lies in two counties, the population-tables do not suffici¬
ently show what has been the population of this new town
at the four decennial parliamentary enumerations. It is
now estimated at 6800.
STOVE, for heating apartments, green-houses, hot¬
houses, fruit-walls, &c.
When treating of the mechanical properties of air, we ex¬
plained the manner in which the expansion occasioned by
heat produces the draught up the chimney ; and in the ar¬
ticle Smoke we considered the circumstances wnich tend
to check, to promote, and to direct this current, so as to
free us from the smoke and vitiated air which accompany
the consumption of the fuel. Under Heat, the communi¬
cation and radiation have been fully explained. By the Stow
former, the caloric is given from one object to another, and'^—v /
communicated from particle to particle of the same object
by contact; by the latter, it emanates in straight lines,
through the air, from substance to substance, the emana¬
tions being absorbed by some bodies, and reflected by
others.
The power which objects possess of receiving and com¬
municating heat by the former of these modes, is termed
their conducting power ; by the latter, their radiating, their
absorbing, and reflecting power. Those which receive it
quickly by the former, also give it off quickly in the same
way ; and those which radiate powerfully also absorb power¬
fully ; of course they reflect little: accordingly the radi¬
ating and reflecting powers are opposed to each other.
Metals are good conductors ; stones, bricks, and porous bo¬
dies of a similar nature, are bad conductors. The radiat¬
ing, reflecting, and absorbing powers depend not so much
on the nature of the substance, as on the surface. Highly
polished surfaces radiate and absorb little, while dark and
rough ones radiate and absorb powerfully; of course, re¬
splendent surfaces are good reflectors.
When fuel is consumed with the view of heating apart¬
ments, the communication of heat depends entirely on the
manner in which it is consumed. In an open fire-place or
common grate, the heat thrown into the apartment is chief¬
ly that emitted by radiation and reflection ; the former com¬
ing directly from the fuel, and from the parts of the fire¬
place warmed by it; the latter being the radiated heat re¬
flected by the polished parts of the grate. The rays thus
thrown off, being absorbed by the objects in the room, then
communicate warmth to the atmosphere which it contains.
But part of the warmth must also be received by commu¬
nication; for the walls adjoining the fire-place being heat¬
ed by contact, will likewise communicate caloric to the air
brought in contact with them ; and as it is expanded it will
ascend, and allow other particles to flow in, also to receive
their supply. This however is small in comparison to that
given to the apartment by radiation and reflection.
Much of the heat thus thrown into the room is carried
off, indeed may be said to be lost; for, owing to the manner
in which the fuel is consumed, a large supply of air is ne¬
cessary for the combustion, which, rushing in upon the fuel,
is itself, after acting on it, carried up the vent. Hence, to
warm apartments in this way, a great deal of fuel is re¬
quired. The quantity must depend very much on the form
of the fire-place, and on the materials of which it is con¬
structed.
The principle on which stoves operate is different. A
stove, however modified in form, is merely a fire-place en¬
closed on all sides; the air necessary for the combustion
entering from below, and carried off, as in a common grate,
by a vent. Now, in this way of consuming fuel, the radia¬
tion is trifling in comparison to the communication by con¬
tact. Of course much must depend on the kind of stove^
employed; but it is allowed, that by far the greater part or
the heat which the atmosphere of the room receives is that
given directly by communication ; for the air in contact with
the sides of the stove is heated, is expanded, and carrier
upwards; and thus, by the constant flow of cool air on the
stove, the whole of that in the room is warmed. No doubt,
the stove being itself warm, must give off heat, not only by
contact, but also by radiation; and the proportion thus emit¬
ted must depend on the temperature and surface, as already
explained. But though heat is thus distributed, yet it must
be borne in mind, that it is chiefly by contact that _tlie at‘
mosphere of the room is warmed ; and as the ah is t us
easily heated, much less fuel is required than when it is
burned in an open fire-place. The necessary supp y 0 air
is therefore not so great; and it is this which principa y
causes the difference in our feelings when in a room warm-
STOVE.
739
ive. ed by a stove, and by a grate; for in the latter instance,
/“■''not only have we the exhilarating influence excited by the
blaze of the fuel, but there is a more rapid renewal of air
through the apartment, and accordingly the atmosphere
has not the close unpleasant feeling which it has wdien
warmed by a stove.
The warming by stoves must therefore be conducted on
principles different from those adopted in the employment
of open fire-places. The general principle is, 1st, to em¬
ploy the fuel in the most effectual manner for heating the
external part of the stove, which is immediately efficient in
warming the contiguous air, chiefly by contact; and, 2d,
to keep within the room the air thus warmed, at least as
much as is consistent with wliolesomeness and cleanliness.
It would occupy a volume to describe the immense va¬
riety of stoves which ingenuity has constructed. We shall
content ourselves with giving a specimen of the two chief
classes into which they may be distinguished.
The air of a room may be equally warmed by applying
it either to the surface of a small stove made very hot, or
to the surface of a much larger stove more moderately heat¬
ed. The first kind is chiefly used in Holland, Flanders,
and the milder climates of Germany and Poland. The last
are used in the frozen climates of Russia and Sweden. The
first are generally made of cast-iron, the last partly of iron
and partly of brick-work.
Fig. 1 represents a small German stove, fully sufficient
for warming a room of 24 feet by 18. The
base is about three feet broad and fourteen
inches deep, that is, from back to front,
and six or seven feet high. The decora¬
tion is in the fashion of that country; but
the operative structure of it will admit of
any style of ornament. A is the fire-place,
and the wood or charred coal is laid on the
bottom, which has no bars. Bars would
admit the air too freely among the fuel,
and would both consume it too fast and
raise too great a heat. That no heat may
be uselessly expended, the sole of the
fire-place and the whole bottom of the
stove is raised an inch or two above the
floor of the room, and the air is therefore warmed by it
in succession, and rises upwards. For the same reason,
the back of the stove is not in contact with the wall of the
room, or of the niche in which it is placed. The fire¬
place is shut up by a door which fits closely to its case, and
has a small wicket at the bottom, whose aperture is re¬
gulated by a sliding plate, so as to admit no more air than
what suffices for slowly consuming the fuel. The flame and
heated air rise to the top of the fire-place, three or four
inches above the arch or mantle-piece, and get out laterally
by two narrow passages B, B, immediately below the top-
plate of the base. The current bends downward on each
side, passes at C, C, under the partition-plates which divide
the two side-chambers, and then rises upwards through the
puter division of each, and passes through narrow slits D,
D, in the top-plate, and from thence along the two hollow
piers, E, E. Ihe two lateral currents unite at the top of
the arch, and go through the single passage F into the
arger hollow behind the escutcheon G. From this place
it either goes straight upwards into the vent in the wall by
^ pipe on the top of the stove, or it goes into the wall be¬
hind by a pipe inserted in the back of the stove. The pro¬
priety of this construction is very obvious. The current of
°t air is applied to the exterior of the stove everywhere
except in the two side-chambers of the base, where the par¬
tition-plates form one side of the canal. Even this might
tie avoided by making each of these side-chambers a de-
ached hollow pillar. But this would greatly increase the
rouble of construction and joining together, and is by no
means necessary. The arch H has a graceful appearance,
and affords a very warm situation for any thing that requires
it, such as a drink in a sick person’s bed-chamber, &c. Per¬
sons of a certain class use this place for keeping a dish warm ;
nay, the lower part of the arch is frequently occupied by an
enclosed chamber, where the heat rises high enough even
for dressing victuals, as will be easily imagined when we re¬
flect that the sole of it is the roof of the fire-place.
The stove now described is supplied with fuel and with
air by the front door opening into the room. That there
may be space for fuel, tins middle part projects a few inches
before the tw-o side-chambers. These last, with the wdiole
upper part of the stove, are not more than ten inches deep.
The passages therefore from the fire-place are towards the
back of it; so that if we have a mind to see the fire, which
is always cheerful, the door may be thrown open, and there
is no danger of the smoke cdfning out after the current has
once warmed the upper part of the stove. When the stove
is of such dimensions that the base is about two feet and a
half or three feet high, the fire- place may be furnished with
a small grate in the British style. If the door is so hung
that it can not only be thrown back, but lifted off its hinges,
we have a stove-grate of the completest kind, fully ade¬
quate, in our mild climate, to warm a handsome apart¬
ment, even with an open fire; and when we hang on the
door, and shut up the fire-place, a stove of the dimen¬
sions already given is almost too much for a large drawing¬
room.
A very simple form of stove is that represented in the an¬
nexed cut. It consists of a square box of iron, A B C D,
resting on feet, and having a pro¬
jecting hearth-plate at E. FF is
an inner box projecting into the
outer one. G is the chimney.
The fuel is burned at A; and
the flame passes to the chimney
around the inner box, which may
be used as an oven for cooking.
At H there is a large door for the
introduction of the fuel, in which
there is also a smaller door. Both
of these are generally kept shut
when the furnace is in use; but
when a greater heat is required, the smaller door is opened.
I he effect of stoves as now described may be greatly in¬
creased, as is frequently done, by having the mouth com¬
municating with or joined to an opening of the same di¬
mensions, formed in the wall; and the door is in this case
on the other side of the wall, in an antechamber or lobby.
In some places the apartments are disposed round a spaci¬
ous lobby, in which the doors of all the stoves are situated,
and through which the fuel and air necessary for the com¬
bustion are supplied. But this method, though it warms
the apartment, is very unfavourable to health and cheerful¬
ness ; for the same air confined and repeatedly breathed, and
adulterated with the volatile emanations of the room, loses
the refreshing quality which is so desirable, and even so
necessary for health.
Something of this kind, it has been already mentioned,
is unavoidable in all rooms warmed by stoves; and the hot¬
ter the surface of the stove, the more and more unpleasant
does the air in it become ; because, in addition to the slight
renewal of air consequent on their use, when the surface be¬
comes very hot, the impurities constantly floating in the
atmosphere are decomposed, and emit offensive effluvia.
Ihe stove already described is almost always made of
metal, and this objection applies particularly to it; hence
the necessity of being attentive when cleaning it outside,
to avoid the contact of greasy or oleaginous matter, which is
so easily decomposed by heat, and gives off offensive and
deleterious vapours.
Fig. 2.
Stove.
740
Stow.
STOVE.
The objections stated to the stoves as how described,
have given rise to the use of those constructed of brick-work,
or other materials of a similar nature. These are much
used in Flanders, Holland, and Germany, where they are
made of the most elegant forms, and finely decorated; but
it is evident that they cannot be so effectual, nor equally
warm a room with the same expense of fuel ; earthen ware
being inferior to metal in its conducting power. In addi¬
tion to this, they are liable to a very great objection, the
difficulty of preventing their cracking when heated; for
different parts of the stove being of different heats, they ex¬
pand unequally ; and no cement can be expected to with¬
stand this, especially when we recollect, that the heat which
causes the baked earthen ware to expand, causes a contrac¬
tion of the clay or cement with w hich the parts of the stove
are joined together. Accordingly stoves of this kind do
not stand long without cracking, even when strengthened
by iron hoops and cramps judiciously disposed within them;
nor does hooping them externally prevent it. When a
crack is thus occasioned, it is not only unsightly, but may
be dangerous, from its allowing the vitiated air to escape
into the apartment.
For these and other reasons, we can scarcely hope to
make stoves of brick-work or pottery which shall bear the
necessary heat w'ithout cracking ; and their use must theie-
fore be confined to cases where very moderate heat is suf¬
ficient. Wre need not describe their construction. It is
evident that it should be more simple than that of iron
stoves ; and we imagine, that in the very few cases in which
they are likely to be employed in this country, a single
fire-place, and an arch over it, divided by a partition or
two of thin tile to lengthen the flue, will be quite enough.
If the stove is made in whole or in part of potter’s ware,
a base for the fire-place, with an urn, column, obelisk, or
pyramid above it, for increasing the surface, will also be
sufficient. The failure commonly happens at the joinings,
where the different pieces of a different heat, and perhaps
of a different baking, are apt to expand unequally, and by
their working on each other, one of them must give way.
Instead of making the joints close and using any cement,
the upper piece should therefore stand in a groove formed
in the undermost, having a little powdered chalk or clay
sprinkled over it, which will effectually prevent the passage
of any air; and room being thus given for the unequal ex¬
pansion, the joint remains entire. T.his may be considered
as a general direction for all furnace-work, where it is in
vain to attempt to hinder the mutual working of the parts.
When fitted up with these precautions, the brick or pot¬
tery stoves are incomparably more sweet and pleasant than
the iron ones.
But in the intense colds of Russia and Sweden, or even
for very large rooms in this kingdom, stoves of these small
dimensions are not sufficiently powerful; and we must fol¬
low the practice of those countries where they are made of
great size, and very moderately heated. It is needless
to describe their external form, which may be varied at
pleasure. We shall only enlarge a little on the peculia¬
rities connected with the general principle of their con¬
struction.
The stove is intended as a sort of magazine, in which a
great quantity of heat may be quickly accumulated, to be af¬
terwards slowly communicated to the apartment. The stove
is therefore built extremely massive, and is found to be more
powerful when coated with clay as wet as can be made to hang
together. We imagine the reason of this to be, that very wet
clav, and more particularly stucco, must become exceedingly
porous when dry, and therefore a very slow conductor of heat.
Instead of sticking on the glazed tiles with no more clay or
stucco than is sufficient to attach them, each tile has at its
back a sort of box, baked in one piece, about two or three
inches deep. It is represented in fig. 3. This is filled with
Fig. 3.
Fisr. 4.
mortar, and then stuck on the brick-work of the stove, which
has a great number of iron pins or hooks driven into the joints,'
which may sink into this clay and
keep it firmly attached when dry.
This coating, with the massive
brick-work, forms a great mass of
matter to be heated by the fuel.
The lowest chamber, which is the
fire-place, is somewhat wider, and
considerably thicker than the stories
above, which are merely flues. When the fire-place is
finished, and about to be arched over, a flat iron bar of
small thickness is laid along the top of the side-wall on
both sides, a set of finishing bricks being moulded on pur¬
pose, with a notch to receive the iron bar. Cross bars are
laid over these, one at each end and one or two between,
having a bit turned down at the ends, which takes hold of
the longitudinal bars, and keeps them from being thrust
outwards either by the pressure of the arch or by the
swelling in consequence of the heat. In fig. 4, A is the
cross section of one of the long
bars, and BC is part of one of
the cross bars, and CD is the
clench which confines the bar A.
This precaution is chiefly ne¬
cessary, because the contraction
of the stove upwards obliges the
walls of the other stories to bear
a little on the arch of the fire¬
place. The building above is kept together in like manner
by other courses of iron bars at every second return of
the flue. The top of the stove is finished by a pretty
thick covering of brick-work. The last passage for the
air has a ring lining its upper extremity, and projecting
an inch or two above it. The flat round it is covered
with sand. When we would stop this passage, a cover
shaped like a basin or cover for dishes at table is whelmed
over it. The rim of this, resting on the sand, effectually
prevents all air from coming through and getting up the
vent. Access is had to this damper by a door which can
be shut tight enough to prevent the heated air of the room
from wasting itself up the vent. When the room is too
warm, it may be very7 rapidly cooled by opening this door.
The warm air rushes up with great rapidity, and is replaced
by cool air from without.
In a stove of this kind the fire is kindled early in the
morning, after which the stove-door is shut, and the air-
aperture below left open for some time to blow it up ; but
in the course of a short time, to prevent the too rapid con¬
sumption of the fuel, the fire-door is opened, by which the
draught is checked. In this way the combustion is allowed to
go on, and the materials of the stove become warmed, aiter
which the air-passages are shut, so as to prevent any abstrac¬
tion of heat by the current that would otherwise be occa¬
sioned. The stove thus becomes a great mass of heated
matter, which is gradually pouring warmth into the apart¬
ment during the whole of the day ; and as the temperature
of the surface never becomes very high, the impurities in
the atmosphere are not decomposed, and consequent y it
is free from those offensive effluvia unavoidable when meta
stoves are used. One precaution, however, is necessary in
the management of these stoves, which does not app) °
the metal ones; we must take care that when the air-
apertures are closed, there is no back-draught to carry t e
products of combustion into the apartment, wine mig
be attended wdth fatal consequences. These being a mos
free from smoke, give little or no warning of their pre
sence, and when inhaled for some time, produce gi t'nps
and lassitude, and in some cases a dangerous state o in
sensibility. Hence the necessity of allowing^ the_we^
SeilMUIllLy. JLAC11V.C  # C onpr-
be burned down, or nearly so, before closing the ai p
STOVE.
741
tures. Should the escape of the noxious gases into the
' room be suspected, the furnace-door and air-apertures must
be opened, and a draught established through the stove,
by kindling some wood shavings in it, the door and win¬
dows of the room being at the same time thrown open.
This attention to back-draught is of course more necessary
when charcoal or coke is used instead of coal, the products
of combustion being then entirely free from smoke. When
coal is used in stoves, the vent-tubes are apt to become
choked with soot; but this may in a great measure be pre¬
vented by giving for a short time every day a brisk draught,
by which the soot will be burned.
To prevent the injurious or disagreeable effects of the
first kind of stoves, and at the same time to secure their ad¬
vantages, numerous modifications have been proposed, not
only with the view of preventing the too great heat of the ex¬
ternal surface, but also of avoiding unnecessary expenditure
of fuel. Perhaps the most important of these is Arnolds
stove; the principle of which consists in allowing the fuel to
burn very slowly, the admission of air for the combustion
being regulated by an adjustment connected with the
stove, and influenced by the degree of heat produced. Nu¬
merous forms and modifications of this stove are now in
use, but in their general structure they are the same. The
stove consists of a square or cylindrical box of iron, gene¬
rally lined inside with a thick layer of fire-clay, and hav¬
ing a grating near the bottom, on which the fuel is burned ;
or the fuel may be contained in a small fire-box within the
stove. Sometimes the fuel is burned within a hollow cy¬
linder of fire-clay, in which case the stove is not lined with
it. There is an ash-pit below for the reception of the ashes,
and the products of the combustion are, as usual, carried off
by a vent.
The principal feature of this stove is the contrivance by
which the air is admitted for the combustion. When the
stove-door or ash-pit door is open, the combustion is lively,
and the fuel is soon consumed; but when these are shut,
and they ought to be so made as to shut quite close, then
air must be admitted otherwise, and this is done by the air-
tube, furnished, as already stated, with a regulator.
The annexed figure represents the stove of its simplest
form. ABCD is the outer casing of
iron, in which there is the fire-box E, Fig. 5.
with its grating. Over the fire-box
there is a dome, /?, with a funnel to car¬
ry the products of combustion into the r 
chimney ; h is the stove-door, and g |
is the thermometer regulator, or adjust¬
ment by which the air is admitted for
combustion. A great variety of these
regulators has been described. Per- s _ f
haps the best of these is represented
by the annexed cut. ABC is a glass tube, shut at A, con¬
taining air from A to B, and filled
with mercury from B to C. On the Fig:. 6.
mercury at C is placed a float, from
which there proceeds an upright rod
D, kept steady by passing through a ~) a
support at H. From this upright
wire there descends another, FGH,
terminated by the plate-valve F. LE
is the air-tube of the stove. When
the heat within is great, the air in
the shut limb of the regulator at A
18 expanded, and forces up the mer¬
ely at C, raising the rods and plate-valve F, and thus
bringing it near to, or in contact with, the mouth of the
tube, by which more or less air is admitted to the stove,
according to the heat within. If the combustion is pro¬
ceeding too slowdy, then the air in the tube A is not much
expanded, consequently air is allowed to enter the stove more
freely ; but when, owing to this, the combustion becomes Stove,
lively, and the temperature too high, then, by the elevation
of the plate-valve, air enters in smaller quantity, and the
temperature is moderated. Instead of the flat plate a coni¬
cal valve is sometimes used, which, passing more or less into
the mouth of the tube, allows the passage of less or more
air; and sometimes this contrivance is re¬
sorted to. ed is the wire raised by the move¬
ment of the mercury; abisa. plate hung on
an axis within the air-tube, and acting like
a throttle-valve. When the edge of the
plate is turned to the current, air is admit¬
ted freely; but when the heat becomes
high, then the mercury rises and makes the
plate revolve, by which more and more of
the area of the tube is shut, and consequently less and less
air is admitted. Perhaps the simplest
is that here represented, abc is a
bent tube shut at a, where it contains
air, and open at c, where it is cup¬
shaped. The bent part at b is occu¬
pied by mercury. From c there pro¬
ceeds a bent tube to supply air to the
stove. When the heat within is great,
the air in a is expanded, and forces the
mercury up in c, and thus, bringing it
in contact w ith the mouth, prevents the
free admission of air to the stove. Nu¬
merous other contrivances of a similar nature have been
recommended, all acting in the same way. Instead of these,
the admission of air is sometimes regulated by a semicircular
slide over the mouth of the air-tube, which may be placed
so as to admit to the stove a greater or smaller quantity, as
occasion requires.
The principle on which this stove operates, whatever
modification of it may be used, is merely the slow combus¬
tion of the fuel, by which the stove itself is warmed; and
there is thus a reservoir of heat to be communicated to the
air in the apartment. As the quantity of fuel consumed is
small, there is no necessity for frequent supply. When one
of the ordinary dimensions for a room is in use, it will re¬
quire to be supplied morning and evening, supposing that
it is kept constantly burning, and the ashes removed once
a day. ihese, instead of falling into the ash-pit, may be re¬
ceived in a box placed there for the purpose, which is taken
out and emptied, so as to avoid dust in the apartment.
The quantity of fuel consumed must of course depend
on circumstances. During the severe winter of 1836-37,
Dr Arnott kept his library at a temperature varying from
60° to 63° of Tahrenheit, by about six pounds of coal a
day; which, supposing the coal to be twenty shillings per
ton, is at the daily expense of less than a penny.
I hough the Arnott stove answers well the purpose for
which it is intended, that is, economy of fuel, for most un¬
doubtedly a room may be kept warm at a very moderate
expense, yet it is liable to the objection already stated
with regard to the unpleasant feeling consequent on the
xise of all stoves of the kind, and indeed with it more than
others; for, ow ing to the very slight expenditure of fuel,
there is little or no change in the atmosphere. It is gene¬
rally allowed that a pound of coal on an average requires
about 150 cubic feet of air for combustion; but as part of the
air passes off without being acted on, 200 may be allowed,
and this is a large allowance w here the combustion is going
on so slowly as in the stove. Now suppose the apartment
in which the stove is placed to be fifteen feet long by twelve
wide and eleven in height, its cubic contents are 1980
feet; and suppose six pounds of coal per day to be the
consumption, each pound requiring about 200, that is in
all 1200 feet of air for combustion. This quantity must
pass through the stove and be carried oft’ by the vent, so
of these regulators
Fig. 8.
Fig. 7.
e
s
742
Stove*.
STOVE.
that in the course of twenty-four hours the atmosphere of
'the apartment is not once completely changed, and conse¬
quently renewed, by the direct influence of the fire. Hence
it is that the apartment is so easily warmed; but it is this
which necessarily renders it so unpleasant.
The stoves now described answer for small apartments.
When the place to be heated is large, or when several
apartments in the same building are to be warmed, a dif¬
ferent kind is used. The heat in these cases is in gene¬
ral not communicated to the apartment or apartments by
the direct influence of the stove, but by air neated by its
external surface (of course not brought into contact witn
the fuel), and then conveyed by tubes or otherwise to the
places to be warmed, on the principle already illustrated,
that when heated it expands and ascends, and consequently
rushes along the tubes, the supply being kept up by the
constant flow of cold air upon the hot sides of the stove.
Stoves for this purpose are made of iron or of brick-work,
and sometimes of both. Fi&. 9 represents a cast-metal
stove of this kind. It may be considered as a double stove ;
an outer case, and a furnace or inner stove. The fuel is
burnt in the inner stove, and the smoke produced during
the process of combustion is carried off by a chimney,
which passes through the top of the outer stove, and is con¬
veyed to the outside of the building. I he outer case in¬
cludes not only the furnace or inner stove, but also a con¬
siderable space, occupied by the air of the atmosphere,
which is freely admitted through a number of openings
placed around it; and when any current of air is produced,
it passes off from the space between the outer case and
inner stove, and is conveyed by tubes through the body of
the apartment. But we shall first describe the different
parts of which the stove is composed, after which we shall
be better able to understand its mode of operation.
Fig. 9 exhibits a perspective view of this stove. AB is
the body, which is about three feet
high, and of a circular form. C is a
square pedestal, on which the stove
is placed, and which contains the ash¬
pit. The height of the pedestal is
about a foot, and it is nearly insulated
by resting on the spherical supports
a a, also of cast iron. FEE are open¬
ings in front of the ash-pit, through
which the air enters to support the
combustion. These openings can be
enlarged or diminished, or opened and
shut, at pleasure. FF is the door of the
furnace, through which the fuel is in- a a
troduced. This door is attached to the inner furnace, and is
double. It is one foot broad, and eleven inches high. ^ GG is
the chimney, which passes from the furnace within, through
the outer case, and conveys the smoke out of the building.
HH are openings in the outer case, and are eight in number,
through which the air enters, and being heated, is greatly
rarefied, and passes off through the funnel or pipe III. This
pipe communicates only with the outer stove, and being shut
at the end K, the air rushes out from the small tubes LL,
inserted into the side of the pipe III, and thus mixes with
the cold air of the apartment. The diameter of the outer
case at the bottom is about two feet, and the diameter of
the furnace within is about sixteen inches.
The length of the body of a church in which two stoves
of the form and dimensions now described are erected, is
about sixty feet, and the breadth is about forty-five feet.
The tubes III are conveyed along the lower edge of the
gallery, about half the length of the church. The fires are
lighted about four or five o’clock on the Sunday morn¬
ing during the earlier part of the cold season, but as the
season advances it is usual to light them earlier. From
this time till the congregation assembles for the afternoon
Fi<r. 9.
service, the furnaces are constantly supplied with fuel. By St*
this management the air in the church is kept comfortably ^
warm during the coldest season of the year.
When only one apartment is to be heated by a stove of
this kind, the stove ought to be placed in the apartment,
because then it is supplied with air from it, which has been
previously heated ; whereas, when it is placed in another si¬
tuation, the supply of heated air thrown into the apartment
beinv derived from without, that within must be forced out
to make way for it, and consequently at a great expendi¬
ture of fuel.” When several apartments are to be warmed,
suppose those of a dwelling-house, the stove ought to be
situated in some part of the lobby, from which the tubes
proceed to the rooms. Of course the size of the stove, and
the distribution and size of the tubes, must depend on the
supply of heat required.
There is one very great objection to the stove as now
described. It has been already stated, that when air is pro¬
jected against a red-hot surface, the impurities constantly
floating in it are burned, and emit offensive effluvia; and
this is generally the case with metallic hot-air stoves.
Hence the necessity of having them so placed that they
shall be supplied with air as free as possible from impuri¬
ties. Instead of having the whole of the stove made of
metal, the inner part is sometimes metal and the outer
covering brick-work; in which case the chamber between
them is generally larger than in the others, consequently
the temperature does not become so high, and the objec¬
tion urged against the metal stoves is in a great measure
removed.
The annexed figure represents
stove of this kind. A is the
stove of metal, with the door at
B and ash-pit at C. DD is the
vent, making a turn downwards,
and carried into the chimney at
E. FGHI is the outer casing of
brick-work, completely enclosing
the stove, and also the descending
part of the vent; K is the open¬
ing for the admission of air to the
hot chamber. L is the tube for
carrying off the warm air, and from
this it is conveyed by other tubes
to the rooms to be heated. I he
stove from which this figure is
taken is tw o feet and a quarter in
width, six feet in height, and the
sides three fourths of an inch in
thickness. The brick casing is at ,
the distance of six inches from the metal, and the descend¬
ing vent within is six inches in diameter. It is used for
warming a lecture-room thirty-five feet long, twenty-seven
broad, and twenty high, also a large apartment thirty fee
long, twenty-seven broad, and eighteen high, besides two
smaller rooms and a staircase. The fire is kindled during
winter at seven in the morning, and kept burning till tour
in the afternoon, when it is allowed to go out. 1 he quan¬
tity of coal amounts daily, on an average, to rather less tiian
half a hundredweight. The temperature of the air from
tubes varies from 120° to 180°, according to the stateot the
fire. The temperature of the different apartments is eP
about 60°. When first erected, the supply of air tor the no
chamber was brought from without; but now the an
fuel and for the hot chamber are both taken from tl e p
a vertical section of a
Fig. 10.
iuel and tor tne not ciiamuei me y ,, t
ment in which the stove is placed, which is gene }
the temperature of 70°. ,
When the place to be heated is spacious, or when ^
are several apartments, it is customary to have i P
the stove immediately exposed to the fire ine „ , on
brick, in order to prevent the direct action o
S T O
S T R
743
the metal; for in these instances the stove is much larger
than that described, and consequently the fire more powerful.
Its size must depend on the size and number of the apart¬
ments. In its general construction it resembles the other,
consisting of the inner part for the fuel, with its grating,
ash-pit, and vent, and of the outer casing, with the aperture
for the supply of air to the chamber, and the tube or tubes
for its transmission to the apartments.
The great advantage attending the use of stoves of this
kind is, that they do not become so warm as to decompose
the impurities in the air flowing into the hot chamber, and
consequently there are no offensive effluvia generated. As
the temperature is not so high as that of metal stoves,
more of the warm air is requisite, by which there is a fre¬
quent renewal of that in the apartment, and the tempera¬
ture throughout is more uniform than when a smaller quan¬
tity of hotter air is admitted. It has already been men¬
tioned that the temperature of the air from the hot cham¬
ber of the stove described is from 120° to 180°. Perhaps
this is higher than it ought to be. Many prefer having the
stove so constructed that the temperature of the air which
it throws into the apartment shall not exceed 70°. Of
course, in this case, a much larger quantity of it is ne¬
cessary. By throwing in a sufficient supply, that of the
apartments may be maintained at about. 60°. The mouths
of the hot air-tubes are made to terminate as near the floor
as possible, that the air may rise, and gradually mix with
the atmosphere of the apartment.
In erecting stoves for the supply of hot air in this way,
there are many circumstances to be considered, to which it
would here be useless to allude. Much must depend on
local situation, the size and number of the apartments, and
the draught through them. These considerations must be
left to the skill and ingenuity of the workman, who must be
guided by keeping in view the general principles which de¬
termine the supply of air to the furnace, the ascensional force
of the column of warm air to be conveyed through the
tubes, the manner in which the apartments to be warmed
are disposed, &c.
In heating buildings by these stoves when they are not
in constant use, as is the case in churches, the time for
keeping them going must also depend on circumstances.
If the object is merely to throw in a supply of warm air,
then the stove must be kindled a few hours before the
apartment is to be occupied, especially if it is not expected
that there shall be much change in its atmosphere; but if
the object is to keep the place warm, then the stove ought
to be kept in constant use, so as to be constantly throwing
in warm air. During night the fire can be damped, and it
is again made brisk when required. This is much better
than allowing the fire to go out, because in again heating
the stove to the requisite temperature, there must be a
considerable waste of fuel. After the fire is in good con¬
dition, and the stove well heated, the combustion should be
allowed to proceed slowly, which is accomplished by the
proper regulation of the draught.
STOW, John, an industrious historian, son of Thomas
Stow, merchant-tailor, of St Michael’s, Cornhill, in London,
was born about the year 1525. Of the early part of his
life we know very little, except that he was bred to his
father’s business, which in the year 1560 he relinquished,
devoting himself entirely to the study of our ancient his¬
torians, chronicles, annals, charters, registers, and records.
Of these he made a considerable collection, travelling for
that purpose to different parts of the kingdom, and tran¬
scribing such manuscripts as he could not purchase. But
fids profession of an antiquary being attended wuth no pre¬
sent emolument, he was obliged for subsistence to return
t° his trade. It happened, however, that his talents and
necessities were made known to Dr Parker, archbishop of
Canterbury; who being himself an antiquary, encouraged
and enabled Stow to prosecute his darling study. In those Stow on
times of persecution, though Elizabeth was then upon the ^ old
throne, honest John Stow did not escape danger. His
collection of popish records was deemed a cause of suspicion. ^ ^.1 ,
His younger brother Thomas preferred no less than 1-10
articles against him before the ecclesiastical commission;
but the proof being insufficient, he was acquitted. In 1565
he first published his Summary of the Chronicles of Eng¬
land. About the year 1584 he began his Survey of Lon¬
don. In 1585 he was one of the two collectors ibr a great
muster of Limestreet ward. During the same year he
petitioned the corporation of London to bestow on him
the benefit of two freemen, to enable him to publish his
Survey ; and in 1589 he again petitioned for a pension.
Whether he succeeded is not known. Lie was principally
concerned in the second edition of Holinshed’s Chronicle,
published in 1587. He also corrected and twice aug¬
mented Chaucer’s Works, published in 1561 and in 1597.
His Survey of London was first published in 1598. To
these laborious works he would have added his large Chro¬
nicle, or History of England; but he lived only to publish
an abstract of it, under the title of “ Flores Historiarum,
or Annals of this Kingdom, from the time of the Ancient
Britons to his own.” This work wjas printed in 1600.
The folio volume which was printed after his death, with
the title of Stow’s Chronicle, wras taken from his papers by
Edmund Howes. Llaving thus spent his life and fortune
in these laborious pursuits, he was at last obliged to solicit
the charitable and well-disposed for relief. For this pur¬
pose, King James I. granted him in 1603 a brief, which was
renewed in 1604, authorizing him to collect in churches
the benefactions of his fellow-citizens. He died in April
1605, aged eighty ; and was buried in his parish church of
St Andrew’s Undershaft, where his widow erected a decent
monument to his memory. John Stow was a most inde¬
fatigable antiquary, a faithful historian, and an honest
man.
STOW ON THE WOLD, a town of the hundred of
Haughton, in the county of Gloucester, eighty-two miles
from London. It stands on a hill in a wild district near
the river Windrash. It is irregularly and not well built.
The parish is very extensive, though not densely peopled.
The town has a market on Thursday, and several fairs at
which sales are made of hops, sheep, and cheese. The
inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 1471, in 1811 to 1544,
in 1821 to 1731, and in 1831 to 1810.
STOWEY-NETLIER, a town of the county of Somer¬
set, in the hundred of Willerton and Freemanners, six
miles from Bridgewater, and 149 miles from London. It
is in a fertile district at the foot of the Quanloch Hills. It
formerly contained a castle, of which no vestige now ap¬
pears, though the ditch that surrounded it may be traced.
The parish church is a handsome building; and near to it
is a spring, which has the property of incrusting, with the
appearance of stone, pieces of wood, or other substances
that may be thrown into it. There is a small market held
on Thursday. The population amounted in 1801 to 586,
in 1811 to 620, in 1821 to 773, and in 1831 to 778.
STOWMARKET, a town in the hundred of Stow and
county of Suffolk, seventy-six miles from London. It
stands on the river Orwell, and has also a canal. It is a
place of small trade, with a market on Thursday. The in¬
habitants amounted in 1801 to 1761, in 1811 to 2006, in
1821 to 2252, and in 1831 to 2672.
STOWAGE, the general disposition of the several
materials contained in a ship’s hold, with regard to their
figure, magnitude, or solidity.
STRABO, an illustrious geographer, was born at Ama-
sia, a city of Cappadocia. The time of his birth cannot
be ascertained, but he is known to have flourished during
the age of Augustus and Tiberius. He studied under
744
Strada,
S T R
Xenarchus, a Peripatetic philosopher; but afterwards, in¬
fluenced by the authority of Athenodorus, who had been his
preceptor, and who became eminent in the reign of Augus¬
tus, he adopted the tenets of the Stoics. He obtained the
friendship of Cornelius Gallus, governor of Egypt. In
order to collect materials for his great work, he travelled
in many different regions ; and after much toil and research
completed his Geography, which is justly regarded as a
very precious relique of antiquity. It consists of seventeen
books, all of which are not however entire. The first two
books are employed in showing that the study of geography
is not only worthy of, but even necessary to, a philosopher;
the third describes Spain; the fourth, Gaul and the Bri¬
tannic isles; the fifth and sixth, Italy and the adjacent
isles ; the seventh, which is imperfect at the end, Ger¬
many, the countries of the Getse and Illyrii, Taurica Cher-
sonesus, and Epirus ; the eighth, ninth, and tenth, Greece
with the neighbouring isles; the four following, Asia with¬
in Mount Taurus; the fifteenth and sixteenth, Asia with¬
out Taurus, India, Persia, Syria, Arabia; and the seven¬
teenth, Egypt, Ethiopia, Carthage, and other countries of
Africa.
Strabo’s Geography first appeared in a Latin version,
executed by Phavorinus and Tifernas, and printed at
Rome by Sweynheym and Pannartz. It is an ample folio
volume, without date, but is supposed to have been printed
in or about the year 1469. The earliest edition with a
date is that of Venice, 1472, fol. The editio princeps
of the Greek text proceeded from the press of Aldus,
Venet. 1516, folio. This edition, which is not distin¬
guished by its accuracy, was succeeded by that of Marcus
Hopper, Basil. 1549, fol. He has printed a Latin trans¬
lation by Glareanus and Hartungus. An edition, con¬
taining an elegant version, with notes and castigations,
was next produced by Xylander, Basil. 1571, fol. But all
these were eclipsed by the edition of Casaubon, Genev.
1597, fbl. By the aid of four MSS. and of his own critical
sagacity, he greatly improved the Greek text. He retain¬
ed the version of Xylander. He afterwards augmented
and improved his annotations, and the work was reprinted
at Paris in 1620, after the death of the very learned
editor. This second edition of Casaubon, together with
the notes of various other critics, was republished by 1.
Janson van Almeloveen, Amst. 1707, fol. He has sub¬
joined the Chrestomathice, or epitome of Strabo ; which,
according to Dodvvell, was compiled by some unknown
writer between the years 976 and 996. It had been found
of some use, not only in contributing to the correction of
the text, but likewise in supplying to a certain extent the
defect of the seventh book. An elaborate and valuable
edition of Strabo was commenced by Siebenkees, and com¬
pleted by Tzschucke, Lipsiae, 1796-1819, 7 tom. 8vo.
Much was expected from the edition of Falconer, Oxon.
1807, 2 tom. fol. It was one defect of the editor, that
he was not sufficiently acquainted with the labours of the
continental critics. Nor must we overlook an edition of
the text, illustrated with Greek notes by Coray, Paris.
1815, 4 tom. 8vo. Strabo was translated into German by
Penzel. A French translation was undertaken by com¬
mand of the emperor, and was executed by De la Porte du
Theil, Coray, and Letronne. The introduction, and the
notes distinguished by the letter G, were contributed by
Gossellin. “ Geographic de Strabon, traduite du Grec en
Frant^ais.” Paris, 1805-19, 5 tom. 4to.
STRADA, Famianus, an ingenious and learned Jesuit,
was born at Rome in the year 1572, and there taught
rhetoric for fifteen years. He wrote several pieces upon
the art of oratory, and published some orations with a view
of illustrating by example what he had inculcated by pre-
ce;>t. But his “ Prolusiones Academicae” and his “ His-
toria de Bello Belgico’’ are the works which raised his re-
S T R
putation, and have preserved his memory. His history of Str ,n
the war of Flanders was published at Rome, the first
decad in 1640, the second in 1647; the whole extending
from the death of Charles V. which happened in 1558, to
the year 1590. It is written in good Latin, as all allow;
but its merit in other respects has been variously estimat¬
ed. His “ Prolusiones Academic®” show great ingenuity,
and a masterly skill in classical literature; that prolusion
especially in which he introduces Lucan, Lucretius, Clau-
dian, Ovid, Statius, and Virgil, each of them versifying
according to his own strain. This work has often been
printed. Strada died at Rome in the Jesuits College in
the year 1649.
STRAHAN, William, an eminent printer, was born
at Edinburgh in the year 1715. His father, who had a
small appointment in the customs, gave his son the educa¬
tion which every one of decent rank then received in a
country where the avenues to learning were easy, and open
to men of the most moderate circumstances. After hav¬
ing passed through the tuition of a grammar-school, he
served an apprenticeship to a printer, and when a very
young man removed to a wider sphere in that line of busi¬
ness, and wmnt to follow his trade in London. Sober, dili¬
gent, and attentive, while his emoluments were for some
time very scanty, he contrived to live rather within than
beyond his income; and though he married early, and
without such a provision as prudence might have looked
for in the establishment of a family, he continued to thrive,
and to better his circumstances. This he would often
mention as an encouragement to early matrimony; and
used to say, he never had a child born that Providence did
not send some increase of income to provide for the increase
of his household. With sufficient vigour of mind, he had
that happy flow of animal spirits that is not easily discou¬
raged by unpromising appearances.
His abilities in his profession, accompanied with perfect
integrity and unabating diligence, enabled him, after the
first difficulties were overcome, to advance with rapid suc¬
cess. And he was one of the most flourishing men of the
trade, when, in the year 1740, he purchased a share of the
patent for king’s printer, of Mr Eyre, with whom he main- |
tained the most cordial intimacy during the rest of his life.
Beside the emoluments arising from this appointment, as
well as from a very extensive private business, he now
drew largely from a field which it required some degree of
speculative sagacity to cultivate, on account of the great
literary property which he acquired by purchasing the
copyrights of the most celebrated authors of the time.
Here his liberality kept pace with his prudence, and in some
cases went perhaps rather beyond it. Never had such re¬
wards been given to the labours of literary men, as weie
received from him and his associates in their purchases
of copyrights.
Having now attained the first great object of business,
wealth, Mr Strahan looked with a very allowable ambition
on the stations of political rank and eminence. Politics had
long occupied his active mind, and he had for many years
pursued them as his favourite amusement, by corresponding
on that subject with some of the first characters otaSe-
Mr Strahan’s queries to Dr Franklin in the year 176J, re¬
specting the discontents of the Americans, published in the
London Chronicle of 28th July 1778, show the just con-
ception which he entertained of the important consequences
of that dispute, and his anxiety as a good subject to mves i-
gate, at that early period, the proper means by which tne
grievances might be removed, and a permanent harm
restored between the two countries. In the year
was elected a member of parliament for the boroug
Malmesbury in Wiltshire, with a very illustrious eo eagu ,
Mr Fox; and in the succeeding parliament, lor oo on
set, in the same county. In this station, applying i
s T R S T R 745
§ ks with that industry which was natural to him, he was a use¬
ful member, and attended the house with a scrupulous
punctuality. His talents for business acquired the consi-
“* deration to which they were entitled, and were not unno¬
ticed by the minister.
In his political connection, he was constant to the friends to
whom he had first been attached. He was a steady supporter
of that party who were turned out of administration in spring
1784, and lost his seat in the House of Commons by the disso¬
lution of parliament with which that change was followed; nor
did he show any disposition to resume his place on the return
of the new parliament. He had begun to feel some decline
in his health, which had rather suffered from the long sittings
with which the political warfare had been attended. Without
any fixed disease, his strength visibly decayed ; and though
his spirits survived his strength, yet the vigour and activity
of his mind were considerably impaired. Both continued
gradually to decline till his death, which happened on the
9th of July 1785, in the seventy-first year of his age.
STRAIKS, in the military art, are strong plates of iron,
six in number, fixed with large nails called straik-nails, on
the circumference of a cannon-wheel, over the joints of the
fellows, both to strengthen the wheel, and to save the fel¬
lows from wearing on hard ways or streets.
STRAIN or Stress, in Mechanics, are terms indiscri¬
minately used to express the force which is excited in any
part of a machine or structure of any kind, tending to break
it in that part. Thus every part of a rope is equally strain¬
ed by the weight which it suspends. Every part of a pillar
is equally strained by the load which it supports. A mill
axle is equally twisted and strained in every part which
lies between the part of the wheel actuated by the moving
power and the part which is resisted by the work to be per¬
formed. Every part of a lever or joist is differently strain¬
ed by a force acting on a distant part.
It is evident that we cannot make the structure fit for its
purpose, unless the strength at every part be at least equal
to the stress laid on, or the strain excited in that part. * It
is no less plain, that if we are ignorant of the principles
which determine this strain, both in intensity and direction,
in relation to the magnitude and the situation of its remote
cause, the only security we have for success is to give to
every part of the assemblage such solidity that we can leave
| no doubt of its sufficiency. But daily experience shows us
that this vague security is in many cases uncertain, if we
are thus ignorant. In all cases it is slovenly, unlike an
artist, attended with useless expense, and in machines is at¬
tended with a loss of power which is wasted in changing the
motions of a needless load of matter.
It must therefore greatly tend to the improvement of all
professions occupied in the erection or employment of such
structures, to have a distinct notion of the strains to which
these parts are exposed. Frequently, nay generally, these
strains are not immediate, but arise from the action of
forces on distant parts, by which the assemblage is strain¬
ed, and there is a tendency to rupture in every part. This
strain is induced on every part, and is there modified by
fixed mechanical laws. These it is our business to learn ;
out our chief object in this investigation is to determine
the strength of materials which it is necessary to oppose in
every part to this strain, and how to oppose this strength
■o such a manner that it shall be exerted to the best advan-
tage. The notions of strain and strength therefore hardly
admit of separation ; for it is even by means of the strength
°f the intermediate parts that the strain is propagated to,
I 01 excited in, the part under consideration. It is proper
therefore to consider the whole together under the article
Strength of Materials.
STRAI f, a narrow channel or arm of the sea, enclosed
'ettteen lands on either side, and affording a passage out of
one §reat sea into another.
| V'0C. XX.
There are three kinds of straits. 1. Such as join one Str&kes
ocean to another. Of this kind are the Straits of Magellan II
and Le Maire. 2. Those which join the ocean to a gulf: the
Straits of Gibraltar and Babelmanclel are of this kind, the .lr ^ ‘^1
Mediterranean and Red Sea being only large gulfs. 3. Those
which join one gulf to another ; as the Straits of Caffa, which
join the Pains Mseotis to the Euxine or Black Sea.
STRAKES, or Streaks, in a ship, the uniform ranges
of planks on the bottom and sides of a ship, or the conti¬
nuation of planks joined to the ends of each other, and
reaching from the stem to the stern-post and fashion-pieces ;
the lowest of these, which is called the gar board streak, is
let into the keel below, and into the stern and stern-post.
They say also a ship heels a stroke, that is, hangs or inclines
to one side, the quantity of a whole plank’s breadth.
Strakes, or Streks, in mining, are frames of boards fix¬
ed on or in the ground, where they wash and dress the small
ore in a little stream of water, hence called stroked ore.
STEALS UND, one of the governments into which the
Prussian province of Pomerania is divided. It comprehends
the whole of what was Swedish Pomerania, with the island
of Rugen, and some others in the Baltic Sea. It extends
over 1584 square miles, and contains fourteen cities and
towns, and 347 villages. The population, by the census of
1817, amounted to 129,239, and by that of 1834 to 153,945.
With the exception of about 450 Catholics and 152 Jews,
all the inhabitants are of the Lutheran church. The soil
is generally fertile and well cultivated, yielding of corn, flax,
and hemp, more than is consumed. The capital, a city of
the same name, stands in the island of Rugen, opposite the
Strait of Gellen, by which it is separated from the continent.
The harbour is good and secure, and the city is strongly
fortified both on the land and the sea sides. It is ancient,
and in a style of building corresponding to its age. It has
five churches and a college, with a few other public build¬
ings. In the year 1834 it contained 14,713 inhabitants,
who have extensive foreign trade, chiefly in domestic pro¬
ductions. Long. 13. 29. E. Eat. 54. 6. N.
STRANGE, Sir Robert, an eminent engraver, who
carried the art to great perfection in this country, and was
distinguished not only as an artist, but highly respected and
beloved on account of his private virtues and domestic ha¬
bits. Modest as he was ingenious, he used to say that the
works of an artist should serve for his life and monument.
Hi s works no doubt will perpetuate his name while any taste
for the fine arts remains. Fie was born in the island of Pomo¬
na, in Orkney, on the 14th of July 1721, being lineally de ¬
scended from David Strange or Strang, a younger son of the
family of the Stranges or Strangs of Balcasky,in the county
of life, who settled in Orkney at the time of the Reformation.
But as there were no males remaining of the elder branch of
the Stranges of Balcasky, Sir Robert became the male re¬
presentative of it, and was found by a legal investigation to
have a right to the armorial bearings and every other mark
of honour belonging to that ancient family. He received
his classical education in Kirkwall in Orkney, under the
care of a learned, worthy, and much respected gentleman,
Mr Murdoch Mackenzie, who has rendered very important
service to his country by the accurate surveys and charts
which he has given of the islands of Orkney, and of the
British and Irish coasts.
Originally intended for the law, Mr Strange soon became
tired of that profession, and perceived that his genius de¬
cisively led him to the arts of drawing and engraving. For
this purpose he was introduced to Mr Richard Cooper of
Edinburgh, the only person there who had any taste in that
department of the fine arts. He was bound with him as an
apprentice for six years ; during which time he made such
progress in his new profession, that his friends entertained
the highest expectation of his success ; nor were they dis-
anoointed.
5 B
746
S T R
S T R
He died at London, Stm r.
strange, In the year 1747 he married Isabella, only daughter of delayed this magnificent publication.
Sir Robert, william Lumsden, son of Bishop Lumsden ; and soon after oth July 1/92. . . .. . , o ^ . ,
—' his*marriage he went ,o w^wi*^ n,„, a.
unde^the directum of “^celebrated Le Bas, who engraved other a finished proof, from ^
ment commonly called the dry needle ; but which he after
wards greatly improved by his own genius, and which ha»
added such superior beauties to his engravings.
In the year 1751 Mr Strange removed with Ins family
from Edinburgh, and settled in London, where he engraved
several fine historical prints, which justly acquired to him
great reputation. At this period historical engraving had
made little progress in Britain, and he may be properly con¬
sidered as its father. The admiration which he always had
for the works of the great Italian painters made him long de¬
sire to visit Italy, the seat of the fine arts; and the farther
he advanced in life, he became the more persuaded that a
journey to that country was essential to an artist who had the
'laudable ambition to excel in his profession. He therefore
undertook this journey in the year 1760. In Italy he made
many admirable drawings, several of which he atterwards
engraved. In Italy singular marks of attention were every¬
where bestowed on Mr Strange, not only by great person-
patra, by the same ; 6. The Madonna, by the same; 7. The
Angel Gabriel, by the same ; 8. The Virgin, holding inker
hand a book, and attended by angels, by Carlo Maratt;
9. The Virgin with the Child asleep, by the same; 10.
Liberality and Modesty, by Guido ; 11. Apollo rewarding
Merit and punishing Arrogance, by Andrea Sacchi; 12.
The Finding of Romulus and Remus, by Pietro da Cortona;
13. Caesar repudiating Pompeia, by the same; 14. Three
Children of King Charles I. by Vandyke; 15. Belisarius,
by Salvator Rosa; 16. St Agnes, by Dominichino; 17.
The Judgment of Hercules, by Nicolas Poussin ; 18. Ve¬
nus attired by the Graces, by Guido ; 19. and 20. Justice
and Meekness, by Raffaello ; 21. The Offspring of Love, by
Guido; 22. Cupid Sleeping, by the same; 23. Abraham
giving up the handmaid Hagar, by Guercino; 24. Esther
a Suppliant before Ahasuerus, by the same ; 25. Joseph and
Potiphar’s Wife, by Guido ; 26. Venus blinding Cupid,
by Titian ; 27. Venus, by the same; 28. Danae, by the
where bestowed on Mr Strange, not omy oy gieai pmSu»- f , j , Vandvke • 30
a-es, but by the principal academies of the fine arts in that same ; 29. Portiait of King Charles 1. by an y e ,
country. He was chosen a member of the academies of The Madonna, by Correggio ; 31. St Caeciha, by Kaffaelkn
Rome, Florence, and Bologna, and professor in the royal
academy at Parma. To show the estimation in which jus
talents were held at Rome, we cannot but record the fol¬
lowing anecdote. The ceiling of the room of the Vatican
library, in which the collection of engravings is kept, is
elegantly painted by Signor Roffanelli. It represents the
progress of engraving ; and the portraits of the most emi¬
nent artists in that line are there introduced, among which
is that of Strange. Under his arm he holds a portfolio,
on which his name is inscribed. In France, where he
resided many years at different periods, his talenta like¬
wise received every mark of attention that could be bestow¬
ed on a foreigner. He was chosen a member of the royal
academy of painting at Paris. Nor was he undistinguished
in his own country. He received the honour of knight¬
hood on the 5th of January 1787.
Such was Sir Robert Strange as an artist; nor was he
less distinguished by his truly amiable moral qualities, which
endeared him to all who had the happiness to know7 him.
With regard to his works, he left fifty capital plates, which
have been carefully preserved in his family. 1 hey are en¬
graved from pictures by the most celebrated painters of the
Roman, Florentine, Lombard, Venetian, and other schools.
They are historical both sacred and profane, poetical, alle¬
gorical.
From his earliest establishment in life, Sir Robert care- rmr uki tuwu "e;Vust mentio'ed> Stran
fully preserved about eighty copies of the finest and most and stretches i U f0rmSJ the emporium for the
choice impressions of each plate he engraved ; which, from raer is a thriv;"? Pf fv7s’i0n of wStonshire. V 1835 there
length of time, have acquired a beauty, mellowness, and Rhyns, or western division of Wigtoi _ of
brilliancy, easier seen thin described. He did this with a were 37 vessels belonging to it, aggregate to^ ^ ^
view of presenting them to the public at a period when age which, per reSls f*’ Stranraer and Glasgow, and
should disable him from adding to their number. These years plied weekly ^ ana U ^ ^
he collected into as many volumes, and arranged them in sometimes there a PThe public build-
the order in which they were engraved. To each volume water stone cWh ^recently erected, four
he prefixed two portraits of himself, on the same plate, the mgs are, an eleg P and’a -i which latter was
one an etching, the other a finished proof, from a draw- dissenting chapels, c ’ , ^ ,j family of Stair,
ing by John Baptiste Greuse. This is the last plate which formerly one of he re idences ^ tl ^lejami y^^
he engraved, and is a proof that neither his eyes nor hand Sir John Ross, the ce e f borough, appropri-
were impaired by age. It likewise shows the use he made within Cagt]e The population in 1631
both of aquafortis and the graver. Each volume, besides ately ^ about 38oo.
a dedication to the king, contains an introduction on the amounted t0 3^~ ’ • ht ”choois in the borough, of
progress of engraving, and critical remarks on the pictures 1 here are no fewei t » , a weekly market,
from which his engravings are taken. These volumes were which six are unen owe ^ whith()rn, Wigton,
ready to be given to the public, when Sir Robert s death and several annual f
The Madonna, by Correggio ; 31. St Caecilia, by Raffaello;
32. Mary Magdalen, by Guido ; 33. Our Saviour appearing
to his Mother after his Resurrection, by Guercino ; 34. A
Mother and Child, by Parmegiano ; 35. Cupid Meditating,
by Schidoni; 36. Laomedon, king of froy,^ detected by
Neptune and Apollo, by Salvator Rosa; 37. The Death of
Dido, by Guercino; 38. Venus and Adonis, by Titian;
39. Fortune, by Guido; 40. Cleopatra, by the same; 41.
Two Children at School, by Schidoni; 42. Mary Magda-
len? by Correggio; 43. Portrait of King Charles I. attend-
ed ’by the Marquis of Hamilton, by Vandyke ; 44. Queen
Henrietta, attended by the Prince of Wales, and holding
in her arms the Duke ol York, by the same ; 45. Apothe-
osis of the Royal Children, by West; 46. The Annuncia¬
tion, by Guido ; 47. Portrait of Raffaello Sancio d Urbino,
by himself; 48. Sappho, by Carlo Dolci; 49. Our Savi¬
our asleep, by Vandyke; 50. St John in the Desert, by
Murillo. , . .
STRANRAER, a seaport and royal borough, is situat¬
ed on the southern shore of Lochryan, Wigtonshire, nine
miles north-east of Portpatrick, and fifty south of Ayr.
The town constitutes a distinct parish, and is the seat ot a
presbytery. It formerly belonged, in nearly equal parts, to
the neighbouring parishes of Inch and Leswalt, from which
it was disunited and formed into a separate parish in lot ,
at which period also it was erected into a royal borougb.
But the town now exceeds the limits of the royal borough,
S T R
S T R
747
si
St
vto and New Galloway, in sending a member to parliament, and
in 1839 had 219 registered voters.
Iird- STRAPADO, or Strappado, a kind of military pun¬
ishment. The criminal’s hands being tied behind him,
he is hoisted up with a rope to the top of a long piece of
wood, and again let fall almost to the ground; so that,
by the weight of his body in the shock, his arms are dis¬
located. Sometimes he has to undergo three strapadoes
or more.
STRASBOURG,an arrondissement of the department of
the Lower Rhine, in France. It is a rich district, extending
over 523 square miles, is divided into 12 cantons, and these
into 162 communes, with a population of 218,839 persons.
The chief city, of the same name, is also the capital of the
department. It is the see of a bishop, the seat of the Lu¬
theran consistory, and of the courts of law. The city stands
in a highly cultivated plain, at the distance of about one
mile from the river Rhine, on the river 111, a small but
navigable river. Its waters are distributed in various small
canals through the city, and connect it with the Rhine.
The streets are narrow, and the buildings for the most part
old and massive, many of them very lofty. Strasburg is
strongly fortified, and defended by three powerful fortresses
and a strong citadel. Even in the time of peace it usually
contains a garrison of 10,000. The cathedral, one of the
finest Gothic buildings in France, was begun in 1275 and
finished in 1439. Its tower is a most imposing object, 445
feet in height, being the loftiest erection known except the
largest of the Egyptian pyramids. Besides six Catholic,
there are seven Lutheran, and one Calvinist church. The
other public buildings are the royal palace, the prefecture,
the town-hall, the mint, and two theatres. Strasburg is the
seat of a university. The population, which in 1836 amount¬
ed to 7885, is chiefly of German origin, and most of the
people speak that language. The industry of the inhabi¬
tants is much exercised in making sail-cloth and other linen
goods, woollens of various kinds, and in spinning and weav¬
ing cottons. There are tanneries, distilleries, founderies,
paper-mills, and glass-houses ; and considerable trade is car¬
ried on with Switzerland on one side, and with Germany
and Holland on the other. Long. 6. 39. 31. E. Eat. 48.
34. 56. N.
STRATA, the several beds or layers of different matters
whereof the earth is composed. See Mineralogy and
Geology.
STRATAGEM, in the art of war, any device for de¬
ceiving and surprising an enemy. The ancients dealt very
much in stratagems, the moderns wage war more openly.
Polyaenus and Frontinus, the former a Greek, the latter a
Latin writer, have each left a treatise on stratagems of war.
STRATEGUS, gpctryyoi, in Antiquity, an officer among
the Athenians, whereof there were two chosen yearly, to
command the troops of the state. Plutarch avers there was
one chosen from each tribe ; but Pollux seems to say they
were chosen indifferently from the people. The people
themselves made the choice, on the last day of the year, in
a place called Pnyx. The two strategi did not command
together, but took their turns day by day, as we find from
Herodotus and Cornelius Nepos. Constantine the Great,
besides many other privileges granted to the city of Athens,
honoured its chief magistrate with the title of Mjya; 2rpa-
ftyog, or the Great General.
STRATFORD, sometimes distinguished by the name
^on9 Strafford, or Stratford le Bow. It is the first town
m the county of Essex, on the road from London, and, be-
'ng connected with Middlesex by a bridge, said to be the
oldest in England, over the river Lea, may be considered
;l a suburb of the metropolis. It is in the hundred of Bea-
contree, and within the parish of West Ham. The soil is
rich, but marshy, and intersected with canals and streams.
1 e the other suburbs of London, it has much increased
in population, as well as industrious pursuits. The East Stratford,
India Docks are within the parish. One of the pursuits in * enny
this place is that of practical chemistry, on a large scale, gtrat|aven
for making magnesia, the volatile salts, Prussian blue, and' _lc
other preparations. There are, besides, bleachers, calico-
printers, brewers, distillers, and millers. The parish of
West Ham is divided into four parts, but the division of
Stratford is by very far the largest, though not distinguish¬
ed in the decennial population returns. The number of
souls in the parish of West Ham amounted in 1801 to 6485,
in 1811 to 8136, in 1821 to 9753, and in 1831 to 11,580.
Stratford, a market-town in the county of Buck¬
ingham, seven miles from Stony Stratford, and forty-six
from London. It is in the hundred of Newport, and is a
chapelry of the parish of Blechley. Being on the great
road from London to the north of England, and to Scot¬
land, as w'ell as to Ireland, this place chiefly depends on the
money spent by travellers. It consists of one long street,
on a rising ground, with the river Lofield in the bottom.
There is a chapel of ease, dedicated to St Martin. The
mother-church at Blechley, a mile and a half distant, is
an elegant structure. There was formerly some employ¬
ment in making lace, which has of late declined; but there
is some trade by the Grand Junction Canal, and more is
expected when the railway from London to Birmingham is
completed. The population amounted in 1801 to 469, in
1811 to 481, in 1821 to 521, and in 1831 to 635, but in the
whole parish to 1254.
Stratford, Stony, a market-town in the hundred of
Newport and county of Buckingham, fifty-two miles from
London. It stands on the Ouse, which divides it from
Northamptonshire, and is on the Roman or Watling Street
road. It is partly in the parish of Calderton, and partly in
that of Wolverton, and had a church, or rather a chapel of
ease, to each of these parishes, both of which were burnt in
1742; but a new one has been erected, and is a handsome
structure, dedicated to St Giles. The town consists of one
street, nearly a mile in length, with well-built houses on
each side, mostly constructed of freestone. It has a good
market on Friday, and but little trade on other days, as may
be inferred from the state of its population, which amount¬
ed in 1801 to 1653, in 1811 to 1488, in 1821 to 1499, and
in 1831 to 1619.
Stratford-on-Avon, a town in the hundred of Bar-
lichway and county of Warwick, ninety-four miles from
London. It stands on the navigable river Avon, over which
is a bridge of fourteen arches. It is moderately well built,
and has some trade in corn and malt, but no manufactures.
It is chiefly remarkable as the birth-place of Shakspeare,
whose memory has here been celebrated by splendid pa¬
geants. In the guild-hall is a large room, called Shak-
speare’s, with a portrait of him and of the celebrated actor
Garrick. The inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 2418, in
1811 to 2842, in 1821 to 3069, and in 1831 to 3488.
STRATH, in the Scotish language, signifies a long nar¬
row valley, along the centre of a river.
STRATHAVEN, a town in Lanarkshire, Scotland,
sixteen miles from Glasgow. It is pleasantly situated at
the end of a ridge of small eminences, on the banks of
the Pomilion, which runs through it, and divides it into
two parts. The original part of the town is old, as is
shown by its being erected into a borough of barony in the
year 1450, and is most irregularly built, the streets being
ciowded together, and intersected by long narrow lanes.
T he modern part is well laid out, and in it are many ex¬
cellent houses. A number of neat small villas has also
been erected in the neighbourhood, by the wealthier bur¬
gesses. I he old castle of Strathaven overhangs the town,
and, though now in ruins, adds considerably to its beauty.
I he inhabitants are an industrious, enterprising class of in¬
dividuals ; and from their business habits they are vearly
748 S T R
Strathmiglo raising their town to greater importance. Considerable bu¬
ll siness is done in the cotton trade. In addition to the estab-
Strength of jishe(j cilurch) there are chapels belonging to the Relief and
jMatenals.^ United secession bodies of dissenters. The markets for
agricultural and commercial produce are well supplied, i he
streets and shops are lighted with gas; and in consequence
of the Pomilion running through it, the supply of water has
contributed greatly to its cleanliness and comfort. 1 he
population in 1821 amounted to 2866, and in lb31 it had
increased to 3597, an increase caused principally by the
flourishing state of its trade and manufactures.
STRATHMIGLO, a parish in Fifeshire, Scotland. In it
is situated the borough of barony of the same name, erected
into such in the year 1600, consisting principally of an irre¬
gular street, with lanes diverging from it at right angles,
and having in the middle a town-house, with a neat tower
and spire seventy feet in height. Besides a parish church,
there is a place of worship belonging to the Secession body.
The inhabitants are principally employed in weaving, in
1821 the population of the parish amounted to 1842, and in
1831 to 1940. ...... f
STRATHMORE, or the Great Strath, is that district
of Scotland which stretches across from the town of Stone¬
haven in Kincardineshire, on the east coast, to the district
of Cowal in Argyleshire, on the west coast. Ihe chain of the
Grampian Mountains bounds it on the north, and the bidlaw,
Ochill, and Menteith or Lennox range of hills on toe south.
There is also a vale of the same name in the parish of
Durness, Sutherlandshire.
STRATHSPEY is the vale of the river Spey, winch
runs through part of the counties of Inverness and Elgin.
STRATO, a philosopher ofLampsacus, disciple and suc-
S T R
cessor in the school of Theophrastus, about 248 years be- Strati
fore the Christian era. He applied himself with uncom-^ H
mon industry to the study of nature; and after the most^enf*if
mature investigations, he supported that nature was inani- '•
mate, and that there was no god but nature. He was ap- '
pointed preceptor to Ptolemy Philadelphus, who revered
his abilities and learning, and rewarded his labours with
unbounded liberality. He wrote different treatises, none
of which has been preserved.
STRATON, a town of Cornwall, in the hundred of its
own name, 224 miles from London. It has a market on
Tuesday and another on Saturday, though both are little
frequented. The inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 960, in
1811 to 1094, in 1821 to 1580, and in 1831 to 1613.
STRAUBING, a town of the kingdom of Bavaria, in
the circle of the Lower Danube, the capital of the baili¬
wick of the same name. It is finely situated on the banks
of the Danube, over which is a fine bridge. It contains
seven churches, four hospitals, a gymnasium and several
other schools, 700 houses, and 6800 inhabitants, who trade
extensively by the river in corn and live cattle. Long. 11.
29. 28. E. Lat. 48. 52. 39. N. S
STREATHAM, a town in the hundred of Brixton
and county of Surrey, five miles from London, on the road
to Croydon. The hamlet of Tooting is considered as a
portion of it. Streatham is pleasantly situated, and con¬
tains many magnificent houses. Among others is one be¬
longing to the duke of Bedford. The church is very neat,
and was almost rebuilt in the year 1833. Near to it is a
mineral spring, of aperient quality. The inhabitants amount¬
ed in 1801 to 2357, in 1811 to 2729, in 1821 to 3616, and
in 1831 to 5068.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS,
Importance In Mechanics, is a subject of so much importance, that in
of the sub-a nation so eminent as this for invention and ingenuity in
ject. every species of manufacture, and in particular so distinguish¬
ed for its improvements in machinery of every kind, it is
somewhat singular that no writer has treated it in the de¬
tail which its importance and difficulty demand. The man
of science who visits our great manufactories is delighted
with the ingenuity which he observes in every part, the
innumerable inventions which come even from individual
artisans, and the determined purpose of improvement and
refinement which he sees in every workshop. Every cot¬
ton-mill appears an academy of mechanical science; and
mechanical invention is spreading from these fountains
over the whole kingdom. But the philosopher is mortified
to see this ardent spirit cramped by ignorance of prin¬
ciple, and many of those original and brilliant thoughts ob¬
scured and clogged with needless and even hurtful addi¬
tions, and a complication of machinery which checks im¬
provement even by its appearance of ingenuity. There is
nothing in which this want of scientific education, this igno¬
rance of principle, is so frequently observed, as in the in¬
judicious proportion of the parts of machines and other me¬
chanical structures ; proportions and forms of parts in which
the strength and position are nowise regulated by the strains
to which they are exposed, and where repeated failures have
been the only lessons.
Strerurth of The strength of materials arises immediately or ultimate-
materials ly from the cohesion of the parts of bodies. Our examina-
arises from tion of this property of tangible matter has as yet been very
cohesion. partial and imperfect, and by no means enables us to ap¬
ply mathematical calculations with precision and success.
The various modifications of cohesion, in its different ap¬
pearances of perfect softness, plasticity, ductility, elasticity,
hardness, have a mighty influence on the strength of bodies,
but are hardly susceptible ot measurement. Their tex¬
ture, whether uniform like glass and ductile metals, ciys-
tallized or granulated like other metals and freestone, or
fibrous like timber, is a circumstance no less important;
yet even here, although we derive some advantage from
remarking to which of these forms of aggregation a sub¬
stance belongs, the aid is but small. All we can do in thisEspe
want of general principles is, to make experiments on every men , >,
class of bodies. Accordingly philosophers have endeavour¬
ed to instruct the public in this particular. Ihe oya
Society of London, at its very first institution, made many
experiments at their meetings, as may be seen in the first
registers of the society; and since then a vast multitude
of experiments have been made by public bodies and pri¬
vate individuals. The best of these, perhaps, up to the
date of the present edition, are those of Mr Barlow.
But to make use of any experiments, there must be em- Ren f
ployed some general principle by which we can generalize wen .
their results. They will otherwise be only narrations of ^
detached facts. We must have some notion of that inter¬
medium, by the intervention of which an externa °‘c P
plied to one part of a lever, joist, or pillar, occasions
on a distant part. This can be nothing but the c -
between the parts. It is this connecting force whicl _
brought into action, or, as we more shortly express >
cited. This action is modified in every p»t ' trtI,
of mechanics. It is this action which we QrHninin2^n
of that part, and its effect is the strain on the J
parts; and thus it is the same force, different y
that constitutes both the strain and the strength- vn
we consider it in the light of a resistance to frac u >
it strength.
JLi ??
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
719
Strf
I, of We call every thing a force which we observe ever to be
tls. accompanied by a change of motion; or, more strictly speak-
ing, we infer the presence and agency of a force wherever
we observe the state of things in respect of motion different
m from what we know to be the result of the action of all the
forces which we know to act on the body. Thus when we
observe a rope prevent a body from falling, we infer a mov¬
ing force inherent in the rope, with as much confidence as
when we observe it drag the body along the ground. The
immediate action of this force is undoubtedly exerted be¬
tween the immediately adjoining parts of the rope. The im¬
mediate effect is the keeping the particles of the rope to¬
gether. They ought to separate by any external force
drawing the ends of the rope contrariwise; and we ascribe
their not doing so to a mechanical force really opposing
this external force. When desired to give it a name, we
name it from what we conceive to be its effect, and there¬
fore its characteristic, and we call it cohesion. This is
merely a name for the fact; but it is the same thing in all
our denominations. We know' nothing of the causes but
in the effects ; and our name for the cause is in fact the
name of the effect, which is cohesion. We mean nothing
else by gravitation or magnetism. What do we mean when
we say that Newton understood thoroughly the nature of
gravitation, of the force of gravitation ; or that Franklin
understood the nature of the electric force ? Nothing but
this: Newton considered with patient sagacity the general
facts of gravitation, and has described and classed them
with the utmost precision. In like manner, we shall un¬
derstand the nature of cohesion when we have discovered
with equal generality the laws of cohesion, or general facts
which are observed in the appearances, and when wTe have
described and classed them with equal accuracy.
Let us therefore attend to the more simple and obvious
phenomena of cohesion, and mark with care every circum¬
stance of resemblance by which they may be classed. Let
us receive these as the laws of cohesion, characteristic of
its supposed cause, the force of cohesion. We cannot pre¬
tend to enter on this vast research. The modifications are
innumerable ; and it would require the penetration of more
than Newton to detect the circumstance of similarity amidst
millions of discriminating circumstances. Yet this is the
only way of discovering which are the primary facts cha¬
racteristic of the force, and which are the modifications.
The study is immense, but it is by no means desperate;
and we entertain great hopes that it w ill ere long be suc¬
cessfully prosecuted ; but, in our particular predicament,
we must content ourselves with selecting such general laws
as seem to give us the most immediate information of the
circumstances that must be attended to by the mecha¬
nician in his constructions, that he may unite strength with
simplicity, economy, and energy.
1. Then, it is a matter of fact that all bodies are in a
certain degree perfectly elastic; that is, when their form
or bulk is changed by certain moderate compressions or
distractions, it requires the continuance of the changing
force to continue the body in this new state; and when the
force is removed, the body recovers its original form. We
limit the assertion to certain moderate changes. For in¬
stance, take a lead wire of one fifteenth of an inch in dia¬
meter and ten feet long; fix one end firmly to the ceiling,
and let the wire hang perpendicular; affix to the lower end
an index like the hand of a watch; on some stand imme¬
diately below let there be a circle divided into degrees,
with its centre corresponding to the lower point of the
wire; now turn this index twice round, and thus twist the
wire. When the index is let go, it will turn backwards
again, by the wire untwisting itself, and make almost four
revolutions before it stops; after which it twists and un¬
twists many times, the index going backwards and forwards
round the circle, diminishing, however, its arch of twist
each time, till at last it settles precisely in its original po- Strength of
sition. This may be repeated for ever. Now, in this mo- Materials,
tion, every part of the wire partakes equally of the twdst.
The particles are stretched, require force to keep them in
their state of extension, and recover completely their re¬
lative positions. These are all the characters of what the
mechanician calls perfect elasticity. This is a quality quite
familiar in many cases, as in glass, tempered steel, &c.,
but was thought incompetent to lead, w'hich is generally
considered as having little or no elasticity. But we make
the assertion in the most general terms, with the limitation
to moderate derangement of form. We have made the
same experiment on a thread of pipe-clay, made by forcing
soft clay through the small hole of a syringe by means of a
screw, and we found it more elastic than the lead wire; for
a thread of one twentieth of an inch diameter and seven
feet long allowed the index to make two turns, and yet
completely recovered its first position.
2. But if we turn the index of the lead w ire four times
round, and let it go again, it untwists again in the same
manner, but it makes little more than four turns back again ;
and after many oscillations it finally stops in a position
almost two revolutions removed from its original position.
It has nowr acquired a new' arrangement of parts, and this
new arrangement is permanent like the former ; and, what
is of particular moment, it is perfectly elastic. This change What is
is familiarly known by the denomination of a set. Themea,ltby
wire is said to have taken a set. When we attend mi-asei'
nutely to the procedure of nature in this phenomenon, we
find that the particles have, as it were, slid on each other,
still cohering, and have taken a new'position, in which their
connecting forces are in equilibrio ; and in this change of
relative situation, it appears that the connecting forces
which maintained the particles in their first situation were
not in equilibrio in some position intermediate between that
of the first and that of the last form. The force required
for changing this first form augmented with the change,
but only to a certain degree ; and during this process the
connecting forces always tended to the recovery of this first
form. But after the change of mutual position has passed
a certain magnitude, the union has been partly destroyed,
and the particles have been brought into new situations;
such, that the forces which now connect each with its neigh¬
bour tend, not to the recovery of the first arrangement, but
to push them farther from it, into a new situation, to which
they now verge, and require force to prevent them from ac¬
quiring. The wire is now in fact again perfectly elastic;
that is, the forces which now connect the particles with
their neighbours, augment to a certain degree as the de¬
rangement from this new position augments. This is not
reasoning from any theory. It is narrating facts, on which
a theory is to be founded. What we have been just now
saying, is evidently a description of that sensible form of
tangible matter which we call ductility. It has every gra- Ductility,
dation of variety, from the softness of butter to the firmness
of gold. All these bodies have some elasticity ; but we say
they are not perfectly elastic, because they do not com¬
pletely recover their original form when it has been greatly
damaged. The whole gradation may be most distinctly ob¬
served in a piece of glass or hard sealing-wax. In the ordi¬
nary form glass is perhaps the most completely elastic body
that we know, and may be bent till just ready to snap, and
yet completely recovers its first form, and takes no set what¬
ever ; but when heated to such a degree as just to be visi¬
ble in the dark, it loses its brittleness, and becomes so tough
that it cannot be broken by any blow ; but it is no longer
elastic, it takes any set, and keeps it. When more heated,
it becomes as plastic as clay ; but in this state is remarkably
distinguished from clay by a quality which we may call
viscidity, which is something like elasticity, of which clay Viscidity,
and other bodies purely plastic exhibit no appearance. This
750
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
strength of is the joint operation of strong adhesion and softness. When law of gravitation, the simplest combinations will make the Strens 0f
Materials. a ro(j 0f perfectly soft glass is suddenly stretched a little, it joint action of several particles an almost impenetrable mys- Mate! [s,
  does not at once take the shape which it acquires after some tery. We must therefore content ourselves, for a long time^
little time. It is owing to this that, in taking the impres- to come, with a careful observation of the simplest cases
sion of a seal, if we take off the seal while the wax is yet that we can propose, and with the discovery of secondary
very hot, the sharpness of the impression is immediately laws of action, in which many particles combine their influ-
destroyed. Each part drawing its neighbour, and each part ence. In pursuance of this plan, we observe,
yielding, the prominent parts are pulled down and blunted, o. That whatever is the situation of the particles of apar^ ,
and the sharp hollows are pulled upwards and also blunted, body with respect to each other, when in a quiescent state, kept : j
The seal must be keot on till the wax has become not only they are kept in these situations by the balance of opposite ^eir fej
stiff, but hard.
This viscidity is to be observed in all plastic bodies which
are homogeneous. It is not observed in clay, because clay
Observed
in all ho-
forces. This cannot be refused, nor can we form to our- a
selves any other notion of the state of the particles of a^.
body. Whether we suppose the ultimate particles to be of
certain magnitudes and shapes, touching each other in sin¬
gle points of cohesion ; or whether, with Boscovich, we con-
Something like it rmghfbe made of finely powdered glass sider them as at a distance from each other, and acting on
and a clammy fluid such as turpentine. Viscidity has all de- each other by attractions and repulsions, we must acknow-
grees of softness, till it degenerates to ropy fluidity like that ledge, in the first place, that the centres of the particles
of olive oil. Perhaps something of it may be found even in (by whose mutual distances we must estimate the distance
mogeneous jg noj- homogeneous, but consists of hard particles of argil-
plastie bo- jaceous earth sticking together by their attraction for water.
of the particles) may and do vary their distances from each
other. What else can we say when we observe a body in¬
crease in length, in breadth, and thickness, by heating it,
or when we see it diminish in all these dimensions by an
external compression ? A particle, therefore, situated in
the midst of many others, and remaining in that situation,
must be conceived as maintained in it by the mutual ba¬
lancing of all the forces which connect it with its neigh-
bours.^ It is like a ball kept in its place by the opposite inus
action of two springs. This illustration merits a more par-tion djoii
ticular application. Suppose a number of balls ranged on prop®
the table in the angles of equilateral triangles, and that eachtlon-
ball is connected with the six which lie around it by means
of an elastic wire curled like a cork-screw; suppose such
another stratum of balls above this, and parallel to it, and
so placed that each ball of the upper stratum is perpendi¬
cularly over the centre of the equilateral triangle below,
and let these be connected with the balls of the under
stratum by similar spiral wires. Let there be a third and
the most perfect fluid with which we are acquainted, as we
observed in the experiments for ascertaining specific gravity.
When ductility and elasticity are combined in different
proportions, an immense variety of sensible modes of aggre¬
gation may be produced. Some degree of both are proba¬
bly to be observed in all bodies of complex constitution;
that is, which consist of particles made up of many differ¬
ent kinds of atoms. Such a constitution of a body must
afford many situations permanent, but easily deranged.
Particles In all these changes of disposition which take place
acted on by among the particles of a ductile body, the particles are at
attractions such distance that they still cohere. The body may be
and repul- stretchecl a little; and on removing the extending force,
the body shrinks into its first form. It also resists mode¬
rate compressions ; and when the compressing force is re¬
moved, the body again swells out. Now the corpuscular
fact here is, that the particles are acted on by attractions
and repulsions, which balance each other when no external
force is acting on the body, and which augment as the par- __ „ .
tides are made, by any external cause, to recede from this a fourth, and any number of such strata, all connected in
situation of mutual inactivity; for since force is requisite to the same manner. It is plain that this may extend to any
produce either the dilatation or the compression, and to size, and fill any space. Now let this assemblage of balls
maintain it, we are obliged, by the constitution of our be firmly contemplated by the imagination, and be sup-
minds, to infer that it is opposed by a force accompanying posed to shrink continually in all its dimensions, till the
or inherent in every particle of dilatable or compressible balls, and their distances from each other, and the con-
matter ; and as this necessity of employing force to produce necting wires, all vanish from the sight as discrete mdivi-
a change indicates the agency of these corpuscular forces, dual objects. All this is very conceivable. It will n0^.aP*
and marks their kind, according as the tendencies of the pear like a solid body, having length, breadth, and thick-
particles appear to be toward each other in dilatation, or ness; it may be compressed, and will again resume its i
from each other in compression ; so it also measures the de- mensions; it maybe stretched, and will again s inn ,1
grees of their intensity. Should it require three times the will move away when struck; in short, it will not ditter
force to produce a double compression, we must reckon the in its sensible appearance from a solid elastic body. ow
mutual repulsions triple when the compression is doubled ; when this body is in a state of compression, for instance, i
The great and so in other instances. We see from all this that the is evident that any one of the balls is at rest, in consequence
problem in phenomena of cohesion indicate some relation between the of the mutual balancing of the actions of all the spira wires
corpuscu- 0f the particles. To discover this relation is the which connect it with those around it. It will great y con
nT™00 lU’ great problem in corpuscular mechanism, as it was in the duce to the full understanding of all that follows to recur
Newtonian investigation of the force of gravitation. Could to this illustration. I he analogy or resemblance e ween
we discover this law of action between the corpuscles with the effects of this constitution of things and the e ec s o
the same certainty and distinctness, we might with equal the corpuscular forces is very great; and wherever 10
confidence say what will be the result of any position which tains, we may safely draw conclusions from what we n
we give to the particles of bodies ; but this is beyond our would be the condition of a body of common tangi^e ma^
hopes. The law of gravitation is so simple, that the dis¬
covery or detection of it amid the variety of celestial phe¬
nomena required but one step ; and in its own nature its
possible combinations still do not greatly exceed the pow¬
ers of human research. One is almost disposed to say that
the Supreme Being has exhibited it to our reasoning pow¬
ers as sufficient to employ with success our utmost efforts,
but not so abstruse as to discourage us from the noble at-
ter. We shall just give one instructive example, and thensyej ■
have done with this hypothetical body. We can suppose itp e.
of a long shape, resting on one point; we can suppose two
weights A, B, suspended at the extremities, and the who e in
equilibrio. We commonly express this state of things y
saying that A and B are in equilibrio. This is very
tempt. It seems to be otherwise with respect to cohesion.
rate. A is in fact in equilibrio with the united action
all the springs which connect the ball to which it is app i
ed with the adjoining balls. These springs are broug ^
Mathematics informs us, that if it deviates sensibly from the to action, and each is in equilibrio with the join
of
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
751
Let A and B (fig. 1) represent the cen-
Fig. 1.
l of all the rest. Thus through the whole extent of the hypo-
ils. thetical body the springs are brought into action in a way
'and in a degree which mathematics can easily investigate.
We need not do this : it is enough for our purpose that our
imagination readily discovers that some springs are stretch¬
ed, others are compressed, and that a pressure is excited
on the middle point of support, and the support exerts a re¬
action which precisely balances it; and the other weight
is, in like manner, in immediate equilibrio with the equi¬
valent of the actions of all the springs which connect the
last ball with its neighbours. Now take the analogical or
resembling case, an oblong piece of solid matter, resting
on a fulcrum, and loaded with two weights in equilibrio ;
for the actions of the connecting springs substitute the
corpuscular forces ; and the result will resemble that of the
hypothesis.
Now, as there is something that is at least analogous to
a change of distance of the particles, and a concomitant
change of the intensity of the connecting forces, we may
express this in the same way that we are accustomed to do
in similar cases,
tres of two parti¬
cles of a coherent
elastic body in
their quiescent
inactive state,
and let us consi¬
der only the me¬
chanical condi¬
tion of B. The
body may be
stretched. In this case the distance AB of the particles may
become AC. In this state there is something which makes it
necessary to employ a force to keep the particles at this dis¬
tance. C has a tendency towards A, or we may say that A
attracts C. We may represent the magnitude of this tendency
of C towards A, or this attraction of A, by a line Cc perpen¬
dicular to AC. Again, the body may be compressed, and
the distance AB may become AD. Something obliges us
to employ force to continue this compression, and D tends
from A, or A appears to repel D. The intensity of this
tendency or repulsion may be represented by another per¬
pendicular Dd; and, to represent the different directions
of these tendencies, or the different nature of these ac-
Ho os- tions, we may set Dc? on the opposite side of AB. It is
re- in this manner that Boscovich has represented the ac¬
tions of corpuscular forces in his celebrated Theory of
Natural Philosophy. Newton had said, that as the great
movements of the solar system wrere regulated by forces
operating at a distance, and varying with the distance, so
lie strongly suspected (yalde suspicor) that all the pheno¬
mena of cohesion, with all its modifications in the different
sensible forms of aggregation, and in the phenomena of
chemistry and physiology, resulted from the similar agency
of forces varying with the distance of the particles. The
learned Jesuit pursued this thought; and has shown, that
if we suppose an ultimate atom of matter endowed with
powers of attraction and repulsion, varying, both in kind
and degree, with the distance, and if this force be the same
in every atom, it may be regulated by such a relation to the
distance from the neighbouring atom, that a collection of
such may have all the sensible appearance of bodies in their
different forms of solids, liquids, and vapours, elastic or un¬
elastic, and endowed with all the properties which we per¬
ceive, by whose immediate operation the phenomena of mo¬
tion by impulse, and all the phenomena of chemistry, and
of animal and vegetable economy, may be produced. He
shows, that notwithstanding a perfect sameness, and even
a great simplicity, in this atomical constitution, there will
result from this union all that unspeakable variety of form
and property which diversifies and embellishes the face of
COf I
ims 3
0!1
nature. We shall take another opportunity of giving such Strength of
an account of this celebrated work as it deserves. We Materials,
mention it only by the by, as far as a general notion of it v"'"*''
will be of some service on the present occasion. For this
purpose, we just observe that Boscovich conceives a par¬
ticle of any individual species of matter to consist of an un¬
known number of particles of simpler constitution; each ot
which particles, in their turn, is compounded of particles
still more simply constituted, and so on through an unknown
number of orders, till we arrive at the simplest possible con¬
stitution of a particle of tangible matter, susceptible of
length, breadth, and thickness, and necessarily consisting
of four atoms of matter. And he shows that the more com¬
plex we suppose the constitution of a particle, the more
must the sensible qualities of the aggregate resemble the
observed qualities of tangible bodies. In particular, he
shows how a particle may be so constituted, that although
it act on one other particle of the same kind through a con¬
siderable interval, the interposition of a third particle of
the same kind may render it totally, or almost totally, in¬
active ; and therefore an assemblage of such particles would
form such a fluid as air. All these curious inferences are
made with uncontrovertible evidence ; and the greatest en¬
couragement is thus given to the mathematical philosopher
to hope, that by cautious and patient proceeding in this
way, we may gradually approach to a knowledge of the
laws of cohesion, that will not shun a comparison even with
the Principia of Newton. No step can be made in this
investigation, but by observing with care, and generalizing
with judgment, the phenomena, which are abundantly nu¬
merous, and much more at our command than those of the
great and sensible motions of bodies. Following this plan,
we observe,
4. It is a matter of fact, that every body has some degree Every body
of compressibility and dilatability ; and when the changes compressi-
of dimension are so moderate that the body completely re-hle an(l d*-
covers its original dimensions on the cessation of the chang- ^ata^e-
ing force, the extensions or compressions are sensibly pro¬
portional to the extending of compressing forces; and there¬
fore the connecting forces are proportional to the distances of
the particles from their quiescent, neutral, or inactive posi¬
tions. This seems to have been first viewed as a law ofLawof na-
nature by the penetrating eye of Dr Robert Hooke, one ofture dis-
the most eminent philosophers of the last century. He pub- covered by
lished a cipher, which he said contained the theory of springi- r Oo •
ness and of the motions of bodies by the action of springs.
It was this, ceiiinosssttuu. When explained in his
dissertation, published some years after, it was ut tensio sic
vis. This is precisely the proposition now asserted as a
general fact, a law of nature. This dissertation is full of
curious observations of facts in support of his assertion. In
his application to the motion of bodies, he gives his noble
discovery of the balance-spring of a watch, which is found¬
ed on this law. The spring, as it is more and more coiled
up, or unwound, by the motion of the balance, acts on it
with a force proportional to the distance of the balance from
its quiescent position. The balance, therefore, is acted on
by an accelerating force, which varies in the same manner
as the force of gravity acting on a pendulum swinging in a
cycloid. Its vibrations therefore must be performed in
equal time, whether they are wide or narrow. In the same
dissertation Hooke mentions all the facts which John Ber¬
noulli afterwards adduced in support of Leibnitz’s whimsical
doctrine of the force of bodies in motion, as the doctrine of
the vires vivai; a doctrine which Hooke might justly have
claimed as his own, had he not seen its futility.
Experiments made since the time of Hooke show thatai'd con-
this law is strictly true in the extent to w’hich we have li-j*™^
mited it, viz. in all the changes of form which will be com-^^*^11’
pletely undone by the elasticity of the body. It is nearly others,
true to a much greater extent. James Bernoulli, in his dis-
752 STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of sertation on the elastic curve, relates some experiments of ment instead of the former. This must change the simple Stre
j^jg own> wmeh seem to deviate considerably from it; but law of corpuscular force, characteristic of the particular Mat if
on close examination they do not. The finest experiments species of matter under examination. It does not require ~
are those of Coulomb, published in some late volumes of much reflection to convince us that the possible arrange-
the Memoirs of the Academy of Paris. He suspended balls ments which the particles of a body may acquire, without
by wires, and observed their motions of oscillation, which appearing to change their nature, must be more numerous
he found accurately corresponding with this law. according as the particles are of a more complex constitu-
This we shall find to be a very important fact in the doc- tion ; and it is reasonable to suppose that the constitution
trine of the strength of bodies, and we desire the reader to even of the most simple kind of matter that we are ac-
make it familiar to his mind. If weaipply to this our man- quainted with is exceedingly complex. Our microscopes
nor of expressing these forces by perpendicular ordinates show us animals so minute, that a heap of them must ap-
Cc, Dc/ (fig. !),• we must take other situations E, F, of pear to the naked eye an uniform mass with a grain finer
the particle B, and draw Ee, Vf; and we must have Dc/ than that of the finest marble or razor hone ; and yet each i
: Ff— BD : BF, or Cc : Ee= BO : BE. In such a sup- of these has not only limbs, but bones, muscular fibres
position FdBce must be a straight line. But we shall have blood-vessels, fibres, and a blood consisting in all probabi-
abundant evidence by and by that 'this cannot be strictly lity of globules organized and complex like our own. The
true, and that the line Bee, which limits the ordinates ex- imagination is here lost in wonder ; and nothing is left us
pressing the attractive forces, becomes concave towards the but to adore inconceivable art and wisdom, and to exult in ‘
line ABE, and that the part Brff is convex towards it. All the thought that we are the only spectators of this beauti-
tiiat can be safely concluded from the experiments hitherto ful scene who can derive pleasure from the view. But let |
made is, that to a certain extent the forces, both attractive us proceed to observe,
and repulsive, are sensibly proportional to the dilatations 6. That the forces which connect the particles of tan- Th^ ,L
and compressions. For, gible bodies change by a change of distance, not only in'vhic L
When a 5. It is universally observed, that when the dilatations degree, but also in kind. The particle B (fig. 1) is attract-Ilect.! '
body is have proceeded a certain length, a less addition of force is ed by A when in the situation C or E. It is repelled by itj^'T
kteii' T" suffic'ent t0 increase the dilatation in the same degree, when at D or F. It not affected by it when in the situa-toX'
small ad- This is always observed when the body has been so far tion B. The reader is requested carefully to remark, thatchangl-
dition of stretched that it takes a set, and does not completely re- this is not an inference founded on the authority of oura daU-i
force will cover its form. The like maybe generally observed in mathematical figure. The figure is an expression (to as-^staili
increase rts compressions- Most persons will recollect, that in violently sist the imagination) of facts in nature. It requires no force
1 a ati0I!* stretching an elastic cord, it becomes suddenly weaker, or to keep the particles of a body in their quiescent situations:
more easily stretched. But these phenomena do not posi- but if they be separated by stretching the body, they en-
tively prove a diminution of the corpuscular force acting on deavour (pardon the figurative expression) to come together
one particle : it more probably arises from the disunion of again, if they be brought nearer by compression, they
some particles whose action contributed to the w hole or endeavour to recede. This endeavour is manifested by the
sensible effect. And in compressions wre may suppose necessity of employing force to maintain the extension or
something of the same kind ; for when we compress a body condensation ; and wTe represent this by the different posi-
in one direction, it commonly bulges out in another ; and tion of our lines. But this is not all: the particle B, which
in cases of very violent action some particles may be dis- is repelled by A when in the situation F or D, is neutral
united, whose transverse action had formerly balanced part when at B, and is attracted when at C or E, may be placed
of the compressing force. For the reader will see on reffec- at such a distance AG from A greater than AB that it shall
tion, that since the compression in one direction causes the be again repelled, or at such a distance AH that it shall
body to bulge out in the transverse direction, and since be again attracted ; and these alterations may be repeated
this bulging out is in opposition to the transverse forces of again and again. This is curious and important, and re¬
attraction, it must employ some part of the compressing quires something more than a bare assertion for its proof,
force. And the common appearances are in perfect uni- In the article Optics we mentioned the most curious Light a),
formity with this conception of things. When w?e press a and valuable observations of Sir Isaac Newton, by which it irately
bit of dryish clay, it swells out and cracks transversely, appears that light is thus alternately attracted and repelled UactX f*
When a pillar of wood is overloaded, it swells out, and small by bodies. The rings of colour which appear between1'- "
crevices appear in the direction of the fibres. After this it the object-glasses of long telescopes showed, that in the
will not bear half of the load. This the carpenters call small interval of fo\j(jth of an inch, there are at least an
crippling ; and a knowledge of the circumstances which hundred such changes observable, and that it is highly
modify it is of great importance, and enables us to under- probable that these alternations extend to a much greater
stand some very paradoxical appearances, as will be shown distance. At one of these distances the light actually con -
by and by. verges towards the solid matter of the glass, which we
This partial disuniting of particles formerly cohering, is, express shortly by saying that it is attracted by it, and
we imagine, the chief reason why the totality of the forces that at the next distance it declines from the glass, or is
which really oppose an external strain does not increase in repelled by it. The same thing is more simply inferred
the proportion of the extensions and compressions. But from the phenomena of light passing by the edges of
sufficient evidence will also be given that the forces which knives and other opaque bodies. We refer the reader to
would connect one particle with one other particle do not the experiments themselves, the detail being too long for
augment in the accurate proportion of the change of dis- this place ; and we request him to consider them minutely
tance ; that in extensions they increase more slowly, and and attentively, and to form distinct notions of the inter¬
in compressions more rapidly. ences drawn from them. And we desire it to be remark-
Ductility But there is another cause of this deviation perhaps ed, that although Newton, in his discussion, always con-
another equally effectual with the former. Most bodies manifest siders light as a set of corpuscles moving in free space, and
ft some degree of ductility. Now what is this ? The fact is, obeying the actions of external forces like any other mat-
UvV"‘l ll,h' that the parts have taken a new arrangement, in which they ter, the particular conclusion in which we are just now in-
again cohere. Therefore, in the passage to this new ar- terested does not at all depend on this notion of the nature
rangement, the sensible forces, which are the joint result of of light. Should we, with Descartes or Huygens, sup-
many corpuscular forces, begin to respect this new arrange- pose light to be the undulation of an elastic medium, the
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
gth of conclusion will be the same. The undulations at cer-
rial^tain distances are disturbed by forces directed towards the
body, and at a greater distance the disturbing forces tend
from the body.
'ji ;ame But the same alternations of attraction and repulsion
a1 m- may be observed between the particles of common matter,
t of atTf we take a piece of very flat and well-polished glass, such
.pV as is made for the horizon-glasses of a good Hadley’s quad-
,1. rant, and if we wrap round it a fibre of silk as it comes from
753
<ii as
We in the cocoon, taking care that the fibre shall nowhere cross
ir- another, and then press this pretty hard on such another
of piece of glass, it will lift it up and keep it suspended. The
s° particles therefore ot the one do most certainly attract
those of the other, and this at a distance equal to the
thickness of the silk fibre. This is nearly the limit; and
it sometimes requires a considerable pressure to produce
the effect. 1 he pressure is effectual only by compressing
the silk fibre, and thus diminishing the distance between
the glass plates. Ihis adhesion cannot be attributed to
the pressure of the atmosphere, because there is nothing
to hinder the air from insinuating itself between the plates,
since they are separated by the silk. Besides, the experi¬
ment succeeds equally well under the receiver of an air-
pump. Ihis most valuable experiment was first made by
Huygens, who reported it to the Royal Society. It is
narrated in the Philosophical Transactions, No. 86.
Here, then, is an attraction acting, like gravity, at a dis¬
tance. But take away the silk fibre, and try to make the
glasses touch each other, and we shall find a very great
force necessary. By Newton’s experiments it appears, that
unless the prismatic colours begin to appear between the
glasses, they are at least jj^yth of an inch asunder or more.
Now we know that a very considerable force is necessary
for producing these colours, and that the more we press
the glasses together the more rings of colours appear. It
also appears from Newton’s measures, that the difference
of distance between the glasses where each of these colours
appears is about the 89,000th part of an inch. We know'
further, that when we have produced the last appearance
of a greasy or pearly colour, and then augment the pres¬
sure, making it about 1000 pounds on the square inch, all
colours vanish, and the two pieces of glass seem to make
one tiansparent undistinguishable mass. They appear now
to have no air between them, or to be in mathematical
contact. But another fact show's this conclusion to be
premature. I he same circles of colours appear in the top
ot a soap-bubble; and as it grows thinner at top, there
appears an unreflecting spot in the middle. We have the
greatest probability therefore that the perfect transparency
in the middle of the two glasses does not arise from their
being in contact, but because the thickness of air be¬
tween them is too small in that place for the reflection of
light. Nay, Newton expressly found no reflection w'here
inchhiCkneSS WaS ^thS °r m°re °f the R9oooth Part of an
All this while the glasses are strongly repelling each
other, for great pressure is necessary for continuing the
appearance of those colours, and they vanish in succession
as the pressure is diminished. This vanishing of the co¬
lours is a proof that the glasses are moving off from each
°t er, or repelling each other. But we can put an end to
this repulsion by very strong pressure, and at the same
time sliding the glasses on each other. We do not pretend
to account for this effect of the sliding motion ; but the
act is, that by so doing, the glasses will cohere with very
&r^a*'^orce> 80 that we shall break them by any attempt to
pall them asunder. It commonly happens (at least it did
with us), that in this sliding compression of two smooth
hat plates of glass, they scratch and mutually destroy each
other s surlace. It is also worth remarking, that different
'inf s of glass exhibit different properties in this respect.
Flint glass will attract even though a silk fibre lies double Strength of
between them, and they much more readily cohere by this Materials,
sliding pressure. —-
Here, then, are two distances at which the plates of glass
attract each other; namely, when the silk fibre is inter¬
posed, and when they are forced together with this sliding
motion. And in any intermediate situation they repel
each other. We see the same thing in other solid bodies.
Two pieces of lead, made perfectly clean, may be made Lead and
to cohere by grinding them together in the same manner.iron.
It is in this way that pretty ornaments of silver are united
to iron. The piece is scraped clean, and a small bit of
silver like a fish scale is laid on. The die which is to
strike it into a flower or other ornament is then set on it,
and we give it a smart blow, which forces the metals into
contact as firm as if they were soldered together. It some¬
times happens that the die adheres to the coin so that they
cannot be separated: and it is found that this frequently
happens when the engraving is such that the raised figure
is not completely surrounded with a smooth fiat ground.
The probable cause of this is curious. When the coin has
a flat surface all around, this is produced by the most pro¬
minent part of the die. This applies to the metal, and
completely confines the air which filled the hollow of the
die. As the pressure goes on, the metal is squeezed up pro|,a}q0
into the hollow of the die; but there is still air compressed cause why
between them, which cannot escape by any passage. It the die ad-
is therefore prodigiously condensed, and exerts an^elasti-he.res tothe
city proportioned to the condensation. This serves tocoin‘
separate the die from the metal when the stroke is over.
The hollow part of the die has not touched the metal all
the while, and we may say that the impression was made
by air. If this air escape by any engraving reaching
through the border, they cohere inseparably.
We have admitted that the glass plates are in contact
when they adhere thus firmly. But we are not certain
of this: for if we take these cohering glasses, and touch
them with water, it quickly insinuates itself between them.
Yetjhey still cohere, but can now' be pretty easily sepa-
It is owing to this repulsion, exerted through its proper i{epul!,ion
sphere, that certain powders swim on the surface of water, the cause of
and are wetted with great difficulty. Certain insects can somebodies
run about on the surface of water. They have brushy ?winirri’Til?
feet, which occupy a considerable surface, and if their stepsin a
be viewed with a magnifying glass, the surface of the water Ster?han
is seen depressed all around, resembling the footsteps of a themselves,
man walking on feather beds. This is owing to a repulsion
between the brush and the water. A common fly cannot
walk in this manner on water. Its feet are wetted, because
th ey attract the water instead of repelling it. A steel needle,
slightly greased, will lie on the surface of water, make an
impression as a great bar would make on a feather bed;
and its weight is less than that of the displaced w'ater. A
dew-drop lies on the leaves of plants without touching them
mathematically, as is plain from the extreme brilliancy of
the reflection at the posterior surface; nay, it may be some¬
times observed that the drops of rain lie on the surface of
water, and roll about on it like balls on a table. Yet all
these substances can be wetted; that is, water can be ap¬
plied to them at such distances that they attract it.
\\ hat we lately remarked of water insinuating itself be¬
tween the glass plates without altogether destroying their
cohesion, shows that this cohesion is not the same that ob¬
tains between the particles ol one of the plates ; that is, the
two plates are not in the state of one continued mass. It
is highly probable, therefore, that between these two states
there is an intermediate state of repulsion, nay, perhaps,
many such, alternated with attractive states.
A piece of ice is elastic, for it rebounds and rings. Its
particles, therefore, when compressed, resile; and when
754
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of stretched, contract again. The particles are therefore in
Materials. t}ie state represented by B in figure 1, acted on by repul-
sive forces if brought nearer, and by attractive forces it
drawn further asunder. Ice expands, like all other bodies,
by heat. It absorbs a vast quantity of fire, which, by com¬
bining its attractions and repulsions with those of the par¬
ticles of ice, changes completely the law of action, and
the ice becomes water. In this new state the particles
are again in limits between attractive and repulsive forces;
for water has been shown, by the experiments of Canton
and Zimmerman, to be elastic or compressible. It again
expands by heat. It again absorbs a prodigious quantity
of heat, and becomes elastic vapour ; its particles repelling
each other at all distances yet observed. The distance be¬
tween the particles of one plate of glass and those of another
which lies on it, and is carried by it, is a distance of repul¬
sion ; for the force which supports the upper piece is acting
in opposition to its wreight. This distance is less than that
at which it would suspend it below it with a silk fibre inter¬
posed ; for no prismatic colours appear between them when
the silk fibre is interposed. But the distance at which glass
attracts water is much less than this, for no colours appear
when glass is wetted with water. 1 his distance is less, and
not greater, than the other; for when the glasses have water
interposed between them instead of air, it is found, that
when any particular colour appears, the thickness of the
plate of water is to that of the plate of air which would pro¬
duce the same colour, nearly as three to four. Nowr, if a
piece of glass be wetted, and exhibit no colour, and another
piece of glass be simply laid on it, no colour rvill appear;
but if they are strongly pressed, the colours appear in the
same manner as if the glasses had air between. Also, when
glass is simply wetted, and the film of water is allowed to
evaporate, when it is thus reduced to a proper thinness the
colours show themselves in great beauty.
Particles of These are a few of many thousand facts, by which it is
matter con- unquestionably proved that the particles of tangible matter
nected by are connected by forces acting at a distance, varying with
the distance, and alternately attractive and repulsive. If
we represent these forces, as we have already done in fig. 1,
by the ordinates Cc, Dd, Ee, Ff, &c. of a curve, it is evi¬
dent that this curve must cross the axis at all those distan¬
ces where the forces change from attractive to repulsive,
and the curve must have branches alternately above and
below the axis.
All these alternations of attraction and repulsion take
place at small and insensible distances. At all sensible dis¬
tances the particles are influenced by the attraction of gra¬
vitation ; and therefore this part of the curve must be a
forces act¬
ing at a
distance.
mathematical contact, and impels it (according to the com- Strong]
mon acceptation of the word). Both move with the velo- Meteij|
city 1. This is granted by all to be the final result ofthe wvj
collision. Now the instant of time in wThich this commu¬
nication happens is no part either of the duration of the
solitary motion of A, nor of the joint motion of A and B :
it is the separation or boundary between them. It is at
once the end of the first and the beginning of the second,
belonging equally to both. A was moving with the velocity 2.
The distinguishing circumstance, therefore, of its mechani¬
cal state is, that it has a determination (however incompre¬
hensible) by which it -would move for ever with the veloci¬
ty 2, if nothing changed it. This it has during the whole
of its solitary motion, and therefore in the last instant of
this motion. In like manner, during the whole of the joint
motion, and therefore in the first instant of this motion, the
atom A has a determination by which it would move for
ever with the velocity 1. In one and the same instant,
therefore, the atom A has tivo incompatible determinations.
Whatever notion we can form of this state, which we call
velocity, as a distinction of condition, the same impossibi¬
lity of conception, or the same absurdity, occurs. Nor can
it be avoided in any other way than by saying, that this
change of A’s motion is brought about by insensible grada¬
tions ; that is, that A and B influence each other precisely
as they would do if a slender spring were interposed. The
reader is desired to look at what we have said in the article
Physics.
The two magnets there spoken of are good representa¬
tives of two atoms endowed with mutual powers of repul¬
sion ; and the communication of motion is accomplished in
both cases in precisely the same manner.
If, therefore, we shall ever be so fortunate as to discover
the law of variation of that force which connects one atom
of matter with another atom, and which is therefore charac¬
teristic of matter, and the ultimate source of all its sensible
qualities, the curve whose ordinates represent the kind and
the intensity of this atomical force will be something like
that sketched in fig. 2. The first branch anB will have
Fie. 2.
hyperbola whose equation is
What is the form of
the curve corresponding to the smallest distance of the par¬
ticles? that is, what is the mutual action between the par¬
ticles just before their coming into absolute contact? Ana¬
logy should lead us to suppose it to be repulsion; for soli¬
dity is the last and simplest form of bodies with which we
are acquainted. Fluids are more compounded, containing
fire as an essential ingredient. We should conclude that
this ultimate repulsion is insuperable, for the hardest bodies
are the most elastic. We are fully entitled to say that this
repelling force exceeds all that we have ever yet applied to
overcome it; nay, there are good reasons for saying that
this ultimate repulsion, by which the particles are kept
from mathematical contact, is really insuperable in its own
nature, and that it is impossible to produce mathematical
contact.
Mathema- We shall just mention one of these, which we consider
tical con- as unanswerable. Suppose two atoms, or ultimate particles
ta t impos- 0p matter, A and B. Let A be at rest, and B move up to
&lWe‘ it with the velocity 2; and let us suppose that it comes into
AK (perpendicular to the axis AH) for its assymptote, anu
the last branch /mo will be to all sense a hyperbola, having
AO for its assymptote; and the ordinates /L, mM, &c.will
be proportional to ——, -^p, &c. expressing the universal
gravitation of matter. It will have many branches BhC,
DcfE, F/G, &c. expressing attractions, and alternate repul¬
sive branches CcD, EeF, G^H, &c. All these will be con¬
tained within a distance AH, which does not exceed a very
minute fraction of an inch. „ , .
The simplest particle which can be a constituent of a ms..
body having length, breadth, and thickness, must consist o
four such atoms, all of which combine their influence on ticle e(|
each atom of another such particle. It is evident that t esistsof
curve which expresses the force that connects two such par-atoms-
tides must be totally different from this original curve, this
hylarchic principle. Supposing the last known, our matie-
matical knowledge is quite able to discover the rust,
when we proceed to compose a body of particles, eacn o
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
755
S:
5
V.
;th of which consists of four such particles, we may venture to
rials. say that the compound force which connects them is al-
^ niost beyond our search, and that the discovery of the pri¬
mary force from an accurate knowledge of the corpuscular
forces of this particular matter is absolutely out of our
All that we can learn is, the possibility, nay, the certain¬
ty, of an innumerable variety of external sensible forms and
qualities, by which different kinds of matter will be dis¬
tinguished, arising from the number, the order of composi¬
tion, and the arrangement of the subordinate particles of
which a particle of this or that kind of matter is composed.
All these varieties will take place at those small and insen¬
sible distances which are between A and H, and may pro¬
duce all that variety which we observe in the tangible or
mechanical forms of bodies, such as elasticity, ductility,
hardness, softness, fluidity, vapour, and all those unseen
motions or actions which we observe in fusion and conge¬
lation, evaporation and condensation, solution and precipi¬
tation, crystallization, vegetable and animal assimilation and
secretion, &c.; while all bodies must be, in a certain de¬
gree, elastic, all must gravitate, and all must be incompe-
netrable.
This general and satisfactory resemblance between the
appearance of tangible matter and the legitimate conse¬
quence of this general hypothetical property of an atom of
matter, affords a considerable probability that such is the
origin of all the phenomena. We earnestly recommend to
our readers a careful perusal of Boscovich’s celebrated trea¬
tise. A careful perusal is necessary for seeing its value ;
and nothing will be got by a hasty inspection. The reader
will be particularly pleased with the facility and evidence
with which the ingenious author has deduced all the ordi¬
nary principles of mechanics, and with the explanation
which he has given of fluidity, and his deduction from thence
of the laws of hydrostatics. No part of the treatise is more
valuable than the doctrine of the propagation of pressure
through solid bodies. This, however, is but just touched
on in the course of the investigation of the principles of
mechanics. We shall borrow as much as will suffice for
our present inquiry into the strength of materials; and w'e
trust that our readers are not displeased with this general
sketch of the doctrine (if it may be so called) of the cohe-
T jloc- sion of bodies. It is curious and important in itself, and is the
tn h co-foundation of all the knowledge which we can acquire of the
' Present article. We are sorry to say that it is as yet a new
je, “ subject bf study ; but it is a very promising one, and we by
no means despair of seeing the whole of chemistry brought
by its means within the pale of mechanical science. The
great and distinguishing agent in chemistry is heat, or fire
the cause of heat; and one of its most singular effects is the
conversion of bodies into elastic vapour. We have the
clearest evidence that this is brought about by mechanical
forces; for it can be opposed or prevented by external pres¬
sure, a very familiar mechanical force. We may perhaps
find another mechanical force which will prevent fusion.
Having now made our readers familiar with the mode
of action in which cohesion operates in giving strength to
solid bodies, we proceed to consider the strains to which
this strength is opposed.
v,‘ :s to A piece of solid matter is exposed to four kinds of strains,
st, Uj, j3 different in the manner of their operation,
op 1. It may be torn asunder, as in the case of ropes,
stretchers, king-posts, tie-beams, &c.
2. It may be crushed, as in the case of pillars, posts, and
truss-beams.
3. It may be broken across, as happens to a joist or lever
of any kind.
I. It may be wrenched or twisted, as in the case of the
axle of a wheel, the nail of a press, &c.
I. IT MAY BE PULLED ASUNDER.
Strength of
Materials.
This is the simplest of all strains, and the others are in_’yTtoT""'^
deed modifications of it. To this the force of cohesion ismady j‘g
directly opposed, with very little modification of its action pulled
by any particular circumstances. asunder;
When a long cylindrical or prismatic bodjq such as a rod
of wood or metal, or a rope, is drawn by one end, it must
be resisted at the other, in order to bring its cohesion into
action. When it is fastened at one end, w^e cannot con¬
ceive it any other way than as equally stretched in all its
parts ; for all our observations and experiments on natural
bodies concur in showing us that the forces which con¬
nect their particles in any way whatever are equal and op¬
posite. This is called the third law of motion ; and we ad¬
mit its universality, while we affirm that it is purely expe¬
rimental. Yet vTe have met with dissertations by persons
of eminent knowledge, wdiere propositions are maintained
inconsistent with this. During the dispute about the com¬
munication of motion, some of the ablest writers have said,
that a spring compressed or stretched at the two ends was
gradually less and less compressed or stretched from the ex¬
tremities towards the middle: but the same writers acknow¬
ledged the universal equality of action and re-action, which
is quite incompatible with this state of the spring. No such
inequality of compression or dilatation has ever been observ¬
ed ; and a little reflection will show it to be impossible, in
consistency with the equality of action and re-action.
Since all parts are thus equally stretched, it follows that
the strain in any transverse section is the same, as also in
every point of that section. If therefore the body be sup¬
posed of a homogeneous texture, the cohesion of the parts
is equable; and since every part is equally stretched, the
particles are drawn to equal distances from their quiescent
positions, and the forces which are thus excited, and now
exerted in opposition to the straining force, are equal. This
external force may be increased by degrees, wTich will
gradually separate the parts of the body more and more
from each other, and the connecting forces increase with
this increase of distance, till at last the cohesion of some
particles is overcome. This must be immediately followed
by a rupture, because the remaining forces are now weaker
than before.
It is the united force of cohesion, immediately before the
disunion of the first particles, that we call the strength of
the section. It may also be properly called its absolute
strength, being exerted in the simplest form, and not modi¬
fied by any relation to other circumstances.
If the external force have not produced any permanent a circum-
change on the body, and it therefore recovers its former stance to
dimensions when the force is withdrawn, it is plain that this be attended
strain may be repeated as often as we please, and the body
which withstands it once wall always withstand it. It is ti0n re-
evident that this should be attended to in all constructions, quiring
and that in all our investigations on this subject this should strength,
be kept strictly in view. When we treat a piece of soft
clay in this manner, and with this precaution, the force em¬
ployed must be very small. If we exceed this, we produce
a permanent change. The rod of clay is not indeed torn
asunder, but it has become somewhat more slender; the
number of particles in a cross section is now smaller ; and
therefore, although it will again, in this new form, suffer or
allow an endless repetition of a certain strain without any
farther permanent change, this strain is smaller than the
former.
Something of the same kind happens in all bodies which
receive a set by the strain to which they are exposed. All
ductile bodies are of this kind. But there are many bodies
which are not ductile. Such bodies break completely when¬
ever they are stretched beyond the limit of their perfect
elasticity. Bodies of a fibrous structure exhibit very great
756
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Great va¬
rieties in
cohesion,
but
Strength of varieties in their cohesion. In some the fibres have no la-
Materials. tera] cohesion, as in the case of a rope. The only way in
which all the fibres can be made to unite their strength, is
to twist them together. This causes them to bind each
other so fast, that any one of them will break before it can
be drawn out of the bundle. In other fibrous bodies, such
as timber, the fibres are held together by some cement or
gluten. This is seldom as strong as the fibre. Accord¬
ingly timber is much easier pulled asunder in a direction
transverse to the fibres. There is, however, every possible
variety in this particular.
In stretching and breaking fibrous bodies, the visible ex¬
tension is frequently very considerable. This is not solely
the increasing of the distance of the particles of the coher¬
ing fibre ; the greatest part chiefly arises from drawing the
crooked fibre straight. In this, too, there is great diversi¬
ty ; and it is accompanied wTith important differences in
their power of withstanding a strain. In some woods, such
as fir, the fibres on which the strength most depends are
very straight. Such woods are commonly very elastic, do
not take a set, and break abruptly when overstrained:
others, such as oak and birch, have their resisting fibres
very undulating and crooked, and stretch very sensibly by
a strain. They are very liable to take a set, and they do
not break so suddenly, but give warning by complaining,
as the carpenters call it; that is, by giving visible signs of
a dei'angement of texture. Hard bodies of an uniform
glassy structure, or granulated like stones, are elastic through
the whole extent of their cohesion, and take no set, but
break at once when overloaded.
Notwithstanding the immense variety which nature ex¬
hibits in the structure and cohesion of bodies, there are cer¬
tain general facts of which we may now avail ourselves writh
advantage. In particular,
The absolute cohesion is proportional to the area of the
section. This must be the case where the texture is per¬
fectly uniform, as we have reason to think it is in glass and
the ductile metals. The cohesion of each particle being
alike, the whole cohesion must be proportional to their
area of the number, that is, to the area of the section. The same must
section per- be admitted with respect to bodies of a granulated texture,
where the granulation is regular and uniform. The same
tending must be admitted of fibrous bodies, if we suppose their fibres
•^rce. ° equally strong, equally dense, and similarly disposed through
the whole section; and this we must either suppose, or
must state the diversity, and measure the cohesion accord-
ingJy.
We may therefore assert, as a general proposition on this
subject, that the absolute strength in any part of a body, by
which it resists being pulled asunder, or the force which
must be employed to tear it asunder in that part, is propor¬
tional to the area of the section perpendicular to the ex¬
tending force.
Therefore all cylindrical or prismatical rods are equally
strong in every part, and will break alike in any part; and
bodies which have unequal sections will always break in
the slenderest part. The length of the cylinder or prism
has no effect on the strength. Also the absolute strengths
of bodies which have similar sections are proportional to
the squares of their diameters or homologous sides of the
section.
The weight of the body itself may be employed to strain
it and to break it. It is evident, that a rope may be so long
as to break by its own weight. When the rope is hanging
perpendicularly, although it is equally strong in every part,
it will break towards the upper end, because the strain on
any part is the weight of all that is below it. Its relative
strength in any part, or power of withstanding the strain
the abso¬
lute cohe¬
sion or
strength
proportion
al to the
Relative
strength.
which is actually laid on it, is inversely as the quantity be-Streng f
low that part. Matetlr
When the rope is stretched horizontally, as in towing a^V'
ship, the strain arising from its weight often bears a very
sensible proportion to its whole strength.
These are the chief general rules which can be safely
deduced from our clearest notions of the cohesion of bodies.
In order to make any practical use of them, it is proper to
have some measures of the cohesion of such bodies as are
commonly employed in our mechanics, and other structures
where they are exposed to this kind of strain. These must The
be deduced solely from experiment; therefore they mustsu>noffl,
be considered as no more than general values, or as thetals(M
averages of many particular trials. The irregularities are j
very great, because none of the substances are constant incunht<
their texture and firmness. Metals differ by a thousand ces.
circumstances unknown- to us, according to their purity,
to the heat with which they were melted, to the moulds
in which they were cast, and the treatment they have
afterwards received, by forging, wire-drawing, temper¬
ing, &c.
It is a very curious and inexplicable fact, that by forging
a metal, or by frequently drawing it through a smooth hole
in a steel plate, its cohesion is greatly increased. This
operation undoubtedly deranges the natural situation of
the particles. They are squeezed closer together in one
direction, but it is not in the direction in which they resist
the fracture. In this direction they are rather separated
to a greater distance. The general density, however, is
augmented in all of them except lead, which grows rather
rarer by wire-drawing; but its cohesion may be more than
tripled by this operation. Gold, silver, and brass, have
their cohesion nearly tripled ; copper and iron have it more
than doubled. In this operation they also grow much
harder. It is proper to heat them to redness after drawing
a little. This is called nealing or annealing. It softens
the metal again, and renders it susceptible of another draw¬
ing without the risk of cracking in the operation.
We do not pretend to give any explanation of this re¬
markable and very important fact, which has soniething re¬
sembling it in woods and other fibrous bodies, as will be
mentioned afterwards.
The varieties in the cohesion of stones and other minerals,
and of vegetable and animal substances, are hardly suscep¬
tible of any description or classification.
We shall take for the measure of cohesion the number Coliesio
of pounds avoirdupois which are just sufficient to tear asun-ami ^
der a rod or bundle of one inch square. From this it will^-^
be easy to compute the strength corresponding to any other aietai^
dimension.
ls<, Metals.
lbs.
f 20,000
( 24,000
40,000
000
Gold, cast 
j 40,
Silver, cast 4 4,;^
'Japan 19,000
Barbary 22,000
Hungary 31,000
Anglesea 34,000
Sweden 37,000
{ 42,000
  { 59,000
( Ordinary 68-0^
)Stirian  75,000
Iron’ bar \ Best Swedish and Russian 84,000
Horse-nails ^00()1
Copper, cast,
Iron, cast.
1 This was an experiment by Muschenbroeck, to examine the vulgar notion that iron forged from old horse-nails was stron0er
others, and shows its falsity.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
75'
.of
lls.
Steel, bar,
TciKty
of in) ’
incrc d
hy ui
tures
Tenac
orstr
/ Soft   120,000
| Razor temper 150,000
f Malacca 3,100
j Banca 3,600
Tin, cast Block 3,800
| English block 5,200
l grain  6,500
Lead, cast     860
Regains of antimony 1,000
Zinc  2,600
Bismuth 2,900
It is very remarkable, that almost all the mixtures of me¬
tals are more tenacious than the metals themselves. The
change of tenacity depends much on the proportion of the
ingredients, and the proportion which produces the most
tenacious mixture is different in the different metals. We
have selected the following from the experiments of Mus-
ehenbroeck. The proportion of ingredients here selected
is that which produces the greatest strength.
Two parts of gold with one of silver 28,000
Five parts of gold with one of copper 50,000
Five parts of silver with one of copper 48,500
Four parts of silver with one of tin 41,000
Six parts of copper with one of tin 41,000
Five parts of Japan copper with one of Banca tin...57,000
Six parts of Chili copper with one of Malacca tin...60,000
Six parts of Swedish copper with one of Malacca tin 64,000
Brass consists of copper and zinc in an unknown pro¬
portion ; its strength is 51,000
Three parts of block-tin with one part of lead 10,200
Eight parts of block-tin with one part of zinc 10,000
Four parts of Malacca tin with one part of regulus
of antimony  12,000
Eight parts of lead with one of zinc    4,500
Four parts of tin with one of lead and one of zinc. ..13,000
These numbers are of considerable use in the arts. The
mixtures of copper and tin are particularly interesting in
the fabric of great guns. We see that, by mixing copper,
whose greatest strength does not exceed 37,000, with tin,
which does not exceed 6000, we produce a metal whose
tenacity is almost double, at the same time that it is harder
and more easily wrought. It is, however, more fusible,
which is a great inconvenience. We also see that a very
small addition of zinc almost doubles the tenacity of tin,
and increases the tenacity of lead five times ; and a small
addition of lead doubles the tenacity of tin. These are
economical mixtures. This is very valuable information to
the plumbers, for augmenting the strength of water-pipes.
By having recourse to these tables, the engineer can
proportion the thickness of his pipes, of whatever metal,
to the pressures to which they are exposed.
2t7, Woods.
We may premise to this part of the table the following
general observations.
(li 1. The wood immediately surrounding the pith or heart
of the tree is the weakest, and its inferiority is so much
more remarkable as the tree is older. In this assertion,
however, we speak with some hesitation. Muschenbroeck’s
detail of experiments is decidedly in the affirmative. M.
Buffon, on the other hand, says that his experience has
taught him that the heart of a sound tree is the strongest;
hut he gives no instances. From many observations of our
own on very large oaks and firs, we are certain that the
heart is much weaker than the exterior parts.
2. The wood next the bark, commonly called the ichite
or blea, is also weaker than the rest; and the wood gra¬
dually increases in strength as we recede from the centre
to the blea.
3. The wood is stronger in the middle of the trunk than
at the springing of the branches or at the root; and the Strength of
wood of the branches is weaker than that of the trunk. ^Materials.
4. The wood of the north side of all trees which grow in v-
our European climates is the weakest, and that of the south¬
east side is the strongest; and the difference is most re¬
markable in hedge-row trees, and such as grow singly. The
heart of a tree is never in its centre, but always nearer to
the north side, and the annual coats of wood are thinner on
that side. In conformity with this, it is a general opinion
of carpenters that timber is stronger whose annual plates
are thicker. The trachea or air-vessels are weaker than
the simple ligneous fibres. The air-vessels are the same
in diameter and number of rows in trees of the same spe¬
cies, and they make the visible separation between the
annual plates. Therefore, when these are thicker, they
contain a greater proportion of the simple ligneous fibres.
5. All woods are more tenacious while green, and lose
very considerably by drying after the trees are felled.
The only author who has put it in our power to judge of
the propriety of his experiments is Muschenbroeck. He
has described his method of trial minutely, and it seems
unexceptionable. The woods were all formed into slips
fit for his apparatus, and part of the slip was cut away to
a parallelepiped of Fth of an inch square, and therefore ^-th
of a square inch in section. The absolute strengths of a
square inch were as follow:
lib.
Locust tree 20,100
Juleb ..18,500
Beech, oak 17,300
Orange ....15,500
Alder 13,900
Elm 13,200
Mulberry 12,500
Willow 12,500
Ash 12,000
Plum 11,800
Elder 10,000
Muschenbroeck has given a very minute detail of the
experiments on the ash and the walnut, stating the weights
which were required to tear asunder slips taken from the
four sides of the tree, and on each side, in a regular pro¬
gression from the centre to the circumference. The num¬
ber of this table corresponding to these two timbers may
therefore be considered as the average of more than fifty
trials made of each; and he says that all the others were
made with the same care. We cannot therefore see any
reason for not confiding in the results ; yet they are con¬
siderably higher than those given by some other writers.
Mr Pitot, on the authority of his own experiments, and of
those of Mr Parent, avers that sixty pounds will just tear
asunder a square line of sound oak, and that it will bear
fifty with safety. This gives 8640 for the utmost strength
of a square inch, which is much inferior to Muschenbroeck’s
valuation.
We may add to these,
Ivory 16,270
Bone  5,250
Horn  8,750
Whalebone  7,500
Tooth of sea-calf.  4,075
The reader will surely observe, that these numbers ex-No sub¬
press something more than the utmost cohesion ; for the stance to
weights are such as will very quickly, that is, in a minute^.^^
or two, tear the rods asunder. It may be said in general, turTabovo"
that turn thirds of these weights will sensibly impair the one half its
strength after a considerable while, and that one half is the strength,
utmost that can remain suspended at them without risk for
ever; and it is upon this last allotment that the engineer
should reckon in his constructions. There is, however, con¬
siderable difference in this respect. Woods of a very straight
lib.
Pomegranate 9^0Absohlte
Lemon 9250 strength of
Tamarind 8750 different
Fir 8330kin(ls of
Walnut 8 igo wood,
Pitch-pine  7650
Quince 6750
Cypress 6000
Poplar 5500
Cedar 4880
and of
other sub¬
stances.
758
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of fibre, such as fir, will be less impaired by any load which is
Materials. not sufficient to break them immediately.
According to Mr Emerson, the load which may be safely
suspended to an inch square is as follows:
Iron 76,400
Brass 35,600
Hempen rope..... 19,600
Ivory   15,700
Oak, box, yew, plum-tree  7,850
Elm, ash, beech,  6,070
Walnut, plum  5,360
Red fir, holly, elder, plane, crab  5,000
Cherry, hazel  4,760
Alder, asp, birch, willow  4,290
Lead  430
Freestone  914
He gives us a practical rule, that a cylinder whose diame¬
ter is d inches, loaded to one fourth of its absolute strength,
will carry as follows :
Oak.....  14(CWt-
Fir  9/ 
The rank which the different woods hold in this list of
Mr Emerson’s is very different from what we find in Mus-
chenbroeck’s. But precise measures must not be expected
in this matter. It is wonderful, that in a matter of such un¬
questionable importance the public has not enabled some
persons of judgment to make proper trials. They are be¬
yond the abilities of private persons.
II.—BODIES MAY BE CRUSHED.
It is of im- It is of equal, perhaps greater, importance to know the
portance to strain which may be laid on solid bodies without danger of
know what crusbing them. Pillars and posts of all kinds are exposed
will crush to tj^s strajn jn its simplest form; and there are cases
0l'1La' where the strain is enormous, viz. where it arises from the
oblique position of the parts, as in the struts, braces, and
trusses, which occur very frequently in our great works.
It is therefore most desirable to have some general know¬
ledge of the principle which determines the strength of
bodies, in opposition to this kind of strain. But, unfortu- . „ . . , ., , •
nately, we are much more at a loss in this than in the last have supposed the strength of columns to be as the biqua-
case. The mechanism of nature is, in the present case, much drates of their diameters. Euler deduced this from o -
more complicated. It must be in some circuitous way that mulm which occurred to him m the course of his algebraic
compression can have any tendency to tear asunder the parts analysis; and he boldly adopts it as a principle, w t hou
of a solid body, and it is very difficult to trace the steps. looking for its foundation in the physical assumptions wind
We have reason to think that the constitution of very homo-Stren ■ „{
geneous bodies, such as glass, is not very different from this. Mate;
If this be the constitution of bodies, it appears probable r
that the strength, or the resistance which they are capable
of making to an attempt to crush them to pieces, is proper-op¬
tional to the area of the section whose plane is perpendicu- ofrisil
lar to the external force; for each particle being similarlyailC«t
and equally acted on and resisted, the whole resistance must sucl1
be as their number, that is, as the extent of the section. 0rCe>
Accordingly this principle is assumed by the few writers
who have considered the subject; but we confess that it
appears to us very doubtful. Suppose a number of brittle
or friable balls lying on a table uniformly arranged, but not
cohering nor in contact, and that a board is laid over them
and loaded with a weight; we have no hesitation in saying
that the weight necessary to crush the whole collection is
proportional to their number or to the area of the section.
But when they are in contact, and still more if they cohere,
we imagine that the case is materially altered. Any indi¬
vidual ball is crushed only in consequence of its being bul¬
ged outwards in the direction perpendicular to the pressure
employed. If this could be prevented by a hoop put round
the ball like an equator, we cannot see how any force can
crush it. Any thing therefore which makes this bulging
outwards more difficult, makes a greater force necessary.
Now this effect wall be produced by the mere contact of
the balls before the pressure is applied ; for the central ball
cannot swell outward laterally without pushing away the
balls on all sides of it. This is prevented by the friction
on the table and upper board, which is at least equal
to one third of the pressure. Thus any interior ball be¬
comes stronger by the mere vicinity of the others ; and if
we further suppose them to cohere laterally, we think that
its strength will be still more increased.
The analogy between these balls and the cohering par¬
ticles of a friable body is very perfect. We should there¬
fore expect that the strength by which it resists being crush¬
ed will increase in a greater ratio than that of the section,
or the square of the diameter of similar sections; and that
a square inch of any matter will bear a greater weight in
proportion as it makes a part of a greater section. Ac¬
cordingly this appears in many experiments, as will after¬
wards be noticed. Muschenbroeck, Euler, and some others,
If we suppose the particles insuperably hard and in con¬
tact, and disposed in lines which are in the direction of the
external pressures, it does not appear how any pressure can
disunite the particles; but this is a gratuitous supposition.
There are infinite odds against this precise arrangement
of the lines of particles ; and the compressibility of all kinds
of matter in some degree shows that the particles are in a
situation equivalent to distance. This being the case, and
the particles, with their intervals, or what is equivalent to in¬
tervals, being in situations that are oblique with respect to
the pressures, it must follow, that by squeezing them together
in one direction, they are made to bulge out or separate in
other directions. This may proceed so far that some may
be thus pushed laterally beyond their limits of cohesion.
The moment that this happens the resistance to compres¬
sion is diminished, and the body will now be crushed to¬
gether. We may form some notion of this by supposing a
number of spherules, like small shot, sticking together by
means of a cement. Compressing this in some particular
direction causes the spherules to act among each other like
so many wedges, each tending to penetrate through between
the three which lie below it: and this is the simplest, and
perhaps the only distinct, notion we can have of the matter.
he had made in the beginning of his investigation. But
some of his original assumptions were as paradoxical, or at
least as gratuitous, as these results; and those, in particular,
from which this proportion of the strength of columns was
deduced, were almost foreign to the case ; and therefore the
inference was of no value. Yet it was received as a py*1^"
ciple by Muschenbroeck and by the academicians ot St
Petersburg. We make these very few observations, be¬
cause the subject is of great practical importance; and it is
a great obstacle to improvements when deference to a great
name, joined to incapacity or indolence, causes authors to
adopt his careless reveries as principles from which they are
afterwards to draw important consequences. It must be
acknowledged that we have not as yet established, on solid
mechanical principles, the relation between the dimensions
and the strength of a pillar. Experience plainly contradicts
the general opinion, that the strength is proportional to the
area of the section; but it is still more inconsistent with
the opinion, that it is in the quadruplicate ratio of di¬
meters of similar sections. It would seem that the ra Kj
depends much on the internal structure of the body ;
experiment seems the only method for ascertaining its ge
neral laws.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
759
in of If we suppose the body to be or a fibrous texture, having
i “l8- the fibres situated in the direction of the pressure, and
slightly adhering to each other by some kind of cement,
h such a body will fail only by the bending of the fibres, by
!ex. which they will break the cement and be detached from
t. each other. Something like this may be supposed in wood¬
en pillars. In such cases, too, it would appear that the
resistance must be as the number of equally resisting fibres,
and as their mutual support, jointly; and, therefore, as some
function of the area of the section. The same thing must
happen if the fibres be naturally crooked or undulated, as
is observed in many woods, provided we suppose some simi¬
larity in their form. Similarity of some kind must always
be supposed, otherwise we need never aim at any general in¬
ferences.
In all cases therefore wre can hardly refuse admitting that
the strength in opposition to compression is proportional to
a function of the area of the section.
As the whole length of a cylinder or prism is equally
pressed, it does not appear that the strength of a pillar is
at all affected by its length. If indeed it be supposed to
bend under the pressure, the case is greatly changed, be¬
cause it is then exposed to a transverse strain ; and this in¬
creases with the length of the pillar. But this will be con¬
sidered with due attention under the next class of strains.
Few experiments have been made on this species of
strength and strain. Mr Pitot says that his experiments
and those of Mr Parent show that the force necessary for
crushing a body is nearly equal to that which will tear it
asunder. He says that it requires something more than
sixty pounds on every square line to crush a piece of sound
oak. But the rule is by no means general: glass, for in¬
stance, will carry a hundred times as much as oak in this
way, that is, resting on it; but will not suspend four or five
times as much. Oak will suspend a great deal more than
fir; but fir, as a pillar, will carry twice as much. Woods of
a soft texture, although consisting of very tenacious fibres,
are more easily crushed by their load. This softness of tex¬
ture is chiefly owing to their fibres not being straight but
undulated, and there being considerable vacuities between
them, so that they are easily bent laterally and crushed.
When a post is overstrained by its load, it is observed to
swell sensibly in diameter. Increasing the load causes lon¬
gitudinal cracks or shivers to appear, and it presently after
j gives way. This is called crippling.
In all cases where the fibres lie oblique to the strain, the
strength is greatly diminished, because the parts can then
be made to slide on each other when the cohesion of the
cementing matter is overcome.
Muschenbroeck has given some experiments on this
subject; but they are cases of long pillars, and therefore
do not belong to this place. They will be considered af¬
terwards.
The only experiments of which we have seen any detail
(and it is useless to insert mere assertions) are those of
Mr Gauthey, in the fourth volume of Rozier’s Journal de
Physique. This engineer exposed to great pressures small
rectangular parallelepipeds, cut from a great variety of
stones, and noted the weights which crushed them. The
following table exhibits the medium results of many trials
on two very uniform kinds of freestone, one of them
among the hardest and the other among the softest used
in building.
Column first expresses the length AB of the section, in
French lines or 12ths of an inch; column second expresses
(he breadth BC ; column third is the area of the section,
or square lines ; column fourth is the number of ounces
required to crush the piece; column fifth is the weight
olnch was then borne by each square line of the section;
and column sixth is the round numbers to which Mr Gau-
tney imagines that those in column fifth approximate.
Hard Stone.
AB. BC. ABxBC.
] 8 8 64
2 8 12 96
3 8 16 128
Soft i
4 9 16 144
5 9 18 162
6 18 18 324
7 18 24 432
Weight. Force.
736 11-5 12
2625 27-3 24
4496 35-1 36
560 3-9 4*
848 5-3 4-5
2928 9- 9-
5296 12-2 12-
Strength of
Materials.
Experi¬
ments for
this pur¬
pose made
on free¬
stone
Little can be deduced from these experiments: the
first and third, compared with the fifth and sixth, should
furnish similar results; for the first and fifth are respec¬
tively half of the third and sixth ; but the third is three
times stronger (that is, a line of the third) than the first,
whereas the sixth is only twice as strong as the fifth.
It is evident, however, that the strength increases much
faster than the area of the section, and that a square line
can carry more and more weight, according as it makes a
part of a larger and larger section. In this series of ex¬
periments on the soft stone, the individual strength of a
square line seems to increase nearly in the proportion of
the section of which it makes a part.
Mr Gauthey deduces, from the whole of his numerous ex¬
periments, that a pillar of hard stone of Givry, whose sec¬
tion is a square foot, will bear with perfect safety 664,000
pounds, and that its extreme strength is 871,000; and
the smallest strength observed in any of his experiments
was 460,000. The soft bed of Givry stone had for its
smallest strength 187,000, for its greatest 311,000, and for
its safe load 249,000. Good brick will carry with safety
320,000 ; chalk will carry only 9000. The boldest piece
of architecture in this respect which he has seen is a pil¬
lar in the church of All-Saints at Angers. It is twenty-
four feet long and eleven inches square, and is loaded with
60,000, which is not one seventh of what is necessary for
crushing it.
We may observe here by the way, that Mr Gauthey's
measure of the suspending strength of stone is vastly small
in proportion to its power of supporting a load laid above
it. He finds that a prism of the hard bed of Givry, of a
foot section, is torn asunder by 4600 pounds ; and if it
be firmly fixed horizontally in a wall, it will be broken by
a weight of 56,000 suspended a foot from the w-all. If it
rest on two props at a foot distance, it will be broken by
206,000 laid on its middle. These experiments agree so not satjs.
ill with each other, that little use can be made of them, factory.
The subject is of great importance, and well deserves the
attention of the patriotic philosopher.
A set of good experiments would be very valuable, be- Good ex-
cause it is against this kind of strain that we must guard periments
by judicious construction in the most delicate and difficultmucllwailt*
problems which come through the hands of the civil ande(l-
military engineer. The construction of stone arches, and
the construction of great wooden bridges, and particularly
the construction of the frames of carpentry called centres
in the erection of stone bridges, are the most difficult jobs
that occur. In the centres on which the arches of the
bridge of Orleans were built, some of the pieces of oak
were carrying upwards of two tons on every square inch of
their scantling. All who saw it said that it was not able
to carry the fourth part of the intended load. But the
engineer understood the principles of his art, and ran the
risk, and the result completely justified his confidence ; for
the centre did not complain in any part, only it was found
too supple ; so that it went out of shape while the haunches
only of the arch were laid on it. The engineer corrected
this by loading it at the crown, and thus kept it completely
in shape during the progress of the work.
In the Memoirs of the Academy of St Petersburg for
71)0
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
How they
are to be
made use¬
ful.
Strength of 1778, there is a dissertation by Euler on this subject, but we found it considerably above the direct cohesion ; that is, Strenf of
Materials, particularly limited to the strain on columns, in which the it took considerably more than twice the force to tear out this ^ater
bending is taken into the account. Mr Fuss has treated middle piece that it did to tear the pin asunder by a direct
the same subject with relation to carpentry in a subsequent pull. A piece of fine freestone required 205 pounds to pull The
volume. But there is little in these papers besides a dry it directly asunder, and 575 to break it in this way. The suit
mathematical disquisition, proceeding on assumptions difference was very constant in any one substance, but varied
which (to speak favourably) are extremely gratuitous, from four thirds to six thirds in different kinds of matter,
The most important consequence of the compression is being smallest in bodies of a fibrous texture. But indeed we
wholly overlooked, as we shall presently see. Our know- could not make the trial on any bodies of considerable cohe-
ledge of the mechanism of cohesion is as yet far too im- sion, because they required such forces as our apparatus could
perfect to entitle us to a confident application of mathe- not support. Chalk, clay baked in the sun, baked sugar, brick,
matics. Experiments should be multiplied. and freestone, were the strongest that we could examine.
The only way in which we can hope to make these experi- But the more common case, where the energy of a lever
ments useful, is to pay a careful attention to the manner in intervenes, demands a minute examination. (b. b. b.)
which the fracture is produced. By discovering the general
resemblances in this particular, we advance a step in our
power of introducing mathematical measurement. Thus,
when a cubical piece of chalk is slowly crushed between the end AD, and sup-
the chaps of a vice, we see it uniformly split in a surface porting a weight at
oblique to the pressure, and the two parts then slide along the free end BC: it is
the surface of fracture. This should lead us to exa- required to find what
mine mathematically what relation there is between this tendency the weight
surface of fracture and the necessary force; then we will have to break the
should endeavour to determine experimentally the position beam oyer at the sec-
of this surface. Having discovered some general law or tion EF.
resemblance in this circumstance, w’e should try what ma- The weight at C
thematical hypothesis w ill agree with this. Having found will, in the first place,
one, we may then apply our simplest notions of cohesion, and cause a tendency of
compare the result of our computations with experiment ^ u
Let ABCD (fig. 3) be the longitudinal section of abeam
inserted into a wall at ^ 0
Fig. 3.
III.—A BODY MAY BE BROKEN ACROSS.
the part EBCF to
slide down on the
surface EF, but the
strength of the beam in resisting this kind of dislocation is
much greater than its power of resisting common fracture:
It is of im- The most usual, and the greatest strain, to which mate-
portance rials are exposed, is that which tends to break them trans- it is therefore unnecessary to examine this case,
to know versely. It is seldom, however, that this is done in a The weight at C will cause the beam to bend; that is, it
what Strain mann^ perfectly simple ; for when a beam projects hori- will distend the upper and compress the under part of the
Will break zontajjy from a vvall, and a weight is suspended from its beam, and, acting at the extremity of the lever FC, jts power
transverse-extremity, the beam is commonly broken near the w'all, of causing such compression and distention will be W X FC.
Iv.
Experi¬
ments
made to
ascertain
it.
and the intermediate part has performed the functions of Since the weight at C acts in a vertical direction, it cannot
a lever. It sometimes, though rarelv, happens that the tend either to lengthen or to shorten the beam, and thus the
pin in the joint of a pair of pincers or scissors is cut through repulsion of the compressed part must be exactly equal to
by the strain ; and this is almost the only case of a simple the attraction of the distended parts,
transverse fracture. Being so rare, we may content our- Let G be the neutral point, and draw through it the
selves with saying, that in this case the strength of the line/Ge, contiguous toFGE; draw also IVi and h paral-
piece is proportional to the area of the section. Icl to CD. I he lines I?, in the under side oi the cross sec
Experiments were made for discovering the resistances tion, will represent the degrees cf compression, and also
made by bodies to this kind of strain in the following man- (since within the limits of security the repulsion is propor-
ner. Two iron bars were disposed horizontally at an inch tional to the degree of compression) the force of repulsion,
distance ; a third hung perpendicularly between them, being while the lines HA on the upper side will serve to represent
supported by a pin made of the substance to be examined, the attractions. The sum of all the lines on the upper sine,
This pin was made of a prismatic form, so as to fit exactly that is, the wedge EGc, will thus represent the entire amount
the holes in the three bars, which were made very exact, of attraction, while the wedge FG/ will represent the tota
and of the same size and shape. A scale was suspended at amount of repulsion. These two wedges, then, must be equal
the lower end of the perpendicular bar, and loaded till it toeachother; and this equality determines the position o e
tore out that part of the pin which filled the middle hole, axis of flexure represented by the point G. In the case ot a
This weight was evidently the measure of the lateral co- rectangular beam, G must clearly be in the middle ot the line
hesion of two sections. The side-bars were made to grasp EF ; but when the cross section of the beam is irregular, me
the middle bar pretty strongly between them, that there position of tlm axis of flexure is not quite so^asi^oun^.
might be no distance interposed between the opposite pres- T ... cam an
This would have combined the energy of a lever with
the purely transverse pressure. For the same reason it wras
necessary that the internal parts of the holes should be no
smaller than the edges. Great irregularities occurred in
our first experiments from this cause, because the pins were
somewhat tighter within than at the edges; but when this
was corrected they were extremely regular. We employed
three sets of holes, viz. a circle, a square (which was occa¬
sionally made a rectangle whose length was twice its breadth),
and an equilateral triangle. We found in all our experi¬
ments the strength exactly proportional to the area of the
section, and quite independent of its figure or position, and
Fig. 4.
Let EF be the cross section of an irregular beam, and Lm
the axis of flexure, or the place where
the beam is neither compressed nor
distended. Then the wedges gene¬
rated by turning the section EF upon
OH as an axis must be equal to each
other. This is always the case when OH
passes through the centre of gravity of
the cross section, and thus it follows
that those points which are neither
compressed nor distended are always
ranged in a straight line drawn through the centre of giavi y
of the cross section.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS. 761
gt J th of The position of the fulcrum of the lever being now known,
Jl j iiiis. we can proceed to ascertain the effects of the various forces.
^ Returning, for the sake of simplicity, to the rectangular
beam; the sum of the repulsions il will be represented by
the triangle GfF: but the rectangle under GF and Yf
would measure the entire strength of the under half of the
beam, and therefore the force actually exerted when the
beam is about to be broken across, is just half of the abso¬
lute strength of the beam; one quarter being exhibited as
attraction, another quarter as repulsion. These forces act
at different distances from the fulcrum G, and it is well
known that the influence of a number of weights in turning
a lever round is the same as if all these weights were to act
at their common centre of gravity; so that to find the en¬
tire action in this case, we have to suppose one fourth of the
whole strength of the beam to act at the distance f of GF
or £of EF from the fulcrum G, and another quarter of the
strength at § of GE. Now, if s be the strength of one
square inch of the beam, and if D, B, and L be its depth,
breadth, and length, measured in inches, DBs will be the
absolute strength of the whole beam; and therefore the
tendencies of the above forces to straighten the beam will be
^ DBs X 3 D -j- ^ DBa- X ^ D ;
that is, D- • B • s. And again, the tendency of the weight
W to bend the beam is WL; so that
| D2 • B • s = WL,
or 6L : D :: DBs : W;
that is, as six times the length of the beam is to its depth, so
is the absolute strength of the beam to the weight which it can
curry at the free end.
Throughout this investigation we have supposed that the
force needed to extend or compress a fibre is exactly pro¬
portional to the quantity of extension or compression. This
hypothesis, though not perhaps strictly true, and though it
certainly errs when we approach to dislocation or fracture,
is yet confirmed by all experiments when the extensions
have been kept within the limits of safety: the results of
this hypothesis therefore are what must guide us in forming
any structure.
It may now be interesting to inquire into the strength of
a beam when bent in different directions.
EF being, as before, the cross section of an irregular
beam, let that beam be bent in the direction GG, the axis
of flexure being OH perpendicular to OG; and let us con¬
sider the action of a small portion ds of the surface situated
at I. Having drawn the perpendiculars IK and IL, it is
clear that the compression of the fibre I must be propor¬
tional to KI; and therefore the force exerted by it may be
denoted by C • IK • ds, C being some constant depending on
| the nature of the material and the degree of flexure. This
force, conceived to act at the extremity of the lever KI,
will tend to bend the beam round the axis OH; but again
acting at the end of the lever LI, it will tend to bend
the beam on OG as an axis. Putting 2 to denote the
integral for the entire surface, C • 2 • IK2-* will be the
entire tendency to rectify the form of the beam, and
CsIK • IL • * will be the entire tendency to take a flex¬
ure in a plane at right angles to that which it actually
has. A beam therefore will not bend in the direction in
which the pressure is applied to it unless 2* IK- IL* = 0.
fhis is a circumstance overlooked in all treatises on flex¬
ure ; but it is one that must be carefully attended to in
practice. It may easily be illustrated thus: Take a thin
slip ot wood, such perhaps as is used for Venetian blinds,
and fix it in a vice so that w hile its length is horizontal its
flat sides may be inclined at a considerable angle. Attach
now a weight to the free end, and it w ill be found that
that end does not descend vertically, but that it moves
obliquely, the flexure not happening in that direction
>n which the force is applied. The force necessary to
bend the beam in the plane of OG is not a force in that
VOi,. XX.
direction, but is the resultant of two forces, 2 IK2 * ds in Strength of
the direction OG, and 2 • IK • IL • ds in the direction OH. Materials.
For the present we shall call 2lK!Ws the stiffness in the ' ■> '
direction OG, and 2 - NJds of course the stiffness in the
direction OH. The sum of these two stiffnesses is mani¬
festly 2 • OI2<*, which is a constant quantity, depending not
at all upon the directions of OG, OH, but only on the form of
the cross section: hence follows the remarkable law, that the
sum of the stiffnesses of a beam in two directions perpendi¬
cular to each other is constant; and that therefore, what¬
ever may be the form of the beam, its directions of greatest
and least stiffness are always perpendicular to each other.
For the purpose of discovering in what directions the
greatest and least stiffness lie, let us refer all the points in
the cross section to the axes OX and OY, putting the angle
XOG = We have then IK = x cos. p + y sin. <p,
JF. ^ — x sin. (f> -j- y cos. <p ; and thus the tendency of the
beam to redress itself in the direction GO is 2 • (# cos.
p fr y sin. p)2 ds, while the deflecting tendency in the
direction HO is 2 • (a? cos. <f> y sin. <p) (— x sin. p + y
cos. <p) ds. Regarding <p as the variable quantity, and dif¬
ferentiating the former for the purpose of discovering its
maximum, we obtain 2 • (x cos. ® + y sin. <p) ( x sin.
® + «/ cos. p) cfe rr 0 ; now it wall be observed that this
expression is just that for the deflecting tendency, and
hence this law-,
That token a beam is bent in the direction of greatest or
of least stiffness, the pressure to be applied is exactly in the
direction of the bending.
The value of <p may easily be found from the above
equation ; the result is
_ 2 2- xy ds
tan. 2 <p  ;  —.
r 1xzds — ~2.yds
The lines OX and OY will coincide with the directions
of greatest and least stiffness when p = 0, or when tan.
2 <p — Q, that is, when 2 * xy ds — 0.
If, then, the directions of greatest and least stiffness be
taken for the axes of xy and of y, we shall have 2 • xy
ds = 0, 2 xhls — greatest stiffness = A, 2 y-ds ~ least
stiffness — B. These being once known, the stiffness in
any other direction, as well as the deflecting tendency,
can readily be obtained. Putting P and Q respectively for
these quantities, we have
P = A cos. p2-j- B sin. f1,
Q — j; (B— A) sin. 2 <p.
The deflecting tendency is thus greatest w-hen p — 45°,
that is, when the actual direction of flexure is equally inclined
to the directions of greatest and least stiffness. In this case
^ v, P’^A + B), Q=:i-(B_A).
Gahleo, who was the first to investigate the law of
transverse strain, conceived the lower edge of the beam to
be the fulcrum, and each fibre to be exerting its whole
strength ; Professor Robison, in the former editions of this
work, corrected the supposition in the case of rectangular
beams : the above investigation extends it to beams of all
forms. (c. ;e.)
We must now remark, that this correction of the Gali¬
lean hypothesis of equal forces was suggested by the bend¬
ing which is observed in all bodies which are strained trans¬
versely. Because they are bent, the fibres on the convex
side have been extended. We cannot say in what propor¬
tion this obtains in the different fibres. Our most distinct
notions of the internal equilibrium between the particles
render it highly probable that their extension is propor¬
tional to their distance from that fibre which retains its for¬
mer dimensions. But by whatever law this is regulated,
we see plainly that the actions of the stretched fibres must
follow the proportions of some function of this distance,
and that therefore the relative strength of a beam is in all
cases susceptible of mathematical determination.
5 D
762
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
asstttsasfttWJEW
 ' V,' .  n: ^  „p v/neflr mrvp. i. e. the curve ferent sections being as some similar function of the dis-
Bernoulli the problem of the elastic curve, i. e. the curve
SohC of ^to which an extensible rigid body will be bent byatxans-
Ke elastic verse strain. His solution in the Acta Eruditorum 1694 and
curve. 1695, is a very beautiful specimen of mathematical discus¬
sion, and we recommend it to the perusal of the curious
reader. He will find it very perspicuously treated in the
first volume of his works, published after his death, where
the wide steps which he had taken in his investigation are
explained so as to be easily comprehended. His nephew,
Daniel Bernoulli, has given an elegant abridgement in the
Petersburg Memoirs for 1729. The problem is too intricate
to be fully discussed in a work like ours, but it is also too in¬
timately connected with our present subject to be entirely
omitted. We must content ourselves with showing the lead¬
ing mechanical properties of this curve, from which the ma¬
thematician may deduce all its geometrical properties. _
Its leading When a bar of uniform depth and breadth, and of a given
mechanical len<rth, is bent into an arch of a circle, the extension of the
Pr°Perty. outer fibres is proportional to the curvature; for because
the curves formed by the inner and outer sides of the beam
are similar, the circumferences are as the radii, and the
radius of the inner circle is to the difference of the radii as
the length of the inner circumference is to the difference
of the circumferences. The difference of the radii is the
depth of the beam, the difference of the circumferences is
_ Jk . , i _ - _ hi—^ flvo innpr rirnim-
described.
ferent sections being as some similar function of the dis¬
tance from the axis of fracture ; an assumption which can¬
not be refused.
This, then, is the fundamental property of the elastic curve,
from which its equation, or relation between the abscissa
and ordinate, may be deduced in the usual terms, and all
its other geometrical properties. These are foreign to our
purpose \ and we shall notice only such properties as have
an immediate relation to the strain and strength of the dif¬
ferent parts of a flexible body, and which in paiticular seive
to explain some difficulties in the valuable experiments of
Buffon on the Strength of Beams.
We observe, in the first place, that the elastic curve can- It is n
not be a circle, but is gradually more incurvated as it re-circle,
cedes from the point of application B of the straining forces.
At B it has no curvature; and if the bar were extended
beyond B there would be no curvature there. In like man¬
ner, when a beam is supported at the ends and loaded in
the middle, the curvature is greatest in the middle; but at
the props, or beyond them, if the beam extend farther,
there is no curvature. Therefore, when a beam projecting
twenty feet from a wall is bent to a certain curvature at
the wall by a weight suspended at the end, and a beam of
the same size projecting twenty feet is bent to the very
same curvature at the wall by a greater weight at ten feet
distance, the figure and the mechanical state of the beam
UtJUUl Hit.   . .
the extension of the outer fibres, and the inner circum- VA"&j:“h"‘'wajj”is different in these two cases,
ference is supposed to be the primitive engc i < n , ‘ curvature at the very wall is the same in both.
Now the second and third quantities of the ^ove analogy, though the ^ vature at the very^ ^ ^ ^
the product of the second, all beyond the ten feet is without curvature.
the inner radius and the extension of the outer fibre is
also a constant quantity, and the whole extension of the
outer fibre is inversely as the radius of curvature, or is di¬
rectly as the curvature of the beam. . . ,
The mathematical reader will readily see, that into what¬
ever curve the elastic bar is bent, the whole extension of
the outer fibre is equal to the length of a similar curve
having the same proportion to the thickness of the beam
that the length of the beam has to the radius of curvature.
Now let ADCB (fig. 5) be such a rod of uniform breadth
and thickness, firmly fix-
In the first experiment the curvature at the distance of nve
feet from the wall is three fourths of the curvature at the
wall; in the second, the curvature at the same place is but
one half of that at the wall. This must weaken the long
beam in this whole interval of five feet, because the greater
curvature is the result of a greater extension of the fibres.
In the next place we may remark, that there is a certain Every j m
determinate curvature for every beam, which cannot be ex-husa d,
ceeded without breaking it ; for there is a ce(tainilsePara] n,iIiaJ .
tion of two adjoining particles that puts an end to their co- vaturt
. i n i ^  i. — q n or t a in
ed in a vertical position,
and bent into a curve
AEFB by a weight W
suspended at B, and of
such magnitude that the
extremity B has its tan¬
gent perpendicular to the
action of the weight, or
parallel to the horizon.
Suppose, too, that the ex
Fig. 5.
hesion. A fibre can therefore be extended only a certain
proportion of its length. The ultimate extension of the
outer fibres must bear a certain determinate proportion to
its length, and this proportion is the same with that of t ie
thickness (or what we have hitherto called the depth) to the
radius of ultimate curvature, which is therefore determinate.
LUUS or uiuiiia-ie    . *U|,,
A beam of uniform breadth and depth >s therefore A»iJ
A Deam or unuorui uieaum —r— , • ofumtls
incurvated where the strain is greatest, and will break in
1 itQ THriTI. SO ftS , ..A,
the most incurvated part. But by changing its form, so as lepthi j
h of its different sections in the ratio otmostn ■
the^train^it iHvident that the curvature ^
tensions are proportional to the extending forces. From any
two points E and F draw the horizontal ordinates EG, t H. It
is evident that the exterior fibres of the sections Ee and b/
are stretched by forces which are in the proportion of EG to
FH (these being the long arms of the levers, and the equal
thicknesses Ee, F/being the short arms). Therefore (by the
hypothesis) their extensions are in the same proportion. But
because the extensions are proportional to some similar func¬
tions of the distance from the axes of fracture E and F, the
extension of any fibre in the section Ee is to the contem¬
poraneous extension of the similarly situated fibre in the
section Ff, as the extension of the exterior fibre in the sec¬
tion Ee is to the extension of the exterior fibre in the sec¬
tion Ff - therefore the whole extension of Ee is to the whole
extension of F/as EG to FH, and EG is to FH as the cur¬
vature in E to the curvature in F.
Here let it be remarked, that this proportionality of the
curvature to the extension of the fibres is not limited to the
the strain, it is eviuent uiat ^  . aiw lau. where
throughout, or may be
TMOsa remark worthy of the attention of the^atchmtdter.
The most delicate problem in practical mechanics is so
to taper the balance-spring of a watch gat .U w de
narrow vibrations may be isochronous. Hooke s pring
ut tensio sic vis is not sufficient when we take the
and motion of the spring itself into the account. The figure
into which it bends and unbends has also an uf"-
readers will take notice that the artist aims at an accur^y
which will not admit an error of a“d * j in.
rison and Arnold have actually attained it ^ several
stances. The taper of a spring is at present a nostrum in t
hands of each artist, and he is careful not tO.f,PafrOp0rtionai
Again, since the depth of the beam is thu p P k_
tturv^ is' inversely a^^hVuUy be expressed
■4
por
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
U of When a weight is hung on the end of a prismatic beam,
pis- the curvature is nearly as the weight and the length di-
rectly, and as the breadth and the cube of the depth in-
bd2
™o'_ versely ; for the strength is =/—. Let us suppose that
pi. i ]
this produces the ultimate curvature Now let the beam
763
Del; on,
Tie
reni!.
ing fa
this
fine:
thoc
amii
the
corp
«ctii
be loaded with a smaller weight iv, and let the curvature
produced be C; we have this analogy,/^- : w = i : C, and
Oil’to
C = ^ i§ evident that this is also true of a beam
supported at the ends and loaded between the props ; and
we see how to determine the curvature in its different parts,
whether arising from the load, or from its own weight, or
from both.
When a beam is thus loaded at the end or middle, the
loaded point is pulled down, and the space through which
it is drawn may be called the deflection. This may be con¬
sidered as the subtense of the angle of contact, or as the
versed sine Of the arch into which the beam is bent, and is
therefore as the curvature when the length of the arches is
given (the flexure being moderate), and as the square of
the length of the arch when the curvature is given. The
deflection therefore is as the curvature and as the square of
the length of the arch jointly; that is, as x 1% or as
fod*
6l3w .
Ihe deflection from the primitive shape is therefore
as the bending weight and the cube of the length directly,
and as the breadth and cube of the depth inversely.
In beams just ready to break, the curvature is as the
depth inversely, and the deflection is as the square of the
length divided by the depth ; for the ultimate curvature at
the breaking part is the same whatever is the length; and
in this case the deflection is as the square of the length.
We have been the more particular in our consideration
suit.of this subject, because the resulting theorems afford us
ject ^ . methods of examining the laws of corpuscular
(be action’ ^at is, for discovering the variation of the force of
lie- cohesion by a change of distance. It is true it is not the
ex- atomical law,. or hylarchic principle as it may justly be
railed, which is thus made accessible, but the specific law
ikr °f th? particles of the substance or kind of matter under
examination. But even this is a very great point; and co¬
incidences in this respect among the different kinds of mat¬
ter are of great moment. We may thus learn the nature
of the corpuscular action of different substances, and per¬
haps approach to a discovery of the mechanism of chemical
affinities. For that chemical actions are insensible cases of
local motion is undeniable, and local motion is the province
of mechanical discussion; nay, we see that these hidden
changes are produced by mechanical forces in many im¬
portant cases, for we see them promoted or prevented by
means purely mechanical. The conversion of bodies into
clastic vapour by heat can at all times be prevented by a
snjjicient external pressure. A strong solution of Glauber’s
salts will congeal in an instant by agitation, giving out its
atent heat; and it will remain fluid for ever, and retain its
latent heat in a close vessel which it completely fills. Even
water will by such treatment freeze in an instant by agita¬
tion, or remain fluid for ever by confinement. We know
that heat is produced or extricated by friction, that certain
compounds of gold or silver with saline matters explode
ith irresistible violence by the smallest pressure or agita-
,n’ facts should rouse the mathematical philoso-
P icr, and excite him to follow out the conjectures of the
ustrious Newton, encouraged by the ingenious attempts of
scovich ; and the proper beginning of this study is to at¬
tend to the laws of attraction and repulsion exerted by the Strength of
particles of cohering bodies, discoverable by experiments Materials,
made on their actual extensions and compressions. The
experiments of simple extensions and compressions are quite
insufficient, because the total stretching of a wire is so small
a quantity, that the mistake of the 1000th part of an inch
occasions an irregularity which deranges any progression
so as to make it useless. But by the bending of bodies a
distention of j^oth of an inch may be easily magnified in
the deflection of the spring ten thousand times. We know
that the investigation is intricate and difficult, but not be¬
yond the reach of our present mathematical attainments ;
and it wall give very fine opportunities of employing all the
address of analysis. In the 17th century and the beginning
of the 18th this was a sufficient excitement to the first ge¬
niuses of Europe. The cycloid, the catenaria, the elastic
curve, the velaria, the caustics, were reckoned an abundant
recompense for much study ; and James Bernoulli request¬
ed, as an honourable monument, that the logarithmic spiral
might be inscribed on his tombstone. The reward for the
study to which we now presume to incite the mathemati¬
cians is the almost unlimited extension of natural science,
important in every particular branch. To go no further
than our present subject, a great deal of important practi¬
cal knowledge respecting the strength of bodies is derived
from the single observation, that in the moderate extensions
which happen before the parts are overstrained, the forces
are nearly in the proportion of the extensions or separations
of the particles. To return to our subject.
James Bernoulli, in his second dissertation on the elastic Bernoulli
curve, calls in question this law, and accommodates his in- calls in
vestigation to any hypothesis concerning the relation of the question
forces and extensions. He relates some experiments of lute-tilis kw’
strings where the relation wras considerably different. Strings
of three feet long,
stretched by 2, 4, G, 8, 10 pounds,
were lengthened 9, 17, 23, 27, 30 lines.
But this is a most exceptionable form of the experiment.
The strings were twisted, and the mechanism of the exten¬
sions is here exceedingly complicated, combined with com¬
pressions and with transverse twists, &c. We made expe¬
riments on fine slips of the gum caoutchouc, and on the juice
of the berries of the white bryony, of which a single grain
will draw to a thread of two feet long, and again return in¬
to a perfectly round sphere. We measured the diameter
of the thread by a microscope with a micrometer, and thus
could tell in every state of extension the proportional num¬
ber of particles in the sections. We found, that through
the whole range in which the distance of the particles was
changed in the proportion of thirteen to one, the extensions
did not sensibly deviate from the proportion of the forces.
Fhe same thing was observed in the caoutchouc as long as
it perfectly recovered its first dimensions. And it is onlhe
authoi ity of these experiments that w’e presume to announce
this as a law of nature.
Di Robert Hooke wras undoubtedly the first who attend-which waa
ed to this subject, and assumed this as a law of nature, ffrst assiun
Mariotte indeed wras the first who expressly used it for de-etl by Dr
termining the strength of beams : this he did about the year Hooke*
16/9 correcting the simple theory of Galileo. Leibnitz,
^ ^-S t^8Sertati°n in the Acta Eruditorum 1684,
De ixesistentia Solidorum, introduces this consideration, and
wishes to be considered as the discoverer ; and he is always
acknowledged as such by the Bernoullis, and others who ad¬
hered to Ins peculiar doctrines. But Mariotte had published
the doctrine in the most express terms long before; and
Bulfinger, in the Comment. Petropol. 1729, completely vin¬
dicates his claim. p}ut Hooke was unquestionably the
discoverer of this law. It made the foundation of his theory
? ®PrinSs! annoimced to the Royal Society about the year
1661, and read in 1666. On this occasion he mentions
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Though
corrected
hy Mari-
otte, it does
nism of
transverse
strain.
764
Strength of many things on the strength of bodies as quite familiar to
Materials, thoughts,which are immediate deductionsfrom this prin-
ciple ; and among these all the facts which John Bernoulli
so vauntingly adduces in support of Leibnitz’s finical dog¬
mas about the force of bodies in motion ; a doctrine which
Hooke might have claimed as his own, had he not perceived
its frivolous inanity.
But even with this first correction of Mariotte, the me¬
chanism of transverse strain is not fully nor justly explain¬
ed. The force acting in the direction BW (fig 3), and
otte.it does bending the body ABCD, not only stretches the fibres on
lyeSn' the side opposite to the axis of fracture, but compresses the
the media- side CD, which becomes concave by the strain. Indeed it
cannot do the one without doing the other ; for, in order
to stretch the fibres at D, there must be some fulcrum, some
support, on which the virtual lever BAD may press, that it
may tear asunder the stretched fibres. T. his fulcrum must
sustain both the pressure arising from the cohesion of the
distended fibres, and also the action of the external foi c e,
which immediately tends to cause the prominent part of the
beam to slide along the section EF.
as is fully Thig ig fully verified bv experiment. If we attempt to
experi- ^ break a long slip of cork, or any such very compressible
nient, body, we always observe it to bulge out on the concave side
before it cracks on the other side. If it is a body of fibrous
or foliated texture, it seldom fails splintering off on the con¬
cave side; and in many cases this splintering is very deep,
even reaching half way through the piece. In hard and
granulated bodies, such as a piece ot freestone, chalk, dry
clay, sugar, and the like, we generally see a considerable
splinter or shiver fly off from the hollow side. If the frac¬
ture be slowly made by a force at B gradually augmented,
the formation of the splinter is very distinctly seen. It
forms a triangular piece, which generally breaks in the
middle.
Consequen- Let us see what consequences result from this state of
ces result- the case respecting the strength of bodies. Let DaKC
i»g bom (fig# g) represent a vertical section of a prism of compres-
the state ,
of the case. ^
sible materials, such as a piece of timber. Suppose it load¬
ed with a weight P hung at its extremity. Suppose it of
such a constitution that all the fibres in AD are in a state
of dilatation, while those in Aa are in a state of compres¬
sion. In the instant of fracture the particles at D and E
are withheld by forces V>d, Ee, and the particles at A and
E repel, resist, or support, with forces Ad, Fs.
Some line, such as deAth, will limit all these ordinates,
which represent the forces actually exerted in the instant of
fracture. If the forces be as the extensions and compres¬
sions, as we have great reason to believe, deA and AeS will
be two straight lines. They will form one straight line dAb,
if the forces which resist a certain dilatation are equal to
the forces which resist an equal compression. But this is
quite accidental, and is not strictly true in any body. In Strenp f
most bodies which have any considerable firmness, the com- M»teri
pressions made by any external force are not so great as the '
dilatations which the same force would produce ; that is,
the repulsions which are excited by any supposed degree
of compression are greater than the attractions excited by
the same degree of dilatation. Hence it will generally fol¬
low, that the angle r/AD is less than the angle 8Aa, and
the ordinates Drf, Ee, &c. are less than the corresponding
ordinates a5, Et, &c.
But whatever be the nature of the line dA3, we are cer-Ankm
tain of this, that the whole area ADd is equal to the wholetant «'
area A AS; for as the force at B is gradually increased, and 'i^nc'
the parts between A and Dare more extended, and greater
cohesive forces are excited, there is always such a degree 0fbod
of repulsive forces excited in the particles between A and fully p
A that the one set precisely balances the other. The forceed’
at B, acting perpendicularly to AB, has no tendency to
push the whole piece closer on the part next the wall, or
to pull it away. The sum of the attractive and repulsive
forces actually excited must therefore be equal. These sums
are represented by the two triangular areas, which are there¬
fore equal.
The greater we suppose the repulsive forces correspond¬
ing to any degree of compression, in comparison with the
attractive forces corresponding to the same degree of ex¬
tension, the smaller will Aa be in comparison of AD. In
a piece of cork or sponge, A A may chance to be equal to
AD, or even to exceed it; but in a piece of marble, Aa
will perhaps be very small in comparison of AD.
Now it is evident that the repulsive forces excited be-
tw'een A and A have no share in preventing the fracture.
They rather contribute to it, by furnishing a fulcrum to the
lever by whose energy the cohesion of the particles in AD
is overcome. Hence w-e see an important consequence of
the compressibility of the body. Its power of resisting this
transverse strain is diminished by it, and so much the more
diminished as the stuff is more compressible.
This is fully verified by some very curious experiments
made by Duhamel. He took sixteen bars of willow two
feet long and half an inch square, and supporting them by
props under the ends, he broke them by w eights hung on the
middle. He broke four of them by weights of 40, 41, 47,
and 52 pounds : the mean is 45. He then cut four of them
one third through on the upper side, and filled up the cut
with a thin piece of harder wood stuck in pretty tight. I hese^
were broken by 48, 54, 50, and 52 pounds ; the mean ot
which is 51. He cut other four half through, and they
were broken by 47, 49, 50, 46 ; the mean of which is 48.
The remaining four were cut two thirds, and their mean
strength was 42.
Another set of his experiments is still more remarkable.
Six battens of willow thirty-six inches long and one and
a half square were broken by 525 pounds at a medium.
Six bars were cut one third through, and the cut filled
with a wedge of hard wood stuck in with a little force: these
broke with 551.
Six bars were cut half through, and the cut was fille
in the same manner: they broke with 542.
Six bars were cut three fourths through: these broke
with 530.
A batten cut three fourths through, and loaded till near¬
ly broken, was unloaded, and the w edge taken out o t ic
cut. A thicker wedge was put in tight, so as to make t e
batten straight again by filling up the space left by the com¬
pression of the wood : this batten broke with 577 pounds.
From this it is plain that more than two thirds of tne
thickness (perhaps nearly three fourths) contributed not nng
to the strength. _ . .
The point A is the centre of fracture in this case,
in order to estimate the Strength of the piece, we may sup
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
765
laeiijl afpose that the crooked lever virtually concerned in the strain
is DAB. We must find the point I, which is the centre of
effort of all the attractive forces, or that point where the
I full cohesion of AD must be applied, so as to have a mo¬
mentum equal to the accumulated momenta of all the
variable forces. We must in like manner find the centre
of effort i of the repulsive or supporting forces exerted by
the fibres lying between A and A.
It is plain, and the remark is important, that this last
centre of effort is the real fulcrum of the lever, although A
is the point where there is neither extension nor contrac¬
tion ; for the lever is supported in the same manner as if
the repulsions of the whole line A A were exerted at that
point. Therefore let S represent the surface of fracture
from A to D, and f represent the absolute cohesion of a
fibre at D in the instant of fracture. We shall have
fSXl-{-i = pt, or /: I -{- i —fS:p; that is, the length
AB is to the distance between the two centres of effort I
and i, as the absolute cohesion of the section between A
and D is to the relative strength of the section.
It would be perhaps more accurate to make AI and Ai
equal to the distances of A from the horizontal lines passing
through the centres of gravity of the triangles of (/AD and
5AA. It is only in this construction that the points I and
i are the centres of real effort of the accumulated attrac¬
tions and repulsions. But I and i, determined as we have
done, are the points where the full equal actions may be
all applied, so as to produce the same momenta. The final
results are the same in both cases. The attentive and duly
informed reader will see that Mr Bulfinger, in a very elabo¬
rate dissertation on the strength of beams, in the Comment.
Petropolitan. 1729, has committed several mistakes in his
estimation of the actions of the fibres. We mention this
because his reasonings are quoted and appealed to as au¬
thorities by Muschenbroeck and other authors of note. The
subject has been considered by many authors on the con¬
tinent. We recommend to the reader’s perusal the very
minute discussions in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Paris for 1702 by Varignon, the Memoirs for 1708 by Pa¬
rent, and particularly that of Coulomb in the Mem. par les
Sgavans Etrangers, tom. vii.
It is evident from what has been said above, that if S and
s represent the surfaces of the sections above and below A,
and if G and g are the distances of their centres of gra¬
vity from A, and O and o the distances of their centres of
oscillation, and D and d their whole depths, the momentum
of cohesion will be ^^ ?_ — pi
If, as is most likely, the forces are proportional to the
extensions and compressions, the distances AI and A?,
which are respectively and are respectively
= 3 DA and ^ AA, and when taken together are = Da.
h, moreover, the extensions are equal to the compressions
in the instant of fracture, and the body is a rectangular
prism like a common joist or beam, then DA and AA are
also equal; and therefore the momentum of cohesion is
f b X \ d x a d ^ = fb d x d — pi. Hence we
This
sequei
fetthe;
Ptoaei
obtain this analogy: “ six times the length is to the depth
as the absolute cohesion of the section is to its relative
strength.”
Thus we see that the compressibility of bodies has a
very great influence on their power of withstanding a trans¬
verse strain. We see that in this most favourable suppo¬
sition of equal dilatations and compressions, the strength is
reduced to one half of the value of what it would have been
bad the body been incompressible. This is by no means
obvious; for it does not readily appear how compressibi¬
lity, which does not diminish the cohesion of a single fibre, Strength of
should impair the strength of the whole. The reason, how- Materials,
ever, is sufficiently convincing when pointed out. In the ^v—
instant of fracture, a smaller portion of the section is actually
exerting cohesive forces, while a part of it is only serving
as a fulcrum to the lever by whose means the strain on the
section is produced. We see, too, that this diminution of
strength does not so much depend on the sensible com¬
pressibility, as on its proportion to the dilatability by equal
forces. When this proportion is small, AA is small in com¬
parison of AD, and a greater portion of the whole fibre is
exerting attractive forces. The experiments already men¬
tioned, of Duhamel de Monceau, on battens of willow,
show that its compressibility is nearly equal to its dilatabi¬
lity. But the case is not very different in tempered steel.
The famous Harrison, in the delicate experiments which
he made while occupied in making his longitude watch,
discovered that a rod of tempered steel was nearly as much
diminished in its length as it was augmented by the same
external force. But it is not by any means certain that
this is the proportion of dilatation and compression which
obtains in the very instant of fracture. We rather imagine
that it is not. The forces are nearly as the dilatations till
very near breaking; but we think that they diminish when
the body is just going to break. But it seems certain that
the forces which resist compression increase faster than the
compressions, even before fracture. We know incontes¬
tably that the ultimate resistances to compression are in¬
superable by any force which we can employ. The repul¬
sive forces, therefore, in their whole extent, increase faster
than the compressions, and are expressed by an assymp-
totic branch of the Boscovician curve formerly explained.
It is therefore probable, especially in the more simple sub¬
stances, that they increase faster, even in such compres¬
sions as frequently obtain in the breaking of hard bodies.
We are disposed to think that this is always the case in
such bodies as do not fly off in splinters on the concave
side; but this must be understood with the exception of
the permanent changes which may be made by compres¬
sion when the bodies are crippled by it. This always in¬
creases the compression itself, and causes the neutral point
to shift still more towards D. The effect of this is some¬
times very great and fatal.
Experiment alone can help us to discover the proportion
between the dilatability and compressibility of bodies. The
strain now under consideration seems the best calculated
for this research. Thus if we find that a piece of wood an
inch square requires 12,000 pounds to tear it asunder by a
direct pull, and that 200 pounds will break it transversely
by acting 10 inches from the section of fracture, we must
conclude that the neutral point A is in the middle of the
depth, and that the attractive and repulsive forces are equal.
Any notions that we can form of the constitution of such
fibrous bodies as timber, make us imagine that the sensible
compressions, including what arises from the bending up of
the compressed fibres, is much greater than the real cor¬
puscular extensions. One may get a general conviction
of this unexpected proposition by reflecting on what must
happen during the fracture. An undulated fibre can only
be drawm straight, and then the corpuscular extension be¬
gins ; but it may be bent up by compression to any degree,
the corpuscular compression being little affected all the
while. This observation is very important; and though
the forces of corpuscular repulsion may be almost insupe¬
rable by any compression that we can employ, a sensible
compression may be produced by forces not enormous, suf¬
ficient to cripple the beam. Of this we shall see very im¬
portant instances afterwards.
It deserves to be noticed, that although the relative
strength of a prismatic solid is extremely different in the
three hypotheses now considered, yet the proportional
■66
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of strengths of different pieces follow the same ratio, namely,
Materials. tiie direct ratio of the breadth, the direct ratio of the square
v v—0f t]ie depth, and the inverse ratio of the length. In the
portional first hypothesis (of equal forces) the strength of a rectangu-
ofdifferentlar beam ’ in the second (of attractive forces Pr0‘
pieces fol- f/jd?-
portioned to the extensions) it was gj" *
low the
same ratio.
and in the third
(equal attractions and repulsions proportional to the exten-
• X. 11 fM2
sions and compressions) it was -qJ*’ or more generally ^
where in expresses the unknown proportion between the at¬
tractions and repulsions corresponding to an equal exten¬
sion and compression. .
Hence we derive a piece of useful information, which is
the first hypothesis, it is evident that the strength of theStrer; j0f
tube will be to that of the solid cylinder, whose radius is is.
BD, as BD2 X AC to BD2 X BD ; that is, as AC to BD
for BD2 expresses the cohesion of the ring of the circle,
and AC and BD are equal to distances of the centres of
effort (the same with the centres of gravity) of the ring and
circle from the axis of the fracture.
The proportion of these strengths will be different in the
other hypothesis, and is not easily expressed by a general
formula; but in both it is still more in favour of the ring or
hollow tube.
The following very simple solution will be readily under¬
stood by the intelligent reader. Let O be the centre of
oscillation of the exterior circle, o the centre of oscillation
of the inner circle, and w the centre of oscillation of the
ring included between them. Let M be the quantity of
The Hence we derive a piece or use mi nmnmanu.i, ^ nng inciuded between tnem. Get ivr oe tne quantity ot
strength of confirmed by unexceptionable experience, that the strength gurpace 0p ^]ie exterior circle, m that of the inner circle, and
a piece pe- a piece depends chiefly on its depth, that is, on that di- tjiat o£. ^
pends chief- ..5 m tRo d Ir^cHrm nf tlm strain. A bar or    „ „ ^ ™
]y on its
deptl
mension which is in the direction of the strain. A bar of
timber of one inch in breadth and two inches in depth is
four times as strong as a bar only one inch deep, and it
is twice as strong as a bar two inches broad and one deep;
that is, a joist or lever is always strongest when laid on its edge.
There is therefore a choice in the manner in which the
cohesion is opposed to the strain. The general aim must
be to put the centre of effort I as far from the fulcrum or
ner in the neutral point A as possible, so as to give the greatest
which the energy or momentum to the cohesion. Thus if a triangular
cohesion is bar projecting from a wall is loaded with a weight at its ex-
opposed to tremity, it will bear thrice as much when one of the sides is
the strain. upperm’ost as when it is undermost. _
The strong- 1 Hence it follows that the strongest joist that can be cut
est joist has ou^ 0f a r0und tree is not the one which has the greatest
We have
M’FO—m’Fo
FC2 + EC2
4 FC
—, and
the strength of the ring
/> X Fw
' 2 ’
and the strength of
and there
fore a
choice in
the man¬
ner in
the same quantity of matter in the form of a solid cylinder
is/> X 4 BD ; so that the strength of the ring is to that of
the solid rod of equal weight as F w to f BD, or nearly as
FC to BD. This will easily appear by recollecting that F0 is
— sum oi p-r2 Rotation), and that the momentum of
nr FC
cohesion is
fm FC Ca _///i F^ ^r tpe inner circle, &c.
FC
not the
greatest
quantity of timber in it, but such that the product of its
Sfv ofbreadth by the square of its depth shall be the greatest pos
• ^ .11 T 1 A SC.™ H\ Tao flT/i Cpr»- Tnin. *7
timber
' sible. Let ABCD (fig. 7) be the sec¬
tion of this joist inscribed in the circle,
AB being the breadth and AD the depth.
Since it is a rectangular section, the di¬
agonal BD is a diameter of the circle,
and BAD is a right-angled triangle.
Let BD be called a, and BA be called
x ; then AD = V d1—*?. Now we must
have AB * AD2, or x (cr —• a’'), oi
d1 x — x\ a minimum ; its differential (tr
— 3a2) dx must be
ll
0, or a2 rr 3a2, or a2 = —
If therefore we make DE = k
A hollow
tube
DB, and draw EC perpendicular to BD, it will cut the cir¬
cumference in the point C, which determines the depth BC
and the breadth CD. „ ,
Because BD: BC = CD : CE, we have the area of the
section BC-CD = BD-CE. Therefore the different sections
having the same diagonal BD, are proportional to their
heights CE. Therefore the section BCDA is less than the
section Be Da, whose four sides are equal. Ihe joist so
shaped, therefore, is stronger, lighter, and cheaper.
The strength of ABCD is to that of a B c D as 10,000 to
Emerson has given a very inaccurate approximation to
this value in his Mechanics, 4to.
This property of hollow tubes is accompanied also with ana»
greater stiffness ; and the superiority in strength and stiff¬
ness is so much the greater as the surrounding shell is thin¬
ner in proportion to its diameter. „ „ JL
Here we see the admirable wisdom of the Author of m-Henp
ture in forming the bones of animal limbs hollow fhe^j
bones of the arms and legs have to perform the office otformitl
levers, and are thus opposed to very great transverse strains.^ «
By this form they become incomparably stronger and stiff-hollo
er and give more room for the insertion of muscles, while
they are lighter and therefore more agile; and the same
wisdom has made use of this hollow for other va liable pur¬
poses of the animal economy. In like manner the quills in
the wings of birds acquire by their thinness the very great
strength which is necessary, while they are so light as to
give sufficient buoyancy to the animal in the rare medium
in which it must live and fly about. The stalks of many
plants, such as all the grasses, and many reeds, are in like
manner hollow, and thus possess an extraordinary strength.
Our best engineers now begin to imitate nature by mar. ^
many parts of their machines hollow, such as their axles o
caSt Un, &c.; and the ingenious Mr Ramsden made the
axes and framings of his great astronomical instruments in
uioe 9186, and the weight and expense as 10,000 to 10,607 ; so er
stronger that ABCD is preferable to a B c D, in the proportion of the same m*nne^ ^ b eneous texture, it is plain
lid rod con- 10,607 to 9186, or nearly 115 to 100. * the fraclp1Ve happens as soon as the particles at D are
tainingthe From the same principles it follows that a hollow tube is ‘ ed onci then- utmost limit of cohesion. This^is
bri. ,  tRo .Rf.f'p bonds till
same quan- stronger than a solid rod containing the
tity of mat- game quantity of matter. Let fig. 8 re¬
present the section of a cylindric tube,
of which AF and BE are the exterior
and interior diameters, and C the centre.
Draw BD perpendicular to BC, and join
DC. Then, because BD2 == CD2—CB2,
BD is the radius of a circle containing
the same quantity of matter with the
ring. If we estimate the strength by
Fig. 8.
parateii Deyonu men uunv*,- i .;n ^ de-
a determined quantity, and the piece bends till this a
gree of extension is produced in the uttermost . ^
follows, that the smaller we suppose the mstanc
A and D, the greater will be the curvature which he
will acquire before it breaks. Greater deP But if
makes a beam not only stronger but also std^ • B h
the parallel fibres can slide on each other, both the g ^
and the stiffness will be diminished. Therefore, 1
of one beam DAKC (fig. 6), we suppose two, DAbL
Slit
bean
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
hofAAKB, not cohering, each of them will bend, and the ex-
_M; aIs- tension of the fibres AB of the under beam will not hinder
the compression of the adjoining fibres AB of the upper
beam. The two together therefore will not be more than
nd twice as strong as one of them (supposing DA — Aa), in-
ay stead of being four times as strong; and they will bend as
76*7
bet --d'
much as either of them alone would bend by half the load.
This may be prevented, if it were possible to unite the two
beams all along the seam AB, so that the one shall not
slide on the other. This may be done in small works by
gluing them together with a cement as strong as the na¬
tural lateral cohesion of the fibres. If this cannot be done
(as it cannot in large works), the sliding is prevented by
joggling the beams together, that is, by cutting down seve¬
ral rectangular notches in the upper side of the lower beam,
and making similar notches in the under side of the upper
beam, and filling up the square spaces with pieces of very
hard wood firmly driven in, as represented in fig. 9. Some
employ iron bolts by way of
Fig. 9.
joggles. But when the jog
gle is much harder than the
wood into which it is driven,
it is very apt to work loose,
by widening the hole into
which it is lodged. I he same thing is sometimes done by
-EHr
scarphing the one upon the other, as represented in fig. 10; but
this wastes more timber, and
Fig. 10.
is not so strong, because the
mutual hooks which this me¬
thod form on each beam are
very apt to tear each other
up. By one or other of these
Maxi
const
tion,
methods, or something similar, may a compound beam be
formed, of any depth, which will be almost as stiff and
strong as an entire piece.
On the other hand, we may combine strength with pli¬
ableness, by composing our beam of several thin planks
laid on each other, till they make a proper depth, and leav¬
ing them at full liberty to slide on each other. It is in this
manner that coach-springs are formed, as is represented in
fig. 11. In this assemblage there must be no joggles nor
bolts of any kind put through
the planks or plates, for this Fig. 11.
would hinder their mutual
sliding. They must be kept
together by straps which sur¬
round them, or by something
equivalent.
of The preceding observations show the propriety of some
maxims of construction, which the artists have derived from
long experience.
Thus, if a mortise is to be cut out of a piece which is ex¬
posed to a cross strain, it should be cut out from that side
which becomes concave by the strain.
If a piece is to be strengthened by the addition of another,
the added piece must be joined to the side which grows con¬
vex by the strain.
Before we proceed any farther, it will be convenient to re~
call the reader’s attention to the analogy between the strain
on a beam projecting from a wall and loaded at the extremity,
and a beam supported at both ends and loaded in some
intermediate point. It is sufficient on this occasion to
read attentively what is delivered in the article Roof.
We learn there that the strain on the middle point C (fig.
lb of the present article) of a rectangular beam AB, sup¬
ported on props at A and B, is the same as if the part CA
projected from a wall, and were loaded with the half of the
weight W suspended at A. The momentum of the strain
« therefore W x | AB = W x £ AB = p J /, or —. The
momentum of cohesion must be equal to this in every hy- Strength of
pothesis. Materials.
Having now considered in sufficient detail the circum- N—
stances which affect the strength of any section of a solid
body that is strained transversely, it is necessary to take
notice of some of the chief modifications of the strain itself.
We shall consider only those that occur most frequently in
our constructions.
The strain depends on the external force, and also on the
lever by which it acts.
It is evidently of importance, that since the strain is ex- The strain
erted in any section by means of the cohesion of the parts depends on
intervening between the section under consideration and the exter-
the point of application of the external force, the bodynal force’
must be able in all these intervening parts to propagate or
excite the strain in the remote section. In every part it
must be able to resist the strain excited in that part. It
should therefore be equally strong; and it is useless to have
any part stronger, because the piece will nevertheless break
where it is not stronger throughout; and it is useless to
make it stronger (relatively to its strain) in any part, for it
will nevertheless equally fail in the part that is too weak.
Suppose, then, in the first place, that the strain arises
from a weight suspended at one extremity, while the other
end is firmly fixed in a wall. Supposing also the cross sec¬
tions to be all rectangular, there are several ways of shap¬
ing the beam so that it shall be equally strong throughout.
Thus it may be equally deep in every part, the upper and
under surfaces being horizontal planes. The condition will
be fulfilled by making all the horizontal sections triangles,
as in fig. 12. The two sides
are vertical planes, meeting
in an edge at the extremity
L. For the equation ex¬
pressing the balance of strain
and strength is pi — f bd2.
Therefore, since d2 is the
same throughout, and also/?,
we must have /6 — l, and b
(the breadth AD of any sec¬
tion A BCD) must be propor¬
tional to l (or AL), which it evidently is.
Or, if the beam be of uniform breadth, we must have d-
everywhere proportional to l. This will be obtained by
making the depths the ordinates of a common parabola, of
which L is the vertex and the length is the axis. The
upper or under side may be a straight line, as in fig. 13, or
the middle line maybe straight,
and then both upper and under
surfaces will be curved. It is
almost indifferent what is the
shape of the upper and under .
surfaces, provided the distances -
between them in every part be
at the ordinates of a common
parabola.
Fig. 13.
Or, if the sections are all similar, such as circles, squares,
or any other similar polygons, we must have d~ or b3 pro¬
portional to l, and the depths or breadths must be as the or¬
dinates of a cubical parabola.
It is evident that these are also the proper forms for a and on the
lever moveable round a fulcrum, and acted on by a force at form of the
the extremity. The force comes in the place of the weight tevers by
suspended in the cases already considered; and as such which it
levers always are connected with another arm, we readilyacts'
see that both arms should be fashioned in the same manner.
Thus in fig. 12 the piece of timber may be supposed a
kind of steelyard, moveable round a horizontal axis in the
front of the wall, and having the two weights P and w
in equilibrio. The strain occasioned by each at the section
in which the axis OP is placed must be the same, and each
768
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength Of arm OL and 0>. must be equally strong in all its parts.
Materials. 'phe longitudinal sections of each arm must be a triangle,
v——y—✓ a cornmon parabola, or a cubic parabola, according to the
conditions previously given.
And, moreover, all these forms are equally strong; tor
any one of them is equally strong in all its parts, and they
are all supposed to have the same section at the iront ot
the wall or at the fulcrum. They are not, however, equally
stiff. The first, represented in fig. 12, will bend least upon
the whole, and the one formed by the cubic parabola wi
bend most. But their curvature at the very tulcrum will
be the same in all. ...
It is also plain, that if the lever is of the second or thud
kind, that is, having the fulcrum at one extremity, it must
still be of the same shape ; for in abstract mechanics it is
indifferent which of the three points is considered as the
axis of motion. In every lever the two forces at the ex¬
tremities act in one direction, and the force in the middle
acts in the opposite direction, and the great strain is always
at that point. Therefore a lever such as fig. 12, moveable
round an axis passing horizontally through X, and acting
against an obstacle at OP, is equally able in all its parts to
resist the strains excited in those parts.
The same principles and the same construction will ap¬
ply to beams, such as joists, supported at the ends L and A
(fiff. 12), and loaded at some intermediate part OI. Inis
will appear evident by merely inverting the directions of
the forces at these three points, or by recurring to the ar¬
ticle Roof, p. 444. • ■ r „
The exter- Hitherto we have supposed the external straining force
md strain- as acting only in one point of the beam. But it may be
iiig force un;formjy distributed all over the beam. 1 o make a beam
may be dis- ^ guch circutnstances equally strong in all its parts, the
overthl iAape must be considerably different from the former,
keain. Thus suppose the beam to project from a wall. If it
To make be of equal breadth throughout, its sides being vertical
a beam planes parallel to each other and to the length, the ver-
tical section in the direction of its length must be a tn-
SffZ' angle instead of a common parabola; for the weight um
jects rroin & . j tLo nart Ivino-bovond anv section
(fig. 14) is supported at the ends, and a weight is laid on any Stren ^
point P, a strain is excited 'ktt
in every part of the beam. Fig. 14. s * j
The load on P causes the
beam to press on A and B,  Jji-p—^ 
and the props re-act with ^ "" H; —r^i
forces equal and opposite to
xi ^
a wall.
formly distributed over the part lying beyond any section,
is as the length beyond that section: and since it may all
be conceived as collected at its centre of gravity, which is
the middle of that length, the lever by which this load acts
or strains the section is also proportioned to the same length.
The strain on the section (or momentum of the load) is as
the square of that length. The section must have strength
in the same proportion. Its strength being as the breadti
and the square of the depth, and the breadth being con¬
stant, the square of the depth of any section must be as the
square of its distance from the end, and the depth must be
as that distance; and therefore the longitudinal vertical
section must be a triangle.
But if all the transverse sections are circles, squares, or
any other similar figures, the strength of every section, or
the cube of the diameter, must be as the square of the
lengths beyond that section, or the square of its distance
from the end ; and the sides of the beam must be a semi-
cubical parabola. . . .
If the upper and under surfaces are horizontal planes, it
is evident that the breadth must be as the square of the dis¬
tance from the end, and tire horizontal sections may be
formed by arches of the common parabola, having the
length for their tangent at the vertex.
By recurring to the analogy so often quoted between a
projecting beam and a joist, we may determine the proper
form of joists which are uniformly loaded through their
whole length. , ~ f
The strain This is a frequent and important case, being the office ot
upon a joists, rafters, &c.; and there are some circumstances which
i- • . \
these pressures. The load at P is to the pressures at A and
B as AB to PB and PA, and the pressure at A is to that at
B as BP to PA ; the beam therefore is in the same state,
with respect to strain in every part of it, as if it were rest¬
ing on a prop at P, and were loaded at the ends with
weights equal to the two pressures on the props : and ob¬
serve, these pressures are such as will balance each other,
being inversely as their distances from P. Let P repre-
sent the weight or load at P. The pressure on the prop P
PA
must be P X —fo This is therefore the re-action of the prop
AB
B, and is the weight which we may suppose suspended at
B, when we conceive the beam resting on a prop at P, and
carrying the balancing weights at A and B.
The strain occasioned at any other point C, by the load
P at P, is the same with the strain at C, by the weight
p x ^ hanging at B, when the beam rests on P, in the
manner now supposed ; and it is the same it the beam, in¬
stead of being balanced on a prop at P, had its part AP
fixed in a wall. This is evident. Now we have shown at
PA
length that the strain at C, by the weight PX^-ghanging
at B is P X — X BC. We desire it to be particularly re-
’ AB
marked, that the pressure at A has no influence on the strain
at C, arising from the action of any load between A and
C; for it is indifferent how the part A1 ox the projecting
beam PB is supported. The weight at A just performs the
same office with the wall in which we suppose the beam to
be fixed. We are thus particular, because we have seen
even persons not unaccustomed to discussions of this kind
puzzled in their conceptions of this strain.
Now let the load P be laid on some point p between b
and B. The same reasoning shows us that the point is,
with respect to strain, in the same state as if the beam
were fixed in a wall, embracing the part pb, and a weight
__ p X ^ were hung on at A, and the strain at C is P
AB
pB X AC.
X
AB . . it
In general, therefore, the strain on any Pf”1 ft
in general, uiertuuic, tuc an an* ^ y r , . Dr0pC
from a load P laid on another point P, is proportional toPj
,i i-    u p irnm the ends
rrom a loan r nuu un r i ,
the rectangle of the distances of P and C from the end
nearest to each. It is P X
PAxCB pBxCA
, or PX'
AB 7 AB
cording as the load lies between C and A or between C
^Cor. 1. The strains which a load on any point P occa¬
sions on the points C, c, lying on the same side of P, ^
as the distances of these points from the end .
manner the strains on E and e are as EA andp.
Cor. 2. The strain which a load occasions in the pa
which it rests is as the rectangle of the parts on each sid^
Thus the strain occasioned at C by a ioad is here.
by the same load as AC X CB to AD X DB.
fore greatest in the middle. frorn The J
consider the strain on any point C am s ansir r
upon a joists, rafters, &c.; and mere are some ciTcuins,u«!in.c»
beam sup. ; t b particujarly noticed, because they are not so ob-
E1.1 vSoua, and have been misunderstood. When a beam AB beam by «. Then
Lotus now consider me swam un auy r   Tap he re-ar,ls‘1
a load uniformly distributed along the beam- Let A ^
presented by and Pp by dz, and the whole weight imt ^ [
Ma
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
769
'als.
dx
Str !!°‘The weight on P/j is — a —
AB
Pressure on B by the weight on Pp = a
Or.
AB
xdx
AB’
AB2
j
Pressure on B by whole wt. on AC = a ^
Strain at C by the weight on AC = a
Strain at C by the weight on BC = a
AC2
AC2
AC2 2AB2
AC2x BC
2AB2 '*
BC2 x AC
2AB2'
Do. by whole weight on AB = + ’'O X AC
■ a AC*BCx AC + CB _
2AB2
AC x BC
2AB2 " 2AB
Thus we see that the strain is proportional to the rect¬
angle of the parts, in the same manner as if the load a had
been laid directly on the point C, and is indeed equal to
one half of the strain which would be produced at C by the
load a laid on there.
Mist as on It was necessary to be thus particular, because we see
conii telfiri some e]ementary treatises on mechanics, published by
comi ed A  A  i iiiecuamcs, puDUSnea Dy
bvai ors ^ihois of reputation, mistakes which are very plausible,
ot rela¬
tion,
Tofo
joist ±
inayh
the sa
relatii
strene-
111 its
and mislead the learner. It is there said that the pres¬
sure at B from a weight uniformly diffused along AB, is
the same as if it were collected at its centre of gravity,
which would be the middle of AB ; and then the strain at
C is said to be this pressure at B multiplied by BC. But
surely it is not difficult to see the difference of these
strains. It is plain that the pressure of gravity downwards
on any point between the end A and the point C has no
tendency to diminish the strain at C, arising from the up¬
ward re-action of the^ prop B; whereas the pressure of
gravity between C and B is almost in direct opposition to
it, and must diminish it. We may however avoid the
nuxionary calculus with safety by the consideration of
the centre of gravity, by supposing the weights of AC and
j to he collected at their respective centres of gravity;
and the result of this computation will be the same as
above: and we may use either method, although the
weight be not uniformly distributed, provided only that we
know in what manner it is distributed.
This investigation is evidently of importance in the
practice of the engineer and architect, informing them
what support is necessary in the different parts of their
constructions. We considered some cases of this kind in
the article Roof.
It is now easy to form a joist so that it shall have the
same relative strength in all its parts.
.L To make it equally able in all i
make it equally able in all its parts to carry a
given weight laid on any point C taken at random, or uni-
n ormly diffused over the whole length, the strength of the
- section at the point C must be as AC X CB. Therefore,
1. It the sides be parallel vertical planes, the square of
ie depth (which is the only variable dimension), or CD2,
must be as AC X CB, and the depths must be ordinates of
un ellipse.
rm ^ transverse sections be similar, we must make
as ACXCB.
hrf’m* tlle uPPcr and under surfaces be parallel, the
breadth must be as AC X CB.
J1: rff thf beam be necessarily loaded at some given
P nt C, and we would have the beam equally able in all
parts to resist the strain arising from the weight at C,
betwpUStr'makj tb<f strenfft;h of every transverse section
Therefore eitber en^ as ds distance from that end.
1. If the sides be parallel vertical planes, we must make Strength of
CD2 : EF2 — AC : AE. Materials.
2. If the sections be similar, then CD3: EF3z= AC: AE. v"1-^
3. If the upper and under surfaces be parallel, then
breadth at C : breadth at E = AC : AE.
The same principles enable us to determine the strain The strain
and strength of square or circular plates of different ex-and
tent but equal thickness. This may be comprehended of
this general proposition. square or
Similar plates of equal thickness supported all round pLatesTif
will carry the same absolute weight, uniformly distributed, different
or resting on similar points, whatever be their extent. extent but
Suppose two similar oblong plates of equal thickness, 01f.equal
and let their lengths and breadths be L, /, and B, b. Let thlck7ie^
their strength or momentum of cohesion be C, c, and thetermineiT'
strains from the weights W, w, be S, s. from the
Suppose the plates supported at the ends only, andsame Priiu
resisting fracture transversely. The strains, being as the cT^es*
weights and lengths, are as WL and wl, but their cohe¬
sions aie as the breadths ; and since they are of equal rela¬
tive strength, we have WL : wl - B : 6,'and WL6 = wlB,
and L: l=zvB: Wb ; but since they are of similar shapes,
B • l = B : b, and therefore w — W.
The same reasoning holds again wdien they are also
supported along the sides, and therefore holds wffien they
aie supported all round (in which case the strength is
doubled).
And if the plates be of any other figure, such as circles
or ellipses, we need only conceive similar rectangles in¬
scribed in them. These are supported all around by the
continuity of the plates, and therefore will sustain equal
weights ; and the same may be said of the segments which
lie without them, because the strengths of any similar seg¬
ments are equal, their lengths being as their breadths.
Therefore the thickness of the bottoms of vessels hold¬
ing heavy liquors or grains should be as their diameters
and as the square root of their depths jointly.
Also the weight which a square plate will bear is to that
which a bar of the same matter and thickness will bear as
twice the length of the bar to its breadth.
l ucie is yet another modification of the strain which The strain
tends to break a body transversely, wffiich is of very fre-of a beam
quent occurrence, and in some cases must be very care- rising from
fully attended to, viz. the strain arising from its ownitsovvn
weight. weight.
When a beam projects from a wall, every section is
strained by the weight of all that projects beyond it. This
may be considered as all collected at its centre of gravity.
Therefore the strain on any section is in the joint ratio of
the w eight of what projects beyond it, and the distance of
its centre of gravity from the section.
The determination of this strain, and of the strength ne- i
cessary for withstanding it, must be more complicated thanprSe
tne former, because the form of the piece which results respecting
from this adjustment of strain and strength influences the“*
strain. The general principle must evidently be, that the
saength or momentum of cohesion of every section must
be as the product of the weight beyond it, multiplied by
the distance of its centre of gravity. For example i
Suppose the beam DLA (fig. 15) to project from the
W'all, and that its sides are
vol. xx.
parallel vertical planes, so
that the depth is the only
variable dimension. Let
LB = x and Bb — y. The
element BbcC is= xy. Let
G be the centre of gravity
of the part lying without
Bb, and g be its distance
from the extremity L. Then x
lever by which the strain
g is the arm of the
is excited in the section B5,
A- ‘-T /-X
/ /O
strength of Let BZ» or y be as some power m of LB ; that is, let
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Materials
rm. Then the contents of LB6 is
The
wi-b 1
momentum of gravity round a horizontal axis at L is
yxdx—xmndi\ and the whole momentum round the axis is
x
an herb could not support it if it were increased to the sizeStren?; of
of a tree, nor could an oak support itself if forty or fifty Mate
times bigger ; nor could an animal of the make of a long-v ^
legged spider be increased to the size of a man ; the articu¬
lations of its legs could not support it.
Hence may be understood the prodigious superiority of Even-,ii
the small animals both in strength and agility. A man byanima jre
The distance of the centre of gravity from L is fklUng twice his own height may break his firmest bones.™
A mouse may fall twenty times its height without risk; andstreilj
even the tender mite or wood-louse may fall unhurt fromand
had by dividing this momentum by the whole weight, which
. x x + l i r
is _—The quotient or g is -r5—, and the dis-
rn-\-\
OT-h'2
tance of the centre of gravity Irom the section
a’X w -f- 1
the top of a steeple. But their greatest superiority is in re¬
spect of nimbleness and agility. A flea can leap above 500
times its own length, while the strength of the human muscles
could not raise the trunk from the ground on limbs of the
same construction.
The angular motions of small animals (in which consists
. their nimbleness or agility) must be greater than those of
fore the strain on the section B5 is had by multiplying an;maiS) supposing the force of the muscular fibre to
r'mn be the same in both. For supposing them similar, the num-
ber of equal fibres will be as the square of their linear di¬
mensions ; and the levers by which they act aie as their
linear dimensions. The energy therefore of the moving
force is as the cube of these dimensions. But the momen-
lll- V,
m 2
-by
;rx»i -f 2—x X >»+ 1
m -f 2
m 2'
m 4- 1 " m 4- 2
The product is
B6 is
There-
This
A conoid
equally
able in
every sec¬
tion to bear
its own
weight.
The more
a beam
projects,
the less
able it is
to bear
its own
weight.
Small bo¬
dies more
able to
withstand
the strain
produced
by the
weight of
m -f- 2 X + 1
must be as the square of the depth, or as y1. But y is as
x"\ and ?/2 as xim. Therefore we have m -f- 2 = 2m, and
m —2 \ that is, the depth must be as the square of the
distance from the extremity, and the curve L6A is a para¬
bola touching the horizontal line in L.
It is easy to see that a conoid formed by the rotation of
this figure round DL will also be equally able in every sec¬
tion to bear its own weight.
We need not prosecute this farther. When the figure
of the piece is given, there is no difficulty in finding the
strain; and the circumstance of equal strength to resist this
strain is chiefly a matter of curiosity.
It is evident, from what has been already said, that a pro¬
jecting beam becomes less able to bear its own weight as
it projects farther. Whatever may be the strength of the
section DA, the length may be such that it will break by
its own weight. If we suppose two beams A and B of the
same substance and similar shapes, that is, having their
lengths and diameters in the same proportion ; and further
suppose that the shorter can just bear its own weight; then
the longer beam will not be able to do the same ; for the
strengths of the sections are as the cubes of the diameters,
while the strains are as the biquadrates of the diameters ;
because the weights are as the cubes, and the levers by
which these weights act in producing the strain are as the
lengths or as the diameters.
These considerations show us, that in all cases where
strain is affected by the weight of the parts of the machine
or structure of any kind, the smaller bodies are more able
to withstand it than the greater; and there seem to be
bounds set by nature to the size of machines constructed of
any given materials
turn of inertia, or A> • r", is as the fourth power ; therefore
the angular velocity of the greater animals is smaller. The
number of strokes which a fly makes with its wings in a se¬
cond is astonishingly great; yet, being voluntary, they are
the effects of its agility.
We have hitherto confined our attention to the simplest
form in which this transverse strain can be produced. I his
was quite sufficient for showing us the mechanism of na¬
ture by which the strain is resisted ; and a very slight at¬
tention is sufficient for enabling us to reduce to this every
other way in which the strain can be produced. We shall
not take up the reader’s time with the application of the
same principles to other cases of this strain, but refer him
to what has been said in the article Roof. In that arti¬
cle we have shown the analogy between the strain on the
section of a beam projecting from a wall and loaded at the
extremity, and the strain on the same section of a beam
simply resting on supports at the ends, and loaded at some
intermediate point or points. The strain on the middle C
of a beam AB (fig. 16) so supported, arising from a weight
laid on there, is the same
with the strain which half big- 16-
that weight hanging at B  o  b
would produce on the same r~ ^ T .
section C, if the other end “ZX" ^
of the beam were fixed in
. • r ,• ♦ f a wall If therefore 1000 pounds hung on the end of a beam
to the size of machines constructed ot a w an. _ n uieie i & the wall,
any given materials. Even when the weight of the parts of P^rrequire 4000 pounds'on its middle to break the same
the machine is not taken into the account, we cannot en- it ^111 reclV . t ^ f j r. We have also
large them in the same proportion in all their parts. Thus beam res mg ^ P P dJ-ti j strength which will be
a steam-engine cannot be doubled in all its parts, so as to shown in that arttcle the adatbonaUVen^
be still efficient. The pressure on the piston is quadrupled. g'vf n to *‘41 _,, L„i.. nhlsrs or suBuorts. W<
If the lift of the pump be also doubled in height while it is
doubled in diameter, the load will be increased eight times,
and will therefore exceed the power. The depth of lift,
therefore, must remain unchanged; and in this case the
machine will be of the same relative strength as before, in¬
dependent of its own weight. For the beam being doubled
in all its dimensions, its momentum of cohesion is eight
times greater, which is again a balance for a quadruple load
acting by a double lever. But if we now consider the in¬
crease of the weight of the machine itself, which must be
supported, and which must be put in motion by the inter¬
vention of its cohesion, we see that the large machine is
weaker and less efficient than the small one.
There is a similar limit set by nature to the size of plants
and animals formed of the same matter. The cohesion of
given to uus ueam uy exiciiumg v... j- *
and there framing it firmly into other pillars or supports. e Eff |
can hardly add any thing to what has been said in that article, v
except a few observations on the effects ot the ob iqui y term
the external force. We have hitherto supposed it to act in forc£
the direction BP (fig. 6) perpendicular to the length ottn,
beam. Suppose it to act in the direction BP, 0 (l
BA. In the article Roof we supposed the strain
same as if the force p acted at the distance A ,
perpendicular to AB: so it is. But the s reng
section A A is not the same in both cases; for by ,
quity of the action the piece DCKAis pressed 0 jar
We are not sufficiently acquainted 7lthff h! the pres-
forces to say precisely what will be the e tec ^ee in
sure arising from this obliquity; but we can c r ture
general, that the point A, which in the instant oi fractu
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
bv. thofis neither stretched nor compressed, must now be farther
M !a'3' up, or neaier to D ; and therefore the number of particles
/ which are exerting cohesive forces is smaller, and therefore
the strength is diminished. Therefore, when we endeavour
to proportion the strength of a beam to the strain arising
from an external force acting obliquely, we make too liberal
allowance by increasing this external force in the ratio of
AB to AB. We acknowledge our inability to assign the
proper correction. But this circumstance is of very great
influence. In many machines, and many framings of°car¬
pentry, this oblique action of the straining force is unavoid¬
able ; and the most enormous strains to which materials are
exposed are generally of this kind. In the'frames set up for
carrying the ringstones of arches, it is hardly possible to
avoid them ; for although the judicious engineer dispose
his beams so as to sustain only pressures in the direction of
their lengths, tending either to crush them or to tear them
asunder, it frequently happens that, by the settling of the
work, the pieces come to check and bear on each other
transversely, tending to break each other across. This we
have remarked upon in the article Roof, with respect to a
truss by Mr Price (see Roof, p. 452-54.). Now when a cross
strain is thus combined with an enormous pressure in the
direction of the length of the beam, it is in the utmost dan¬
ger Oi snapping suddenly across. I his is one great cause
Pfthe carrying away of masts. They are compressed in the
direction of their length by the united force of the shrouds,
and in this state the transverse action of the wind soon
completes the fracture.
Tk ain When considering the compressing strains to which ma-
ciicauns.terials are exposed, we deferred the discussion of the strain
on columns, observing that it was not, in the cases which
usually occur, a simple compression, but was combined with
a transverse strain, arising from the bending of the column.
When the column ACB (fig. 17), resting on the ground at
B, and loaded at top with a weight A, acting in
the vertical direction AB, is bent into a curve
ACB, so that the tangent at C is perpendi¬
cular to the horizon, its condition somewhat
resembles that of a beam firmly fixed between
B and C, and strongly pulled by the end A, so
as to bend it between C and A. Although we
cannot conceive how a force acting on a straight
column AB in the direction AB can bend it,
we may suppose that the force acted first in the
horizontal direction A.b till it was bent to
this degree, and that the rope was then gra¬
dually removed from the direction Ab to the
direction AB, increasing the force as much as
is necessary for preserving the same quantity of
flexure.
The first author, we believe, who considered this im¬
portant subject with scrupulous attention was the celebrated
771
Obser
lion,
Euler'
wy of
•tfeng
Minin
!e‘Eider, who published in the Berlin Memoirs for 1757 his
0f t heory of the Strength of Columns. The general propo-
.n established by this theory is, that the strength of
pnsmatical columns is in the direct quadruplicate ratio of
I1 diameters, and the inverse duplicate ratio of their
tengths. He prosecuted this subject in the Petersburg
commentaries for 1778, confirming his former theory. We
do not find that any other author has bestowed much at-
tention on it, all seeming to acquiesce in the determinations
ot Luler, and to consider the subject as of very great diffi-
oulty, requiring the application of the most refined mathe-
!a ics. Muschenbroeck has compared the theory with ex-
penment; but the comparison has been very unsatisfactory,
e i erence from the theory being so enormous as to af-
r no argument for its justness. But the experiments do
contradict it, for they are so anomalous as to afford no
onclusion or general rule whatever,
o say the truth, the theory can be considered in no
other light than as a specimen of ingenious and very artful Strength of
algebraic analysis. Euler was unquestionably the first Materials,
analyst in Europe for resource and address. He knew y-—''
this, and enjoyed his superiority, and without scruple ad¬
mitted any physical assumptions which gave him an op¬
portunity of displaying his skill. The inconsistency of his
assumptions with the known laws of mechanism gave him
no concern ; and when his algebraic processes led him to
any conclusion which would make his readers stare, being
contrary to all our usual notions, he frankly owned the
paradox, but went on in his analysis, saying, Sed analysi
magis fidendum. Mr Robins has given some very risible
instances of this confidence in his analysis, or rather of his
confidence in the indolent submission of his readers. Nay,
so fond was he of this kind of amusement, that after hav¬
ing published an untenable Theory of Light and Colours,
be published several Memoirs, explaining the aberration of
the heavenly bodies, deducing some very wonderful con¬
sequences, fully confirmed by experience, from the New¬
tonian principles, which were opposite and totally incon¬
sistent with his own theory, merely because the Newtonian
theory gave him occasionem analyseos promovendce. We
are thus severe in our observations, because his Theory of
the Strength of Columns is one of the strongest instances of
this wanton kind of proceeding, and because his followers
in the Academy of St Petersburg, such as Fuss, Lexill,
and others, adopt his conclusions, and merely echo his
words. Since the death of Daniel Bernoulli, no member
of that academy has controverted any thing advanced by
their Professor sublimis Geometrice, to whom they had been
indebted for their places and for all their knowledge, hav¬
ing been (most of them) his amanuenses, employed by this
wonderful man during his blindness, to make his computa¬
tions and carry on his algebraic investigations. We are not
a little surprised to see Mr Emerson, a considerable mathe¬
matician, and a man of very independent spirit, hastily
adopting the same theory, of which we doubt not but our
readers will easily see the falsity.
Euler considers the column ACB as in a condition pre¬
cisely similar to that of an elastic rod bent into the curve
by a cord AB connecting its extremities. In this he is
not mistaken. But he then draws CD perpendicular to
AB, and considers the strain on the section C as equal to '
the momentum or mechanical energy of the weight A, act¬
ing in the direction DE, upon the lever kcY), moveable
round the fulcrum c, and tending to tear asunder the par¬
ticles which cohere along the section cCk. This is the
same principle (as Euler admits) employed by James Ber¬
noulli in his investigation of the elastic curve ACB. Euler
considers the strain on the section ck as the same with what
it would sustain if the same power acted in the horizontal
direction EF on a point E, as far removed from C as the
point D is. We reasoned in the same manner (as has been
observed) in the article Roof, where the obliquity of ac¬
tion was inconsiderable. But in the present case this sub¬
stitution leads to the greatest mistakes, and has render¬
ed the whole of this theory false and useless. It would be
just if the column were of materials which are incompres¬
sible. But it is evident, by what has been said above, that
by the compression of the parts the real fulcrum of the lever
shifts away from the point c, so much the more as the com¬
pression is greater. In the great compressions of loaded
columns, and the almost unmeasurable compressions of the
truss-beams in the centres of bridges, and other cases of
chief importance, the fulcrum is shifted far over towards k,
so that very few fibres resist the fracture by their cohesion,
and these few have a very feeble energy or momentum, on
account of the short arm of the lever by which they act.
1 his is a most important consideration in carpentry, yet
makes no element of Euler’s theory. The consequence of
this is, that a very small degree of curvature is sufficient
772
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of to cause the column or strut to snap in an instant, as is
Materials. weu known to every experienced carpenter. The experi-
ment by Muschenbroeck, which Euler makes use of in order
to obtain a measure of strength in a particular instance,
from which he might deduce all others by his theorem, is
an incontestable proof of this. The force which broke the
column is not the twentieth part of what is necessai y for
breaking it by acting at E in the direction EF. Euler
takes no notice of this immense discrepancy, because, it
must have caused him to abandon the speculation with
which he was then amusing himself.
This theo- The limits of this work do not afford room to entei mi¬
ry false andnutely upon the refutation of this theory; but we can easily
useless. show its uselessness, by its total inconsistency vyith com¬
mon observation. It results legitimately bom this theoiy,
that if CD have no magnitude, the weight A can have no
momentum, and the column cannot be bioken. riue, it
cannot be broken in this way, snapped by a transveise
fracture, if it do not bend ; but we know very well that it
can be crushed or crippled, and we see this frequently hap¬
pen. This circumstance or event does not enter into Eu¬
ler’s investigation, and therefore the theory is at least im¬
perfect and useless. Had this crippling been introduced in
the form of a physical assumption, every topic of reasoning
employed in the process must have been laid aside, as the
intelligent reader will easily see. But the theory is not
only imperfect, but false. The ordinary reader will be con¬
vinced of this by another legitimate consequence of it. T ig.
18 is the same with fig. 106 of Emer¬
son’s Mechanics, where this subject
is treated on Euler’s principles, and
represents a crooked piece of matter
resting on the ground at F, and load¬
ed at A with a weight acting in the
vertical direction AF. It results fi om
Euler’s theory that the strains at b,
B, D, E, &c. are as be, BC, DI, EK,
&c. Therefore the strains at G and
H are nothing ; and this is asserted
bv Emerson and Euler as a serious
truth; and the piece may be thinned
ad infinitum in these two places, or
even cut through, without any dimi-
nution of its strength. The absurdity of this assertion
strikes at first hearing. Euler asserts the same thing wit i
respect to a point of contrary flexure. Farther discussion
is, we apprehend, needless.
Yet Euler’s This theory must therefore be given up. Yet these dis-
disserta- sertations of Euler in the Petersburg Commentaries de-
tions de- serve a perusal, both as very ingenious specimens of analy-
serve a per—^ an(j 5ecause they contain maxims of practice which are
usai' important. Although they give an erroneous measure of
the comparative strength of columns, they show the im¬
mense importance of preventing all bendings, and point out
with accuracy where the tendencies to bend are greatest,
and how this may be prevented by very small forces, and
what a prodigious accession of force this gives the column.
There is a valuable paper in the same volume by Fuss on
the Strains on framed Carpentry, which may also be read
with advantage. .
A new It will now be asked, what shall be substituted m place
theory can-of this erroneous theory ? what is the true proportion of the
not be sub- strength of columns? We acknowledge our inability to give
stituted in a satisfactory answer. This can only be obtained by a pre-
otnl yious knowledge of the proportion between the extensions
many expe-and compressions produced by equal forces, by the know-
rimeuts be ledge of the absolute compressions producible by a given
made. force, and by a knowledge of the degree of that derange¬
ment of parts which is termed crippling. These circum¬
stances are but imperfectly known to us, and there lies be¬
fore us a wide field of experimental inquiry. Fortunately
the force requisite for crippling a beam is prodigious, and Streng;
a very small lateral support is sufficient to prevent that
bending which puts the beam in imminent danger. A ju- ''—"v '
dicious engineer will always employ transverse bridles, as
they are called, to stay the middle of long beams which are
employed as pillars, struts, or truss-beams, and are exposed,
by their position, to enormous pressures in the direction of
their lengths. Such stays may be observed, disposed with
great judgment and economy, in the centres employed by
Mr Perronet in the erection of his great stone arches. He
was obliged to correct this omission made by his ingenious
predecessor in the beautiful centres of the bridge of Orleans,
which we have no hesitation in affirming to be the finest
piece of carpentry in the world.
It only remains on this head to compare these theoretical
deductions with experiment.
Experiments on the transverse strength of bodies are
easily made, and accordingly are very numerous, especially
those made on timber, which is the case most common and
most interesting. But in this great number of experiments
there are very few from which we can draw much practical
information. The experiments have in general been made
on such small scantlings, that the unavoidable natural ine¬
qualities bear too great a proportion to the strength of the
whole piece. Accordingly, when we compare the experi¬
ments of different authors, we find them differ enormously,
and even the experiments by the same author are very
anomalous. The completest series that we have yet seen Table
is that detailed by Belidor in X\\s Science des Ingenieurs.^,^
They are contained in the following table. The pieces^ gc; r_
were sound, even-grained oak. I he column b contains the
breadths of the pieces in inches; the column d contains
their depths ; the column l contains their lengths ; column
p contains the weights (in pounds) which broke them when
hung on their middles; and ni is the column of averages or
mediums.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
ii.
fon’i
fimei
Fisr. 19.
Str£l ib of By comparing Experiments 1st and 3d, the strength ap-
‘h- pears proportional to the breadth.
Experiments -3d and 4th show the strength proportional
u 8 to the square of the depth.
l3m. Experiments 1st and 5th show the strength nearly in the
inverse proportion of the lengths, but with a sensible defi¬
ciency in the longer pieces.
Experiments 5th and 7th show the strengths proportional
to the breadths and the square of the depth.
Experiments 1st and 7th show the same thing, com¬
pounded with the inverse proportion of the length : here the
deficiency relative to the length is not so remarkable.
Experiments 1st and 2d, and experiments 5th and 6th,
show the increase of strength, by fastening the ends, to be
in the proportion of two to three. The theory gives the pro¬
portion of two to four. But a difference in the manner of
fixing may produce this deviation from the theory, which
only supposed them to be held down at places beyond the
props, as when a joist is held in the walls, and also rests on
two pillars between the walls.
The chief source of irregularity in such experiments is
the fibrous, or rather plated texture of timber. It consists
of annual additions, whose cohesion with each other is vastly
weaker than that of their own fibres. Let fig. 19 represent
the section of a tree, and
ABCD, abed the section of two
battens that are to be cut out of
it for experiment, and let AD
and ad be the depths, and DC,
dc the breadths. The batten
ABCD will be the stronger,
for the same reason that an as¬
semblage of planks set edgewise
will form a stronger joist than
planks laid above each other like
the plates of a coach-spring. M.
Buffon found by many trials that
the strength of ABCD was to that of abed (in oak) nearly
as eight to seven. The authors of the different experiments
were not careful that their battens had their plates all dis¬
posed similarly with respect to the strain. But even with
this precaution they would not have afforded sure grounds
of computation for large works; for great beams occupy
much, if not the whole, of the section of the tree ; and from
this it has happened that their strength is less than in pro¬
portion to that of a small lath or batten. In short, we can
trust no experiments but such as have been made on large
beams. These must be very rare, for they are most ex¬
pensive and laborious, and exceed the abilities of most of
those who are disposed to study this subject.
But we are not wholly without such authority. M. Buf¬
fon and M. Duhamel, two of the first philosophers and
mechanicians of the age, were directed by government to
make experiments on this subject, and were supplied with
ample funds and apparatus. The relation of their experi¬
ments is to be found in the Memoirs of the French Aca¬
demy for 1740, 1741, 1742, 1768; as also in Duhamel’s
valuable performances Sur VExploitation des Arbres, et
sur la Conservation et le Transport de Bois. We ear¬
nestly recommend these dissertations to the perusal of our
readers, as containing much useful information relative to
the strength of timber, and the best methods of employing
>t. We shall here give an abstract of M. Buffon’s experi¬
ments.
He relates a great number which, during two years, he
had prosecuted on small battens. He found that the odds
of a single layer, or part of a layer, more or less, or even a
•ouni ik. different disposition of them, had such influence that he wras
obliged to abandon this method, and to have recourse to
the largest beams that he was able to break. The follow-
lng table exhibits one series of experiments on bars of sound
if.
773
This is a spe- Strength of
Materials.
oak, clear of knots, and four inches square,
cimen of all the rest.
Column 1st is the length of the bar in clear feet between
the supports.
Column 2d is the weight of the bar (the second day after
it ^was felled) in pounds. Two bars were tried of each
length. Each of the first three pairs consisted of two cuts
of the same tree. The one next the root was always found
the heaviest, stiffest, and strongest. Indeed M. Buffon says
that this was invariably true, that the heaviest was always
the strongest; and he recommends it as a certain (or sure)
rule for the choice of timber. He finds that this is always
the case when the timber has grown vigorously, forming
very thick annual layers. But he also observes that this
is only during the advances of the tree to maturity ; for the
strength of the different circles approaches gradually to
equality during the tree’s healthy growth, and then it de¬
cays in these parts in a contrary order. Our tool-makers
assert the same thing with respect to beech : yet a contrary
opinion is very prevalent; and wood with a fine, that is, a
small grain, is frequently preferred. Perhaps no person has
ever made the trial with such minuteness as M. Buffon, and
we think that much deference is due to his opinion.
Column 3d is the number of pounds necessary for break¬
ing the tree in the course of a few minutes.
Column 4th is the number of inches which it bent down
before breaking.
Column 5th is the time at which it broke.
1
J 60
(56
J 68
(63
J 77
(71
10
f 84
(82-
! | j 100
j ( 98
3
5350
5275
4
3- 5
4- 5
4600
4500
3- 75
4- 7
4100
3950
4-85
5\5
3625
3600
5- 83
6- 5
3050
2925
29
22
15
13
14
12
15
15
The experiments on other sizes wrere made in the same
wray. A pair at least of each length and size was taken.
The mean results are contained in the following table. The
beams were ail square, and their sizes in inches are placed at
the head of the columns, and their lengths in feet are in
the first column.
7
8
9
10
12
14
16
18
20
22
24
28
5312
4550
4025
3612
2987
6
11525
9787
8308
7125
6075
5300
4350
3700
3225
2975
2162
1775
18950
15525
13150
11250
9100
7475
6362
5562
4950
8
32200
26050
22350
19475
16175
13225
11000
9245
8375
47649
39750
32800
27750
23450
19775
16375
13200
11487
11525
10085
8964
8068
6723
5763
5042
4482
4034
3667
3362
2881
M. Buffon had found, by numerous trials, that oak-timber
lost much of its strength in the course of drying or season-
774
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength ofing; and therefore, in order to secure uniformity, his trees
Materials. were an felled in the same season of the year, were squared
the day after, and tried the third day. Trying them in this
green state gave him an opportunity of observing a very
curious and unaccountable phenomenon. When the weights
were laid briskly on, nearly sufficient to break the log,#a
very sensible smoke was observed to issue from the two
ends with a sharp hissing noise. This continued all the
while the tree was bending and cracking. This shows that
the log is affected or strained through its whole length. In¬
deed this must be inferred from its bending through its
whole length. It also shows us the great effects of the
compression. It is a pity M. Buffon did not take notice
whether this smoke issued from the upper or compressed
half of the section only, or whether it came from the whole.
Observa- We must now make some observations on these experi-
tions on M. rnents, in order to compare them with the theory which we
Buffon s have endeavoured to establish.
ex pen- M ftuffon considers the experiments with the five-inch
bars as the standard of comparison, having both extended
these to greater lengths, and having tried more pieces of
each length.
Our theory determines the relative strength of bars of
the same section to be inversely as their lengths. But, it
we except the five experiments in the first column, we find
a very great deviation from this rule. hus the five-inch
bar of twenty-eight feet long should have half the strength
of that of fourteen feet, or 2650; whereas it is but 1775.
The bar of fourteen feet should have half the strength of
that of seven feet, or 5762 ; whereas it is but 5300. In like
manner, the fourth of 11,525 is 2881; but the real strength
of the twenty-eight feet bar is 1775. We have added a
column A, which exhibits the strength which each of the
five-inch bars ought to have by the theory. This devia¬
tion is most distinctly seen in fig. 20, where BK is the scale
Fig. 20.
11l 1Z 20 9 8 7
A
of lengths, B being at the point seven of the scale, and K
at twenty-eight. The ordinate CB is = 11,525, and the other
7CB
ordinates DE, GK, &c. are respectively = [eilg7h •
lines DF, GH, &c. are made = 4350, 1775, &c., express¬
ing the strengths given by experiment. The ten-feet bar
and the twenty-four feet bar are remarkably anomalous.
But all are deficient, and the defect has an evident pro¬
gression from the first to the last. The same thing may
be shown of the other columns, and even of the first, though
it is very small in that column. It may also be observed
in the experiments of Belidor, and in all that we have seen.
We cannot doubt therefore of its being a law of nature, de¬
pending on the true principles of cohesion and the laws of
mechanics.
But it is very puzzling, and we cannot pretend to give a
satisfactory explanation of the difficulty. The only effect
which wre can conceive the length of a beam to have, is to
increase tho strain at the section of fracture, by employing
the intervening beam as a lever. But we do not distinfcily
see what change this can produce in the mode of action ofStrengt; t
the fibres in this section, so as either to change their cohe- Materir
sion or the place of its centre of effort: yet something of
this kind must happen.
We see indeed some circumstances'which must contri¬
bute to make a smaller weight sufficient, in M. Buffon’s ex¬
periments, to break a long beam, than in the exact inverse
proportion of its length.
In the first place, the weight of the beam itself augments
the strain as much as if half of it were added in the form of
a rveight. M. Buffon has given the weights of every beam
on which he made experiments, which is very nearly seven-’
ty-four pounds per cubic foot. But they are much too small
to account for the deviation from the theory. The half
weights of the five-inch beams of seven, fourteen, and
twenty-eight feet length, are only forty-five, ninety-two,
and 182 pounds ; which makes the real strains in the ex¬
periments 11,560, 5390, and 1956 ; which are far from hav¬
ing the proportions of four, two, and one.
Buffon says that healthy trees are universally strongest
at the root end ; therefore, when we use a longer beam, its
middle point, where it is broken in the experiment, is in a
weaker part of the tree. But the trials of the four-inch
beams show that the difference from this cause is almost in¬
sensible.
The length must have some mechanical influence which
the theory we have adopted has not yet explained. It may
not however be inadequate to the task. The very inge¬
nious investigation of the elastic curve by James Bernoulli
and other celebrated mathematicians is perhaps as refined
an application of mathematical analysis as we know. Yet
in this investigation it was necessary, in order to avoid al¬
most insuperable difficulties, to take the simplest possible
case, viz. where the thickness is exceedingly small in com¬
parison with the length. If the thickness be considerable,
the quantities neglected in the calculus are too great to per¬
mit the conclusion to be accurate, or very nearly so. With¬
out being able to define the form into which an elastic body
of considerable thickness will be bent, we can say with con¬
fidence, that in an extreme case, where the compression in
the concave side is very great, the curvature differs consi¬
derably from the Bernoullian curve. But as our investiga¬
tion is incomplete and very long, we do not offer it to the
reader. The following more familiar considerations will, Probaj),
we apprehend, render it highly probable that the relative
strength of beams decreases faster than in the inverse ra- strei)gtl|
tio of their length. The curious observation by M. Buffon, j,eaffiSt,
of the vapour which issued with the hissing noise from the creases
ends of a beam of green oak, while it was breaking by the faster i
load on its middle, shows that the whole length of the piece ^er9e ra
was affected : indeed it must be, since it is bent through-0f t},ejr
out. We have shown above, that a certain definite cur-iength.
vature of a beam of a given form is always accompanied by
rupture. Now suppose the beam A of ten feet long, and
the beam B of twenty feet long, bent to the same
at the place of their fixture in the wall; the weight which
hangs on A is nearly double of that w hich must hang on B.
The form of any portion, suppose five feet, of these two
beams, immediately adjoining to the wall, is consideiab y
different. At the distance of five feet the curvature or A is
half of its curvature at the wrall. The curvature of B in t e
corresponding point is three fourths of the same curvature
at the wall. Through the whole of the intermediate ve
feet, therefore, the curvature of B is greater than that o
This must make it weaker throughout. It must occasion
the fibres to slide more on each other (that it may acquire
t/n‘s greater curvature), and thus affect their lateial onion ,
and therefore those which are stronger will not assist t ei
weaker neighbours. To this we must add, that m
shorter beams the force with which the fibres are P163"
laterally cn each ofhdr is double. This must impede
Str<
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
775
h of mutual sliding of the fibres which we mentioned a little
als- ago; nay, this lateral compression may change the law of
longitudinal cohesion (as will readily appear to the reader
who is acquainted with Boscovich’s doctrines), and increase
the strength of the very surface of fracture, in the same way
(however inexplicable) as it does in metals when they are
hammered or drawn into wire.
The reader must judge how far these remarks are worthy
of his attention. The engineer will carefully keep in mind
the important fact, that abeam of quadruple length, instead
of having one fourth of the strength, has only about one
sixth; and the philosopher should endeavour to discover
the cause of this diminution, that he may give the artist a
more accurate rule of computation.
We nnot Our ignorance of the law by which the cohesion of the
&cwr. particles changes by a change of distance, hinders us from
t!ie ^ discovering the precise relation between the curvature and
twe the momentum of cohesion; and all we can do is to multi¬
cun jre ply experiments, upon which we may establish some em-
and it pineal rules for calculating the strength of solids. Those
moc!turn from which we must reason at present are too few and too
°fK !ion‘anomalous to be the foundation of such an empirical for¬
mula. We may however observe, that M. Buffon’s expe¬
riments gave us considerable assistance in this particular ;
for if to each of the numbers of the column for the five-inch
beams, corrected by adding half the weight of the beam, we
add the constant number 1245, we shall have a set of num¬
bers which are very nearly reciprocals of the lengths. Let
1245 be called c, and let the weight which is known by ex¬
periment to be necessary for breaking the five-inch beam
of the length a be called P. We shall have — c=p.
Thus the weight necessary for breaking the seven-feet bar
is 11,5G0. This added to 1245, and the sum multiplied by
89,635
7, givesP-}-6*Xm=:89,635. Let/be 18; then
18
-1245
Relatj
betvv.
tliest
and t
fijuar
the d
oftht
tion.
=3725 —p, which differs not more than ^th from what
experiment gives us. This rule holds equally well in all
the other lengths except the 10 and 24 feet beams, which
are very anomalous. Such a formula is abundantly exact
for practice, and will answer through a much greater variety
oflength, though it cannot be admitted as a true one ; be¬
cause, in a certain very great length, the strength will be
nothing. For other sizes the constant number must change
in the proportion of r/3, or perhaps of p.
The next comparison which we have to make with the
theory is the relation between the strength and the square
^ of the depth of the section. This is made by comparing
with each other the numbers in any horizontal line of the
table. In making this comparison we find the numbers of
c- the five-inch bars uniformly greater than the rest. We
imagine that there is something peculiar to these bars ;
they are in general heavier than in the proportion of their
section, but not so much so as to account for all their su¬
periority. We imagine that this set of experiments, intend¬
ed ns a standard for the rest, has been made at one time,
and that the season lias had a considerable influence. The
fact however is, that if this column be kept out, or uni¬
formly diminished about one sixteenth in their strength,
the different sizes will deviate very little from the ratio of
the square of the depth, as determined by theory. There
is however a small deficiency in the bigger beams.
” G have been thus anxious in the examination of these
experiments, because they are the only ones which have
been related in sufficient detail, and made on a proper
scale for giving us data from which we can deduce confi¬
dential maxims for practice. They are so troublesome and
expensive that we have little hopes of seeing their number
gfeatly increased ; yet surely our navy board would do an
unspeakable service to the public by appropriating a fund Strength of
for such experiments under the management of some man Materials,
of science. " Y-"" *
There remains another comparison which is of chief im-Proportion
portance, namely, the proportion between the absolute co-^etxveen
hesion and the relative strenyth. It may be guessed, firom j*
the very nature of the thing, that this must be very uncer-sjonai)(]ti]e
tain. Experiments on the absolute strength must be con-relative
fined to very small pieces, by reason of the very great forces strength,
which are required for tearing them asunder. The values
therefore deduced from them must be subject to great in¬
equalities. Unfortunately we possess no detail of any ex¬
periments ; all that we have to depend on are two passages
of Muschenbroeck’s Essais de Physique; in one of which
he says, that a piece of sound oak f^yths of an inch square
is torn asunder by 1150 pounds; and in the other, that an
oak plank twelve inches broad and one thick will just sus¬
pend 189,163 pounds. These give for the cohesion of an
inch square 15,755 and 15,763 pounds. Bouguer, in his
Trade du Navire, says that it is very well known that a rod
of sound oak one fourth of an inch square will be torn
asunder by 1000 pounds. This gives 16,000 for the cohe¬
sion of a square inch. • We shall take this as a round num¬
ber, easily used in our computations. Let us compare this
with M. Buffon’s trials of beams four inches square.
The absolute cohesion of this section is 16,000x16=
256,000. Did every fibre exert its whole force in the in¬
stant of fracture, the momentum of cohesion would be the
same as if it had all acted at the centre of gravity of the
section at two inches from the axis of fracture, and is there¬
fore 512,000. The four-inch beam, seven feet long, was
broken by 5312 pounds hung on its middle. The half of
this, or 2656 pounds, would have broken it, if suspended
at its extremity, projecting 3^- feet, or 42 inches, from a
wall. The momentum of this strain is therefore 2656x42
= 111,552. Now this is in equilibrio with the actual mo¬
mentum of cohesion, which is therefore 111,552 instead
of 512,000. The strength is therefore diminished in the
proportion of 512,000 to 111,552, or very nearly of 4-59
to 1.
As we are quite uncertain as to the place of the centre
of effort, it is needless to consider the full cohesion as act¬
ing at the centre of gravity, and producing the momentum
512,000 ; and we may convert the whole into a simple mul¬
tiplier rn of the length, and say, as m times the length is to
the depth, so is the absolute cohesion of the section to the re¬
lative strength. Therefore let the absolute cohesion of a
square inch be called f the breadth b, the depth d, and the
length l (all in inches), the relative strength, or the exter¬
nal force, p, which balances it, is or, in round num¬
bers,
fbP_
9/
for »? = 2xT59.
This great diminution of strength cannot be wholly ac¬
counted for by the inequality of the cohesive forces exert¬
ed in the instant of fracture; lor in this case we know that
the centre of effort is at one third of the height in a rect¬
angular section (because the forces really exerted are as
the extensions of the fibres). The relative strength would
be*^-, and p would have been 8127 instead of 2656.
We must ascribe this diminution (which is three times
greater than that produced by the inequality of the cohe¬
sive forces) to the compression of the under part of the
beam ; and we must endeavour to explain in what manner
this compression produces an effect which seems so little
explicable by such means.
As we have repeatedly observed, it is a matter of nearly
universal experience that the forces actually exerted by the
776
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of particles of bodies, when stretched or compressed, are very
Materials, nearly in the proportion of the distances to which the par-
tides are drawn from their natural positions. Now, al¬
though we are certain that, in enormous compressions, the
forces increase faster than in this proportion, this makes no
sensible change in the present question, because the body
is broken before the compressions have gone so far; nay,
we imagine that the compressed parts are crippled in most
cases even before the extended parts are torn asunder
Muschenbroeck asserts this with great confidence with re¬
spect to oak, on the authority of his own experiments. He
says, that although oak will suspend half as much again as
fir, it will not support, as a pillar, two thirds of the load
which fir will support in that form.
We imagine therefore that the mechanism in the present
case is nearly as follows :
Let the beam DCKA (fig. 21) be loaded at its extre¬
mity with the weight P,
acting in the direction Fig. 21.
KP perpendicular to
DC. Let Da be the
section of fracture. Let
DA be about one third
of Da. A will be the
particle or fibre which
is neither extended nor
compressed. Make Ad
: Drf = DA : A A. The
triangles DAc?, AA8,
will represent the ac¬
cumulated attracting and repelling forces. Make AI and
Ai = ^ DA and ^ AA. The point I will be that to which
the full cohesion Y)d or f of the particles in AD must be
applied, so as to produce the same momentum which the
variable forces at I, D, &c. really produce at their several
points of application. In like manner, i is the circle ol
similar effort of the repulsive forces excited by the com¬
pression between A and A, and it is the real fulcrum
of a bended lever L'K, by which the whole eftect is pro¬
duced. The effect is the same as if the full cohesion of the
stretched fibres in AD were accumulated in I, and the full
repulsion of all the compressed fibres in AA were accumu¬
lated in i. The forces which are balanced in the opera¬
tion are the weight P, acting by the arm ki, and the lull
cohesion of AD acting by the arm \i. The forces exerted
by the compressed fibres between A and A only serve to
give support to the lever, that it may exert its strain.
We imagine that this does not differ much from the real
procedure of nature. The position of the point A may be
different from what we have deduced from Buffon’s expe¬
riments, compared with Muschenbroeck’s value of the ab¬
solute cohesion of a square inch. If this last should be
only 12,000, DA must be greater than we have here made
it, in the proportion of 12,000 to 16,000. For li must still
be made = ^ A A, supposing the forces to be proportional
to the extensions and compressions. There can be no
doubt that a part only of the cohesion of Da operates in
resisting the fracture in all substances which have any com¬
pressibility ; and it is confirmed by the experiments of M.
Duhamel on willow, and the inferences are by no means
confined to that species of timber. We say, therefore, that
when the beam is broken, the cohesion of AD alone is ex¬
erted, and that each fibre exerts a force proportional to its
extension ; and the accumulated momentum is the same as
if the full cohesion of AD were acting by the lever I* = ^d
of Da.
It may be said, that if only one third of the cohesion of
oak be exerted, it may be cut two thirds through without
weakening it. But this cannot be, because the cohesion of
the whole is employed in preventing the lateral slide so
often mentioned. We have no experiments to determine
that it may not be cut through one third without loss of itsStrent
strength. Mate* ’
This must not be considered as a subject of mere specu-'"“"Y *
lative curiosity. It is intimately connected with all the
practical uses which we can make of this knowledge; for it
is almost the only way that we can learn the compressibility
of timber. Experiments on the direct cohesion are indeed
difficult, and exceedingly expensive if we attempt them in
large pieces. But experiments on compression are almost
impracticable. The most instructive experiments would
be, first to establish, by a great number of trials, the trans¬
verse force of a moderate batten ; and then to make a great
number of trials of the diminution of its strength, by cutting
it through on the concave side. This would very nearlv
give us the proportion of the cohesion which really operates
in resisting fractures. Thus if it be found that one half of
the beam may be cut on the under side without diminution
of its strength (taking care to drive in a slice of harder
wood), we may conclude that the point A is at the middle,
or somewhat above it.
Much lies before the curious mechanician, and we are as
yet very far from a scientific knowledge of the strength of
timber.
In the mean time, we may derive from these experiments A usen
of Buffon a very useful practical rule, without relying onpractics
any value of the absolute cohesion of oak. We see that theru,emij»
strength is nearly as the breadth, as the square of the
depth, and as the inverse of the length. It is most conve-
nient to measure the breadth and depth of the beam inexpert,
inches, and its length in feet. Since, then, a beam fourments.
inches square and seven feet between the supports is broken
by 5312 pounds, we must conclude that a batten one inch
square and one foot between the supports will be broken
by 581 pounds. Then the strength of any other beam of
oak, or the weight which will just break it when hung on
its middle, is 581 ~.
But we have seen that there is a very considerable devi¬
ation from the inverse proportion of the lengths, and we
must endeavour to accommodate our rule to this deviation.
We found, that by adding 1245 to each of the ordinates or
numbers in the column of the five-inch bars, we had a set
of numbers very nearly reciprocal of the lengths ; and if we
make a similar addition to the other columns in the propor¬
tion of the cubes of the sixes, we have nearly the same re¬
sult. The greatest error (except in the case of experi¬
ments which are very irregular) does not exceed Jyth of the
whole. Therefore, for a radical number, add to the 5312
the number 640, which is to 1245 very nearly as 43 to 5\
This gives 5952. The 64th of this is 93, which corre¬
sponds to a bar of one inch square and seven feet long.
Therefore 93 X 7 will be the reciprocal corresponding to a
bar of one foot. This is 651. lake from this the present
empirical correction, which is or an<^ ^iere re‘
mains 641 for the strength of the bar. This gives us for a
bd2
general rule p — Qo\ -j 10 bd2.
Example. Required the weight necessary to break an
oak beam eight inches square and twenty feet between the
props,/; — 651 X —g—— 10 X 8 X 8'. This is 11,543,
whereas the experiment gives 11,487. The error is ven
small indeed. The rule is most deficient in comparison
with the five-inch bars, which, we have already said, appeal
stronger than the rest. ,
The following process is easily remembered by such c
are not algebraists. . , „nfi
Multiply the breadth in inches twice by the depth, a
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Th
anc
be
tior
the
ber
tidJ
^th of call this product f. Multiply / by 651, and divide by the
rials, length in feet. From the quotient take 10 times/. The re-
mainder is the number of pounds which will break the beam.
We are not sufficiently sensible of our principles to be
confident that the correction 10/should be in the propor¬
tion of the section, although we think it most probable. It
is quite empirical, founded on BufFon’s experiments. There¬
fore the safe way of using this rule is to suppose the beam
square, by increasing or diminishing its breadth till equal
to the depth. Then find the strength by this rule, and di¬
minish or increase it for the change which has been made
in its breadth. Thus, there can be no doubt that the
strength of the beam given as an example is double of that
of a beam of the same depth and half the breadth.
The reader cannot but observe that all this calculation
relates to the very greatest weight which a beam will bear
for a very few minutes. M. BufFon uniformly found that
two thirds of this weight sensibly impaired its strength, and
frequently broke at the end of two or three months. One
half of this weight brought the beam to a certain bend,
which did not increase after the first minute or two, and
may be borne by the beam for any length of time. But
the beam contracted a bend, of which it did not recover
any considerable portion. One third seemed to have no
permanent effect on the beam ; but it recovered its rectili¬
neal shape completely, even after having been loaded seve¬
ral months, provided that the timber was seasoned when
first loaded ; that is to say, one third of the weight which
would quickly break a seasoned beam, or one fourth of
what would break one just felled, may lie on it for ever with¬
out giving the beam a set.
We have no detail of experiments on the strength of other
kinds of timber: only M. BufFon says, that fir has about
foths of the strength of oak ; Mr Parent makes it l§ths;
Emerson, fds, &c.
We have been thus minute in our examination of the
mechanism of this transverse strain, because it is the great¬
est to wdiich the parts of our machines are exposed. We
wish to impress on the minds of artists the necessity of
avoiding this as much as possible. They are improving in
this respect, as may be seen by comparing the centres on
which stone arches of great span are now turned with those
of former times. They were formerly a load of mere joists
resting on a multitude of posts, which obstructed the navi¬
gation, and were frequently losing their shape by some of
the posts sinking into the ground. Now they are more
generally trusses, where the beams abut on each other, and
are relieved from transverse strains. But many performances
of eminent artists are still very injudiciously exposed to cross
strains. We may instance one which is considered as a fine
work, viz. the bridge at Walton on Thames. Here every
beam of the great arch is a joist, and it hangs together by
framing. The finest piece of carpentry that we have seen
is the centre employed in turning the arches of the bridge
at Orleans, described by Perronet. In the whole there is
not one cross strain. The beam, too, of Hornblower’s
steam-engine is very scientifically constructed.
IV. The last species of strain which we are to examine
is that produced by twisting. This takes place in all axles
which connect the working parts of machines.
Although we cannot pretend to
pro.
%
f'g-
!sist-
have a very distinct conception of
Fig. 22.
mst
l0 that modification of the cohesion
m. of a body by which it resists this
par- kind of strain, we can have no doubt
that, when all the particles act alike,
the resistance must be proportional
to the number. Therefore if we
suppose the two parts ABCD,
ABFE (fig. 22), of the body EFCD to be of insuperable
strength, but cohering more weakly in the common surface
VOL. xx.
AB, and that one part ABCD is pushed laterally in the Strength of
direction AB, there can be no doubt that it will yield only Materials,
there, and that the resistance will be proportional to the
surface.
In like manner, we can conceive a thin cylindrical tube,
of which KAH (fig. 23)
is the section, as cohering Fig. 23.
more weakly in that sec¬
tion than anywhere else.
Suppose it to be grasped
in both hands, and the two
parts twisted round the
axis in opposite directions,
as we would twist the
jointsof a flute; it is plain
that it will first fail in this section, which is the circum¬
ference of a circle, and the particles of the two parts which
are contiguous to this circumference will be drawn from
each other laterally. The total resistance will be as the
number of equally resisting particles, that is, as the cir-
cumlerence (for the tube being supposed very thin, there
can be no sensible difference between the dilatation of
the external and internal particles). We can now sup¬
pose another tube within this, and a third within the se¬
cond, and so on till we reach the centre. If the particles
of each ring exerted the same force (by suffering the
same dilatation in the direction of the circumference), the
resistance of each ring of the section would be as its cir¬
cumference and its breadth (supposed indefinitely small),
and the whole resistance would be as the surface; and this
would represent the resistance of a solid cylinder. But
when a cylinder is twisted in this manner by an external
force applied to its circumference, the external parts will
suffer a greater circular extension than the internal; and it
appears that this extension (like the extension of a beam
strained transversely) will be proportional to the distance
of the particles from the axis. We cannot say that this is
demonstrable, but we can assign no proportion that is more
probable. I his being the case, the forces simultaneously
exerted by each particle will be as its distance from the
axis. Therefore the whole force exerted by each ring will
be as the square of its radius, and the accumulated force
actually exerted will be as the cube of the radius; that is,
the accumulated force exerted by the whole cylinder,
whose radius is CA, is to the accumulated force exerted
at the same time by the part whose radius is CE, as CA3
to CE3.
The whole cohesion now exerted is just two thirds of
what it would be if all the particles were exerting the same
attractive forces which are just now exerted by the particles
in the external circumference. This is plain to any person
in the least familiar with the fluxionary calculus. But such
as are not may easily see it in this way.
Let the rectangle A Cm be set upright on the surface of
the circle along the line CA, and revolve round the axis
Cc. It will generate a cylinder whose height is Cc or Aa,
and having the circle KAH for its base. If the diagonal
C« be supposed also to revolve, it is plain that the triangle
cCa will generate a cone of the same height, and having for
its base the circle described by the revolution of m, and the
point C for its apex. The cylindrical surface generated by
Aa will express the whole cohesion exerted by the circum¬
ference AHK, and the cylindrical surface generated by Ee
wall represent the cohesion exerted by the circumference
.lLM, and the solid generated by the triangle CAa will re¬
present the cohesion exerted by the whole circle AHK, and
the cylinder generated by the rectangle ACm will represent
the cohesion exerted by the same surface if each particle
had suffered the extension Aa.
Now it is plain, in the first place, that the solid generated
by the triangle eEC is to that generated by aAC as EC3 to
5 F
778
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of AC*. In the next place, the solid generated by aAC is the straining force p is supposed to act; we shall have Strenr; t
Materials. tvvo thirds Gf the cylinder, because the cone generated by
" J'~v cCa is one third of it.
We may now suppose the cylinder twisted till the par¬
ticles in the external circumference lose their cohesion.
There can be no doubt that it will now be wrenched asun-
With what der, all the inner circles yielding in succession. Thus we
force a bo- obtain one useful information, viz. that a body of homogene-
F X iW3 —P1’ and F ^ = P‘ ^3
We see in general that the strength of an axle, by which
it resists being wrenched asunder by twisting, is as the cube
of its diameter.
We see also that the internal parts are not actinp so
dy of a ho- ous texture resigts a - le twist with two thirds of the force powerfully as the external. If a hole be bored out of the
moireneous ± ^ Civ’lo rtr half ifc rl lamofov f h o otron rrt K ia HinninicK^i   
texture re- with which it resists an attempt to force one part laterally
sists a sim.from the other, or with one-third part of the force which
pie twist, will cut it asunder by a square-edged tool; for to drive a
square-edged tool through a piece of lead, for instance, is
the same as forcing a piece of the lead as thick as the tool
laterally away from the two pieces on each side of the tool.
Experiments of this kind do not seem difficult, and they
w’ould give us very useful information.
axle of half its diameter, the strength is diminished only one
eighth, while the quantity of matter is diminished one fourth.
Therefore hollow axles are stronger than solid ones con- h0];(>,
taining the same quantity of matter. Thus let the diameter axles i,
be 5, and that of the hollow 4 ; then the diameter of an-proper t
other solid cylinder having the same quantity of mattersolitl 01
with the tube is 3. The strength of the solid cylinder of
the diameter 5 may be expressed by 53, or 125. Of this
’he forces When two cylinders AHK and BNO are wrenched asun- the internal part (of the diameter 4) exerts 64 ; therefore
xerted in muct r'nnclnrlo that thp external narticles of each the Strength of the tube is 1 ~5 64 — 61. but the strength
exerted in (]er? we must conclude that the external particles of each
nvo^din are j,lst Put beyond their limits of cohesion, are equally ex
dTrs 'iu-e'as tended, and are exerting equal forces. Llpnrp follows
of the solid axle of the same quantity of matter and dia¬
meter 3 is 33, or 27, which is not half of that of the tube.
Engineers, therefore, have of late introduced this im-andncni
provement in their machines, and the axles of cast iron aref>eneraf
all made hollow when their size will admit of it. They have
the additional advantage of being much stiffer, and of afford¬
ing much better fixture for the flanches which are used for
connecting them with the wheels or levers by which they
are turned and strained. The superiority of strength of
hollow tubes over solid cylinders is much greater in this
kind of strain than in the former or transverse. In this last
case the strength of this tube would be to that of the solid
cylinder of equal weight as 61 to 32 and a half nearly.
The apparatus which we mentioned on a former occasion
Hence it follows,
sthat in the instant of fracture the sum-total of the forces
uf the dia- actually exerted are as the squares of the diameters,
meters. For drawing the diagonal Ce, it is plain that Ee — Aa
expresses the distension of the circumference ELM, and
that the solid generated by the triangle CEe expresses the
cohesion exerted by the surface of the circle ELM, when
the particles in the circumference suffer the extension Ee
equal to Aa. Now the solids generated by CAa and CEe
being respectively two thirds of the corresponding cylinders,
are as the squares of the diameters.
Relative Having thus ascertained the real strength of the section,
strength ofant| jts relation to its absolute lateral strength, let us exa- » , - , . . . c • i e i-j
,!* seem. . its str th rclative t0 tlle external force employed to ‘Tig the lateral strength of a square inch of sol,d ma -
ternal force break it. I his examination is very simple in the case un¬
employed der consideration. The straining force must act by some
to break it. lever, and the cohesion must oppose it by acting on some
other lever. The centre of the section may be the neutral
point, whose position is not disturbed.
Let F be the force exerted laterally by an exterior par¬
ticle. Let a be the radius of the cylinder, and x the indeter¬
minate distance of any circumference, and dx the indefinitely
small interval between the concentric arches; that is, let
dx be the breadth of a ring and x its radius. The forces
being as the extensions, and the extensions as the distances
from the axis, the cohesion actually exerted at any part of
xdx
any ring will bey . The force exerted by the whole
ring (being as the circumference or as the radius) will be
y.x'dx
ter, enabled us to try this theory of twist with all desirable
accuracy. The bar which hung down from the pin in the
former trials was now placed in a horizontal position, and
loaded with a weight at the extremity. Thus it acted as a The rut:
powerful lever, and enabled us to wrench asunder speci-ot rcsht
mens of the strongest materials. We found the results31".’'’:0
perfectly conformable to the theory, in as far as it deter-
mined the proportional strength of different sizes and forms;lateral n
but we found the ratio of the resistance to twisting to thesistence
simple lateral resistance considerably different, and it wasPe^1^,‘i:||
some time before we discovered the cause. L 1 ‘ ’
We had here taken the simplest view that is possible of
the action of cohesion in resisting a twist. It is frequently
exerted in a very different way. When, for instance, an
iron axle is joined to a wooden one by being driven into one
end of it, the extensions of the different circles of particles
are in a very different proportion. A little consideration
The momentum of cohesion of a ring, being as will show that the particles in immediate contact with the
iron axle are in a state of violent extension; so are the
particles of the exterior surface of the wooden part, and the
intermediate parts are less strained. It is almost impossible
to assign the exact proportion of the cohesive forces exert¬
ed in the different parts. Numberless cases can be point¬
ed out where parts of the axle are in a state of compression^
and where it is still more difficult to determine the state ot
the ocher particles. We must content ourselves with the
deductions made from this simple case, which is fortunate-
In the experiments just now men-
Xrdx
the force multiplied by its lever, will bef Fhe accu¬
mulated momentum will be the sum or fluent of/--—;
that is, when x — a,\t will be \f~ — \f(P-
ter.
The resist- Hence we learn that the strength of an axle, by which
am-e of the it resists being wrenched asunder by a force acting at a ly the most common. , „
axle is as given distance from the axis, is as the cube of its diameter, tioned, the centre of the circle is by no means the neutral
'-'-('■uil’0 But, further, ^/a3 is =/ a* X \n. Now/a2 represents point, and it is very difficult to ascertain its place; but Bat vw?
the full lateral cohesion of the section. The momentum when this consideration occurred to us, we easily freed the^ ^/
therefore is the same as if the full lateral cohesion were ac- experiments from this uncertainty, by extending the lever ,jtere(ti
cumulated at a point distant from the axis by one fourth of to both sides, and by means of a pulley applied equal force was exad
the radius, or one eighth of the diameter of the cylinder. to each arm, acting in opposite directions. Thus the centre]y thesau
Therefore let F be the number of pounds which measure became the neutral point, and the resistance to twist was
the lateral cohesion of a circular inch, d tire diameter of the found to be two thirds of the simple lateral strength,
cylinder in inches, and l the length of the lever by which We beg leave to mention here, that our success in tnese
tr ■ '"'S
. ioii-
m
and «*>
sati
out
S T R
experiments encouraged us to extend them much farther.
We hoped by these means to discover the absolute cohe¬
sion of many substances, which would have required an
enormous apparatus and a most unmanageable force to tear
them asunder directly. But we could reason with confi¬
dence from the resistance to twist (which we could easily
measure), provided that we could ascertain the proportion
of the direct and the lateral strengths. Our experiments
on chalk, finely prepared clay, and white bee’s wax (of one
melting and one temperature), were very consistent and
satisfactory. But we have hitherto found great irregula¬
rities in this proportion in bodies of a fibrous texture like
timber. These are the most important cases, and we still
hope to be able to accomplish our project, and to give the
public some valuable information. This being our sole ob¬
ject, it was our duty to mention the method which promises
success, and thus excite others to the task ; and it will be no
mortification to us to be deprived of the honour of being the
first who thus adds to the stock of experimental knowledge.
When the matter of the axle is of the most simple tex¬
ture, such as that of metals, we do not conceive that the
length of the axle has any influence on the fracture. It is
otherwise if it be of a fibrous texture like timber; the fibres
are bent before breaking, being twisted into spirals like a
cork-screw. The length of the axle has somewhat of the
influence of a lever in this case, and it is easier wrenched
asunder if long. Accordingly we have found it so ; but we
have not been able to reduce this influence to calculation.
Many useful deductions might be made from these pre¬
mises respecting the manner of disposing and combining the
strength of materials in our structures. The best form of
joints, mortises, tenons, scarphs, the rules for joggling, ta¬
bling, faying, fishing, &c. practised in the delicate art of
mast-making, are all founded on this doctrine; but the dis¬
cussion of these would be equivalent to writing a complete
treatise of carpentry. (u. u. b.)
S T R
779
The most recent experiments on the strength and elas- Stromnes
ticity of material give the results entered in the following,~v~—
tables.
Table I Distensions of Rods for a Strain of one Pound
per Square Inch ; computed from the results given in
Tredgold, edition of 1840, as deduced from observations
on transverse strain.
British timber.,
( Oak ^oDo
_ ) Larch sgoOo
' j Scotch fir ttiJoThT
v Ash 12 (moo
Memel fir rz&'65
Norway fir rWodo
Fnrpio-n timber ^ American pine 5o^oo
o e o t mbe   ^ White spruce -gimm
i B'ga °ak 7 o o o 0 o
(American oak....: ■g^ocm
English malleable iron eTToVooo
Table II.— Cohesive Strengths of Bars per Square Inch.
lbs.
Oak from 14,000
Beech from 11,000
Ash from 12,000
Elm ..from 13,000
Mahogany from 8,000
Teak from 8,000
Pine (Norway) from 7,000
Larch from 9,000
Iron wire from 94,000
Swedish iron from 53,000
English iron from 55,000
Cast iron from 16,000
lbs.
19,000
22,000
17,000
14,000
21,000
15,000
14,000
10,000
to 113,000
to 78,000
to 66,000
to 33,000
STRETCHING, in Navigation, is generally under¬
stood to imply the progression of a ship under a great
surface of sail, when close-hauled.
STRETTA (Ital.), a musical term, often applied to the
last allegro of a finale, &c. in an opera. It signifies also a
kind of peroration or winding up of a piece of music, par¬
ticularly of a fugue. See Music.
STRETTO, or pin Stretto (Ital.), indicates an accele¬
ration of the time of a piece of music.
• STRIATED Leaf, among botanists, one that has a num¬
ber of longitudinal furrows on its surface.
STRIKE, a measure of capacity, containing four bushels.
Also an instrument used in measuring corn.
STROMBOLI, the most northern island of the Lipari
group, in the Mediterranean, being a part of the kingdom
of Naples. It was known to the ancients by the name of
Strongyle; a name implying a conical mountain with an ir¬
regular base. The mountain is bifurcated, upwards of 2000
feet in height, and about nine miles in circumference, and
is evidently a monstrous product of subterraneous fires. The
crater of this mountain is on the north-west side, about two
thirds of the whole height from the base ; it is of a circular
form, and about one hundred and seventy yards in diameter,
and has a yellow efflorescence adhering to its sides, as to
those of Mount iEtna. This crater has burnt without inter¬
mission from the earliest periods, and is supposed to be sup¬
ported by oxygen, pyrites, and sulphur; but there are not
any traces of the aid of bitumen. It appears to be not only
the vent of all these islands, but likewise to have subterra¬
neous communication with Sicily and Italy ; for, previously
to a severe earthquake taking place in those parts, Strom-
boli has been observed to be covered with dense clouds of
smoke, and to emit with increased activity unusually ardent
flames. The access to the summit, though fatiguing, is not
dangerous. When a person approaches the crater, and the
smoke clears away, as it does at intervals, he can observe an
undulating igneous substance, which at short periods rises
and falls with great agitation, and when swollen to the ut¬
most height bursts with a violent explosion and a discharge
of red-hot stones in a semi-fluid state, accompanied with
showers of ashes, and a strong sulphureous smell. These
masses are thrown up to the height of from sixty or seventy
to three hundred feet, and some few even to a thousand.
In the moderate ejections the stones in their ascent gra¬
dually diverge like a grand pyrotechnical exhibition, and
fall again into the abyss, except on the side next the sea,
where they roll down in quick succession to the water.
The island contains about 1200 inhabitants. The prin¬
cipal places are St Bartolo and St Vincenzo. The soil is
a black mold, very fertile, consisting of argilaceous tufa,
scoriae, puzzolana, and sand. Stromboli produces some
good wine, with excellent wheat, barley, cotton, rasins, cur¬
rants, and figs. The church of St Bartolo is in long. 15.
13. 10. E., and lat. 38. 48. 12. N.
STROMNESS, a town in the parish of the same name in
the island of Pomona, Orkney, in long. 3. 38. W. and lat. 58.
58. N. The town is situated on the western side of the island,
and was formerly an insignificant village, dependent on the
borough of Kirkwall, which kept it completely under; but by
a decision of the House of Lords, Stromness and all other vil¬
lages were declared free from being assessed, and otherwise
independent of royal boroughs. Thepresent town consistsof
one long rambling street, built round the bay on which it is
placed. The greater portion of the houses are built so close
on the water that they require to be defended by bulwarks,
jetties, and quays, to keep them from being overwhelmed by
tfso
S T R
S T U
Strophe the sea. At these small vessels load and unload. The har-
II hour is formed by the bay, which is about a mile in length,
, and half of that in breadth. It forms one of the most se¬
cure harbours in the north of Scotland, and affords safe an¬
chorage for vessels of 1000 tons burden; and it is the chief
resort for shipping in the northern isles. The wealth of the
inhabitants is chiefly derived from the Greenland whalers,
which touch here to complete their crews from the sailors
belonging to the place, as well as to supply the vessels with
provisions and stores. The Hudson Bay vessels also touch
here. A number of ships and boats are built at Stromness ;
and the manufacture of straw-plait is carried on to a con¬
siderable extent. It was erected into a borough of barony
in the year 1817, and it is governed by two bailies and nine
councillors. The population in 1831 amounted to 2182.
STKOPHE, in ancient poetry, a certain number of
verses, including a perfect sense, and making the first part
of an ode.
STROUD, a town of the hundred of Shamwell, in the
lathe of Aylesford and county of Kent, twenty-nine miles
from London. It stands on the river Medway, over which
is a bridge connecting it with Rochester, so as in appear¬
ance to make it merely a suburb to that city. It consists of
a single long street. The church is a fine old building,
which formerly belonged to the Knights Templars, who had
a palace near this town. The ruins of it are still visible
on the banks of the river. The inhabitants amounted in
1801 to 1172, in 1811 to 1394, in 1821 to 1461, and in
1831 to 1549.
Stroud, a town in the hundred of Bisley and county of
Gloucester, 102 miles from London. It stands on a hill
near the Stroud water, which empties itself into the Severn.
The Stroud is brought into communication with the Thames
by means of a canal. It is a considerable clothing town,
especially esteemed for the excellence of its dark-blue
cloths. It was created a borough by the act of 1832,
and returns two members to the House of Commons. It
has a well-frequented market on Friday. The inhabitants
amounted in 1801 to 5422, in 1811 to 5321, in 1821 to
7097, and in 1831 to 8607.
STRYPE, John, a most industrious and meritorious la¬
bourer in the department of ecclesiastical and literary his¬
tory, was born at Stepney on the first of November 1643.
His father, John van Stryp, was a native of Brabant, and
sought refuge in England on account of his religion. He
was a merchant and silk-thrower. The son received his
early education at St Paul’s school, where he remained for
six years. In 1662 he proceeded to Jesus College, Cam¬
bridge, from which he was transferred to Catherine Hall.
In 1665, he there took the degree of A.B., and that of A.M.
four years afterwards. He was appointed to the perpetual
curacy of Theydon-Boys, in the county of Essex, in 1669 ;
but he only retained it for a few months, having been ap¬
pointed minister of Low Leyton, in the same county. He
was elected by the parishioners, whom the patrons had left
to make their own choice of a spiritual guide. His emolu¬
ments were not secured to him in the usual way, but by a
bond for his maintenance entered into by his parishioners.
Their annual subscriptions amounted to sixty-nine pounds
sterling. Five years after his appointment to that parish, he
was licensed by the bishop of London to preach the word of
God in Low Leyton ; and the bishop’s license was the only
credential which he had to produce. This undisturbed enjoy¬
ment of questionable rights may be attributed to the favour
which the ecclesiastical dignitaries felt for a man who had
made many valuable additions to the annals of the church.
When far advanced in life, Strype was presented by Arch¬
bishop Tenison to the sinecure of Terring in Sussex. He
was also appointed to the lectureship of Hackney, which he
resigned in 1724. At Hackney he resided, in his old age,
under the roof of Mr Harris, an apothecary, who was mar¬
ried to his grand-daughter. In his house he died on the 11th
of December 1737, at the patriarchal age of ninety-four.
Strype’s principal works are, The Life of Archbishop
Cranmer, 1694, fob: The Life of Sir Thomas Smith, 1698,
8vo: The Life of Dr John Aylmer, bishop of London, 1701'
8vo : The Life of Sir John Cheke, 1705, 8vo: Annals of
the Reformation, 4vols.; vol. i. 1709, reprinted 1725; vol.
ii. 1725; vol. iii. 1728; vol. iv. 1731 : The Life of Arch¬
bishop Grindal, 1710, fob : The Life and Letters of Arch¬
bishop Parker, 1711, fob : The Life of Archbishop Whit-
gift, 1718, fob : Ecclesiastical Memorials, 1721, 3 vols. fob
The writings of Strype were for many years neglected,
but they are now held in deserved estimation; and they
have all been reprinted at the Clarendon press. He is not
remarkable for the methodical arrangement of his materials,
nor did he ever attain to much proficiency in the art of com¬
position ; but no one ever denied him the praise of diligence
and fidelity. Beside these works, he published Lessons for
Youth and Old Age, 1699, 12mo. He likewise published
the second volume of Dr Lightfoot’s Works, in 1684; and
an elaborate edition of Stow’s Survey of London, 1720, 2
vols. fob
STUART, Gilbert, an eminent jurist and historian, was
born at Edinburgh in the year 1742. His father, George
Stuart, LL. D., had succeeded John Ker as professor of hu¬
manity during the preceding year. According to the tradi¬
tion of the university, he was an excellent Latinist, but of
his proficiency he has left no public proofs. He had pre¬
pared an amended and enlarged edition of Ainsworth’s Latin
Dictionary ; but it was never committed to the press, and
its suppression may perhaps have been occasioned by the
too high estimate which the professor had formed of its pe¬
cuniary value.
The son was educated in the public school and in the uni¬
versity of his native city. Of his proficiency in several
branches of study, his various works afford a sufficient cri¬
terion. To the pursuit of jurisprudence he devoted him¬
self with uncommon ardour ; but although he had a strong
relish for law as a science, he anticipated no delight from
its practice, and he was never called to the bar. Of his
early progress in this study he exhibited a very conspicuous
specimen in a work published without his name ; “ An His¬
torical Dissertation concerning the Antiquity of the English
Constitution.” Edinb. 1768, 8vo. It has been asserted
that when he produced this work, he was little more than
twenty years of age ; but the statement is not sufficiently
accurate, for he had then attained his twenty-sixth year.
For a writer of that age, or indeed of any age, it is an inge¬
nious and able performance. His chief favourites and mo¬
dels are Tacitus and Montesquieu. With no mean talents
for research and disquisition, he has endeavoured to evince
that “ the parts which compose our constitution arose more
immediately from the forests of Germany.” The same ground
had recently been occupied by the learned Dr Squire, bi¬
shop of St David’s; of whose Inquiry into the Foundation of
the English Constitution a second edition appeared in the
year 1753. Stuart’s Dissertation, distinguished by so much
vigour of intellect and maturity of juridical learning, pro¬
cured him from the university the degree of LL. D., which
is very rarely bestowed upon so young a scholar. A second
edition, bearing the author’s name, was published at Lon¬
don in the year 1771, and he then prefixed a dedication to
the earl of Mansfield.
The dedication is dated at London in the month of Ja¬
nuary 1770; and before this period he had become a re¬
gular contributor to the Monthly Review, with which he
continued his connexion from 1768 to 1774. We like¬
wise find him employed as the editor of “ An Historical
Treatise on the Feudal Law, and the Constitution and Laws
of England ; with a Commentary on Magna Charta, and ne¬
cessary Illustrations of many of the English Statutes: in a
S T U
t. Course of Lectures read in the University of Dublin, by
the late Francis Stoughton Sullivan, LL. D., Royal Pro¬
fessor of the Common Law in that University.” Lond.
1772, 4to. Dr Sullivan had obtained a fellowship at the
early age of nineteen; and, as his editor informs us, he
“ was not less remarkable for his knowledge in history and
chronology than for his skill in his profession as a barrister
and civilian.” Towards the close of his life, he was engaged
in preparing a History of Ireland ; but this task was reserved
for Dr Leland, another distinguished fellow of Trinity Col¬
lege. The editor, whose name does not appear, has pre¬
fixed a preface of four pages, and has particularly extolled
the author for his “ admirable vindication of the original
freedom of our constitution, and his excellent commentary
on Magna Charta”
A pseudonymous work, of a very different denomination,
has been ascribed to Dr Stuart. It bears the title of “ Ani¬
madversions on Mr Adam’s Latin and English Grammar;
being an Exhibition of its Defects, and an Illustration of
the Danger of Introducing it into Schools. By John Richard
Busby, Master of Arts.” Edinb. 1773, 8vo. This gram¬
mar, at its first appearance, was doomed to encounter a
very fierce and general opposition. The other four mas¬
ters of the school to which the author belonged, presented
to the town-council a remonstrance against it; and the
use of it in that seminary was formally prohibited.1 Stuart’s
zeal might be excited by his relationship to Ruddiman,
whose elementary works, both excellent in their kind, had
for half a century retained their place in the grammar
schools. That the writer has detected and specified errors
and omissions, it would not be safe to deny ; but the
spirit as well as the style of his animadversions is such as
no unprejudiced reader could approve. They conclude
with the subsequent passage: “ These strictures will, it is
thought, be sufficient to evince the entire frivolity of Mr
Adam’s grammar, and the danger that must attend its
adoption into our schools. To point out all the errors of
his performance, would require several volumes ; and I am
not ambitious of performing a task that would vie with any
of the labours of Hercules. It is the peculiar infelicity of
this grammarian, that he exhibits every defect which it
is possible for an author to possess ; a sterile invention, an
unhappy method, a cold and inauspicious manner, an in¬
accurate and nerveless expression, a perverted judgment, a
| defective understanding, a corrupted taste Education is
not a matter to be trifled with. The mistakes and mis¬
carriage of our most generous youth have too frequently
their rise in the negligence with which they have been
treated in schools, where they have been sent to be ini¬
tiated in the first principles of knowledge. It is also no
groundless complaint, that the teacher often adds incapacity
to neglect. And if this is, in general, a just representation
of the matter, how must we pity, in particular, the pupils of
Mr Adam ! To disadvantages common to other boys, they
must join the cruel and insuperable one of studying a work
that advances in an unvaried progress from blunder to
blunder, and from absurdity to absurdity.” The merits and
emerits of this grammar, which in spite of all opposition
became very popular, were discussed in various articles of
t ie Weekly Magazine. Here we find two Latin lucubra¬
tions on the subject, one of which was known to be the pro¬
duction of Stuart, and the other might perhaps be written
by the same satirical pen. In the form of a description of
a Koman funeral, he records the interment of Adam’s Latin
'jratnmar; nor does he neglect to introduce the well-known
amie Duff, an idiot whose supreme delight was to place
Himself, an unhired attendant, at the head of a funeral pro-
Edin^ls'iy0^* ■^ccoun* ■^'1^e an^ Character of Alexander
' Wt'ekly Magazine, vol. xix. p 245. See likewise p. 53.
ART. 781
cession : “ Imus ad hortos scholasticos, praeeunte Jacobo Stuart.
Duff, solita sua gravitate, densissimo ac lactissimo puerorum '
agmine cincto.” The narrative closes with this monumen¬
tal inscription:
In hac urna jacet quod reliquum est
Libelli inauspicati,
nunquam resurrecturi,
invita et irata Minerva editi;
qui miserabiliter
in tenera astate raptus,
triste praebet exemplum
fragiKtatis humanae,
nec non vanitatis auctorum,
qui Musis non rite litantes
longiorem expectant vitam.
Siste viator; et, si meliorem animae partem
velis esse superstitem,
fatum meum tecum reputa.
Festina lentius, et vale.2
Dr Stuart now undertook the management of “ The
Edinburgh xtlagazine and Review,” of which the first num¬
ber bears the date of November 1773. In the commercial
part of this enterprise his partners were Alexander Kincaid,
his majesty’s printer, William Creech, bookseller, William
bmellie, printer, and William Kerr, surveyor of the post-
office. I he work was printed by Smellie, who was like¬
wise to manage the business details of the concern, to fur¬
nish the last half-sheet of every number, and to review such
books as the editor and he should select. The profits were
to be distributed into six shares; one of which was allotted
to Kincaid and Creech conjunctly; one each to Stuart,
Smellie, and Kerr; and the rem-aining two to the editor
and the printer, to be divided between them as they should
mutually agree. Stuart was himself the principal writer.
V arious essays and reviews were furnished by Smellie.
Loid Hailes, Dr Blacklock, Professor Richardson of Glas¬
gow, and 11 ofessor Barron of St Andrews, were among the
number of the contributors. The name of Dr Moor ap¬
pears in the poetical department. An extraordinary lucu¬
bration, entitled “ A modest Defence of the Accomplish¬
ment of Blasphemy,” was written by the Rev. A. Gillies.
I he Key. Mr Nimmo of Bothkennar wrote the Essay on
t ie Antiquities of Stirlingshire, wKich he afterwards en-
largeu to the size of an octavo volume.3
A periodical work, supported by such contributors, might
have run a long and prosperous career, if its success had
net been marred by the editor’s want of temper and dis¬
cretion. At that period, the population of Edinburgh pro¬
bably did not amount to one third of its present number;
and the freedom of public discussion was circumscribed in
at least an equal proportion. Dr Henry was one of those
who had most reason to complain of injurious treatment.
A single sermon of his was very unfavourably noticed by
bmelhe ; and on the second volume of his History of Great
Britain two articles were written by Stuart, in a style of
unmitigated sarcasm and contempt; nor does it appear
that there was any original ground of personal offence. In
some fragments of his letters which have been published
by D Israeli, he speaks of this historian with a strange mix¬
ture of levity and virulence. Lord Monboddo did not ex¬
perience better treatment. On the second volume of his
Origin and Progress of Language they inserted two, and
on the third volume three articles, each of them more of¬
fensive than another. These articles were written by Stuart,
Smellie, and Gillies, but the greater portion of them by the
latter. I he editor lent his aid in the review’’ of the third
Adam, LL. D. Rector of the High School of Edinburgh, p. 42.
3 Kerr’s Memoirs of Smellie, vol. i. p. 401.
782
S T U A R T.
Stuart, volume, and in tlie art of vituperation he greatly excelled
 his coadjutors. It is scarcely to be supposed that any of
the disparaging expressions were attributable to Smellie.
This attack on the learned judge gave great offence to him
and his friends, and indeed it had a visible effect in preci¬
pitating the failure of the work. Of Lord Karnes’s Sketches
of the History of Man the editor had prepared a very se¬
vere review; but when it was sent to the printer, he “ coun¬
teracted the intentions of his colleague, by altering the whole
into a totally opposite tendency, converting the far greater
part from harsh invective into reasonable and merited pa¬
negyric.” On discovering that the venom had thus been
extracted, the writer was moved with violent anger ; but he
speedily moderated his feelings so far as to admit that his
friend had acted rightly. Smellie, though he generally
exercised a sounder discretion, could himself display a
strong vein of satire. This remark was sufficiently verified
in his controversy with Dr Nisbet, then minister of Mon¬
trose, and afterwards president of Dickinson College at
Carlisle in Pennsylvania.1 * The controversy was occasioned
by the mode of reporting a certain debate in the General
Assembly. Nisbet printed two letters in a newspaper, and
Smellie replied in the magazine. This publication was
continued till the month of August 1776, when it termi¬
nated with the fifth volume. A dosing notice informed
the “ numerous and respectable encouragers of this work,”
that its publication was only interrupted for some months,
and that it would afterwards appear in an improved form.
But the promise was never fulfilled, nor is it very probable
that many readers expected its fulfilment.
Notwithstanding the failure of this project, Dr Stuart had
displayed so much talent in his principal articles, that his
reputation as a man of letters suffered no diminution. He
however felt a very painful mortification at the unsuccess¬
ful result of his labours; and his mind was so badly regu¬
lated that, instead of reflecting on the natural tendency of
his own conduct, he continued to cherish a most bitter and
indiscriminate resentment. In a letter, dated on the 17th
of June 1774, and probably addressed to his London pub¬
lisher, he expresses himself in these unseemly terms : “ It
is an infinite disappointment to me, that the Magazine does
not grow in London ; I thought the soil had been richer.
But it is my constant fate to be disappointed in every thing
I attempt; I do not think I ever had a wish that was gra¬
tified, and never dreaded an event that did not come. With
this felicity of fate, I wonder how the devil I could turn
projector. I am now sorry that I left London ; and the
moment that I have money enough to carry me back to it,
1 shall get off. I mortally detest and abhor this place, and
every body in it. Never was there a city where there was
so much pretension to knowledge, and that had so little of
it. The solemn foppery, and the gross stupidity of the
Scottish literati, are perfectly insupportable. I shall drop
my idea of a Scots newspaper. Nothing will do in this
country that has common sense in it; only cant, hypo¬
crisy, and superstition, will flourish here. A curse on
the country, and all the men, women, and children of it....
The publication is too good for the country. There are
very few men of taste or erudition on this side the Tweed ;
yet every idiot one meets with lays claim to both. Yet
the success of the Magazine is in reality greater than
we could expect, considering that we have every clergyman
in the kingdom to oppose it; and that the magistracy of
the place are every moment threatening its destruction.”
All this exhibits a melancholy picture of a man of superior
talents and attainments, deriving no wisdom from expe¬
rience, but still indulging those very passions to which his
want of success was chiefly to be attributed, and which al¬
ways bear along with them their own punishment. Before St«
he vented his spleen in terms of such unseemly import, he
ought to have recollected, “ It is a foul corby that bewrays
its own nest.” The fault that he here commits, is not one
with which his countrymen are commonly chargeable; and
the period which he thus describes as so barren in taste
and erudition, was perhaps remarkable for its intellectual
eminence beyond any former or succeeding period in the
literary annals of Scotland.
Dr Stuart was still in the early vigour of manhood, and
he speedily roused himself to new and greater exertions.
After an interval of less than two years, he produced what
we are disposed to regard as the best of his works, “ A View
of Society in Europe, in its Progress from Rudeness to
Refinement: or, Inquiries concerning the History of Law,
Government, and Manners.” Edinb. 1778, 4to. This
work, of which there are several other editions, excited
much attention on its first appearance. Hayley, who was
then a popular writer, described the author as possessing
“ all the energy of genius.”3 His researches are conducted
with judgment and sagacity ; he grasps his subject with
much vigour, and always expresses himself with boldness
and force. In the progress of his discussions, he points
out various mistakes of recent writers. One of these was
Blackstone, who silently rectified the errors which he de¬
tected.3 The style of this wmrk, though never languid or
feeble, may however be considered as deficient in fluency
and variety. His periods are too uniformly short, to be
altogether pleasing to the ear. Long sentences he has
elsewhere denounced in set terms. “ This brevity,” he
avers, “ is a conspicuous part of oratory, and is consistent
with the greatest elevation and dignity. Where Cicero
himself is most eloquent, and where the tide of his language
is most rapid and powerful, his sentences are concise; and
he avoids with care the periodic swell, as cold, artificial,
and unnatural. And indeed it is to be laid down as a ge¬
neral rule, that where sentences are uniformly long, as in
Milton and in Clarendon, there is no eloquence in the com¬
position, and little connection in the argument.”4
The chief value of the work consists in the vivid and
striking picture which it exhibits of chivalry and the feudal
system. In this respect it possesses some advantages over
Dr Robertson’s View of the Progress of Society in Europe,
though it is not written with the same degree of classical
elegance. “ In the courtly and agreeable introduction to
the History of Charles the Fifth,” says Dr Stuart, “ of
which the scheme is so comprehensive, it is remarkable
that, amidst a wdde variety of other omissions, there is not
even the slightest consideration of knight-service, and the
knight’s fee. Yet these circumstances were of a most
powerful operation, both with respect to government and
manners. I make not this remark to detract from the dili¬
gence of an author whose laboriousness is acknowledged,
and whose total abstinence from all ideas and inventions pt
his own, permitted him to carry an undivided attention to
other men’s thoughts and speculations; but that, resting on
these peculiarities, I may draw from them this general and
humiliating, yet, I hope, not unuseful conclusion, that the
study and knowledge of the dark ages are still in their in¬
fancy.” This contemptuous mention of the great historian
could scarcely fail to excite resentment, and of this resent¬
ment he speedily had occasion to prove the bitter effects.
The professorship of the law of nature and nations vyas
at that period held by James Balfour; and in 1779, being
then advanced in years, it was ascertained that he was vvill-
ing to resign it for a valuable consideration. Here it i»
necessary to explain the very remarkable fact, that, undei
the sanction of the secretary of state, this professorship was
1 See Dr Allen’s American Biographical and liistorical Dictionary, p. 449. * Ilayley’s Essay on History, p. 15<. Loud. D80, 4to<
3 English Review, vol. ii. p. 169. 4 Edinburgh Magazine and Review, vol. v. p.
STUART.
783
t. regularly bought and sold. The price of his resignation had
'—"'already been fixed, and the chair, thus to be vacated, had
been promised to Dr Stuart, when the negociation was
finally interrupted by a strong remonstrance from the prin¬
cipal ; who might safely represent to the lord advocate that
the habits of the candidate were not sufficiently academical,
and that such an appointment would be highly unsatisfactory
to himself, as well as to some of his colleagues. “ While
engaged in some of his studies and projected publications,”
we are informed, “ he has been known to confine himself
for many weeks to solitary literary labour, hardly ever stir¬
ring abroad for air and exercise; but he unfortunately in¬
dulged in occasional sallies of vastly too great latitude and
even licentiousness.”1
This professorship was founded by the crown in the year
1707. The salary, payable out of the tithes of the bishop¬
ric of Edinburgh, amounted in 1802 to about L.SfiO ; but
it was then reduced so low as L.80 or L.90, by an augmen¬
tation of stipend adjudged to the minister of St Cuthbert’s.
As an indemnity for this reduction, the professor obtained
in 1806 a pension of L.200, payable during his incumbency.
He had “ purchased his commission,” and he never read a
single lecture. He survived till the year 1831, and no suc¬
cessor has been appointed. A middle way might certainly
have been found between the conduct of one administration
and that of another. The number of lucrative offices in
this university is not superabundant, nor was it necessary
to reduce their number by so minute a fragment of public
economy. Even on the admission of the chair having been
inefficient, this treatment, unless extended to some better-
endowed universities, can scarcely be regarded as impar¬
tial. The professorship of the civil law at Oxford has long
been as inefficient as the professorship of public law at
Edinburgh. Why should the one be suppressed, and the
other spared ?
His qualifications for the office which thus seemed to be
within his reach, were very eminent; and this signal dis¬
appointment of his hopes proved the greatest misfortune of
his life. His resentment against Dr Robertson appears to
have suggested all the works in which he afterwards engag¬
ed. This spirit is very easily to be discerned in his next
publication, “ Observations concerning the Public Law and
the Constitutional History of Scotland: with occasional Re¬
marks concerning English Antiquity.” Edinb. 1779, 8vo.
I His exrensive researches for the "View of Society must evi¬
dently have abridged his labour of preparing these Obser¬
vations, which contain much disquisition of a similar kind.
1 he work is able and elaborate, nor can it be safely over¬
looked by any student anxious to investigate the constitu¬
tional history of our country. His antipathy to Robertson
is unequivocally displayed in many passages; and, at the
conclusion, he thus concentrates his sentiments of dispa¬
ragement : “ A propensity to embellish other men’s notions,
without considering enough on what authority they are
founded, how strong they are in themselves, and what in¬
ferences are to be deduced from them, is a constant and a
teeming source of mistake to this showy and elegant histo¬
rian. It is thence that he holds out many a frail opinion to
glitter and to perish. To collect these cannot be interesting
to me. But, though I could not submit to make a chronicle
of his errors, I hav* been induced to wipe away, and to dis¬
pel, in part, the stains and the gloom they would fix upon our
story, and to illustrate, by examples, the respect which is due
to his authority. And, while I perform this service to truth,
to liberty, and to our national antiquities, I disdain to be un¬
just, and am far from being insensible to the peculiarities
uf bis merit. It must be a pain, I know, to many of his
readers, that the most widely amusing of all our writers, is
not at the same time the best informed, and the most able. Stuart.
They must regret that a work which forms so general, so s'—~v—
easy, and so pleasing a pastime, is not also fraught with in¬
struction, and loaded with wisdom; and that the author,
who is deservedly so eminent in all the arts of courtly and
popular composition, is not likewise remarkable for those
superior qualities, which alone can secure and establish
admiration, the power of thought, and the originality of
sentiment.” It is scarcely necessary for us to subjoin, that
we are very far from being disposed to acquiesce in this
general estimate.
This publication was speedily followed by “ The History
of the Establishment of the Reformation of Religion in
Scotland.” Lond. 1780, 4to. The work is written with
his usual ability, hut it cannot be affirmed that such an
undertaking was peculiarly adapted to his habits of think¬
ing. He however displays a greater degree of impartiality
than could well have been anticipated. He is willing to
admit that “ a tribute of the highest panegyric and praise
is justly to be paid to the actors in the Reformation. They
gave way to the movements of a liberal and a resolute spirit.
They taught the rulers of nations that the obedience of the
subject is the child of justice, and that men must be go¬
verned by their opinions and their reason. Their magna¬
nimity is illustrated by great and conspicuous exploits;
which, at the same time that they awaken admiration, are
an example to support and animate virtue in the hour of
trial and peril. The existence of civil liberty was deeply
connected with the doctrines for which they contended and
fought. While they treated with scorn an abject and cruel
superstition, and lifted and sublimed the dignity of man, by
calling his attention to a simpler and wiser theology, they
were strenuous to give a permanent security to the political
constitution of their state.”
Of this work, his next publication may be considered as
the sequel: “ The History of Scotland, from the Establish¬
ment of the Reformation till the Death of Queen Mary.”
Lond. 1782, 2 vols. 4to. Here the author has made a great,
and indeed a splendid effort, to eclipse the reputation of
Robertson, whom lie both envied and hated. As the one
historian considered Mary guilty of some of the foulest
crimes laid to her charge, it was almost an obvious conse¬
quence that the other should represent her as innocent.
Her innocence, he is willing to believe, has been demon¬
strated by Goodall and Tytler; but more recent writers,
and especially Laing, have sufficiently disposed of their de¬
monstrations ; nor is it perhaps to be anticipated that any
historian of eminence will hereafter desert the footsteps of
Robertson to tread in those of Stuart. His work however
displays great vigour of mind, and the style is more easy
and flowing than that of his View of Society. Some of his
characters are sketched with a powerful pencil. This his¬
tory attracted no inconsiderable share of public attention
on its first appearance, and, like his preceding volume, it
reached a second edition, but it made little or no progress
in supplanting the rival work ; and the story of the ill-iated
Mary’s crimes and sufferings still continues to be chiefly
read in the elegant and captivating pages of Robertson.
The preface to the History of Scotland is dated at Lon¬
don on the first of March 1782 ; and soon after this period,
he undertook the management of the English Review, the
property of the late John Murray, who had been the Lon¬
don publisher of his Magazine. Of “ The English Review,
or, an Abstract of English and Foreign Literature,” the
first number appeared at the commencement of the year
1783. One of his coadjutors was Whitaker, an uncandid
and virulent critic, whose chief effort in this journal was a
series of articles on Gibbon’s History.2 These he reprinted
| Kerr’s Memoirs of Smellie, vol. i. p. 500.
D Israeli states that he negotiated lor Whitaker and himself a doctor of laws degree.” (Calamities of Authors, vol. ii. p. 63.) This
784
Stud
II
Stahlweis'
senburg.
S T U
in a separate form in the year 1791. In this English lie-
view, some Scotish authors do not find much favour. The
historical works of Dr Ferguson and Dr Watson receive a
liberal portion of praise; but the Lectures of Dr Blair and
the Dissertations of Dr Beattie are treated as works of
very inferior merit and importance. It is observable that
Smellie’s translation of Buffon is not honoured with much
commendation. Stuart had dedicated one of his works to
the chief justice; but the subsequent passage, which occurs
in an article apparently written by him, affords a sufficient
indication of his altered sentiments : “ Lord Mansfield, dur¬
ing the course of his long life, has been uniformly the zealous
champion of prerogative; and has exerted and prostituted
his abilities to undermine the trial by jury, and the liberty
of the press, those sacred and formidable bulwarks which
support the glorious fabric of the English government.”
How long he continued to conduct the English Review,
we are not informed. In 1785 he became the editor of
“ The Political Herald and Review; or a Survey of do¬
mestic and foreign Politics, and a critical Account of poli¬
tical and historical Publications.” This work, it is believed,
only reached a second volume. One of his coadjutors, in
this as well as the English Review, was Dr Thomson, who,
like himself, was too great a lover of Burton ale. Their
favourite haunt was the Peacock in Gray’s Inn Lane.1 It is
too well known that Stuart’s mode of life had been such as
to impair his health and strength. With a constitution
undermined by disease, and a mind soured by disappoint¬
ment, he embarked for Leith, and sought a place of rest un¬
der the roof of his father, who having become emeritus pro¬
fessor in 1775, was then residing at Musselburgh. The son
was labouring under a dropsy, from which the usual opera¬
tion afforded him a temporary relief; but all medical aid
was ineffectual, and he descended to his grave at the pre¬
mature age of forty-four. He died on the 13th of August
1786, and his father survived till the 18th of June 1793.
Gilbert Stuart is thus described by a writer who seems
to have had some personal knowledge of him: He “ was
about the middle size, and justly proportioned. His coun¬
tenance was modest and expressive, sometimes announcing
sentiments of glowing friendship, of which he is said to have
been truly susceptible; at others, displaying strong indig¬
nation against folly and vice, which he had also shewn in
his writings. With all his ardour for study, he yielded to
the love of intemperance, to which, notwithstanding a strong
constitution, he fell an early sacrifice.” 2 (x.)
STUD, in the manege, a collection of breeding horses
and mares.
STUDY (Ital. Studio), a piece of instrumental music
composed for the purpose of familiarizing the player with
some of the difficulties of his instrument. Thus we have
studies for the violin by Fiorillo, Kreuzer, Rode, Spohr,
Paganini; and for the pianoforte by Clementi, Cramer,
Kalkbrenner, and others.
STUDDING-SAILS, certain light sails, extended, in
moderate and steady breezes, beyond the skirts of the
principal sails, where they appear as wings upon the yard¬
arms.
STUFF, in commerce, a general name for all kinds of
fabrics of gold, silver, silk, wool, hair, cotton, or thread,
manufactured on the loom ; of which number are velvets,
brocades, mohairs, satins, taffetas, cloths, serges, &c.
STUHLWEISSENBURG, a city of the kingdom of
Hungary, in the province of the Farther Danube, the capital
of a circle of the same name. It stands in a marshy situa¬
tion on the river Sarvitz, is the seat of a Catholic bishop,
S T U
and of several inferior courts of judicature. Besides a ca- Stukej
thedral, it has several Catholic churches, and one for the'—v-
United Greeks, and likewise two monasteries. It contains
1330 houses, with 12,380 inhabitants, who are chiefly de¬
pendent on agriculture, especially on vineyards, but are also
employed in manufacturing flannel and other woollen goods.
Long. 18. 19. 25. E. Lat. 4)7. 11. SL N.
STUKELEY, William, an eminent antiquary, descend¬
ed from an ancient family in Lincolnshire, was born at
Holbech in that county, on the 7th of November 1687.
From the free school of his native town he was removed to
Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, where he was admit¬
ted on the 7th of November 1703. Having chosen the
medical profession, he took the degree of M. B. in 1709,
and that of M. D. in 1719. He first settled as a practitioner
at Boston; but in 1717 he removed to London, and was
admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians in 1720. By
the recommendation of Dr Mead, he was chosen a fellow
of the Royal Society. He contributed to the re-establish¬
ment of the Society of Antiquaries ; of which he officiated
as secretary for many years. In 1726 he left the metropo¬
lis, and settled at Grantham in Lincolnshire, where he soon
obtained extensive practice. In 1728 he married Frances,
the daughter of Robert Williamson, Esq. of Allington, a
lady of good family and fortune. Being much afflicted with
the gout, he found the exercise of his profession very labo¬
rious, and therefore meditated a retreat into the church.
On the 20th of July 1720, being then in the thirty-third
year of his age, he received ordination from Archbishop
Wake ; and in the ensuing October was presented by the
lord-chancellor King to the living of All-Saints in Stam¬
ford. He became a widower in 1737, and, in the course
of the following year, married the only daughter of Dr
Gale, the learned dean of York. In 1739 the living of
Somerby near Grantham was bestowed upon him by the
duke of Ancaster. In 1747 the duke of Montagu presented
him to the rectory of St George, Queen Square, and he
then vacated his other benefices. He survived till the 3d
of March 1765. On the 27th of the preceding month, he
had been struck with palsy, after attending a full vestry on
a contested election for a lecturer. The apartment was
much heated ; and on returning through his garden, accom¬
panied by Serjeant Eyre, “ they both caught their deaths,
for the serjeant never was abroad again, and the doctor’s
illness came on that night.” By his first wife Dr Stukeley
had three daughters, one of whom died young, and the
other two survived him. The one was married to Mr
Richard Fleming, an eminent solicitor, and the other to the
Rev. Thomas Fairchild, rector of Pitsey in Essex. They
both died in 1782. Of his second marriage there was no
i®8110, . . v r
Dr Stukeley was a man of varied learning, but was clnet-
ly distinguished by his knowledge of antiquities. His writ¬
ings are numerous, and partly relate to medical, as well as
theological subjects; but we shall confine ourselves to an
enumeration of the most important or curious of his anti¬
quarian publications. An Account of a Roman Temple
near Graham’s Dike. 1720, 4to. Of the Roman Amphi¬
theater at Dorchester. Lond. 1723, 4to. Itinerariuni Ou-
riosum; or, an Account of the Antiquitys and remarkable
Curiosities in Great Britain. Lond. 1724, fol. Lond. 177 ,
2 vols. fol. Stonehenge ; a Temple restor’d to the Bntisn
Druids. Lond. 1740, fol. Abury; a Temple of the Bri¬
tish Druids: with some others described. Lond. 1743,to!.
Palceographia Brilannica; or, Discourses on Antiquities in
Britain. Lond. 1743-52, 4to. An Account of Richard ot
supposed negociation he apparently refers to the year 17S3, or some
degree had very honourably been conferred upon Stuart many years
a ii. D. of Oxford.
1 Annual Obituary, vol. ii. p. 101.
eriod subsequent to the appearance of the English Review. The
.fore; and John Whitaker, on whom it was never confened,
2 General Biographical Dictionary, vol. xxviii. p. 474.
S T U
r Cirencester. Lend. 1757, 4-to. The Medallic History of
Marcus Aurelius Valerius Carausius, Emperor in Britain.
irt- Bond. 1757-9, 2 vols. 4to.
STUPOR, a numbness in any part of the body, whether
occasioned by ligatures obstructing the blood’s motion, by
the palsy, or the like.
STURM, John, better known by the name of Sturmius,
a learned philologer and rhetorician, was born at Schleiden
in Eissel, near Cologne, on the 1st of October 1507. He
studied at first in his native country with the sons of Count
von Manderscheid, whose receiver his father was. He
afterwards pursued his study at Liege, in the college of St
Jerome, and then went to Louvain in 1524. He there spent
five years, three in learning and two in teaching. He set
up a printing-press with Rudger Rescius, professor of the
Greek tongue, and printed several Greek authors. In 1529
he went to Paris, where he was highly esteemed, and read
public lectures on the Greek and Latin writers, and on logic.
There he married, and kept a great number of boarders:
but as he was inclined to what were called the new opinions,
he was more than once in danger; and this undoubtedly
was the reason why he removed to Strasburg in 1537, in
order to take possession of the place offered him by the
magistrates. The year following he opened a school, which
became famous, and by his means obtained of Maximilian
II. the privileges of a university in the year 1566. He was
very well skilled in polite literature, wrote Latin with great
purity, and was an able teacher. His talents w ere not con¬
fined to the school; for he was frequently intrusted with
deputations in Germany and foreign countries, and dis¬
charged these employments with great honour and dili¬
gence. He showed extreme charity to the refugees on ac¬
count of religion : he not only laboured to assist them by
his advice and recommendations, but he even impoverished
himself for them. He died on the 3d of March 1589, in
the eighty-second year of his age, after he had been for
some time blind. Although he was thrice married, he left
no children. He was a learned writer, and published va¬
rious works, which wrere found to be useful and important
by his contemporaries. One of these was an edition of
Cicero in nine vols. 8vo. He bestowed much labour in
elucidating the rhetorical works of Aristotle, Hermogenes,
and Cicero. With the view of improving the system of
education, he published several treatises ; one of which was
frequently reprinted. It is entitled “ De Literarum Ludis
recte aperiendis liber.” Argent. 1538, 4to. F. A. Hall-
bauer edited a collection of his tracts, under the title “ De
Institutione Scholastica Opuscula omnia.” Jense, 1730,
8vo. The name of Sturmius is familiar to the reader of
Ascham’s epistles. He must not be confounded with John
Sturm, a native of Mechlin, and physician and professor of
mathematics at Louvain, who also wrote several works.
SI URMINSTER-MARSHAL, a town of the hundred
of Cogdean and county of Dorset, 104 miles from London.
It has a large church, and had formerly a market, which
has of late years been disused. It stands on the river
Stour. rlhe number of inhabitants amounted in 1801 to
604, in 1811 to 662, in 1821 to 715, and in 1831 to 803.
SfURMINSTER-NEWTON, a town in the hundred
of the same name in the county of Dorset, 111 miles from
London. It stands on the river Stour, and had once a con¬
siderable trade in making flannels, baize, and blankets; but
of late it has declined. The buildings are indifferent, but
it has a fine church, lately repaired. The market is held on
Thursday. The inhabitants amounted in 1801 to 1406,
in 1811 to 1461, in 1821 to 1612, and in 1831 to 1831.
S1 U 11GART, the capital of the kingdom of Wirtem-
berg, stands in a beautiful valley, and is surrounded on
every side with hills of very moderate elevation, which are
clothed to the tops with vineyards. The valley is watered
by a clear and rapid but not copious river, which meanders
VOL. xx.
STY 785
through the walks at the extremity of the city. A great Style
part of the city is composed of fine and modern build- II
ings, and those streets are clean, well paved, and light. s ^.vx-
The royal palace is an extensive and magnificent pile of
building; and the theatre, opera-house, the gymnasium, and
the Catholic church, are fine specimens of architecture.
Though there are no fortifications, the entrance to the city
is through handsome gates, and one of them of most im¬
posing beauty. Besides the gymnasium, there are other
institutions for instruction ; and the collection of ancient
paintings, and the workshop of the sculptor Daneker, will be
a treat to an amateur of the fine arts. The inhabitants
amounted in 1817 to 26,016, and in 1831 had increased to
31,500. It is a place of little trade beyond what arises from
supplying the court and the nobility that resort to it. Long.
9. 5. 33. E. Lat. 46. 48. 32. N.
STYLE, a wmrd of various significations, originally de¬
duced from stylos, a kind of bodkin wherewith the ancients
wrote on plates of lead, or on wax, &c. and which is still
used to write on ivory leaves and paper prepared for that
purpose.
Style, in language, is the peculiar manner in which a
man expresses his conceptions. It is a picture of the ideas
which rise in his mind, and of the order in which they are
there produced. See Rhetoric.
Old Style, the Julian method of computing time, as the
New Style is the Gregorian method of computation.
See Chronology.
STYLITES, Pillar Saints, in Ecclesiastical History, an
appellation given to a kind of solitaries, who stood motion¬
less upon the tops of pillars raised for this exercise of their
patience, and remained there for several years, amidst the
admiration and applause of the stupid populace. Of these
we find several mentioned in ancient writers, and even as
low as the twelfth century, when they were totally sup¬
pressed. The founder of the order was Simeon Stylites,
a famous anchoret in the fifth century, who first took up
his abode on a column six cubits high, then on a second
of twelve cubits, a third of twenty-two, a fourth of thirty-
six, and on another of forty cubits, where he thus passed
thirty-seven years of his life. The tops of these columns
were only three feet in diameter, and were defended by a
rail that reached almost to the girdle, but did not permit
the votary to lie down. The faquirs, or devout people of
the east, imitate this insane mode of life to the present day.
STYX, in Fabulous History, a river of hell, round which
it flows nine times. The gods held the waters of the Styx
in such veneration, that to swear by them was reckoned an
oath altogether inviolable. If any of the gods had perjured
themselves, Jupiter obliged them to drink the w aters of the
Styx, which lulled them for one whole year into a senseless
stupidity; for the nine following years they were deprived
of the ambrosia and the nectar of the gods; and after the-
expiration of the years of their punishment, they were re¬
stored to the assembly of the deities, and to all their origi¬
nal privileges. It is said that this veneration was shown to
the Styx, because it received its name from the nymph
Styx, who with her three daughters assisted Jupiter in his
wrar against the Titans.
Styx was a river which it was necessary for departed
shades to pass before they could enter the infernal regions;
and it was the office of Charon to ferry them over. Mytho¬
logical writers have said that the Egyptians framed both this
and some other fables relating to the dead, from certain cus¬
toms peculiar to their country; that in particular there was,
not far from Memphis, a famous burying-place, to which the
dead bodies were conveyed in a boat across the lake Ache-
rusia; and that Charon was a boatman who had long offici¬
ated in that service. The learned Dr Blackwell, in his Life
of Homer, has observed, that, in the old Egyptian language,
Charoni signified “ ferryman.”
5 G
786
Suakin
II
Suarez.
S U A
SUAKIN, a seaport town of Nubia, situated on the
western coast of the Red Sea, was formerly a place of great
wealth and importance, but has long been in a declining
state, and is now almost in ruins. Suakin looks better when
seen at a distance than on a nearer view; the buildings
all white-washed and on an elevated site, and two mi¬
narets, giving the town a handsome appearance. Like all
the towns in the east, it has narrow and dirty streets. All
that remains of its former grandeur is its capacious port,
which is capable of containing 200 large vessels, that can
anchor close to the island in seven fathoms water; but is so
narrow at the mouth as to render an entrance impracticable,
except with the most favourable wind. It is rather re¬
markable that this narrow passage should have so long re¬
mained open, considering the clouds of sand which aie
borne toward it at one season, and the action of the sea
continually breaking over it, after having passed oyer sand¬
banks. The Turks obtained possession of Suakin at the
same time that they occupied the opposite coast of Arabia.
In the fifteenth century Suakin was a place of great import¬
ance and wealth, the emporium of the Red Sea, and one of
the richest cities in the east. It derived its importance
from its being in the middle ages the maritime capital of
the Turks in the Red Sea, when that empire maintained
here a powerful navy. Suakin has declined along with the
Turkish power ; and its only support is now derived from its
being the channel of communication between Arabia and the
interior of Africa. Pilgrims and slave-dealers, or persons
who combine these two vocations, quit the Nile at Shendi,
and proceed through Taka and other districts oi Nubia to
this port, where they embark for Jidda. They carry with
them slaves, with a little ivory and gold, and take Indian
goods in return. The surrounding country is arid and bar¬
ren, and produces no grain except that coarse species called
dhourra or juwarry. There is abundance of good water,
which is preserved in w^ells and tanks, t ish are cheap and
plentiful, and the mullets are particularly fine. Sheep aie
cheap, and do not cost above a dollar each. But fowls are
scarce and dear. The country around, and the coast to a
considerable extent, is occupied by a hardy race of Be¬
douin Arabs, called Suakini. Suakin is supposed to be the
Soter Limen of Diodorus, the Theon Scter of Ptolemy;
though it is not easy to conceive how these terms, signify¬
ing “ the safe harbour,” could apply to one of such difficult
entrance. Long. 37. 33. E. Lat. 19. 4b. N.
SUAN, a small town of Hindustan, in the province of
Bahar, district of Rotas. It is twenty-five miles south-east
from Patna. Long. 86. 25. E. Lat. 25. 16. N.
SUAREZ, Francis, a renowned Jesuit, was born at
Grenada on the 5th of January 1548. He belonged to a
noble family, and was sent to prosecute the study of law
in the university of Salamanca; but when he had finished
his course, he was induced to change his destination, and
assume the habit of St Ignatius. He at first experienced
much difficulty in comprehending the principles of the phi¬
losophy which was then taught; but having been placed
under the guidance of Rodriguez, he soon began to be dis¬
tinguished by the uncommon rapidity of his progress, and
became one of the most distinguished members of the so¬
ciety. Having taught philosophy at Segovia, he was after¬
wards employed in teaching theology at Valladolid, Rome,
Alcala, and Salamanca. Wherever he taught, his lectures
attracted a numerous auditory. He wus at length appoint¬
ed to the first chair of divinity in the university of Coimbra;
but before entering upon his office, he went to Evora, and
took his doctor’s degree. Here his reputation continued
to increase. At the instigation of the pope, he prepared an
elaborate work, entitled “ Defensio Catholicae Fidei contra
Anglicanm Sectae Errores.” Conimbricae, 1613, fol. This
work gave much offence to King James, and was burnt at
St Paul’s by the hands of the hangman. Nor did it receive
SUB
better treatment from the parliament of Paris ; who, by an Bubal;
arret pronounced on the 26th of June 1614, condemned it to d
the flames, as containing maxims contrary to the rights of so- Sul)d,1pi
vereigns. It was ably refuted by Robert Abbot, afterwards^6 ^
bishop of Salisbury. Suarez, having been called to Lisbon
for some weighty conference, died there on the 25th of Sep¬
tember 1617. An instant before he expired, he said to
those who surrounded his bed, “ I never knew it was so
pleasant to die.”
Suarez was a great master of the scholastic philosophy
and theology of his age, nor was he a mean or ordinary pro¬
ficient in jurisprudence. Grotius has described him as the
most acute of philosophers and divines. His treatise “ De
Legibus et Deo Legislatore,” is commended by Sir James
Mackintosh, “ as exhibiting the most accessible and perspi¬
cuous abridgment of the theological philosophy in its latest
form.” According to the same competent authority, “ he
first saw that international law was composed, not only of
the simple principles of justice applied to the intercourse
between states, but of those usages, long observed in that
intercourse by the European race, which have since been
more exactly distinguished as the consuetudinary law ac¬
knowledged by the Christian nations of Europe and Ame¬
rica.” Of this learned Jesuit, the works are very numerous.
An edition of them in twenty-three vols. fol. began to be
published at Maintz and Lyon in the year 1630. An edi¬
tion was published at Venice in the year 1740. (x.)
SUB AH, the general name of the viceroyships, or greater
governments, into which the Mogul empire was divided,
consisting of several provinces : the jurisdiction of a sub-
ahdar, the same as subahship, subaedaree, or nizamut.
SUBAHDAR, the viceroy, lord-lieutenant, or governor,
holding a subah ; the same as nabob or nazim. Also the
black commander of a company of sepoys.
SUBALTERN, a subordinate officer, or one who dis¬
charges his post under the command and subject to the
direction of another; such are lieutenants, sub-lieutenants,
cornets, and ensigns, who serve under the captain.^
SUB ARKAN, a village of Diarbekir, in Asiatic Turkey,
on the Euphrates, seventy-five miles east-south-east of Ker-
kesieh.
SUBBULGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Agra. It is surrounded by a high stone wall in good
repair, with a number of bastions; but has few cannon
mounted. On one side of the fort is a deep precipice. The
country in the vicinity is well cultivated. It is sixty-five
miles south-west from the city of Agra. Long. 75. 25. E.
Lat. 26. 22. N. There is another town of the same name
in the province of Delhi, situated on the east side of the
Ganges. The town is surrounded by a very extensive line
of fortification, though it exhibits, as well as the walls, little
more than falling ruins. The towm is improving since it
came under British authority. It is twelve miles south from
Hurdwar. Long. 78. 10. E. Lat. 29. 48. N.
SUBDEACON, an inferior minister, who anciently at¬
tended at the altar, prepared the sacred vessels, delivered
them to the deacons in time of divine service, attended the
doors of the church during communion-service, and went
on the bishop’s embassies with his letters or messages to
foreign churches. They were so subordinate to the supe¬
rior rulers of the church, that, by a canon of the council
of Laodicea, they were forbidden to sit in the presence oi
a deacon without his leave. According to the canon law,
a person must be twenty-two years of age to be promoteil to
the order of sub-deacon.
SUBDOMINANT, in Music. See Music.
SUBDUPLE Ratio is when any number or quantity is
contained in another twice. Thus 3 is said to be sub up e
of 6, as 6 is duple of 3. ...
SUBDUPLICATE Ratio of any two quantities, is me
ratio of their square roots.
sue
SUE
787
3 co
Sue
SUBJECT, in Music. See Music.
SUBITO, in the Italian music, is used to signify that a
tiling is to be performed quickly and hastily ; thus we meet
with volti subito, turn over the leaf quickly.
SUBLIMATE, a chemical preparation, consisting of
quicksilver united with muriatic acid.
SUBLIMATION, in Chemistry, the condensing and col¬
lecting, in a solid form, by means of vessels aptly construct¬
ed, the fumes of bodies raised from them by the application
of a proper heat.
SUBMULTIPLE, in Geometry, &c. A submultiple
number or quantity is that which is contained a certain
number of times in another, and which, therefore, repeated
a certain number of times, becomes exactly equal thereto.
Thus 3 is a submultiple of 21. In this sense a submultiple
coincides with an aliquot part.
Submultiple Ratio, is that between the quantity con¬
tained and the quantity containing. Thus the ratio of 3 to
21 is submultiple. In both cases submultiple is the reverse
of multiple : 'itl, e. gr. being a multiple of 3, and the ratio
of 21 to 3 a multiple ratio.
SUBPCENA, in Law, a writ by which persons are call¬
ed into chancery, in cases where the common law has pro¬
vided an ordinary remedy; and the name of it proceeds
from the words therein, which charge the party called to
appear at the day and place affirmed, “ sub pcena centum
librarum,” &c.
SUBREPTITIOUS, or Surreptitious, a term applied
to a letter, license, patent, or other act, fraudulently obtain¬
ed of a superior, by concealing some truth which, had it
been known, would have prevented the concession or grant.
SUBROGATION, or Surrogation, in the civil law,
the act of substituting a person in the place, and entitling
him to the rights, of another. In its general sense, subro¬
gation implies a succession of any kind, whether of a per¬
son to a person, or of a person to a thing.
SUBROY, a small town of Hindustan, province of Cutch,
on the Gulf of Cutch, from which place it is distant twenty-
three miles to the north. This town stands on a rising
ground on the road from Luckput Bunder to Mundavie, and
is defended by a castle. It is populous and flourishing, and
the surrounding country is tolerably well cultivated.
SUBSTRACTION, or Subtraction, in Arithmetic, the
second rule, or rather operation, in arithmetic, whereby we
deduct a less number from a greater, to learn their precise
difference.
SUBTANGENT of a Curve, the line that determines
the intersection of a tangent with the axis, or that de¬
termines the point wherein the tangent cuts the axis pro¬
longed.
SUBTENSE, formed from sub, under, and tendo, I
stretch, in Geometry, a right line which is opposite to an
angle, and drawn between the two extremities of the arc
which measures that angle.
SUBUNREEK A, a river of Hindustan, which has its
source in the province of Bahar, district of Chuta Nagpoor,
whence it flows in a south-easterly direction, and alter a
winding course of 250 miles falls into the Bay of Bengal. It
is fordable except in the rainy season. It was the first
river of Bengal into w hich Europeans were allowed to en¬
ter. The channel is now choked up with sand.
SUCCADANA, a town on the west coast of the island
of Borneo. It is situated on the principal or southern out¬
let of a large river, which is navigable 150 miles for prow's.
It is celebrated for very large diamonds, and also for the
best camphire; and is a considerable mart for opium, the
sale of which is monopolized by the rajah and his family.
It is the custom here, as at all the eastern ports, to give a
present at the first audience, in proportion to the rank of
the person visited ; to the king about fifty dollars, to the
rajah thirty, and the shahbunder and agent about twenty
each. Gold dust, tin, and pepper, are also to be procured Suceula
here. Lat. 1. 30. S. II
SUCCULA, in Mechanics, an axis or cylinder with staves k ueca~
in it to move it round, but without any tympanum or pe-
ritrochium.
SUCKLING, Sir John, an English poet and dramatist,
was the son of Sir John Suckling, comptroller of the house¬
hold to King Charles I. and was born in the year 1608-9.
He is supposed to have been born at Twickenham, as it ap¬
pears from the parish-register that he was baptized there
on the 10th of February. He discovered an uncommon
aptitude for the acquiring of languages, insomuch that he
is reported to have spoken Latin at five years of age, and
to have written it at nine. When he grew up, he travelled ;
but seems to have affected nothing more than the charac¬
ter of a courtier and fine gentleman ; which he so far at¬
tained that he was allowed to have the peculiar happiness
of making every thing he did become him. In his travels
he made a campaign under the great Gustavus Adolphus;
and his loyalty, if not his valour, appeared in the beginning
of our civil wrars ; for, after his return to England, he rais¬
ed a troop of horse for the king’s service, entirely at his own
charge, and mounted them so completely and richly that
they are said to have cost him L.12,000. This troop, with
Sir John at its head, behaved so ill in the engagement with
the Scots, upon the English borders, in 1639, as to occasion
a famous lampoon, composed by Sir John Mennis, which w'as
set to a brisk tune, and much sung by the parliamentarians.
This disastrous expedition, and the ridicule that attended
it, were supposed to have hastened his death ; but he sur¬
vived till the 7th of May 174d. He was a sprightly wit
and an easy versifier, but no great poet. His poems, plays,
speeches, tracts, and letters, were collected into an octavo
volume in the year 1709.
SUCKUT, a small towm and district of Hindustan, pro¬
vince of Lahore, intersected by the Beyah river, belong¬
ing to the Sikhs. Long. 75. 45. E. Lat. 32. 41. N.
SUCTASGUR, a town and fortress of Hindustan, pro¬
vince of Allahabad. The fortifications were formerly more
considerable, and defended the passes of the western hills.
They are now neglected. It is the capital of a small dis¬
trict, which was included in the collectorship of Benares.
It is fourteen miles south of the fortress of Chunar.
SUDASHYGUR, a fortress of Hindustan, on the west¬
ern shore of the province of Canara. It is situated on a
high point of land, and being remarkably wdiite, is a con¬
spicuous point from the sea. It commands the entrance of
the Aliga river.
SUDATORY, a name given by the ancient Romans to
their hot or sweating-rooms ; sometimes also called Laco-
nica.
SUDBURY, a town in the hundred of Babergh and
county of Suffolk, fifty-six miles from London. It stands
on the river Stour, which divides it from Essex, and is na¬
vigable to the sea by Manningtree. The town comprises
three parishes, with each a church, and is tolerably well
built. It was one of the earliest seats of the woollen ma¬
nufacture, some share of which it still retains; and it has
likewise some silk trade. It is a borough, governed by a
mayor, six aldermen, and twenty-three common-council men,
and returns two members to the House of Commons. It
has a good market on Saturdays. The inhabitants in 1801
amounted to 3283, in 1811 to 3471, in 1821 to 3950, and
in 1831 to 4677.
SUECA, a city of Spain, in the province of Valencia,
and government of Alcira. It stands on the banks of the
river Xucar, in a marshy soil, which, though not very fa¬
vourable to health, is well adapted for the growth of rice,
which is here cultivated to a great extent. In the town
there is a church, with a monastery and a chapel; and it
contains 700 dwellings, with 4800 inhabitants.
788
S U E
SUE
S.it'ii-Hoa
It
Suez.
/
SUEN-HOA, a city of China, of the first rank, in the
province of Pe-che-lee, situated among the mountains near
the great wall. It is a populous place, well built, and dis¬
tinguished by the beauty of its streets. The district in¬
cludes a considerable number of forts destined to defend the
great northern barrier of the empire. It is seventeen miles
north-west of Pekin.
SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS, Caius, a Latin his¬
torian, was the son of Suetonius Lenis, who became a mili¬
tary tribune in the reign of the emperor Otho. The son is
supposed to have been born about the beginning of the reign
of Vespasian. Having betaken himself to the practice of
the law, he appears to have acquired reputation as a pleader.
He lived on terms of intimacy with the younger Pliny, who
recommended him to Trajan as a very learned and upright
man, and obtained for him the “jus trium liberorum.” Al¬
though he had a wife, he was without children ; and a par¬
ticipation of this privilege was of some importance to him
in the exercise of his profession. After the death of this
emperor, he was appointed secretary to Hadrian; but he
was dismissed from his office in consequence of his having
manifested a want of due respect for the empress Sabina.
After his retirement from public life, he had more leisure
to devote himself to literary pursuits. Of that period of Ro¬
man history, his principal work, “Vitas duodecim Caesarum,”
contains the most curious and characteristic record which
has been transmitted to our times. The picture which he
exhibits is certainly a very foul one, but on that account is
more likely to be true. His lives are not digested accord¬
ing to any order strictly chronological, but it is rather his
plan to combine curious, interesting, and characteristic par¬
ticulars, which serve to mark the progress of the different
emperors, most of whom were a disgrace to human nature.
Other two works of a slighter texture, “DeillustribusGram-
maticis liber,” and “ De Claris Rhetoribus liber,” bear the
name of Suetonius. To him are likewise ascribed very brief
lives of Terence, Horace, Lucan, Persius, Juvenal, and the
elder Pliny.
Suetonius was twice printed at Rome during the same
year, 14<70, and several other editions appeared at an early
period. We pass over these, and hasten to mention the
valuable editions of Casaubon, printed at Geneva in quarto
in the years 1595 and 1615. His commentary abounds
with recondite learning. Another elaborate edition was
published by Graevius, Hag. Com. 1672, 4to. It was re¬
printed at the same place in 1691, and at Utrecht in 1703.
This learned editor was soon succeeded by Pitiscus, Traj.
ad Ren. 1690, 2 tom. 8vo. Leovard. 1714, 2 tom. 4to.
But an edition still more elaborate was produced by the
indefatigable Burman, Amst. 1736, 2 tom- 4to. And after
no long interval, he was followed by Oudendorp, Lugd. Bat.
1751, 2 tom. 8vo.
SUEVI, a common name of the people situated between
the Elbe and the Vistula, distinguished otherwise by parti¬
cular names.
SUEVUS, in Ancient Geography, a river of Germany,
thought to be the same with the Viadrus or Oder, empty¬
ing itself at three mouths into the Baltic, the middlemost
of which is called Swine or Swene, which last comes near
the name Suevus.
SUEZ, a seaport situated at the northern extremity of
the gulf of the same name. It is so incommodious that small
boats can with difficulty land at the quay even at high water
The town is in a ruinous state, walled on the west and south¬
west ; but the wall is rapidly falling to decay. The popula¬
tion only consists of about a dozen agents, who receive goods
from the ports of the Red Sea, and forward them to their
corretpondents at Cairo, together with some shopkeepers,
who deal chiefly in provisions. Neither merchants nor ar¬
tisans live in it. The pacha keeps a garrison here of about
fifty horsemen, with an officer, who commands the town,
the neighbouring Arabs, and the shipping in the harbour. Suez
Suez is one of the few harbours in the Red Sea where ships
can be repaired. Although the port is now little frequented,
the trade in coffee and India goods still passes this way to
Cairo.
The isthmus of Suez is a low-lying land, composed of
shell limestone rock, mixed with strata of siliceous limestone,
and partly covered with sands or with saline marshes. In
several places the solid strata are with difficulty perceived
by their slight undulations; in the northern part in parti¬
cular there is a vast plain, varied only by sand-hills. To
the east, the south-east, and the south-west, the mountain-
chains of Arabia Petraea and of Egypt skirt at a distance
the table-land of the isthmus, which is terminated at the
Red Sea. The lake Birket-el-Ballah adjoining Lake Men-
zaleh, Temsah or Crocodile Lake, and the almost dry basin
of the Bitter Lakes, form from north to south a series of
depressions, interrupted only by stripes of low land. The
breadth of the isthmus, in a straight line from the mouth of
Tineh on the Mediterranean to the northern point of the
Gulf of Suez, is 378,844 feet, or nearly seventy-two miles.
The question whether or not the Isthmus of Suez has al¬
ways existed, has given rise to much discussion among the
learned ; some maintaining that this neck of land was for¬
merly covered by the sea, and that Africa was an island ;
others that it must formerly have been much narrower than
it is now; and others that it has undergone little or no
change. This latter hypothesis is defended by D’Anville,
in opposition to the opinions of Gossellin and Rosiere, whose
arguments are in favour of the contraction of the gulf.
The surface of the isthmus generally declines from the
shores of the Red Sea towards those of the Mediterranean;
and the level of the latter is thirty feet lower than that of
the Gulf of Suez. There is a similar descent towards the
Delta and the bed of the river Nile ; the level of the water
of the Nile at Cairo, when at its lowest, being about nine
feet lower than the surface of the gulf at low water. But
the Nile rising sixteen cubits by the Nilometer, is nine
feet higher than the Red Sea at high water, and fourteen
higher than the same sea at low water. Besides these lead¬
ing inclinations of the surface, there is a particular one in
the middle of the isthmus. The deep basin called the Bit¬
ter Lakes is more than fifty-four feet lower than the level
of the Red Sea, the waters of which would enter and fill it
if they were not prevented by a little sandy isthmus about
three feet above the level of the sea.
From this it follows that the Red Sea never could have
occupied the basin of the Bitter Lakes in a constant man¬
ner, because its waters, if raised sufficiently high to form such
a communication, would have found no barrier to the north
of that basin : they would have flowed all the way to the
Nile by the Ras-el-Ooadi, and to the Mediterranean by the
Ras-el-Mayah. The two seas thus brought into contact
would have reached a common level, and the strait would
have become permanent.
But if a natural communication between the two seas has
never existed within the periods of human record, the traces
and remains of a canal have been ascertained with satisfac¬
tory precision. From Balbeis, on the old Pelusiac branch of
the Nile, now the Canal of Menedji, this canal reaches to
Ablaseh, the ancient Thou. There it enters the narrow val¬
ley of Arabes-Tommylat, the level of which is thirty-three
feet lower than that of the Red Sea. It passes on to Abookes-
heyd, which is supposed to be the old Heroopolis. the
basin of the Bitter Lakes might have been filled at pleasure
from the waters of the Nile. . ,
Beyond this basin the traces of the canal re-appear in t e
isthmus which separates the lakes from the Red Sea, anc
show that the canal was continued the whole way. Ac¬
cording to Strabo, this canal w’as constructed by the to e
mies; and the Arabian writers assert that it was opene
S U F
S U F
789
c. again by order of the Caliph Omar, and was used for navi-
Ration from the year 644 to 767 ; at which time another
caliph caused it to be shut up, in order to deprive a rebel
chief of his supplies of provisions. While the French army
was in Egypt, some learned discussions were maintained
on the practicability and advantages of its restitution. But
however useful its re-establishment might be to the coun¬
try through which it passes, it is very problematical if it
could ever be rendered a medium of commercial communi¬
cation on a large scale.
SUFFOLK, an English maritime county, on the borders
of the German Ocean. It is bounded on the east by the
sea; on the south by Essex, from which it is divided by the
river Stour; on the west by Cambridgeshire; and on the
north by Norfolk. Its medium length from east to west is
forty-seven miles, and its breadth from north to south twen¬
ty-seven. The square contents are 1512 miles, or 967,680
statute acres. It consists of two grand divisions, one called
the Liberty of Bury, the other the Guildable Land, each of
which furnishes a distinct grand jury at the assizes. The
next division is into twenty-one hundreds, and these are
subdivided into five hundred and twenty-three parishes.
The entire country forms a part of the diocese of Norwich,
on. The population of this county at the four decennial
periods of enumeration was found to amount in 1801 to
210,431, in 1811 to 234,211, in 1821 to 270,542, and in
1831 to 296,000.
At the last period the occupiers of land employing la¬
bourers were,  4,526
Occupiers not employing labourers  1,121
Labourers employed in agriculture 33,040
Labourers employed in manufactures  676
Labourers employed in retail trade or handicraft...18,167
Capitalists, bankers, &c  2,228
Labourers not agricultural  5,336
Other labourers under twenty years of age  4,940
Males at and above twenty years 71,376
Male servants  2,032
Female servants 11,483
In the same year the number of families chiefly employ¬
ed in agriculture was found to be 31,491 ; those chiefly
employed in trade, manufactures, and handicraft, were
18,116; and those comprised in neither of the preceding
classes were 11,926. The number of inhabited houses was
50,139,occupied by 61,533 families; the uninhabited houses
were 1141, and those building 259.
The annual value of the real property of the county, as
assessed for the purposes of the property-tax in the year
1813, was L. 1,127,404.
The towns of this county containing more than 2000 in¬
habitants, with their population in 1831, were the following:
Ipswich 20,454
Bury St Edmund’s 11,436
Woodbridge  4,769
Sudbury  4,677
Lowestoffe  4,238
Beetles  3,862
Bungay  3,734
Hadleigh  3,425
Mildenhall  3,267
Long Melford  2,514
Halesworth  2,473
Framlingham    2,445
  2,313
Newmarket, but a part of this town, with 714, is in
Cambridgeshire    2,134
Gorlestone, a suburb to Yarmouth in Norfolk, and
by the reform bill a part of that borough.  2,111
Lavenham    2,107
Brandon  g’oeb
Suffolk is generally a level tract of country, in which, as
there are few elevations, there are scarcely any extensive Suffolk,
prospects. It is, however, tolerably well clothed with
trees, but w ants running water; most of the streams being
very sluggish in their course, and by no means copious.an(j j)ro'_
The soil is as various as in other districts of the same ex- ductions.
tent. On the sea-coast it is in general sandy, but render¬
ed productive by the application of shell-marl, which is
found in abundance. In the middle of the county, from
north to south, called usually High Suffolk, which is the
larger part, the soil is a tenacious, loamy clay, affording
good pasturage for cows, whose butter is chiefly used to
supply the London markets.
The north-w'estern division is a poor sandy soil, in many
places covered with heath, and scarcely fit for any other
purpose than that of feeding sheep or breeding rabbits, of
which latter animals, it is said, the skins of more than
40,000 annually supply fur to the hatters. The corn fur¬
nished by the eastern division of the county, besides sup¬
plying its vicinity, is sent to London from the ports of
Ipswich and Woodbridge. The cultivation is commonly
conducted on the Norfolk system of turnips, barley, clover,
and wheat; and the husbandry being well executed, the
crops are generally very good. The beans are peculiarly
productive. Turnips, and in some districts carrots, are ex¬
tensively cidtivated. Hemp is grown in the garden of
almost every peasant, and spun into linen for their domestic
uses. Some few hops are grown in the vicinity of Stow-
market.
They have an excellent breed of draught-horses, well Cattle,
known by the name of Suffolk punches. The cows have
been long celebrated for the abundance of their milk,
which, in proportion to their size and the quantity of food
they consume, exceeds the produce of any other race in
the kingdom. They are all without horns. The sheep,
of which large flocks are kept, are mostly of the Norfolk
breed; but of late years they have been changed for those
of the South Downs.
There are few manufactures in this county, though it Manufoc-
was the first in which the Flemings introduced the cloth-tures-
ing trade. Before the extension of machinery in the
northern counties, the females found constant winter
employment in spinning worsted, but that has ceased.
A small portion of the manufacture of mixed silk and
worsted stuffs is retained, in which 269 males above twenty
years of age are employed at Sudbury, forty-two are so
employed at Glemsford, and a few at Lavenham and at
Hadleigh. At Brandon no less that sixty men are em¬
ployed in making gun-flints. There is some coarse linen
made from hemp at Haverhill, and a little bone-lace at
Eye.
The branch of industry which, next to agriculture, gives Fisheries
employment to the greatest number of inhabitants, is the and corn-
fishery. Many vessels are equipped at Lowestoffe andmer<;e-
Southwold to take herrings, which are cured in houses ap¬
propriated for that purpose in these towns. The taking of
mackerel is beneficial before the season when the shoals of
herrings arrive on the coast. There is little other com¬
merce in the county than that which arises from the trans¬
mission of the agricultural products to the metropolis.
The navigable rivers are the Sark, which passes by Rivers and
Thetford, and runs to the Ouse; the Deben, of short canals,
course, which runs by Woodbridge to the sea; the Orwell,
a beautiful river, navigable to Ipswich ; and the Blythe, na¬
vigable to Framlingham. To these may be added the Wave-
nay, which forms the northern boundary of the county; and
the Stour, which is its southern. The only navigable
canal is one between Ipswich and Stowmarket; but the
river Yare having been rendered navigable to Norwich,
has a canal at its mouth at Lowestoffe in this county : the
admission is by gates, which exhibit one of the most com¬
plete specimens of hydraulic architecture in the kingdom.
S U G
S U G
Landed
property.
Antiquities
Titles and
representa¬
tion.
The landed property of the county is much divided.
There are scarcely any estates so large as to create a de¬
cided political preponderance, and there is a larger num¬
ber of proprietors occupying their own lands, of a value of
from L.100 to L.400 per annum, than in any other county.
Except in the heavy clay districts, the farms are generally
large; and the tenants being possessed of ample capitals,
the agricultural business is admirably conducted. There
are neither mines nor mineral springs in this county. In
the summer season sea-bathing attracts a considerable por¬
tion of company to the shore at Lowestoffe, Southwold, and
some other spots, where every accommodation for such par¬
ties is provided.
Among the antiquities stand first the remains of the an¬
cient Roman castle at Burgh, on the banks of the Tare.
It is said to have been the ancient Garianonum, erected by
Publius Ostorius Scapula, in the reign of the emperor
Claudius. The walls, which are still standing, enclose a
space 642 feet in length and 320 in breadth; they are
fourteen feet in height and nine in thickness. 1 he whole
ground plan, including the wall, is more than five acres,
and is capable of containing a cohort and a half; having
been built to keep in subjection the Sceni, a people inha¬
biting Suffolk, Norfolk, Huntingdonshire, and Cambiidge-
shire. The most remarkable of the Saxon antiquities are
the monastery at Bury St Edmund’s, that of Framlingham,
and several ancient churches.
The following peers derive their titles from places in
this county : Marquis Cornwallis ; Earls of Suffolk, Orford,
Euston, and Stradbrooke; and Barons Rendlesham and
Worlingham. The county has been formed into two di¬
visions, the eastern and western, for the purpose of elect¬
ing members to parliament, each division returning two.
The elections for the eastern part are held at Ipswich; and
the other polling places are Needham, Woodbridge, Fram¬
lingham, Saxmundham, Beccles, and Halesworth. The
elections for the western part are held at Bury St Ed¬
mund’s ; and the other polling places are Wickham Brook,
Lavenham, Stowmarket, Botesdale, Mildenhall, and Had-
leigh. By the reform act the boroughs of Dunwich, Albo-
rough, and Orford, which had each returned two members,
have been disfranchised ; and Eye, which likewise returned
two, now returns only one. Ipswich, Bury St Edmund’s,
and Sudbury return two members as before.
The most remarkable seats among a very great number
belonging to noblemen and gentlemen in this county ai e,
Euston Flail, Duke of Grafton; Broom Hall, Sir E. Ker-
rison ; Ickworth, Marquis of Bristol; Henham, Lord Strad¬
brooke ; Worlingham Hall, Lord Gosford; Boston Hall,
Sir H. E. Banbury; Rendlesham, Lord Rendlesham;
Benacre, Sir Thomas Gooch ; Haveningham Hall, Lord
Huntingfield ; Sotterly Park, Miles Barm, Esq.; Flinton
Hall, Alexander Adair, Esq.; Redgrove Hall, Admiral
Wilson ; Woolverston Park, Charles Berners, Esq.; Long
Melford, Sir Hyde Parker; Shrubland Park, Sir William
Middleton ; and Tendring Hall, Sir Joseph Rowley.1
SUFFRAGAN, an appellation given to simple bishops
with regard to archbishops, on whom they depend, and to
whom appeals lie from the bishops’ courts. The same name
is likewise given to a bishop who is occasionally appointed
to assist the diocesan.
SUFFRAGE denotes a vote given in an assembly where
something is deliberated on, or where a person is elected to
an office or benefice.
SUGAR, a solid sweet substance, obtained from the
juice of the sugar-cane; or, according to chemists, an es¬
sential salt, capable of crystallization, of a sweet and agree¬
able flavour, and contained in a greater or less quantity in Su,
almost every species of vegetables, but most abundant in v—~
the sugar-cane.
As the sugar-cane is the principal production of the West Valu
Indies, and the great source of their riches ; as it is so im-sugar
portant in a commercial view, from the employment which
it gives to seamen, and the wealth which it opens for mer¬
chants, and besides is now become a necessary of life; it
may justly be esteemed one of the most valuable plants in
the world. From the few remains of the Grecian and Ro¬
man authors which have survived the ravages of time, we
can find no proofs that the juice of the sugar-cane was
known at a very early period. There can however be no
doubt, that in those countries where it was indigenous, its
value was not long concealed. It is not improbable thatitWasj tj.
was known to the ancient Jews; for there is some reason %
to suppose, that the Hebrew word rrap, which frequently1?111'•
occurs in the Old Testament, and by our translators isciei1 "s
rendered sometimes calamus, and sometimes sweet cane,
does in fact mean the sugar-cane. The first passage in
which we have observed it mentioned is Exodus, xxx. 23,
where Moses is commanded to make an ointment with
myrrh, cinnamon, kene, and cassia. Now the kene does
not appear to have been a native of Egypt, nor of Judea;
for in Jeremiah, vi. 20, it is mentioned as coming from a
far country. “ To what purpose cometh there to me in¬
cense from Sheba, and the sweet cane from a far country ?”
This is not true of the calamus aromaticus, which grows
spontaneously in the Levant, as well as in many parts of
Europe. If the cinnamon mentioned in the passage ofAccoyo
Exodus quoted above was true cinnamon, it must have come^H^
from the East Indies, the only country in the world from“th
which cinnamon is obtained. There is no difficulty there¬
fore in supposing that the sugar-cane was exported from
the same country. If any credit be due to etymology, it
confirms the opinion that kene denotes the sugar-cane ; for
the Latin word canna, and the English word cane, are evi¬
dently derived from it. It is also a curious fact, that T®,
sachar or shelter, in Hebrew signifies inebriation, from which
the Greek word tfaxxag or trax^ag/ov, sugar, is undoubtedly
to be traced.
The sugar-cane w'as first made known to the western
parts of the world by the conquests of Alexander the Great.
Strabo (lib. xv.) relates that Nearchus, his admiral, found it
in the East Indies in the year 325 before Christ. It is evi¬
dently alluded to in a fragment of Theophrastus, preserved
in Photius. Varro, who lived a. c. 68, describes it in a
fragment quoted by Isidorus,2 as a fluid pressed from reeds
of a large size, which was sweeter than honey.3 Dioscon-
des, about the year 35 before Christ, says “ that there is
a kind of honey called saccharon, which is found in India
and Arabia Felix. It has the appearance of salt, and is
brittle when chewed. If dissolved in water, it is beneficia
to the bowels, and stomachic; is useful in diseases of t e
bladder and kidneys; and when sprinkled on the eye, re¬
moves those substances that obscure the sight. Dns is
the first account we have of its medicinal qualities. Ualen
often prescribed it as a medicine. Lucan (lib. iii. v. 237)
relates, that an oriental nation in alliance with Pompey
used the juice of the cane as a common drink.
Quique bibunt tenera dukes ab arundine succos.
Pliny says it was produced in Arabia and India, but that
the best came from the latter country. It is also mentione
by Arrian, in his Periplus of the Red Sea, by the name o
ffaxyap/ (sacchari), as an article of commerce from n 'a
the Red Sea. AJian,4 Tertullian,5 and Alexander Aphro-
1 Kirby’s Suffolk Traveller.
3 Lib. xvii. cap. 3.
Arthur Young’s General View of the Agriculture of Suffolk.
3 Matthioli Dios. cap. Ixxv. 4 Inst.
Views in Suffolk, by W. C. Brayley.
* De Judicio Dei.
SUGAR.
791
. disaeus,' mention it as a species of honey procured from
canes.2
ij J itive That the sugar-cane is an indigenous plant in some parts
East of the East Indies, we have the strongest reason to believe ;
for Thunberg found it in Japan, and has accordingly men¬
tioned it as a native of that country in his Flora Japonica,
published in 1784. Osbeck also found it in China in 1751.
It may indeed have been transplanted from some other
country ; but as it does not appear from history that the in¬
habitants of Japan or China ever carried on any commerce
with remote nations, it could only be conveyed from some
neighbouring country. Marco Polo, a noble Venetian, who
travelled into the east about the year 1250, found sugar in
abundance in Bengal. Vasco de Gama, who doubled the
Cape of Good Hope in 1497, relates that a considerable
trade in sugar was then carried on in the kingdom of Calicut.
On the authority of Dioscorides and Pliny, we should be
disposed to admit that it is a native of Arabia, did we not
find, on consulting Niebuhr’s Travels, that this botanist has
Sugar.
tate to maintain that it is a native both of the islands and
of the continent of America.
Labat has supported this opinion with much appear- This opi-
ance of truth ;4 and, in particular, he appeals to the testi-uion op-
mony of Thomas Gage, an Englishman, who visited New Posed by
Spain in 1625. Gage enumerates sugar-canes among the ^a^at’
provisions with which the Charaibes of Guadaloupe sup¬
plied his ship. “ Now,” says Labat, “ it is a fact that the
Spaniards had never cultivated an inch of ground in the
smaller Antilles. Their ships commonly touched at those
islands, indeed, for wood and water; and they left swine in
the view of supplying with fresh provisions such of their
countrymen as might call there in future ; but it would be
absurd in the highest degree to suppose that they would
plant sugar-canes, and at the same time put hogs ashore to
destroy them. Neither had the Spaniards any motive for
bestowing this plant on islands which they considered as of
no kind of importance, except for the purpose that has been
mentioned ; and to suppose that the Charaibes might have
omitted it when enumerating the most valuable plants of cultivated, after their departure, a production of which they
that country. If it be a spontaneous production of Arabia,
it must still flourish in its native soil. Mr Bruce found it
in Upper Egypt. If we may believe the relation of Giovan
Lioni, a considerable trade was carried on in sugar in Nu¬
bia in 1500. It abounded also at Thebes, on the Nile, and
in the northern parts of Africa, about the same period.
It duced There is reason to believe that the sugar-cane wasintro-
ii: jurcpe duced into Europe during the crusades; expeditions which,
i"lb l however romantic in their plan, and unsuccessful in their
tl; .g the
ct .des.
execution, were certainly productive of many advantages to
the nations of Europe. Albertus Aquensis, a monkish writer,
observes that the Christian soldiers in the Holy Land fre
knew nothing, betrays a total ignorance of the Indian dis¬
position and character.
“ But,” continues Labat, “ we have surer testimony, and from tea-
such as proves, beyond all contradiction, that the sugar-b11101^-
cane is the natural production of America. For, besides
the evidence of Francis Ximenes, who, in a treatise on
American Plants, printed at Mexico, asserts that the sugar¬
cane grows without cultivation, and to an extraordinary
size, on the banks of the river Plata, wre are assured by
Jean de Lery, a Protestant minister, who was chaplain in
1556 to the Dutch garrison in the fort of Coligny, on the
river Janeiro, that he himself found sugar-canes in great
osed
native
quently derived refreshment and support during a scarcity of abundance in many places on the banks of that river, and
provisions, by sucking the canes. This plant also flourish- in situations never visited by the Portuguese. Father Hen-
ed in the Morea, anti in the islands of Rhodes and Malta, nepen and other voyagers bear testimony in like manner
from which it was transported into Sicily. The date of this to the growth of the cane near the mouth of the Mississip-
transaction it is not easy to ascertain ; but we are sure that pi; and Jean de Laet to its spontaneous production in the
sugar was cultivated in that island previously to the year island of St Vincent. It is not for the plant itself, there-
1166; for Lafitau the Jesuit, who wrote a history of the ore, but for the secret of making sugar from it, that the
Portuguese discoveries, mentions a donation made that year West Indies are indebted to the Spaniards and Portuguese;
to the monastery ot St Bennet, by William II., king of and these to the nations of the east.” Such is the reason-
Sicily, of a mill for grinding sugar-canes, with all its rights, ing of Labat, which the learned Lafitau has pronounced in¬
members, and appurtenances. From Sicily, where the su- controvertible ; and it is greatly strengthened by recent dis-
gar-cane still flourishes, on the sides of Mount Hybla, it was coveries, the sugar-cane having been found in many of the
conveyed to Spain, Madeira, the Canary and Cape de Verd islands of the Pacific Ocean by our late illustrious naviga-
Islands, soon after they were discovered in the 15th century.3 tor Captain Cook.
An opinion has prevailed that the sugar-cane is not a The sugar-cane, or saccharum officinarum of botanists, Descrip-
native of the western continent, or its adjacent islands the is a jointed reed, commonly measuring (the flag part nottion of the
nerica^est ^nc^es> ^ut was conveyed thither by the Spaniards or included) from three feet and a half to seven feet in height, sugar-cane.
:West^ortuSuese soon after the discovery of America by Colum- but sometimes rising to twelve feet. When ripe it is of a
$. bus. From the testimony of Peter Martyr, in the third fine straw colour inclining to yellow, producing leaves or
book of his first decade, composed during Columbus’s se- blades, the edges of which are finely and sharply serrated,
cond voyage, which commenced in 1493 and ended in 1495, and terminating in an arrow decorated with a panicle. The
it appears that the sugar-cane was known at that time in joints in one stalk are from forty to sixty in number, and
Hispaniola. It may be said that it was brought thither by the stalks rising from one root are sometimes very numer-
Columbus, but for this assertion we have found no direct ous. The young shoot ascends from the earth like the point
evidence ; and though we had direct evidence, this would of an arrow ; the shaft of which soon breaks, and the two
not prove that the sugar-cane was not an indigenous plant first leaves, which had been enclosed within a quadruple
of the West Indies. There are authors of learning who, sheath of seminal leaves, rise to a considerable height.5
after investigating this subject with attention, do not hesi- As the cane is a rank succulent plant, it must require a Soil most
T. ——  —  _ favourable
Lib. ii. prob. 79. to its
For a more minute account of the history of sugar in the early and middle ages, the reader may consult a paper by Falconer in the growth.
Manchester Transactions, vol. iv. r r j ’
| D’Orville’s Travels. 4 Tom. iii. c. xv.
“A field of canes, when standing, in the month of November, when it is in arrow or full blossom (says Mr Beckford in his Descriptive
Account of the Island of Jamaica), is one of the most beautiful productions that the pen or pencil can possibly describe. It in common
rises from three to eight feet or more in height; a difference of growth that very strongly marks the difference of soil or the varieties of
culture. It is when ripe of a bright and golden yellow ; and where obvious to the sun, is in many parts very beautifully streaked with red :
t e top is of a darkish green ; but the more dry it becomes, from either an excess of ripeness or a continuance of drought, of a russet yel-
ow, with long and narrow leaves depending; from the centre of which shoots up an arrow like a silver wand from two to six feet in
ic'ght, and from the summit of which grows out. a plume of white feathers, which are delicately fringed with lilac dye, and indeed is in
Us appearance not much unlike tile tuft that adorns this particular and elegant tree.”
792
SUGAR.
Sugar.
strong deep soil to bring it to perfection, perhaps indeed
— no soil can be too rich for this purpose. The soil which
experience has found to be most favourable to the cultiva¬
tion of it in the West Indies, is the dark-gray loam of bt
Christopher’s, which is so light and porous as to be pene¬
trable by the slightest application of the hoe. The under
stratum is gravel from eight to twelve inches deep. Canes
planted in particular spots in this island have been known
to yield 8000 pounds of Muscovado sugar from a single
acre. The average produce of the island for a series ol
years was 16,000 hogsheads of sixteen hundredweight, which
is one half only of the whole cane-land, or 8500 acres.
When annually cut, it gives nearly two hogsheads of six¬
teen hundredweight per acre for the whole of the land m
^Next^to the ashy loam of St Christopher’s is the soil
which in Jamaica is called brick-mould; not as resembling
a brick in colour, but as containing such a due mixture of
day and sand as is supposed to render it well adapted for
the use of the kiln. It is a deep, warm, and mellow, hazel
earth, easily worked; and though its surface soon grows
drv after rain, the under stratum retains a considerable de-
o-ree of moisture in the driest weather; with this advantage,
too, that even in the wettest season it seldom requires
trenching. Plant-canes, by which are meant canes of the
first growth, have been known in very fine seasons to yield
two tons and a half of sugar per acre. After this may be
reckoned the black mould of several varieties. 1 he best
is the deep black earth of Barbadoes, Antigua, and some
other of the windward islands ; but there is a species of this
mould in Jamaica that is but little, if any thing, inferior to
it which abounds with limestone and flint on a substratum
of soapy marie.1 Black mould on clay is more common ;
but as the mould is generally shallow, and the clay stiff and
retentive of water, this last sort of land requires great la¬
bour, both in ploughing and trenching, to render it profit¬
able. When manured and properly pulverized, it becomes
very productive. It is unnecessary to attempt a minute
description of all the other soils which are found in these
islands. There is, however, a peculiar sort of land on the
north side of Jamaica, chiefly in the parish of Trelawney,
that cannot be passed over unnoticed, not only on account
of its scarcity,but its value; few soils producing finer sugars,
or such as answer so well in the pan ; an expression signi¬
fying a greater return of refined sugar than common. I e
land alluded to is generally of a red colour; the shades of
wdiieh, however, vary considerably from a deep chocolate to
a rich scarlet; in some places it approaches to a bright yel¬
low', but it is everywhere remarkable, when first turned up,
for a glossy or shining surface, and if wetted stains the
fingers like paint. ,, c
Pmnpr sea- As in every climate there is a season more favourable for
soil for vegetation than others, it is of great importance that plants
planting it. for seed be committed to the ground at the commence¬
ment of this season. As the cane requires a great deal ot
moisture to bring it to maturity, the properest season tor
planting it is in the months of September and October,
when the autumnal rains commence, that it may be suffici¬
ently luxuriant to shade the ground before the dry weather
sets in. Thus the root is kept moist, and the crop is ripe
for the mill in the beginning of the ensuing year. Canes
planted in the month of November, or later in the season,
lose the advantage of the autumnal rains ; and it often hap¬
pens that dry weather in the beginning of the ensuing year
retards their vegetation until the vernal or May rams set in,
when they sprout both at the roots and the joints; so that
by the time they are cut the field is loaded with unripe
suckers instead of sugar-canes. A January plant, however,
commonly turns out w'ell; but canes planted very late in Si
the spring, though they have the benefit of the May rains,'—
seldom answer expectation ; for they generally come in un¬
seasonably, and throw the ensuing crops out of regular ro¬
tation. They are therefore frequently cut before they are
ripe ; or, if the autumnal season sets in early, are cut in wet
weather, which has probably occasioned them to spring
afresh. In either case the effect is the same : the juice is
unconcocted, and all the sap being in motion, the root is
deprived of its natural nourishment, to the great injury of
the ratoon. The chief objection to a fall plant is this, that
the canes become rank and top-heavy at a period when
violent rains and high winds are expected, and are there¬
fore frequently lodged before they are fit to be cut.
The sugar-cane is propagated by the top-shoots, which Metbbf
are cut from the tops of the old canes. The usual method plants [
of planting in the West Indies is this, ihe quantity of
land intended to be planted, being cleared of weeds and
other encumbrances, is first divided into several plats ot
certain dimensions, commonly from fifteen to twenty acies
each ; the spaces between each plat or division are left
wide enough for roads, for the conveniency of carting, and
are called intervals. Each plat is then subdivided, by
means of a line and wooden pegs, into small squares ot
about three feet and a half. Sometimes, indeed, the squares
are a foot larger, but this circumstance makes but little dif¬
ference. The negroes are then placed in a row in the first
line, one to a square, and directed to dig out with their
hoes the several squares, commonly to the depth of five or
six inches. The mould which is dug up being formed into
a bank at the lower side, the excavation or cane-hole sel¬
dom exceeds fifteen inches in width at the bottom, and two
feet and a half at the top. The negroes then fall back to
the next line, and proceed as before. Ihus the several
squares between each line are formed into a trench of much
the same dimensions with that which is made by the plough.
An able negro will dig from 100 to 120 of these holes tor
his day’s work of ten hours ; but if the land has been pre¬
viously ploughed and lain fallow, the same negro will dig
nearlv double the number in the same time.
The cane-holes or trench being now completed, whether
bv the plough or by the hoe, and the cuttings selected for
planting, which are commonly the tops of the canes that
have been ground for sugar (each cutting containing five
or six gems), two of them are sufficient for a cane-hole o
the dimensions described. These, being placed longitu i-
nallv in the bottom of the hole, are covered with mould
about two inches deep, the rest of the bank being intend-
ed for future use. In twelve or fourteen days the y01in|™'
sprouts begin to appear, and as soon as they rise a fewi g
inches above the ground, they are, or ought10 be, care¬
fully cleared of weeds, and furnished with an addition o
mould from the banks. This is usually performed by the
hand. At the end of four or five months the ban
wholly levelled, and the spaces between the rows care™!}
hoe-ploughed. Frequent cleanings, while t*16 cane
young, are indeed so essentially necessary, that no other
merit in an overseer can compensate for the wan o
tion in this particular. A careful manager will J^ove at
the same time all the lateral shoots or suckers that spring
up after the canes begin to joint, as they seldom com
maturity, and draw nourishment from the origma pc •
“ In the cultivation of other lands, in Jamaica especi^y, TliJ
says Mr Edwards, the elegant historian of the West In^ ^ J
whose superior excellence has induced us frequ >y , ailv :
fer to him in the course of this article, “ Pjough ta*
been introduced ot late years, and in some e
great advantage; but it is not every soil or situation
1 Edwards’s History of the West Indies, vol. ii.
SUGAR.
,r, will admit the use of the plough, some lands being much
—^ too stony, and others too steep ; and I am sorry I have
occasion to remark, that a practice commonly prevails in
Jamaica, on properties where this auxiliary is used, which
would exhaust the finest lands in the world. It is that of
ploughing, then cross-ploughing, round-ridging, and har¬
rowing the same lands from year to year, or at least every
other year, without affording manure. Accordingly it is
found that this method is utterly destructive of the ratoon
or second growth, and altogether ruinous. It is indeed
astonishing that any planter of common reading or obser¬
vation should be passive under so pernicious a system.
Some gentlemen, however, of late manage better; their
practice is to break up stiff and clayey land, by one or two
ploughings, early in the spring, and give it a summer’s fal¬
low. In the autumn following, being then mellow and
more easily worked, it is holed and planted by manual la¬
bour after the old method, which has been already de¬
scribed. But, in truth, the only advantageous system of
ploughing in the West Indies is to confine it to the simple
operation of holing, which may certainly be performed with
much greater facility and despatch by the plough than by
the hoe; and the relief which, in the case of stiff' and dry
soils, is thus given to the negroes, exceeds all estimation,
in the mind of a humane and provident owner. On this
subject I speak from practical knowledge. At a plantation
of my own, the greatest part of the land which is annually
planted is neatly and sufficiently laid into cane-holes, by
the labour of one able man, three boys, and eight oxen,
with the common single-wheeled plough. The ploughshare
indeed is somewhat wider than usual; but this is the only
difference, and the method of ploughing is the simplest
possible. By returning the plough back along the furrow,
the turf is alternately thrown to the right and to the left,
forming a trench seven inches deep, about two feet and
a half wide at the top, and one foot wide at the bot¬
tom. A space of eighteen or twenty inches is left between
each trench, on which the mould being thrown by the
share, the banks are properly formed, and the holing is
complete. Thus the land is not exhausted by being too
much exposed to the sun ; and in this manner a field of
twenty acres is holed with one plough, and with great ease,
in thirteen days. The plants are afterwards placed in the
trench as in the common method where manual labour alone
is employed.” 1
In most parts of the West Indies it is usual to hole and
plant a certain proportion of the cane-land, commonly one
f s third, in annual rotation. Canes of the first year’s growth
11 l‘ac- are called plant-canes, as has been already observed. The
'Isprouts that spring from the roots of the canes that have
roots, been previously cut for sugar are called ratoons ; the first
yearly returns from their roots are called first ratoons, the
second year’s growth second ratoons.
1wes Mr Edwards informs us, that the manure generally used
oyed. js a C0mp0st, formed, 1st, of the vegetable ashes drawn
from the fires of the boiling and still-houses ; 2dly, feculen-
cies discharged from the still-house, mixed up with rubbish
of buildings, white-lime, &c.; 3dly, refuse, or field-trash,
i. e. the decayed leaves and stems of the cane, so called
in contradistinction to cane-trash, reserved for fuel; 4-thly,
dung, obtained from the horse and mule stables, and from
moveable pens, or small enclosures made by posts and rails,
occasionally shifted upon the lands intended to be planted,
and into which the cattle are turned at night; Sthly, good
mould, collected from gullies and other waste places, and
thrown into the cattle-pens.
c sugar- The sugar-cane is liable to be destroyed by monkeys,
s]' rats, and insects. The upland plantations suffer greatly
iL.ys'V from monkeys. These creatures, which now abound in
793
Sugar.
(1
the mountainous parts of St Christopher’s, were first brought
thither by the French, when they possessed half that island, "“"''y''—^
They come down from the rocks in silent parties by night,
and having posted sentinels to give the alarm if any thing
approaches, they destroy incredible quantities of the cane,
by their gambols as well as their greediness. It is in vain
to set traps for these creatures, however baited; and the
only way to protect the plantation, and destroy them, is to set
a numerous watch, well armed with fowling -pieces, and fur¬
nished with dogs. The negroes will perform this service
cheerfully, for they are very fond of monkeys as food.
Father Labat affirms they are very delicious, but the white
inhabitants of St Christopher’s never eat them.
The low-land plantations suffer as much by rats as those rats,
on the mountains do from monkeys ; but the rats, no more
than the monkeys, are natives of the place. They came with
the shipping from Europe, and breed in the ground under
loose rocks and bushes : the field negroes eat them greedi¬
ly, and they are said to be publicly sold in the markets at
Jamaica. To free the plantations from these vermin, the
breed of wild cats should be encouraged, and snakes suffer¬
ed to multiply unmolested : they may also be poisoned with
arsenic, and the rasped root of the cassava made into pel¬
lets, and plentifully scattered over the grounds. This prac¬
tice is however dangerous ; for as the rats, when thus poi¬
soned, become exceedingly thirsty, they run in droves to the
neighbouring streams, which they poison as they drink, and
the cattle grazing on the banks of these polluted waters have
frequently perished by drinking after them. It is safer
therefore to make the pellets of flour, kneaded with the
juice of the nightshade, the scent of which will drive them
away though they will not eat it. There is an East Indian
animal called mungoes, which bears a natural antipathy to
rats; and if this animal was introduced into our sugar islands,
it would probably extirpate the whole race of these noxious
vermin. The formica omnivora of Linnaeus, the carnivo¬
rous ant, which is called in Jamaica the raffle's ant, would
soon clear a sugar-plantation of rats.
The sugar-cane is also subject to a disease which no fore-and insects,
sight can obviate, and for which human wisdom has hither¬
to in vain attempted to find a remedy. This disease is
called the blast, and is occasioned by a species of aphis.
When this happens, the fine, broad, green blades become
sickly, dry, and withered; they soon afterwards appear stain¬
ed in spots; and if these spots are carefully examined, they
will be found to contain innumerable eggs of an insect like
a bug, which are soon quickened, and cover the plants with
the vermin. The juice of the canes thus affected becomes
sour, and no future shoot issues from the joints. Ants also
concur with the bugs to spoil the plantation, and against
these evils it is hard to find a remedy.
The crops of sugar-canes do not ripen precisely at the Time at
same period in all the colonies. In the Danish, Spanish, which the
and Dutch settlements, they begin in January, and conti- ^ropnpens.
nue till October. This method does not imply any fixed
season for the maturity of the sugar-cane. The plant, how¬
ever, like others, must have its progress ; and it has been
justly observed to be in flower in the months of November
and December. From the custom which these nations have
adopted of continuing to gather their crops for ten months
without intermission, it must necessarily follow that they
cut some canes which are not ripe enough, and others which
are too ripe, and then the fruit has not the requisite quali¬
ties. The time of gathering them should be at a fixed sea¬
son, and probably the months of March and April are the
fittest for it; because all the sweet fruits are ripe at that
time, while the sour ones do not arrive at a state of matu¬
rity till the months of July and August.
The English cut their canes in March and April ; but
5 H
VOL. XX.
1 Edwards’s Bistory of the West Indies, voi. ii.
794 S U G A R.
Sii!?ar. they are not induced to do this on account of their ripe- boilers on each side, which constitute in effect a double Su-.
  v--—'’ness. The drought that prevails in their islands renders boiling-house. On very large estates this arrangement is'—^
the rains which fall in September necessary to their plant- found useful and necessary. The objection to so great a
ing ; and as the canes are eighteen months in growing, this number is the expense of fuel; to obviate which, in some
period always brings them to the precise point of maturity.1 degree, the three boilers on each side ot the clarifiers are
a season of “ The time of crop in the sugar islands,” says Mr Edwards, commonly hung to one fire.
festivity. « is tiie season of gladness and festivity to man and beast. The juice runs from the receiver along a wooden guttertbec];.
So palatable, salutary, and nourishing, is the juice of the lined with lead into the boiling-house, where it is received for,
cane, that every individual of the animal creation, drinking into one of the clarifiers. W hen the clarifier is filled, a
freely of it, derives health and vigour from its use. The fire is lighted, and a quantity of Bristol quicklime in pow-
meagre and sickly among the negroes exhibit a surprising der, which is called temper, is poured into the vessel. The
alteration in a few weeks after the mill is set in action, use of the lime is to unite with the superabundant acid,
The labouring horses, oxen, and mules, though almost con- of which, for the success of the process, it is necessary to
stantly at work during this season, yet, being indulged with get rid. The quantity sufficient to separate the acid must
plenty of the green tops of this noble plant, and some of vary according to the strength of the quicklime and the
the scummings from the boiling-house, improve more than quality of the liquor. Some planters allow a pint ot lime
at any other period of the year. Even the pigs and poultry to every 100 gallons of liquor ; but Mr Edwards thinks
fatten on the refuse. In short, on a well-regulated planta- that little more than half the quantity is a better medium
tion, under a humane and benevolent director, there is such proportion, and, even then, that it ought to be dissolved in
an appearance during crop-time of plenty and busy cheer- boiling water, that as little of it as possible may be preci-
fulness, as to soften, in a great measure, the hardships of pitated. The heat is suffered gradually to increase till it
slavery, and induce a spectator to hope, when the miseries approaches within a few degrees of the heat of boiling
oflife are represented as insupportable, that they are some- water, that the impurities may be thoroughly separated,
times exaggerated through the medium of fancy.” But if the liquor were suffered to boil with violence, the
The canes The plants being cut, the branches at the top are given impurities would again incorporate with it. It is known
when cut the cattle for food ; the top-shoot, which is full of eyes, to be sufficiently heated when the scum begins to rise in
are sent to preserved for planting. The canes are cut into pieces blisters, which break into white fioth, and ^appear gene-
the mill. ajJout a ydrcj tjed Up in bundles, and carried in carts rally in about forty minutes. The fire is then suddenly
to the mill, where they are bruised, and the juice is extract- extinguished by means of a damper, which excludes the
ed from them. The mill consists principally of three up- external air; and the liquor is allowed to remain about an
right iron-plated rollers or cylinders, from thirty to forty hour undisturbed, during which period the impurities are
inches in length, and from twenty to twenty-five inches in collected in scum on the surface. I he juice is then
diameter ; and the middle one, to which the moving power drained oft either by a syphon or a cock ; the scum, being
is applied, turns the other two by means of cogs. Between of a tenacious gummy nature, does not flow out with the
these rollers, the canes, being previously cut short, and liquor, but remains behind in the clarifier, ihe liquid
tied into bundles, are twice compressed; for, having passed juice is conveyed from the clarifier by a gutter into the
through the first and second rollers, they are turned round evaporating boiler, commonly termed the grand copper;
the middle one by a circular piece of frame-work or screen, and if it has been obtained from good canes it geneially
called in Jamaica the dumb-relurner, and forced back appears transparent.
through the second and third ; an operation which squeezes In the evaporating boiler, which should be large enough and f
them completely dry, and sometimes even reduces them to to receive the contents of the clarifier, the liquor is allow-coppt
powder. The cane-juice is received in a leaden bed, and ed to boil; and as the scum rises it is taken off. Ine
thence conveyed into a vessel called the receiver. The scumming and evaporation are continued till tne liquor
refuse, or macerated rind, of the cane, which is called cane- becomes finer and thicker, and so far diminished in bulk
trash, in contradistinction to Jield-trash, serves for fuel to that it may be easily contained in the second copper,
boil the liquor. When put into the second copper, it is neaily 01 the co-
The juice The juice as it flows from the mill, taken at a medium, lour of Madeira wine ; the boiling and scumming are con-
extracted contains eight parts of pure water, one part of sugar, and tinned, and if the impurities be considerable, a quantity of
from them. one part consisting of coarse oil and mucilaginous gum, with lime-water is added, lifts process is carried on till the
a portion of essential oil. liquor be sufficiently diminished in quantity to be contain-
Vessels -As this juice has a strong disposition to fermentation, it ed in the third copper. After being purified a third time,
used for must be boiled as soon as possible. There are some water- it is put into the fourth copper, which is called the tocfle,
purifying it mills that will grind with great ease canes sufficient for thir- where it is boiled and evaporated till it is judged sumci-
are, ty hogsheads of sugar in a week. It is necessary to have ently pure to be removed from the fire. In judging of
boiling vessels, or clarifiers, that wall correspond in dimen- the purity of the liquor, many of the negroes, says Mr Eli¬
sions to the quantity of juice flowing from the receiver, wards, guess solely by the eye (which by long habit they
These clarifiers are commonly three in number, and are do with great accuracy), judging by the appearance of the
sometimes capable of containing 1000 gallons each ; but it grain on the back of the ladle: but the practice most m
is more usual to see them of 300 or 400 gallons each. Be- use is to judge by what is called the touch, i. e. taking up
sides the clarifiers which are used for the first boiling, there with the thumb a small portion ot the hot liquor from the
are generally four coppers or boilers. The clarifiers are ladle, and, as the heat diminishes, drawing with the foie-
placed in the middle or at one end of the boiling-house, finger the liquid into a thread. This thread will sudden y
If at one end, the boiler called the teache is placed at the break, and shrink from the thumb to the suspended hngei,
other, and several boilers, generally three, are ranged be- in different lengths, according as the liquor is more or ess
tween them. The teache is ordinarily from seventy to 100 boiled. The proper boiling height for strong muscova o
gallons, and the boilers between the clarifiers and teache sugar is generally determined by a thread of a quarter o
diminish in size from the first to the last. Where the cla- an inch long. It is evident that certainty in this expen
rifiers are in the middle, there is usually a set of three ment can be attained only by long habit, and that no
1 The account given in the text concerning the time when the sugar-canes are collected, we have taken from the Abb£ Raynal s Histoiy
of the Trade and Settlements of the East and West Indies; but Mr C&zaud observes, that in February, March, and April, all the canes, w ta -
ever be their age, are as ripe as the nature of the soil ever allows them to be. (Philosophical Transactions, vol. Ixix.)
SUGAR.
jr. verbal precepts will furnish any degree of skill in a matter
v —■'depending wholly on constant practice.
A leing The juice being thus purified by passing through the
fl j d it clarifier and four coppers, it is poured into coolers, which
is e<*’ are usually six in number. The removal from the teache
gt Pjj ’ to the cooler is called striking. The cooler is a shallow
wooden vessel, seven feet long, from five to six wide, about
jJ.es. eleven inches deep, and capable of containing a hogshead
of sugar. As the liquor cools, the sugar grains, that is,
collects into an irregular mass of imperfect crystals, sepa¬
rating itself from the molasses. It is then removed from
the cooler and conveyed to the curing house, where the
molasses drain from it. For receiving them there is a
large cistern, the sloping sides of which are lined with
boards. Directly above the cistern a frame of joist-work
without boarding is placed, on which empty hogsheads
without heads are ranged. The bottoms of these hogs¬
heads are pierced with eight or ten holes, in each of which
the stalk of a plantain leaf is fixed, so as to project six
or eight inches below the joists, and rise a little above the
top of the hogshead. The hogshead being filled with the
contents of the cooler, consisting of sugar and molasses,
the molasses being liquid, drain through the spongy stalk,
and drop into the cistern. After the molasses are drained
off, the sugar becomes pretty dry and fair, and is then
called muscovado or raw sugar.
We liave described the process for extracting sugar,
which is generally adopted in the British West India
islands, according to the latest improvements; and have
been anxious to present it to our readers in the simplest
and most perspicuous form, that it might be intelligible to
every person ; and have therefore avoided to mention the
observations and proposed amendments of those who have
written on this subject. Had we done so, we should have
swelled the present article to too great a size, without ac¬
complishing the purpose which we have in view ; for our
intention is not to instruct the planters, but to give a dis¬
tinct account of the most approved methods which the
planters have generally adopted. But though we judge it
useless to trouble our readers with all the little varieties
in the process which different persons employ, we flatter
ourselves it will not be disagreeable to learn by what me¬
thods the French make their sugar purer and whiter than
M od of ours. A quantity of sugar from the cooler is put into
j|' JJg conical pans or earthen pots, called by the French _/br/«e.v,
p H ie having a small perforation at the apex, which is kept
closed. Each cone, reversed on its apex, is supported in
another earthen vessel. The syrup is stirred together, and
then left to crystallize. At the end of fifteen or sixteen
hours, the hole in the point of each cone is opened, that
the impure syrup may run out. The base of the sugar-
loaves is then taken out, and white pulverized sugar sub¬
stituted in its stead ; which being well pressed down, the
whole is covered with clay moistened with water. This
water filters through the mass, carrying with it the syrup
which was mixed with the sugar, but which by this manage-
Iment flows into a pot substituted in the place of the first.
This second fluid is called fine syrup. Care is taken to
moisten and keep the clay to a proper degree of softness as
it becomes dry. The sugar-loaves are afterwards taken
out, and dried in a stove for eight or ten days ; after which
they are pulverized, packed, and exported to Europe, where
they are still further purified. The reason assigned why
this process is not universally adopted in the British sugar
islands is this, that the water which dilutes and carries
away the molasses dissolves and carries with it so much of
the sugar, that the difference in quality does not pay for
the difference in quantity. The French planters probably
thought otherwise, upwards of 400 of the plantations of
St Domingo having had the necessary apparatus for claying
and actually carrying on the system.
795
The art of refining sugar was first made known to the Sugar.
Europeans by a Venetian, who is said to have received
100,000 crowns for the invention. This discovery was jj' J J
made before the new world was explored ; but whether it ^.ir intro_
was an invention of the person who first communicated it, duced by a
or whether it was conveyed from China, where it had been Venetian,
known for a considerable time before, cannot now perhaps
be accurately ascertained. We find no mention made of the
refining of sugar in Britain till the year 1659, though it pro¬
bably was practised several years before ; for in the Portu¬
guese island of St Thomas in 1642 there were seventy-four
sugar ingenios, each having upwards of two hundred slaves.
The sugar which undergoes the operation of refining in In refining,
Europe is either raw sugar, sometimes called muscovado, orh/S mixed
cassonado, which is raw sugar in a purer state. The raw "'' J1
sugar generally contains a certain quantity ot molasses as^u)j0(.K’8
well as earthy and feculent substances. The cassonado, by blood, and
the operation of earthing, is freed from its molasses. As exposed to
the intention of refining these sugars is to give them a heat-
higher degree of whiteness and solidity, it is necessary for
them to undergo other processes. The first of these is
called clarification. It consists in dissolving the sugar in
a certain proportion of lime-water, adding a proper quantity
of bullock’s blood, and exposing it to heat in order to re¬
move the impurities which still remain. The heat is in¬
creased very gradually till it approach that of boiling water.
By the assistance of the heat, the animal matter which was
thrown in coagulates, at the same time that it attracts all
the solid feculent and earthy matter, and raises it to the
surface in the appearance of a thick foam of a brownish
colour. As the feculencies are never entirely removed by
a first process, a second is necessary. The solution is
therefore cooled to a certain degree by adding some water ;
then a fresh quantity of blood, but less considerable than
at first, is poured in. The fire is renewed, and care is taken
to increase the heat gently as before. The animal sub¬
stance seizes on the impurities which remain, collects them
on the surface, and they are then skimmed off. The same
operation is repeated a third and even a fourth time, but no
addition, except water, is made to the liquor. If the different
processes have been properly conducted, the solution will
be freed from every impurity, and appear transparent. It
is then conveyed by a gutter into an oblong basket about
sixteen inches deep, lined with a woollen cloth; and after
filtering through this cloth, it is received in a cistern or
copper which is placed below.
The solution being thus clarified, it undergoes a second Then freed
general operation, called evaporation. Fire is applied to the from its
copper into which the solution was received, and the liquidfemaining
is boiled till it has acquired the proper degree of consistency. 1'nPunties
A judgment is formed of this by taking up a small portion
of the liquid and drawing it into a thread. When, after
this trial, it is found sufficiently viscous, the fire is extin¬
guished, and the liquid is poured into coolers. It is then
stirred violently by an instrument called an oar, from the
resemblance it bears to the oar of a boat. This is done in
order to diminish the viscosity, and promote what is called
the granulation, that is, the forming of it into grains or im¬
perfect crystals. When the liquid is properly mixed and
cooled, it is then poured into moulds of the form of a sugar-
loaf. These moulds are ranged in rows. The small ends,
which are lowest, are placed in pots; and they have each
of them apertures stopped up with linen for filtering the
syrup, which runs from the moulds into the pots. The H-Afterward*
quor is then taken out slowly in ladlefuls from the coolers, Poured into
and poured into the moulds. When the moulds are filled,
and the contents still in a fluid state, it is necessary to stirsvrUp
them, that no part may adhere to the moulds, and that the drained
small crystals which are just formed may be equally diffused h orn it.
through the whole mass. When sugar is completely crys¬
tallized, the linen is taken away from the apertures in the
796
SUGAR.
certain de
gree of
heat.
made.
Sugar, moulds, and the syrup, or that part which did not crystal-
'' lize, descends into the pots in which the moulds are placed.
After this purgation the moulds are removed and fixed in
other pots, and a stratum of fine white clay diluted with
w ater is laid on the upper part of the loaf. The water de¬
scending through the sugar by its own weight, mixes with
the syrup which still remains in the body of the loaf, and
washes it away. When the clay dries, it is taken off, and
another covering of moist clay put in its place; and if it
he not then sufficiently washed, a third covering of clay is
Lastly ex- applied. After the loaves have stood some days in the
posed to a moulds, and have acquired a considerable degree of firm¬
ness and solidity, they are taken out and carried to a stove,
where they are gradually heated to the 50° of Reaumur
(64° of Fahrenheit), in order to dissipate any moisture
which may be still confined in them. After remaining in
the stove eight days, they are taken out; and after cutting
oft’ all discolouring specks, and the head if still wet, they
are wrapped in blue paper, and are ready for sale. The
several syrups collected during the different parts of the
process, treated in the same manner which we have just
described, afford sugars of inferior quality; and the last por¬
tion, which no longer affords any sugar, is sold by the name
of molasses.
In what the The beauty of refined sugar, when formed into loaves,
beauty ot consists in whiteness, joined to a smallness of grain ; in be-
sists1- how dry> hard, and somewhat transparent. The process
farther re- which we have described above refers to sugar once re¬
fined. fined; but some more labour is necessary to produce double-
refined sugar. The principal difference in the operation is
this; the latter is clarified by white of eggs instead of blood,
and fresh water in place of lime-water.
How sugar- Sugar-candy is the true essence of the cane formed into
candy is large crystals by a slow process. When the syrup is well
clarified, it is boiled a little, but not so much as is done in
the process for making common sugar. It is then placed in
old moulds, having their lower ends stopped with linen, and
crossed at little distances with small twigs to retain the su¬
gar as it crystallizes. The moulds are then laid in a cool
place. In proportion as the syrup cools, crystals are formed.
In about nine or ten days the moulds are carried to the stove,
and placed in a pot; but the linen is not removed entirely,
so that the syrup falls down slowly in drops. When the syrup
has dropped away, and the crystals of the sugar-candy are be¬
come dry, the moulds are taken from the stove, and broken in
pieces to disengage the sugar, which adheres strongly to the
sides of the mould. If the syrup has been coloured with co¬
chineal, the crystals take a slight taint of red ; if indigo has
been mixed, they assume a bluish colour. If it be desired
to have the candy perfumed, the essence of flowers or amber
may be dropped into the moulds along with the syrup.
The average quantity of sugar imported into Great Bri¬
tain and Ireland during the last twenty years ending with
1837 is 4,486,014 cwts.; the quantity imported in 1837 was
4,482,578 cwts., which is somewhat under the average of
the preceding nineteen years, while the population may be
assumed to have increased at least twenty per cent, during
the same period. From these facts we may fairly assume,
that if the duty on sugar were reduced so as to bring the
price within the reach of the poorer classes, the demand
would greatly increase.
Sugar was imported into England in the fourteenth cen¬
tury, but in small quantities. The demand, however, in¬
creased very rapidly, and the consumption of this impor¬
tant necessary of life is now about twenty times greater
than it was in the beginning of last century.
In 1700 it was 22,000,000 lbs.
... 1754   119,320,000 ...
... 1790   181,500,000
... 1807   255,098,450 ...
... 1837 432,938,608 ...
Taking the aggregate population of the united kingdom
in 1837 at twenty lour millions and a half, this gives tos
each individual just sixteen pounds per annum; a proportion
very far below what might be expected were the price re¬
duced.
An Account of the Quantity of Sugar imported into the United King¬
dom, distinguishing Great Britain from Ireland, and specifying the
Countries whence the Imports were received ; together with a
Statement of the Quantities and Descriptions cleared from the Ware¬
houses and retained for Consumption, the Rates of Duty and
Drawback, the Gross Amount of Duty, the Sum paid for Draw¬
back, &c., and the Net Amount of Revenue, with the Gazette
Average Prices, at the end of each Quarter of the Year 1837.
S r.
Places whence
imported.
Quantities imported into
Great Britain.
British Colonies
and Planta
tions in Ame¬
rica, viz 
Antigua 
Barbadoes 
Dominica   
Grenada 
Jamaica 
Montserrat 
Nevis 
St Christopher.
St Lucia 
St Vincent..
Tobago 
Tortola 
Trinidad 
Demerara...
Berbice 
Honduras...
British North
American Co
lonies   
West Coast of
Africa 
Mauritius  
British Posses
sions in the
East Indies,
viz 
East India
Company’s
Territories,
exclusive of
Singapore.
Singapore...
Ceylon 
Siam 
Java 
Philippine
Islands 
China 
New South
Wales 
F oreign Co
lonies in the
West Indies,
viz—
Cuba 
St Thomas 
United States of
America 
Mexico  
Columbia.... 
Brazil 
States of the
Rio de la Plata
Chili 
Peru  
Europe 
Total.
Cwts. qrs. lbs.
f)6,360 0 2
413,237 2 21
33,723 2 10
161,021 2 20
901,078 2 15
5,694 3 24
24,269 0 0
72,260 2 16
31,235 3 9
201,191 1 21
90,803 0 25
13,534 0 5
224,873 1 2
705,637 3 18
148,836 0 5
0 3 21
2,364 0 17
1 311
537,454 3 17
Ireland.
Total in 1836
297,923 3 10
5,019 0 26
2 0 0
18,805 3 6
2,877 3 13
49,118 1 12
0 0 2
1,042 2 5
125,985 0 26
308 3 0
1,667 0 12
0 0 4
533 1 5
110,216 126
0 0 11
0 0 10
7,993 0 24
14,485 0 21
Cwts. qrs. lbs.
5,810 1 2
32,425 1 23
3,221 0 3
1,003 0
20,194 2
70,493 3
87,214 0
1,699 3 14
1 1 18
United Kingdom.
4,260,514 3 24
4,411,527 0 8
222,063 1 11
Cwts. qrs. lbs.
62,170 1 4
445,713 0 16
33,723 2 10
161,921 2 10
904,299 2 18
5,694 3 24
24.269 0 0
73.269 2 18
51,430 l 9
201,191 1 21
90,803 0 25
13,534 0 5
295,367 0 3
792,851 3 22
150,535 3 19
0 321
2,365 2 7
1 311
537,454 3 I?
297,923 3 10
5,019 0 26
2 0 0
18.805 3 6
2,877 3 13
49,118 1 12
0 0 2
1,042 2 5
125,985 0 26
308 3 0
1,667 0 12
0 0 4
533 1 5
110,216 126
0 0 11
0 0 10
7,993 0 24
14,485 0 21
4,482,578 1 7
237,633 3 27 4,649,161 0
S U I
S U I
797
mgat Quantity cleared for consumption in the united kingdom.
II Cwts. qrs. lbs.
«cl(Je' Of the British plantations.... 3,562,778 3 19
'v Of Mauritius    522,360 3 23
Of the East Indies  270,078 0 10
Of the foreign plantations....  35 2 7
Total 4,355,253 2 3
Quantity retained for consumption in
the united kingdom 3,954,809 3 3
Gross amount of duty.
Great Britain L.4,874,162 4 3
Ireland  395,973 7 6
United kingdom L.5,270,I35 11 9
Drawback paid on exportation.
Great Britain L 497,419 3 4
Ireland  113 10 5
United kingdom  L.497,532 13 9
Repayments on over-entries, &c.
Great Britain  L. 11,936 0 11
Ireland...    102 5 6
United kingdom L. 12,038 6 5
Net amount of revenue.
Great Britain L.4,364,807 0 0
Ireland  395,757 11 7
United kingdom L.4,760,564 11 7
Rates of duty per cwt.
British plantations and Mauritius L.l 4 0
Any British possessions in the East Indies
into which the importation of foreign
sugar is prohibited  14 0
Of other British possessions in the East
Indies  1 12 0
Foreign  3 3 0
Average price per cwt. according to the
London Gazette.
March 1837
June 
September..
December..
L.l 18 0£
2 1 61
2 3 71
1 15 5f
SUGAT, a town of Asia Minor, in the pachalic of Bursa,
supposed to be on the site of the ancient Tottarium. The
houses are generally built of mud and wood, two stories
high, with projecting verandahs, and roofed with common
red tile. It is remarkable for the tomb of Ali Osman, held
in high respect by the natives.
SUGGOWLY, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Bahar, district of Bettiah. It is situated on the Boora Gun-
duck river, and it carries on a considerable trade in timber,
floated down from the northern hills. Long. 85. 5. E. Lat.
26. 43. N.
SUIATOI Nos, or Holy Cape, a cape of Asiatic Russia,
in the province of Irkoutsk, between the rivers Yana and
Indigirka, on the coast of the Frozen Ocean. Long. 39.30. E.
Lat. 68. 30. N.
SUICIDE, the crime of self-murder, or the person who
commits it. W e have often wished to see a history of
crimes drawn up by a man of ability and research. In
this history we would propose that the author should de¬
scribe the crimes peculiar to dilferent nations in the differ- Suicide,
ent stages of society, and the changes which they undergo “v'~—
in the progress of civilization. After having arranged the
historical facts, he might, by comparing them with the re¬
ligion and the knowledge of the people, deduce some im¬
portant general conclusions, which would lead to a disco¬
very of the cause of crimes, and of the remedy most pro¬
per to be applied. Some crimes are peculiar to certain
stages of society, some to certain nations. Suicide is one of
those crimes which we are led to believe not common among
savage nations. The first instances recorded of it in the
Jewish history are those of Saul and Ahitophel; for we do
not think the death of Samson a proper example. We
have not reason to suppose that it became common among
the Jews till their wars with the Romans, when multitudes
slaughtered themselves that they might not fall alive into
the hands of their enemies. But at tins period the Jews
were a most desperate and abandoned race of men, had
corrupted the religion of their fathers, and rejected that
pure system which their promised Messiah came to an¬
nounce.
When this crime became remarkable among the Greeks,
we have not been able to discover; but it was forbidden
by Pythagoras, as we learn from Athenaeus, by Socrates
and Aristotle, and by the Theban and Athenian laws. In
the earliest ages of the Roman republic it was seldom com¬
mitted ; but when luxury and the Epicurean and Stoical
philosophy had corrupted the simplicity and virtue of the
Roman character, they then began to seek shelter in sui¬
cide, from their misfortunes or the effects of their own vices.
The religious principles of the Brahmins of India led
them to admire suicide on particular occasions as honour¬
able. Accustomed to abstinence, mortification, and the
contempt of death, they considered it as a mark of weak¬
ness of mind to submit to the infirmities of old age. We
are informed that the modern Gentoos, who still in most
things conform to the customs of their ancestors, are fre¬
quently, when old and infirm, brought to the banks of
rivers, particularly to those of the Ganges, that they mav
die in its sacred streams, which they believe can wash away
the guilt of their sins. But the maxims of the Brahmins,
which have encouraged this practice, we are assured by
Mr Holwell, are a corruption of the doctrines of the Shas-
ter, which positively forbid suicide under the severest pu¬
nishment. J he practice which religion or affection has
established among the Gentoos, for women at the death of
their husbands to burn themselves alive on the funeral
pile, we do not think ought to be considered as suicide, as
we are not anxious to extend the meaning of the word;
for were we to extend it thus far, it would be as proper
to apply it to those who choose rather to die in battle
than make their escape at the expense of their honour.
Thus we should condemn as suicides the brave Spartans
who died at I hermopylae in defence of their country. Ac¬
cording to the Gentoo laws, “ it is proper for a woman
after her husband’s death to burn herself in the fire with
his corpse. Every woman who thus burns shall remain in
paradise with her husband three crore and fifty lacs of
years. If she cannot, she must in that case preserve an
inviolable chastity. If she remain chaste, she goes to
paradise; and if she do not preserve her chastity, she goes
to hell.”
A custom similar to this prevailed among many nations
on the continent of America. When a chief died, a certain
number of his wives, of his favourites, and of his slaves,
were put to death, and interred together wdth him, that he
might appear with the same dignity in his future station,
and be waited upon by the same attendants. This persua¬
sion was so deeply rooted, that many of their retainers offer¬
ed themselves as victims; and the same custom prevails in
many of the negro nations in Africa.
798
S U I
Suicide. If we may rely on the historians of Japan, voluntary
 death is common in that empire. The devotees of the idol
Amida drown themselves in his presence, attended by their
relations and friends, and several of the priests, who all
consider the devoted person as a saint, who is gone to ever¬
lasting happiness. Such being the supposed honours
appropriated to a voluntary death, it is not surprising
that the Japanese anxiously cherish a contempt of life.
Accordingly it is a part of the education of their children
“ to repeat poems in which the virtues of their ancestors
are celebrated, an utter contempt of life is inculcated, and
suicide is set up as the most heroic of actions.
A notion seems also to have prevailed among the an¬
cient Scythian tribes, that it was pusillanimous and ignoble
for a man whose strength was wasted with disease or infir¬
mity, so as to be useless to the community, to continue to
live. It was reckoned an heroic action voluntarily to seek
that death which he had not the good fortune to meet in
the field of battle. Perversion of moral feeling does not
spring up, we hope, spontaneously in any nation, but is pro¬
duced by some peculiarities of situation. A wandering
people like the Scythians, who roamed about from place to
place, might often find it impossible to attend the sick, or
to supply from their precarious store the wants of the
aged and infirm. The aged and infirm themselves, no
longer able to support the character of warriors, would find
themselves unhappy. In this way the practice of putting
to death such persons as were useless to the community
might originate, and afterwards be inculcated as honour¬
able ; but he who put an end to his infirmities by his own
hand obtained a character still more illustrious.
The tribes of Scandinavia, which worshipped Odin, the
“ father of slaughter,” were taught, that dying in the field
of battle was the most glorious event that could befall them.
This was a maxim suited to a wrarlike nation. In order to
establish it more firmly in the mind, all were excluded from
Odin’s feast of heroes who died a natural death. In As-
gardia stood the hall of Odin, where, seated on a throne,
he received the souls of his departed heroes. This place
was called Valhalla, signifying “ the hall of those who died
by violence.” Natural death being thus deemed inglori¬
ous, and punished with exclusion from Valhalla, the para¬
dise of Odin, he who could not enjoy death in the field of
battle was led to seek it by his own hands when sickness
or old age began to assail him. In such a nation suicide
must have been very common.
As suicide prevailed much in the decline of the Roman
empire, when luxury, licentiousness, profligacy, and false
philosophy, pervaded the world, so it continued to prevail
even after Christianity was established. The Romans, when
they became converts to Christianity, did not renounce their
ancient prejudices and false opinions, but blended them with
the new religion which they embraced. The Gothic na¬
tions, also, who subverted the Roman empire, while they re¬
ceived the Christian religion, adhered to many of their for¬
mer opinions and manners. Among other criminal prac¬
tices which were retained by the Romans and their ’con¬
querors, that of suicide was one ; but the principles from
which it proceeded were explained so as to appear more
agreeable to the new system which they had espoused. It
was committed either to secure from the danger of apostasy,
to procure the honour of martyrdom, or to preserve the
crown of virginity.
When we descend to modern times, we lament to find so
many instances of suicide among the most polished nations,
who have the best opportunities of knowing the atrocity of
that unnatural crime. The English have long been re¬
proached by foreigners for the frequent commission of it;
S U I
and the “ gloomy month of November” has been stigma- Snick
tized as the season wEen it is most common. But this dis-\~
graceful imputation, We think, may be justly attributed, not
to the greater frequency of the crime in England than in
other countries, but to the custom of publishing in the
newspapers every instance of suicide which is known.
It might lead to some interesting conclusions to compare
together, not only the number of suicides in different coun¬
tries, but also the rank and principles, the sex and age, of
those unhappy persons by whom it has been committed.
Mercier says, that at Paris it was the lower ranks who were
most commonly guilty of it; that it was mostly committed in
garrets or hired lodgings ; and that it proceeded from po¬
verty and oppression. A great many, he says, wrote letters
to the magistrates before their death. Mr Moore’s corre¬
spondent from Geneva informed him, that from the year
1777 to 1787 more than 100 suicides were committed in
Geneva ; that twro thirds of these unfortunate persons were
men; that few of the clerical order have been known to
commit it; and that it is not so much the end of an im¬
moral, irreligious, dissipated life, as the effect of melancholy
and poverty.1
Humanity would in most cases dispose us to conclude
that suicide is the effect of insanity, were there not so many
instances of cool deliberate self-murder. That suicide is an
unnatural crime, which none but a madman would commit,
compassion indeed may suppose ; but the murder of a wife,
a father, or a child, are also unnatural ; yet compassion does
not teach us in all cases to ascribe such a crime to madness.
Passion may often arise to such a height of outrage as to be
scarcely distinguishable from madness in its symptoms and
its effects ; yet we always make a distinction between that
madness which arises from disease and that which is owing
to a violent perturbation of mind. If a person be capable
of managing his worldly affairs, of making a will, and of
disposing of his property, immediately before his death, or
after he formed the resolution of dying by his own hands,
such a man is not to be considered as insane.
But though a regard for truth prevents us from ascribing
suicide in all cases to insanity, we must ascribe it either to
insanity or to vicious passion. These two divisions, we
imagine, will comprehend every species of it, whether arising
from melancholy, tcedmm vitae or ennui, disappointment in
schemes of ambition or love, pride, gaming, or a desire to
avoid the shame of a public execution ; passions which are
often increased by false views of God, of man, and of a fu¬
ture state, arising from deism and infidelity. If these be
the causes of suicide in modern times, what a disgraceful
contrast do they form to those principles which actuated
many of the ancient philosophers, the Gentoos, the Japanese,
and the worshippers of Odin ? When they committed suicide,
they committed it from principle, from a belief of its law¬
fulness, and the hope of being rewarded for what they judged
an honourable sacrifice. But in modern times, we are sorry
to say, when it is not the effect of madness, it is the effect
of vice : and when it is the effect of vice, it proves that the
vicious passions are then indulged to the highest degree,
for there is no crime which a man can commit that is so
strong a sy'mptom of the violence of particular passions. It
is from not attending to this circumstance that it has been
found so difficult to refute the arguments in favour of sui¬
cide. If the criminality of suicide be confined merely to
the violent action, many apologies may be made for it; but
if it be considered solely as the effect of vice, as the strong¬
est symptom of ungoverned passion, he wdio undertakes its
defence must undertake the defence of what all men wi
loudly condemn.
As suicide was deemed a crime by the most illustrious
1 Moore’s Enquiry into the subject of Su.cide. Lond. 1<90, 2 vois. 4to.
S U I
idas. and virtuous of the Greek and Roman philosophers, it was
V—^ considered as a crime by the laws, and treated with igno¬
miny. By the law of Thebes suicides were to have no ho¬
nours paid to their memory. The Athenian law ordained
the hand which committed the deed to be cut off, and burnt
apart from the rest of the body. The body was not. buried
with the usual solemnities, but was ignominiously thrown
into some pit. In Cea and Massilia (the ancient Marseille),
it was considered as a crime against the state ; and it was
therefore necessary for those who wished to destroy them¬
selves to obtain permission from the magistrates. Plutarch
acquaints us, that an unaccountable passion for suicide seized
the Milesian virgins ; from indulging which they could not
be prevented by the tears and entreaties of parents and
friends : but what persuasion and entreaty could not effect
was accomplished by very different means. A decree was
issued, “ that the body of every young woman who hanged
herself should be dragged naked through the streets by the
same rope with which she had committed the deed.” This
wise edict put a complete stop to the extraordinary phrensy,
and suicide was no longer committed by the virgins of Mi¬
letus.
In the early part of the Roman history there seems to
have been seldom occasion for framing any laws against
suicide. The only instance recorded occurs in the reign
of Tarquinius Priscus. The soldiers who were appointed
to make drains and common sewers, thinking themselves
disgraced by such servile offices, put themselves to death in
great numbers. The king ordered the bodies of all the self-
murderers to be exposed on crosses, and this put an effec¬
tual stop to the practice. It is doubtful whether there was
any standing law against suicide during the existence of
the republic; but during the reign of the emperors it was
thought proper to lay it under certain regulations, though
not absolutely to condemn it as a crime. In Justinian’s
Pandects there is a law, by which it was enacted, “ that if
persons accused, or who had been found guilty, of any crime,
should make away with themselves, their effects should be
confiscated.” But this punishment only took place when
confiscation of goods happened to be the penalty appointed
by the law for the crime of which the self-murderer was ac¬
cused or found guilty, and was not inflicted for suicide com¬
mitted in any other circumstances.
When the Christian church had extended its jurisdiction
in the Roman empire, it was decreed in the sixth century,
that no commemoration should be made in the eucharist
for such as destroyed themselves; neither should their bo¬
dies be carried out to burial with psalms, nor have the usual
service said over them. This ecclesiastical law continued
till the reformation, when it was admitted into the statute
law of England. As an additional punishment, however,
confiscation of land and goods seems to have been adopted
from the Danes, as we learn from Bracton.1 At present
the punishment consists in confiscating all the personal pro¬
perty of a felo de se for the use of the crown, and in exclud¬
ing his body from interment in consecrated ground.
SUIDAS, a Greek lexicographer, is supposed by Fabri-
cius to have lived during the latter part of the eleventh
century; but other writers are disposed to believe that he
must have belonged to a more recent period. His country
and his personal history are alike unknown. From authors
of various denominations he compiled an ample dictionary,
which, with all its imperfections, has been found a most va¬
luable repository of ancient erudition ; and ho scholar, inti¬
mately acquainted with the Greek language and literature,
is unacquainted with the Lexicon of Suidas. The first
edition, which is very elegantly printed, was published by
Demetrius Chalcondylus, Mediol. 1499, fol. He had access
SUL 799
to several manuscripts. The text of Aldus has some ap- Suit
pearance of being derived from a different source, Venet. II
1514, fol. A third edition, with various interpolations, fol- „ ’ !l i^'°‘
lowed after a longer interval, Basil. 1544, fol. It was suc¬
ceeded by the Latin version of Wolfius, Basil. 1564, fol.
Basil. 1581, fol. An edition of the Greek text, accompa¬
nied with a Latin version, was published by iEmilius Tor¬
tus, Colon. Allobrog. 1619, 2 tom. fol. A splendid and
valuable edition was at length produced by Kiister, Cantab.
1705, 3 tom. fol. Here the version of Tortus has received
innumerable corrections; and from the collation of manu¬
scripts, as well as by the aid of his own critical sagacity, he
effected a great reformation of the text. He was a man of
superior talents, and of profound erudition ; but it is admit¬
ted that he ought to have devoted a greater portion of time
to so formidable an undertaking. His edition was assailed
by J. Gronovius in three different publications; and to this
virulent critic Kiister replied in a Diatribe Anti- Gronovi-
ana, of which a second edition was printed at Amsterdam,
1712, 8vo. The text of Suidas was afterwards illustrated
by many other writers, nor must we fail to mention the
elaborate work of Toup, Emendationes in Suidam, Lond.
1760-6, 3 tom. 8vo. Oxon. 1790, 4 tom. 8vo. The la¬
bours of these learned men prepared the way for a most
valuable edition, recently published under the following
title: “ Suidae Lexicon post Ludolphum Kusterum ad
codices manuscriptos recensuit Thomas Gaisford, S.T.T.
JEdis Christi Decanus, necnon Graecaj Linguaj Trofessor
Regius.” Oxon. 1834, 3 tom. fol. The third volume is
very thin, and merely includes three Indices. By his edi¬
tion of Suidas, Dr Gaisford has made a great accession to
his former reputation in a department of learning in which
he has no living rival in Great Britain.
SUIT, in Lmv, the same with action. The Romans,
at an early period, introduced set forms for actions into
their law, after the example of the Greeks; and made it a
rule, that each injury should be redressed by its proper re¬
medy only. “ Actiones (say the Tandects) compositae sunt,
quibus inter se homines disceptarent, quas actiones ne popu-
lus prout vellet institueret, certas solemnesque esse volue-
runt.” The forms of these actions were originally preserv¬
ed in the books of the pontifical college, as choice and ines¬
timable secrets, till one Cneius Flavius, the secretary of
Appius Claudius, stole a copy and published them to the
people. The concealment was ridiculous: but the esta¬
blishment of some standard was undoubtedly necessary to
fix the true state of a question of right, lest, in a long and
arbitrary proceeding, it might be shifted continually, and be
at length no longer discernible; or, as Cicero expresses it,
“ sunt jura, sunt formulae, de omnibus rebus constitutae, ne
quis aut in genere injuriae, aut in ratione actionis, errare
possit. Expressae enim sunt ex uniuscujusque damno, dolore,
incommodo, calamitate, injuria, publicae a pretore formulae,
ad quas privata lis accommodatur.” And in the same man¬
ner Bracton, speaking of the original writs upon which Eng¬
lish actions are founded, declares them to be fixed and im¬
mutable, unless by authority of parliament. And all the
modern legislators of Europe have found it expedient, from
the same reasons, to fall into the same or a similar method.
SUKANA, or Sukna, a village of the Syrian desert, near
which is a warm sulphureous spring, 140 miles south-south¬
east of Aleppo.
SUK el Harf, a town of Yemen, in Arabia, twenty-
eight miles south-south-east of Saade.
SUKI, a town of Anatolia, in Asiatic Turkey, governed
by an aga. It is twelve miles north-north-east of Milets.
SULIAGO, or Suriago, a chain of small islands in the
Tacific Ocean, extending about ninety miles in length by
1 Bracton de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Anglise, lib. iii. tract. 11.
800 SUL SUL
Sully twelve in breadth. Long. 125. 27. to 128. 30. E. Lat. 9. the top of an adjacent hill are found traces of some ancient Suit® ra
II 24. to 10. 32. N. The largest, from which the others de- buildings, particularly a temple and a theatre, with fifty f|
Sultan- rive their name? ig twenty miles in circumference, and is rows of seats. Some remains of a magnificent portico are ^ Sllli;
twenty miles north-north-east from the coast of Mindanao, also seen, with two rows of pillars. Vl1-'
Long. 126. 27. E. Lat. 9. 27. N. There is a town of the SULTANPORE, a town of Hindustan, province of La-
same name on the north coast of the island of Mindanao, hore, belonging to the Sikhs. Long. 74. 45. E. Lat. 31.
Long. 125. 31. E. Lat. 9. 45. N. 18. N. 2. A town in the province of Oude, pleasantly
SULLY, Maximilien de Bethune, Duke of, was born at situated on the eastern bank of the Goompty river, seventy-
Rosny on the 13th of December 1560, and died at Villebon eight miles south-east from Lucknow. Long. 82. 3. E.
on the 22d of December 1640. His name is so conspicu- Lat. 26. 18. N. 3. A town in the Afghan territories, pro-
ous in the public annals of France, that a mere outline of vince of Mooltan, twenty miles east from the city of Mool-
his personal history would require an ample allotment of tan. Long. 71. 40. E. Lat. 30. 38. N. 4. A town in the
space. He participated in the fortunes of Henry IV. and Mahratta territories, province of Khandesh, on the north
rendered him the most important services in the cabinet as side of the Tuptee river, ninety miles east by north from
well as the field. He was grand master of the artillery, and Surat. Long. 74. 22. E. Lat. 21. 35. N.
superintendent of the finances. Rigidly attentive to the SULZER, John George, a philosophical writer of dis¬
interest of the king, he had no disposition to neglect his tinction, was bor-n at Winterthur, in the canton of Zurich,
own ; and in the course of a long life he accumulated an on the 16th of October 1720. He was the youngest of
immense fortune, of which he laid the foundation by his twenty-five children. At the age of sixteen, when he went
marriage with Anne de Courtenay, a rich heiress. He was to the university of Zurich, he had not the smallest notion of
remarkable for his decision of character and bluntness of the sciences or of elegant literature, and consequently no
manners; and in spite of all the allurements presented to taste for study. The first incident that developed a hid-
him, he steadily adhered to the protestant faith. The Me- den germ of philosophical genius, was his meeting with
moirs of Sully furnish some of the most curious and valu- Wolfs Metaphysics. This was the birth of his taste for
able materials for the history of that eventful era. science ; but he wanted a guide. The clergyman with
SULPHUR Island, an island in the North Pacific whom he lodged was an ignorant man ; and the academical
Ocean, discovered by Captain Gore in 1779, about five prelections were, as yet, above the reach of his comprehen-
miles long. Long. 141. 12. E. Lat. 24. 48. N. sion. On the other hand, a sedentary life was not suitable
SULPICIA, a Roman poetess, who lived under the reign to his taste ; and a sociable turn of mind often led him into
of Domitian, and has been so much admired as to be term- company, where he lost much time in frivolous amusements,
ed the Roman Sappho. W’e have nothing, however, left yet without corrupting his morals. Who, that observed
of her writings but a satire, or rather the fragment of one, him at this period, says Mr Formey in his Eloge, would have
against Domitian, who published a decree for the banish- thought that Sulzer would one day be numbered among the
ment of philosophers from Rome. This satire is to be found most knowing and wise men of his time? John Gessner, who
in Scaliger’s Appendix Virgiliana, and in other collections, became an eminent naturalist, was the instnnnent of Provi-
It was separately published, with elaborate annotations dence that rendered SulzePs inclination to study triumphant
by C. G. Schwartz. Altorf. 1723,8vo. Hamb. 1819, 4to. over his passion for amusement and company. Animated
She is mentioned by Martial and Sidonius Apollinaris ; by the counsels and example of this fellow-student, he ap-
and is said to have addressed a poem on conjugal love to plied himself to philosophy and mathematics with great ar-
her husband Calenus, a Roman knight. dour, and resumed the pursuit of Greek literature and the
SULPITIUS Severus, an ecclesiastical writer, was oriental languages. He was settled as a pastor in a rural dis¬
horn in Aquitania about the year 363. His father w-as a trict. In 1741 he published Moral Contemplations on the
man of superior rank. Hiiving received a suitable educa- Works of Nature; and in the following year an Account
tion, the son applied himself to the practice of the law, and of a Journey through the Alps, which showed at the same
distinguished himself by his learning and eloquence. He time his knowdedge of natural history, and the taste and
married a rich wife, and was thus placed in a state of greater sensibility with which he surveyed the beauties of nature,
independence. He chiefly resided at Toulouse, and at and the grandeur and goodness of its Author. He after-
Eluso or Elusio, near Carcassonne. The death of his be- w'ards became private tutor to a young gentleman at Mag¬
loved wife weaned his affections from the world, and he is deburg. This procured him the acquaintance of Euler,
supposed to have devoted himself to an ecclesiastical, if not Maupertuis, and Sack, which opened to his merit the path
a monastic life. He had recourse to the instructions of of preferment, and advanced him successively to the place
Martin bishop of Tours, whose life he has written ; and he of mathematical professor in the Gymnasium of Berlin in
likewise contracted a friendship with Paulinus bishop of 1747, and to that of member of the Royal Academy in
Nola. The invasion of the Vandals impelled him to seek 1750. In this last quality he distinguished himself in a
a place of refuge at Marseille, where he entered a monas- very eminent manner, enriched the class of speculative phi-
tery, and is supposed to have died about the year 410. His losophy with a great number of excellent memoirs, anc
principal work is his Historia Sacra, deduced from the was justly considered as one of the first-rate metaphysi-
creation of the world to his own time, and written in a cians in Germany. But his genius was not confined to
style superior to the standard of that declining age of Lati- this branch of science. His universal Theory °f the fine
nity. The first edition was published by Flacius Illyri- Arts is a valuable production. A profound knowledge o
cus. Basil. [1556] 8vo. Various editions of his works the arts and sciences, and a perfect acqtiaintance with tine
subsequently appeared; some of which were illustrated by taste, are eminently displayed in this wnrk, and will secure
the notes of Sigonius, Vorstius, Horn, and Le Glerc. A to its author a permanent and distinguished rank in the re
more elaborate edition was undertaken by De Prato, Ve- public of letters. The first volume of this excellent vStK <
ronse, 1741-54, 2 tom. 4to. He promised a third volume, was published in 1771, and the second in 1774. “!S, U
which however did not make its appearance. marks on the Philosophical Essays of Hume is a wo
SULTAN, or Soldan, a title or appellation given to the real merit, which does justice to the acuteness, w 11 1
emperor of the Turks. often detects the sophistry, of the Scotish philosopher. J. e
SULTANHISSAR, a village of Anatolia, in Asiatic moral character of Sulzer was amiable and virtuous , so
Turkey, situated near the remains of the ancient Greek city ciability and beneficence were its characteristical ints, an]
of Tralles, and twenty-three miles east of Scalanova. On his virtues were animated by that sacred philosop.ij w ocn
SUM SUM 801
.atra. forms the Christian, ennobles man, and is the only source
v—'of that heart-felt serenity and sedate fortitude which sup¬
port humanity, when every other object of confidence fails.
He died at Berlin on the 27th of February 1779.
SUMATRA, a large island in the Eastern Seas, the most
western of that great chain of islands which extends in the
eastern ocean from the coasts of New Holland and New
Guinea to the coast of China on the east, and westward to
the Malayan peninsula. The equator divides it into two
parts almost equal. It may be estimated at 1050 miles in
ength by 165 miles in average breadth, and its general di¬
rection is north-west and south-east: the one extremity is in
5° 56' N. and the other in 5° 56' S. This island lies exposed
on the south-west to the great Indian Ocean; the north
point stretches into the Bay of Bengal, to the north-east
it is divided from the peninsula of Malaya by the Straits of
Malacca, to the east by the Straits of Banca from the island
of that name, to the south-east by the commencement of
the Chinese Seas, and on the south it is separated from the
island of Java by the Straits of Sunda. The origin of the name
is unknown. In the east it is genei'ally known by the name
of Pulo Purichu and Indalas. It is one of the largest islands
in the world, and is broadest at its southern extremity, nar¬
rowing gradually towards the north. It is of a very unequal
surface. A chain of mountains runs through its whole ex¬
tent: the ranges are from 3000 to 5000 feet high, and in some
places much higher, being in many parts double and treble;
and they run nearer to the western than the eastern shore,
being seldom more than twenty miles from the sea. These
mountains, though high, do not rise above the level of per¬
petual snow'. Mount Ophir, situated immediately under
the equinoctial line, is 13,800 feet above the level of the
sea. Between these ridges of mountains are extensive plains,
considerably elevated above the surface of the maritime lands,
where the air is cool, and they are esteemed in consequence
the most eligible portion of the country ; and being cleared
from woods, which in all other parts cover both the hills
and valleys in Sumatra with an eternal shade, they are the
best inhabited parts of the country. The most satisfactory
account of the country is derived from the journeys into the
interior by Sir Stamford Raffles, who was appointed gover¬
nor of the British settlements at Sumatra, and arrived in
Bencoolen in 1818; and who made excursions inland and
along the coast, and also crossed the island from Bencoolen
to Palembang. He afterwards proceeded from Padang, on the
south coast, and, traversing the first range of mountains, pe¬
netrated to the ulterior plains; and he describes the coun¬
try as populous, well cultivated, and fertile. The hills which
he passed rose to the height of 5200 feet, as estimated by
the barometer, and the slopes were covered with plantations
of coffee, indigo, maize, sugar-cane, and all the oil-giving
plants, and the lower plains were almost exclusively occu¬
pied with rice. The rice-fields are managed in the same
manner as those of Java, and were equal in fertility. After
arriving at the summit of the steep ascent, he observes,
“ our view opened on one of the finest countries w e ever
beheld “ as we descended,” he continues, “ the scene im¬
proved ; we found ourselves in an immense amphitheatre,
surrounded by mountains 10,000 and 12,000 feet high; the soil
on which w^e stood rich beyond description, and vegetation
luxuriant and brilliant in every direction; the people su¬
perior to those on the coast, in general about six feet high,
and proportionably stout, with clear and clean skins, and an
open ingenuous countenance. They seemed to have abun¬
dance of every thing; rice, the staple food of the country,
being five times as cheap as at Bencoolen, and every other
article of produce in proportion. The children were deco¬
rated with a profusion of silver ornaments, and particularly Sumatra,
with strings of dollars and other coins hanging round their ^
neck, to the value sometimes of 100 dollars. A fine
breed of cattle,” he continues, “ which seems peculiar,
abounds here, and throughout the Menangcabow country;
oxen seem to be used in agriculture in preference to buf¬
faloes ; they are generally about three feet four inches high,
beautifully made, and mostly of a light-brown colour, with
black eyes and lashes, and are sold at from three to four
dollars a head.”1 Here are also found many large and beau¬
tiful lakes, which extend at intervals through the interior of
the country, and tend to facilitate the intercourse between
its different districts. But little is known respecting the in¬
terior of this large and fertile island, or the dimensions, di¬
rection, and situation of the lakes. The most remarkable
is one of great extent in the Batta country. There is a second
in the country of Menangcabow, which is used by the in¬
habitants for transporting goods to and from Palembang;
there is another in the Corinchia country ; one in the Lam¬
poon country, extending to Passumah, which is very large,
and in which there are boats of a large size, which carry
sails, and require a day and a night to cross it. This lake
is stated by Mr Anderson, who visited the east coast of Su¬
matra in 1822, under the orders of the East India Company,
to be very large, the shore not being visible from the op¬
posite side. The borders of the lake are reported to be in
a high state of cultivation, containing numerous villages, and
a dense population. The lake has an island in the centre,
where edible bird-nests, so highly prized as a luxury in
China, are procured. Those who navigate this lake are
mostly pirates, who plunder each other, and carry oft’ their
children, selling them for slaves.* The lake of Sincara, in
one of the interior valleys of the island, is described by Sir
Stamford Raffles as a beautiful sheet of w'ater, about four¬
teen miles long by seven broad, surrounded by mountains
and hills, except on one side, where it is bounded by a plain
of its own width. On the margin of this lake for two or
three miles are rice-fields, plantations, and villages, rising
successively above each other, and advancing up the hill
nearly to the summit of the first ridge, where the forest has
been cleared, and cultivation extended. On the banks of
this lake are situated seven principal towns, with their nu¬
merous villages and hamlets ; which being shaded by trees,
form so many groves, the dark foliage of which pleasingly
contrasts with the bright tints of the rice-plantations in the
middle of which they are placed. At each of these towns
a weekly market is held, to which the traders from the other
towns and adjacent countries repair by water. There are
numerous canals, and each town has one or two large
boats capable of carrying six tons with one hundred men.
Sir Stamford sounded at a short distance from the shore,
and found bottom at 68 fathoms; but in the centre no
bottom was found at 180 fathoms. The lake abounds in
fish.
From the direction of the mountains, which, as has been
mentioned, approach near to the western coast, being only
twenty miles from the sea, while on the eastern side there
is an intervening country not less than 150 miles in breadth,
all the largest rivers are found on that coast. The rivers
on the western coast are numerous, but they are in general
too small and rapid for the purpose of navigation. And it
is the vicinity of the mountains on this side that occasions
the profusion of springs, as well as their rapidity and diminu¬
tive size. They have not space to accumulate in so limited a
range ; while the extended declivity of the eastern coast
not only presents a larger surface for the formation of rivers,
by the reception of rain, and by the union of subsidiary
1 Memoir of the Life and Public Services of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, p. 349.
* Mission to the East Coast of Sumatra, bv J. Anderson, Esu., p. 252.
VOL. XX.
5 i
802
SUMATRA.
‘ Soil, pwj
Sumatra, streams, but gives them a more steady and uniform cur- arrival, a violent earthquake had occurred, which had nearly Sumats
than where the torrent rolls immediately from the destroyed every building in the place. I he shocks werev
mountains. Those rivers on the eastern shore are the Siak, experienced at intervals for several weeks. But the most
Indragiri, Jambi, and Palembang. They convey a large body violent of them happened on the 18th March 1818, during
of wrater into the ocean. They labour however under this the night, and was truly awful. Kvery building in the
inconvenience, that, owing to the continual action of the town of Bencoolen suffered more or less; some were laid
heavy surf from the great Indian Ocean, which is more in ruins, and others so shattered that it wras found scarcely
powerful than the ordinary force of the stream, a bank of worth while to repair them. Ihe house which was occu-
sand is thrown up at their mouths, which diverts their course pied by Sir Stamford he describes as being rent fiom top
to a direction parallel with the shore, till the accumulated to bottom, the cornices broken, and eveiy thing unhinged,
waters at length force their way wherever there is least re- these earthquakes are said to occur every five or six
sistance. In the dry season, which is that of the southerly years. An earthquake occurred in 1 /97, wliicit continued
monsoon, the parallel course of the rivers is of the greatest for three minutes with vibratory shocks. At Padang the
extent; but during the rainy season, being in flood, they, houses were almost entirely destioyed; about 300 lives
by the greater force of their current, break through all ob- wrere lost; some were ciushed under the mins of falling
structions, and recover their natural channel. The rivers houses, some were swallowed up by the earth opening and
on the western shores are Kataun, Indrapura, Tabuyong, closing over them, and others were drowned by the sudden
and Sinkel, which, though not so large as those on the east- irruption of the waters of the ocean.1
ern shore, are still considerable streams. Ihe soil has been celebrated for its fertility; but, ac-
The diversified surface of Sumatra gives rise to a consi- cording to Marsden,2 it is rather sterile than rich. It isduce,
derable variety of climate; but it is remarkable, that on the generally a stiff, reddish clay, covered with a stratum or
sea-level near the shore the heats are more moderate than layer of black mould, of no considerable depth, and burn-
in other countries within the tropics. At the most sultry ed to the state of a brick where it is exposed to the influ-
hour in the afternoon the thermometer fluctuates between ence of the sun. From this there springs a strong and
82 and 85 degrees: Marsden, whose work contains the full- perpetual verdure of rank grass, brushwood, or timber
est information concerning this island, mentions that he trees, according as the country has remained for a longer
or shorter period uncultivated; and this forest or jungle,
as there is but a scanty population, affords abundant cover
for wild beasts of the most ferocious kind, by which the
country is infested. “ There is nothing,” says Sir S. Raffles,
“ more striking than the grandeur of the vegetation; the
magnitude of the flowers, creepers, and trees, contrast
strikingly with the stinted, and I had almost said pigmy,
vegetation in England. Compared with the forest-trees of
these tropical regions, your largest oak is a mere dwarf.
Here we have creepers and vines entwining larger trees,
and hanging suspended for more than 100 feet, in girth not
less than a man’s body, and many much thicker ; the trees
seldom under 100, and generally approaching 160 to 200 feet
in height. One tree that we measured was, in circumference,
Climate.
never saw it higher than 86 in the shade, and at sun-rise
it is usually as low as 70. Inland, as the country ascends,
the heat decreases rapidly, so that beyond the first range
of hills the inhabitants find it expedient to light fires in
the morning, and to continue them till the day advances.
Frost, snow, and hail are unknown to the inhabitants in any
quarter. The hill-country is liable to a fog, which is dense
to a surprising degree ; it is observed to rise every morn¬
ing among the distant hills; the extremities of it when
near at hand are perfectly defined ; and it is seldom observ¬
ed to disperse till about three hours after sun-set. The
island is subject to the monsoons. Southward of the equi¬
noctial, the south-east monsoon, or dry season, begins about
May, and abates in September; the north-west monsoon
begins about November, and the hard rains cease about nine yards, and this is nothing to one I measured in Java.
March. For one half of the year the island is deluged The mostimportant article of cultivation is rice, of which there
with almost constant rains. Besides the monsoons, which are many different species, which may be ranged under two
vary every six months, there is a daily variation in the kinds, namely, the upland rice, wThich grows on the high
winds, which blow from the sea to the land during so many and dry grounds, and the lowland or rnarshy rice, which
hours of each day, and during the night in the opposite grows in the low and marshy grounds. The cocoa-nut tree
direction, from the land to the sea, excepting only when may also be esteemed an important object of cultivation; it
the monsoon rages with remarkable violence ; and even, serves as an article of food, and is in universal consumption,
says Marsden, “ at such times the w ind rarely fails to in- being an ingredient in most of the dishes, and the oil being
cline a few points, in compliance with the subordinate employed as an article for anointing the hair, and for burn-
cause, which has not power, in these circumstances, to pro- ing in lamps. There are also large plantations of the betel-
duce an entire change.” On the west coast of Sumatra, nut tree and the bamboo. I he latter, growing thick into
the period of the setting in of the sea-breeze is about ten an impenetrable mass, is used in the fortification of villages,
in the morning, after an hour or two of calm ; and it con- The sago tree also flourishes, and there is a great variety
tinues till near six in the evening. The commencement of of palms. The sugar-cane is cultivated, but such is the
the land-breeze is about seven in the evening, when itpre- indolence or ignorance of the inhabitants, that all the su-
vails during the night, and dies away about eight in the gar which they require is imported from Java; ah the use
morning. The land-wind in Sumatra is cold, chilly, and they make of the sugar-cane is to chew it. Maize, Chib pep-
damp ; an exposure to it is consequently dangerous to health, per, turmeric, ginger, coriander and cummin seed, are raise
and sleeping in it is almost certain death. Thunder and in the gardens of the natives. Pepper is an important arti-
lightning prevail in Sumatra in all their terrific grandeur, cle of cultivation. The plant appears to flourish in any o
especially during the north-west monsoon, when the ex- the different soils that are found in this island, and it is a
plosions are extremely violent: the forked lightning is seen great article of commerce. The pepper plants, which are
in all directions, and the sky seems on fire, while the in even rows, running parallel and at right angles with eac
ground appears to tremble. The island is unfortunately other, present a fine contrast to the wild scenes of nature
subject to earthquakes, which often prove most destructive, which surround them. The camphire tree, which giows
Sir Stamford Raffles mentions, that a day previous to his in the northern parts of the island, is valued for its juice,
, Memoir of the Life and Public Services of Sir Stamford Raffles, p. 294. 2 Marsden's History of Sumatra, p. G8.
a Memoir of the Life and Public Services of Sir Stamford Raffles, p. 317.
SUMATRA. 803
itra. which is an article of trade, and sells at a high price. The
benzoin is produced from a tree which grows in the north¬
ern parts of the island. Cassia and cotton are also pro¬
duced, and form articles of export. Various other shrubs
and plants are cultivated, and are converted by the natives
to many useful purposes. Hemp is extensively cultivated,
not however for the useful purpose of making ropes, but to
procure an intoxicating liquor called bang, which they
smoke in pipes along with tobacco. Plantations of the lat-
i ter plant are met with in almost every district; and there
is a variety of other creeping plants, which are manufactured
into twine, thread, and other articles of the same nature,
f p ?, No country in the world is more distinguished than Su-
[ st % &c* matra for the variety of fine fruits with which it abounds, and
which are the spontaneous produce of the earth; for the
natives bestow no more care on this than on any other pro¬
duction. The most remarkable are the mangustin, which
is produced in abundance, and which for delicacy and fla¬
vour holds pre-eminence over all the Indian fruits ; the pine¬
apple, which, though not indigenous, grows in great plenty
with ordinary culture; the orange, which is in great per¬
fection and variety ; the shadock of the West Indies, which
is here very fine, and is distinguished into the white and
the red. Limes and lemons abound; as also the bread¬
fruit; the jack-fruit; the mango, a rich high-flavoured
fruit of the plum kind; the papaw, a fruit substantial and
wholesome, like a smooth sort of melon, but not very highly
flavoured; the pomegranate, the tamarind, nuts and al¬
monds of different kinds, besides various other fruits of
which the names are scarcely known in Europe. Owing
to the equable temperature that prevails throughout the
year, there is a perpetual succession of shrubs and flowers,
which diffuse a pleasant fragrance, and are many of them
used in medicine, or in affording useful dyes. The castor-
oil plant is found in abundance, especially near the sea¬
shore ; also the caoutchouc or Indian rubber plant; the in¬
digo plant; a red wood called ubar, resembling logwood
in its properties; and the uphas, or poison-tree, whose de¬
leterious qualities have been so much exaggerated.
\ A ah. The zoology of Sumatra is distinguished by some of the
most remarkable animals in nature. The shelter afforded
by its vast forests or tracts of jungle is most favourable to
the breed of wild animals, which abound throughout the
island. Numerous herds of elephants range over the fo¬
rests, and are pursued and killed for their teeth; they are
extremely destructive to the plantations of the natives,
which they trample down by merely walking through the
grounds, and thus obliterating all traces of cultivation. The
rhinoceros, both the single and the double horned, is also
a native of the woods. Of the ferocious animals, the tiger
is the most remarkable. Here he grows to an enormous
size, and his strength is so prodigious that he is enabled
to drag into the woods the largest prey, and by a stroke of
ftie fore-paw will break the leg of a horse or buffalo. Whole
villages are sometimes depopulated by these animals, and
great numbers of inhabitants lose their lives. Sir Stamford
Raffles, who fixed his residence in the interior, east of
Bencoolen, among the hills, states, among its conveniences,
that the temperature w'as six degrees lower than on the
coast; and that the only inconvenience he could suffer
would be from tigers and elephants abounding in the vi¬
cinity. One of the villagers mentioned to him, that both
his father and grandfather had been carried off by these
animals; and he adds, that there is scarcely a family that
has not lost some of its members by them, and that on the
banks of one of the rivers upwards of a hundred persons
had been carried off by tigers the year before ; yet the in¬
habitants are so superstitious that they will not use any
means for their extirpation. When a tiger enters a village,
these ignorant people prepare rice and fruits as an offering
to the animal, conceiving that he will be pleased with these
hospitable attentions, and pass on without doing them any Sumatra,
harm. They are occasionally caught in traps, which are —
ingeniously contrived in the form of a cage with falling
doors, into which the beast is enticed, and is then enclosed ;
or a large beam of timber is so placed as to fall on his
back and crush him. Another expedient is to entice him
to ascend a plank, which being nearly balanced, is weighed
down by him when he is past the centre, and he falls upon
sharp stakes prepared below. The natives sometimes con¬
trive to poison tigers. The bear is common : he is small
and black, and climbs the cocoa-trees, feeding upon the
tender part or cabbage. The deer abounds in every va¬
riety of species; and the monkey tribes are innumerable.
Here are also sloths, squirrels, teleggos or stinkards, civet-
cats, tiger-cats, porcupines, hedgehogs, armadillos, bats of
all kinds, alligators in the rivers, which are also haunted by
the hippopotamus, guanos, cameleons, flying lizards, tor¬
toises, and turtle. The alligators are very voracious, fre¬
quently destroying the people as they bathe in the river,
according to their invariable custom, from which no dangers
deter them. The house-lizards are four inches in length,
and are the largest reptiles that can walk in an inverted
position. Among the animals which are domesticated is
the buffalo, which, however, exists in a wild state, and is
a remarkably strong and active animal, keeping pace with
the swiftest horse ; and is even said by Marsden to fight an
equal battle with the tiger, the females and weaker sort only
being his sure prey. This animal supplies the inhabi¬
tants with milk, butter, and beef. The cow is a stranger
to the country, and does not appear to be naturalized. The
breed of horses is small, but they are well made and hardy.
The sheep are also a small breed ; the other animals are the
goat and the hog, both domestic and wild ; the otter, the cat,
the rat, and the dog.
Frogs, toads, and reptiles of every kind, abound in the Reptiles,
swamps ; and the noise which they make on the approach
of rain is tremendous. They fail a prey to the snakes,
which are common in this island, and are of all sizes, some
thirty feet in length, though Marsden states, that the largest
he ever saw was only twelve feet long, which wras killed in a
hen-house, where it was devouring the poultry. He also
mentions his opinion, that the bite of very few of these
serpents is mortal, as he never saw a well-authenticated in¬
stance of a person suffering from them. Among the poison¬
ous serpents is the viper; and the hooded snake is some¬
times found in the country. The boa constrictor is the
largest, and sometimes grows to the length of thirty feet,
and is of proportionate bulk and strength.
The surrounding seas abound in fish. Among these are Fish,
the duyong, a large sea-animal of the mammalia order, with
two strong pectoral fins serving for the purpose of feet; the
grampus-whale, a fish which derives its name from the pe¬
culiarity of its dorsal fin resembling a sail. There are, be¬
sides, sharks, skates, the mursena gymnotus, rock cod, pom-
fret, mullet, the flying fish, and many others.
Of birds there is a much greater variety than of other Birds,
animals; and so numerous are the curious species, that
Marsden cannot even give a list of them. They consist of
peacocks, eagles, vultures, kites, and crows, jackdaws, king¬
fishers ; the rhinoceros bird, remarkable for its horn ; the
stork, the snipe, coot, plover, pigeons, quails, starlings, swal¬
lows, minas, parrots and parroquets, geese, ducks, teal, &c.
The Sumatran pheasant is a bird of great, magnificence and
beauty; the plumage being perhaps the most rich, without
any degree of gaudiness, of all the feathered race.
I he island may be said literally to swarm with insects, Insects,
winch are extremely annoying and destructive. These con¬
sist of cochroaches, crickets, bees, flies of all sorts, mosqui¬
toes, scorpions, centipedes, and water and land leeches.
1 hese leeches are extremely annoying to those who travel
in the woods; and Sir Stamford Raffles mentions, that in
SUMATRA.
804
Sumatra, his journeys through the woods they got into the boots and
's”—  ' shoes of the travellers, which were filled with blood. Ants
exist in immense numbers and varieties. The white ant,
well known for its mischievous properties for destroying
papers, furniture, &c. is found in great numbers; also the
great red ant, about three fourths of an inch long, which
bites severely, and usually, like the bee, leaves its sting in
the wound. There are also the common red ant, the minute
red ant, the large black ant, which is equal in size to the
large red ant; the fire-fly, which is larger than the com¬
mon fire-fly, and emits so vivid a light that words may be
read by it.
Minerals. Sumatra abounds in minerals. Gold is chiefly found in the
mountainous districts in the interior of the island. No gold
has been found, at least very frequently, to the southward
of Limon, a branch of the Jambee river, or to the north¬
ward of Nalaboo, whence Acheen is principally supplied.
Menangcabow has always been famed since the earliest
periods of history for the riches of its gold mines, its iron
ores, and its mineral productions in general; on which ac¬
count it was that the Dutch were induced to establish their
head factory in its neighbourhood. Its jurisdiction in an¬
cient times extended over the whole of Sumatra; and it is
situated about eighty miles inland from Padang, and nearly
in the centre of the island. The Malays are attracted to
all the districts where gold is found. They are the only per¬
sons who collect it, or dig for it; the original inhabitants
confining their attention to the raising of provisions, with
which they supply the Malays who search for the metal. It
is found in earth taken up from the beds of rivers, and
washed till the pure grains are separated and cleansed from
the particles of mud and stone. The gold is found in a
pure metallic state; and they simply beat or wash it, and
sell it in the lumps or dust in which they find it. Some
pieces have been found pure that weigh six or seven ounces;
and they are sometimes joined with an equal bulk of mar¬
ble, which does not detract from their value, being sold as
mineralogical specimens. In some of the specimens the
gold may be said rather to enclose the rock, than the latter
to contain the gold. No accurate account can be obtained
of the quantity of gold exported. From the west coast
Marsden estimates that 10,000 ounces may be annually ex¬
ported. But he has no data to calculate the exports from
the eastern coast. It has been conjectured that the whole
may amount to 15,000 ounces. It was sold at the settle¬
ments for L.3.5s. per ounce, but afterwards rose to L.3.18s.,
which would yield no profit on its exportation to Europe.
The gold-dust is cleansed from impurities by a very dexter¬
ous process. A skilful person called a Pundi is employed,
who by the sharpness of his eye can distinguish the dross
from the ore with surprising nicety. He spreads out the
dust on a kind of wooden platter; and the bare particles
are touched and put aside with a piece of linen cloth rolled
up to a point. There are no silver mines ; but there are
copper mines, of which the ore is very rich, and which resem¬
bles the Japan copper in the appearance which it presents of
a mixture of gold. In the country of Menangcabow, which
is nearly in the centre of the island, iron ore is collected,
smelted, and formed into metal. The colour of the soil
indicates its existence in many parts of the island, especial¬
ly on the sea-coast, where the sand is of a strong shining
black, and is attracted by loadstone. The steel which is
here manufactured is of a peculiar temper, and has a de¬
gree of hardness that has never been imitated in Europe.
There is, however, no industry in the island to profit by
these products, and the consumption of the natives is chiefly
supplied by English and Swedish bar-iron. Tin is one of the
great mineral products of the island. It chiefly abounds in
the neighbourhood of Falembang, on the east coast; but
in many other parts its existence is indicated, and particu¬
larly in the neighbourhood of Bencoolcn. Sulphur is ga¬
thered in any quantity near the volcanoes, which abound in Suraj t
the island ; yellow arsenic is also found, and is an article of .
traffic ; and saltpetre is procured chiefly in extensive caves,
the haunt of certain species of birds, of whose dung the soil
is formed. Coal exists in various parts, and is washed down
to the coast in floods : it is not esteemed good, being found
near the surface of the earth. The veins are observed to
run, not exactly in a horizontal direction, but to dip down¬
wards ; and till the pits have a certain depth no good coal
is to be found. Mineral and hot springs are discovered in
many districts, the waters resembling those of Harrowgate,
and being nauseous to the palate. In the caves where the
saltpetre is formed are found the edible bird-nests which
are so highly prized in China as a luxury of the table, and
to that country they are exported as an article of traffic.
Some of the company’s servants advanced into one of these
caves 740 feet, when his lights were extinguished by the
damp vapour ; and into another 600 feet, through a narrow
passage three feet wide and five feet high, which led into
a spacious place forty feet high. Bees’ wax is a commo¬
dity of great importance in all the eastern islands, and is
exported to China, Bengal, and other parts of the continent,
though no trouble is taken with the bees, which are left to
settle where they list, and are never collected in hives.
The honey is of a poor quality. Gum-lac, which, though
found adhering to the branches of trees, is known to be the
work of insects, as wtix is of the bee, is procured in small
quantities from the country near Bencoolen, and at Padang
is a considerable article of trade. It is chiefly valuable
for the animal part, which is soluble in water, and yields a
fine purple dye. Ivory is an article of export; and ele¬
phants also are sent to the Coromandel coast, vessels being
built expressly for their transport. The following are the
general articles of import, as enumerated by Marsden in his
comprehensive account of this island. From the coast of
Coromandel, salt, blue and white cloths, chintz, and a va¬
riety of other cotton goods ; from Bengal, opium and taf¬
fetas ; from China, coarse porcelain, tobacco, and a num¬
ber of miscellaneous commodities; from the eastern islands,
a striped cotton manufacture, guns, krises, and other wea¬
pons, salt and rice ; from Europe, silver, iron, lead, cutlery
and other hard ware, brass wire, and scarlet cloth.
The Sumatrans are a rude people, and have made noManuf
great progress in manufacturing industry, yet there are someturcs'
particular manufactures in which they excel. Many of those
who have visited this country entertain an opinion that in
former times it was the seat of a great Malay empire, of
which Menangcabow was the capital, where arts and indus¬
try flourished ; and the monuments that have been disco¬
vered by Sir Stamford Raffles afford evidence of a higher
state of refinement than at present prevails. In the histo¬
ries of former times, it is mentioned that great founderies
of cannon were established at Acheen ; and that manufac¬
tories of fire-arms and knives were carried on at Menang¬
cabow. If this were the case, the arts have degenerated
since that period, as there are now no manufactories of iron,
except of nails, and various kinds of tools, such as adzes,
axes, hoes, &c. They are equally ignorant of the art of the
carpenter ; they do not even know how to use a saw, except¬
ing where they have been instructed by the British, by
whom this instrument has been introduced. They fell trees
by means of a hatchet; and when they wish to split the
wrood into stems, they must choose those kinds of wood of
which the direction of the grain admits of its being easily
split asunder. They have woods of certain qualities, which,
by the help of wedges, they are enabled to split into boards.
Their chief cement is made of buffalo milk, which in a hot
and damp climate proves a much stronger cement than glue.
They make ink by mixing lamp-black with the white of an
egg. They are however very curious and ingenious in
carving, both in wood and ivory, though they show no taste
SUMATRA.
natra. in their designs, which are grotesque and out of nature.
The handles of their knives are the chief subjects of this
art; and these are in general curiously ornamented with the
head and beak of a bird, or with the folded arms of a human
being. In the interior, according to the observation of Sir
Stamford Raffles, manufactures are more advanced. Me-
nangcabow has always been famed for the manufacture of
its kris blades. In its vicinity iron has been worked from
time immemorial; and an extensive manufactory of coarse
pottery, near the banks of the lake, supplies not only Pa-
dang, but Bencoolen, with that useful article. The Suma¬
trans are entire strangers to the art of painting and draw¬
ing. In cane and basket work they are particularly neat
and expert, as well as in mats; of which some kinds are
much prized for their extreme fineness, and for the beauty
and taste of the borders with which they are ornamented.
They excel also in the manufacture of silk and cotton cloths
of varied colours, chiefly for domestic use. These are worn
in all parts of the country by the natives, and especially by
the women. Some of their work is very fine, and the pat¬
terns prettily fancied. Their apparatus for weaving is, how¬
ever, of the rudest description, and renders their progress
tedious. The women are expert at embroidery, the gold
and silver thread for which is procured from China, as well
as their needles. Gunpowder is manufactured in various
parts of the island, chiefly among the people of Menang-
cabow, the Battas, and Achenese, among whom, as they are
frequently at war, it is an article in great request. It is not,
however, well made, being imperfectly granulated, and often
hastily prepared for immediate use. Different kinds of
earthenware are manufactured in the island. The manu¬
facture of filagree is here carried to the greatest perfection.
There is no manufacture in any part of the world that has
been more justly admired and celebrated than the fine gold
and silver filagree of Sumatra ; but this is not the work of
the Sumatran artisan ; it is a manufacture of the Malays,
the original and ancient inhabitants, to whose superior taste
and industry many of the monuments of art which remain
are ascribed. This manufacture is in universal use in the
country; and its fineness and beauty form a singular con¬
trast to the coarseness of the tools which are employed in
the workmanship, and which are rudely and inartificially
formed by the goldsmith from any old iron that he can
pick up. A piece of iron hoop as a wire-drawing instru¬
ment, an old hammer-head stuck in a block as an anvil, and
two old nails tied together as a pair of compasses, are the
chief instruments. They have no bellows, but blow the
fire with their mouths through a reed. They are very in¬
expert at polishing the plain parts, but in other respects no¬
thing can exceed the extraordinary delicacy of the Malay
work. They are extremely expert in manufacturing fish¬
ing-nets, and springes for catching birds.1
^ :es. The proficiency of the Sumatrans in science is very li¬
mited. Their numeration table does not extend beyond
tens of thousands. Their utmost attainment in arithmetic
is to multiply and divide several places of figures. Of geo¬
graphy they have no idea whatever. They know not that
the country they inhabit is an island, nor have they any
general name for it. Habit renders them expert in travel¬
ling through woods, where they perform journeys of weeks
or months without seeing a dwelling. In the pathless woods
they make marks on the trees for the future guidance of
themselves and others. They have no notion of astronomy ;
and the Malays, as well as the Arabs and other Mahomme-
dans, fix the length of the year at 354 days, or twelve lunar
months of twenty-nine and a half days. They mark the
time of the day by the position of the sun in the heavens;
which is sufficiently exact for all practical purposes so near
the equator, where the sun ascends and descends almost per- Sumatra,
pendicularly, and rises and sets at all seasons of the year 'v——
within a few minutes of six o’clock. They are entirely
destitute of either history or chronology, the memory of
all past events being only preserved by tradition. Then-
literary compositions, says Sir Stamford Raffles, seldom go
farther back than the introduction of Mahommedanism, ex¬
cept to give some romantic tale, from which little or no¬
thing can be gathered. But he adds, “ it was my good for¬
tune to discover in Java the vestiges of a former high state
of literature and the arts, in poems, in the ruins of temples,
in sculptured images, in ancient inscriptions.” This active
and philosophical inquirer into the ancient state of these
eastern countries discovered also monuments in Sumatra,
inscribed with characters which corroborated all his views
concerning their ancient civilization. The people are fond
of music, and have many instruments, which are mostly bor¬
rowed from the Chinese and other eastern nations. Their
musical instruments are chiefly of the noisy kind ; and they
have no science, though they have a few simple tunes. In
Sumatra the art of medicine is at an equally low ebb with
the sciences. It consists in the application of a few simples,
and chiefly in certain charms. Every old man or woman
is a physician ; and they are rewarded in proportion to their
success, though they generally contrive to procure payment
in advance for the charms which they dispose of to their
patients. They either administer juices inwardly, or they
apply outwardly the juices of certain trees, or, chopping their
leaves small, they apply them as poultices. They have no
knowledge of anatomy, nor do they practise phlebotomy.
1 he inhabitants are assailed with leprosy under various
forms. It is sometimes a disease of the skin ; but there is
another form of the disease, under which the flesh mortifies
and falls off the bones ; and the disorder being deemed in¬
fectious, the patient is driven into the woods, where victuals
are left for him from time to time by his relatives. The
small-pox makes terrible ravages in the island, and the in¬
habitants have a great dread of this loathsome and fatal
disease. Among the other great benefits, the enlightened
Sir Stamford Raffles introduced among them the vaccine
inoculation, which they expressed the utmost willingness to
receive. Insanity they imagine to be a possession by the
evil spirit; and their mode of exorcism is to enclose the
unfortunate victim in a hut, to which they set fire about his
ears, suffering him to make his escape through the flames
in the best manner he can. T'his, along with other barbar¬
ous practices, marks the little progress which they have made
in knowledge or moral improvement.
The Malay language, which is understood to be the ori- Language,
ginal language in the peninsula of Malacca, has extended
itself through all these Asiatic islands, and has become the
common tongue in this part of the globe, being spoken
everywhere along the coasts of Sumatra. It also prevails
in the inland country of Menangcabow', and is understood
in almost every part of the island. From the smoothness
and sweetness of its sound, it has been called the Italian of
the east. I heir w riting is in the Arabic character, very
little corrupted; owing to which, and the adoption of the
Mahommedan religion, a great number of Arabic words
are incorporated with the Malay. Various other languages
are spoken in Sumatra besides the Mcilay, which all, how¬
ever, bear a manifest affinity to each other, and spring from
the same root; and this common language is spread over
all the islands in the Eastern Seas, more or less corrupted
in different places, but still retaining the same stock of ra¬
dical words. Marsden has remarked, that in the most dis¬
tant places, “ as the Philippines and Madagascar, the de¬
viation of the words is scarcely more than is observed in
Marsden’s Sumatra, p. 41, &c.
806
SUMATRA.
Political
divisions
Govern-
racter.
Sumatra, the dialects of neighbouring provinces in the same king-
   ' dom.”1
It is conjectured that in former times Sumatra was the
seat of an extensive Malay empire, and of arts and com¬
merce. All traces of this empire are now obliterated, and
it is only from the monuments of ancient architecture
that such historical inferences are drawn. The modern
divisions of the island are chiefly the empire of Menang-
cabow and the Malays, the Achenese, the Battas, the Re-
jangs, and the people of Lampong. The government
ment, man-among them seems chiefly aristocratical. It is the rule
ners, cha- 0f chief men, and in some parts the despotic assumption
of power by some aspiring chief. Their government, how¬
ever, seems to be founded in opinion ; their submission
is voluntary. Almost all the governments throughout the
island partake of the patriarchal and the feudal. Where
the people by conquest have been compelled to submit to
a foreign yoke, feudal manners are followed; where, on
the other hand, the natives have been long undisturbed
by revolutions, the patriarchal sway prevails. The Malay
and the native Sumatran diifer in mind fully as much as in
features and person. The Malay inhabitants have an ap¬
pearance of degeneracy from those ancient virtues which
laid the foundation of an extensive empire. Their portrait,
as drawn by various travellers, has many dark traits. Mars-
den describes them as proud, yet without that pride which
restrains them from meanness and fraud. They can prac¬
tise low cunning and the most plausible duplicity, dissem¬
bling under an outward calmness the strongest passions and
most inveterate antipathy, until the moment of gratification
is found. Veracity, gratitude, and integrity, are not among
their qualities. They seem to make no distinction between
honour and infamy ; and their courage is the result of some
momentary and vindictive impulse, which hurries them on
to deeds of desperation, not that calm and steady valour
which distinguishes the European in the day of battle.
These harsher traits of the Malay character are greatly
softened in the portrait drawn by Sir Stamford Raffles.
Their piracies he traces to their warlike disposition, which,
he observes, only requires to be directed into a better
course; and their vindictive spirit, to high notions of ho¬
nour. The attacking his enemy with the kris by the Ma¬
lay is the counterpart of duelling among the European
nations. He proudly defends his property, his life, and
character in this manner, which is not secured to him
by law; and he seldom draws his kris except in defence
of his honour, or in some warlike enterprise. This prac¬
tice, however reprobated, has produced a habitual good
breeding among the Malays.2 The original Sumatran has
many of the Malay vices, and some virtues belonging to
himself, which are however of the negative kind. He
is mild, peaceable, and forbearing, but when roused to
resentment he is implacable. He is temperate and sober,
abstemious both in meat and drink. His diet consists of ve¬
getables, and water is his only beverage; yet his hospitality
is extreme, and bounded only by his ability. The Suma¬
trans are continent in respect to women, modest and cour¬
teous in their behaviour, grave in deportment, seldom ex¬
cited to laughter, and habitually patient. On the other
hand, they are litigious, indolent, and addicted to gaming.
They gamble with dice or with shells, and have various
games on chequered boards and other delineations. They
are addicted to cock-fighting in an extraordinary degree;
and when in affluent circumstances, their propensity to it is
so great that it resembles rather a serious occupation. Quar¬
rels, attended with dreadful consequences, have often arisen
on these occasions.
Laws, ciis- The Sumatrans have no written code of laws and their
toms.
V J
various disputes are settled by custom and precedent. There Sum;
is no class of persons invested with legislative powers. The'
chiefs of districts judge in cases both civil and criminal.
In pronouncing their decision, they do not say such is the
law, but such is the custom; and their decision is gene¬
rally submitted to. The want of written laws was sup¬
posed by the East India Company’s servants likely to occa¬
sion endless disputes; and in the year 1779 a code was pro¬
mulgated for the benefit of those under their jurisdiction.
It may be greatly doubted, however, how far such a sys¬
tem, constructed by Europeans, would suit the wants of
an uncivilized people, in preference to their own tried
and well-known modes, however rude and inartificial.
Legal disputes chiefly originate among them in the intri¬
cacy of marriage-contracts. Their lawrs of marriage are
very coarse and rude ; a wbfe being obtained by purchase,
and becoming to all intents and purposes the property and
slave of her husband, who may dispose of her, only making
the first offer to her relations. When a man dies, his effects
are equally distributed among his children ; but if one pos¬
sesses remarkable abilities above the rest, he receives a larger
portion ; a contrivance, apparently, for producing division
and strife. Land is so plentiful among them, that they
rarely consider it a subject of right; another proof of the
low state of civilization. They have few capital punish¬
ments, and, according to Marsden, corporal punishment is
rare; murder being compensated by money, and adultery
being punishable by fine. But recent discoveries by Mr
Marsden himself, and by Sir Stamford Raffles, as well as by
others who have lately visited the island, have laid open
among the Battas and other interior tribes such horrid and
ferocious practices, as would not be believed unless authen¬
ticated by evidence above all dispute. The Battas are an
extensive and populous nation, occupying the whole of that
part of the island lying between Acheen and Menangca-
bow, reaching to both shores. The coast is but thinly in¬
habited ; but the people are said to be as thick as the leaves
of the forest, and to amount to between one and two millions.
Their laws are remarkably severe ; and for adultery, mid¬
night robbery, for intermarrying in the same tribe, or for a
treacherous attack on a house, village, or person, the crimi¬
nals are condemned to be eaten alive, which shocking sen¬
tence is actually carried into execution by these savages.
They also eat the p\-isoners taken in war. The mode of
proceeding is thus described. “ The victim is tied to a
stake with his arms extended; the party collect in a circle
around him, and the chief gives the order to commence
eating. The chief enemy, when it is a prisoner, or the
chief party injured in other cases, has the first selection;
and after he has cut oft' his slice (the victim being alive),
others cut off pieces according to their taste and fancy,
until all the flesh is devoured. It is either eaten raw or
grilled, and generally dipt in sambul, a preparation of Chili
pepper and salt, which is always in readiness. Rajah Banda-
harru, a Batta, and one of the chiefs of Tappanooly, asserted
that he wras present at a festival of this kind about eight
years ago, at the village of Subluan, not nine miles distant,
where the heads may be still seen. When the party is a
prisoner taken in war, he is eaten immediately, and on the
spot. W'hether dead or alive, he is equally eaten ; and it
is usual even to drag the bodies from the graves, and, aftex
disinterring them, to eat the flesh.” Sir Stamford relates
another example of this practice, too horrid to be detailed,
at which the British resident was invited to attend; and
after a great part of his flesh was eaten while he was sti
alive, one man approached and stabbed him to the heart,
which, he adds, “ was rather out of compliment to the fo¬
reign visitors, as it is by no means the custom to give t se
1 Marsden’s Sumatra, p. 163.
* Memoir of the Life and Services of Sir Stamford Raffles, p. ^36.
S U M A T R A.
.S07
v- ■
iitra. coup de grace.”1 Such details present a shocking picture
the ferocious habits of these worse than savages; and
few will, after this, be inclined to listen to Sir Stamford’s
praise, that “ they are honest and honourable, and possess
many more virtues.” It seems an abuse of the name of
virtue to couple it with such brutalities.
Till about 150 years ago, the southern coast of Sumatra
was dependent on the king of Bantam, whose deputy col¬
lected the tribute of pepper, and filled up any vacancies in
the magistracy, by nominating new functionaries, or con¬
firming those already chosen. Soon after this time the
English established a settlement at Beneoolen, and the de¬
puty of the king of Bantam informed the chiefs that he
should visit them no more; and raising two chief men to the
supreme power, he gave into their hands the government
of the country, and withdrew his master’s claim. The in¬
terior of the country is ruled by princes or chiefs. Near
the sea-coast it is much influenced by the Europeans, who
are virtually the rulers; but the influence of the East India
Company’s residents never extended to any distance in the
interior, which was indeed not known until it was explored
in 1818 by Sir Stamford Raffles. In the districts adjacent
to the coast the power of the resident was exerted for the
benefit of the people. He has always been considered their
protector from the injustice and oppression of their chiefs.
By fraud and legal chicanery, though not by open acts of
violence, they take advantage of the ignorant and neces¬
sitous, and contrive to strip them of their property, their fa¬
mily, and their liberty. To prevent these iniquitous prac¬
tices, the perversion of justice in consequence of bribes, the
subornation of witnesses, and such like practices, the resi¬
dent’s authority has always been useful; and when it is ac¬
cidentally relaxed, oppression and disorders ensue.
The British settlement at Bencoolen has however been
the scene of great disorders, arising from the mal-admini-
stration of the residents sent thither by the Company. Al¬
though it was one of the first establishments formed by the
Company in the east, it had benefited less than any other
part of the country under their control. The establish¬
ment formed was solely for the purpose of procuring pep¬
per, in a country deficient in population, and in a new and
unappropriated soil, which could only be rendered produc¬
tive by capital and industry. The expenses of the establish¬
ment amounted to L. 100,000 per annum, the returns were
only a few tons of pepper. On the first formation of their
settlements on the coast of Sumatra, the Company held the
native chiefs bound to compel their subjects each to culti¬
vate a certain number of pepper vines, the produce to be
delivered exclusively to the Company’s agents, at a price far
below the value of the labour employed in the cultivation.
For a certain time, while the influence of the chiefs con¬
tinued, the stipulated quantity of pepper w'as delivered to
the agents; but the oppression soon began to be heavily
felt; the cultivators withheld their labour, and the chiefs,
destitute of the pow'er to force it, left to the Company’s
agents the cruel task of driving the people to their unpro¬
fitable toil. Prior to 1801, the establishment maintained at
Fort Marlborough u'as considerable ; and the private trade
of Bencoolen, carried on by the governor and council, and
the servants of the Company, was extensive, and contribut¬
ed to the improvement of the settlement. The trade con¬
sisted in the importation of articles from Western India,
which were principally exported to the Java market. From
the restrictive policy of the Dutch government, and the
corruption of its servants, a contraband trade had arisen,
which was carried on, particularly that portion of it which
consisted in opium and piece-goods, through the medium
°f Bencoolen. In 1801 the original establishment of Fort
Marlborough was reduced, and it became a dependency of Sumatra.
Bengal; and a strictly economical and purer system of ad- s—
ministration being introduced by Mr Parr, the resident,
great reductions took place in all the public establishments,
by which numbers of people were suddenly thrown out of
employment, and many reduced to starvation. At the same
time, contracts were entered into for a certain quantity of
labour, to be employed in the cultivation of pepper, and
the pepper plantations were farmed out to the Company’s ser¬
vants ; and, that the resident might have an interest in for¬
cing the people to cultivate pepper, he wras allowed one dollar
per cwt. on the quantity delivered to government. Along
with pepper, Mr Parr endeavoured to enforce the cultiva¬
tion of coffee; and a long series of,measures, offensive to
the natives, was also carried into effect. Insults were of¬
fered to the principal chiefs, which produced a deep feeling
on men of violent and vindictive tempers ; and the attempt
to compel the cultivation of coffee brought matters to a
crisis. A deep-laid plot was formed for vengeance; the
measures of the government were fully discussed ; secret
oaths were administered, and the revolt soon after broke
out. The government-house was surrounded, the guards
were overpowered, and the resident, blind to his danger,
was murdered. The measures that followed were dictated
by the spirit of revenge. It was thought unsafe to touch
the chiefs ; but several of the people were blown from the
mouths of guns. Every village within a certain distance
was consigned to the flames, and the country was laid waste,
as if it were intended to surround the settlement with a
desert. For its protection, the fruit-trees, venerable from
age, and considered as the tutelary deities of the place,
and their destruction an act of sacrilege, were cut down;
every thing that could afford shelter was levelled with the
ground, and the inhabitants were turned loose upon the
country, forbidden to appear with krises, and degraded by
every stigma that jealousy could devise. Of 1000 head of
cattle possessed by one village, only 300 remained in 1820,
the rest being either stolen, shot, or dispersed.
In 1818, when Sir Stamford Raffles landed at Bencoolen
as lieutenant-governor, he beheld nothing but dilapidation
and ruin ; the roads impassable, the highways overrun with
rank grass, the government-house a den of ravenous dogs
and polecats. As the chief revenue of the government
was derived from gaming and cock-fighting farms, these
immoral practices were publicly patronized by it. The
consequence was, that there was no security either for
person or property; murders and robberies were daily
committed, and never detected ; and the grossest profligacy
was seen in every direction. The new governor, with that
rare union of wisdom and benevolence which so eminently
qualified him for a legislator, immediately commenced mea¬
sures of reform. The African slaves who were employed in
the hard work of the colony, and who were dissolute and
depraved, and their children in a state of vice and wretched¬
ness, were declared free before an assembly of native chiefs ;
the forced cultivation of pepper was abolished; the people
were allowed as formerly to wear krises and other weapons,
according to immemorial usage. The gaming and cock-
fighting farms, so destructive of every principle of good
government, social order, or morals, were abolished; and
various reforms of other evils equally mischievous were car¬
ried into effect. Under the wise, beneficent, and enlighten¬
ed rule of Sir Stamford. Raffles, it is scarcely necessary to
add, that the country, the revenue, the trade, and the mo¬
rals of the people, began to improve. He was a rare ex¬
ample of true disinterestedness and patriotism. The object
of his life was the happiness of the people under his sway ;
his wisdom suggested the means; and the eminent success
1 Memoir of the Life aud Services of Sir Stamford Raffles, p. 426,
808 SUM SUN
Siinifuin of his plans, both in Sumatra and in other places, attest the ated on the east side of the Mahanuddy river. Long. 83. Sumbs.
Il judgment with which they were formed. During his short 47. E. Lat. 21. 33. N. has
Surr.bhul- a(jministration the cultivation of rice was extended, the spice SUMBOONHAU T, a town and temple in the Ghoorkha „ '
, plantations were established, the population increased, and country, in Nepaul. It is celebrated for a temple containing
v the people were conciliated ; so that this wise and benefit from time immemorial the sacred fire, and is annually re-
cent ruler had good reason to boast that he was making a sorted to by innumerable pilgrims from Bootan and Thibet,
country and a garden out of a wilderness, and laying the and is a source ol considerable revenue to the Nepaul go-
foundation of the future civilization of Sumatra. We have vernment. Long. 85. 38. E. Lat. 27. 33. N.
no data for estimating the population of this island. Sir SUMBUL, a town or Hindustan, province of Delhi, and
Stamford reckoned the inhabitants of the Batta country, district of Bareilly, situated on the Yarvufadur river. It is
the valley beyond the first range of mountains, to be be- fifty-two miles west-north-west from Bareilly,
tween one and two millions. But this is merely a conjee- SUMISHOHE, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
ture, and there are many districts still unexplored. The Bahar. It is forty-six miles west-north-west from Bettiah.
British establishment at Bencoolen was withdrawn in 1824, Long. 84. 15. E. Lat. 27. 15. N.
when Sumatra was relinquished to the Dutch. (f.) SUMMER, the name of one of the seasons of the year,
SUMAUN, a town of Hindustan, province of Agra. It being one of the quarters when the year is divided into four
is twenty-eight miles north-north-east from the town of quarters, or one half when the year is divided only into two,
Etaweh. Long. 79. 5. E. Lat. 27. 6. N. summer and winter. In the former case, summer is the
' SUMBAWA, a large island in the Eastern Seas, about quarter during which, in northern climates, the sun is pass-
180 miles in length by forty in average breadth. It is si- ing through the hree signs Cancer, Leo, Virgo, or from the
tuated between the eighth and ninth degrees of south lati- time of the greatest declination, till the sun again comes to
tude, and is separated from Lombhook by the Straits of the equinoctial, or has no declination; which is from about
Allass. It is almost divided into two equal parts by a deep the 21st of June till about the 22d of September. In the
bay, which indents it in the middle. This island is divided latter case, summer contains the six warmer months, while
into the different states of Beema, Dompoo, Tambora, San- the sun is on one side of the equinoctial; and winter the
mjr, Pekat, and Sumbawa, all governed by their respective other six months, when the sun is on the other side,
chiefs, who were formerly either allies or under the pro- SUMNUM, a small town of Persia, in the province of
tection of the Dutch East India Company, and were all Khorassan. It is the capital of a rich district containing
sufficiently obedient, with the exception of the chief of fifty villages, and bounded on the north by Mount Elburz,
Sumbawa, who rebelled. Near the north-east end of the and on the south by the Great Salt Desert,
island, on a fine bay which stretches seven or eight leagues SUMY, a city ot Russia, the capital of a circle of the
south, is situated the town of Beema, remarkable for its ex- same name, in the province Slobod-Ukraine, 911 miles from
cellent harbour, the sides of which are bold and high, and St Petersburg. It stands on the river Psiol, wheie the Su-
the approach safe; but the passage through is sometimes nay falls into it. It is surrounded with walls and ditches,
dangerous, from the strong current which generally prevails, contains two stone and eight wooden churches, 1230 houses,
and the great depth of water, as 100 fathoms of line, though with 13,600 inhabitants, who distil much brandy, and are
close in shore, will hardly reach the bottom. The channel celebrated foi the horses which they breed. Long. 28. 1. L.
in some places is only 150 or 200 yards across ; but the Lat. 50. 50. N.
depth is so great that a ship of the line may sail on either SUMPTUARY Laws {Leges Sumptuary), are laws
side within thirty yards of the rocky mountains. These made to restrain luxury. Most ages and nations have had
give a grand and picturesque appearance to the channel, some such laws. Political writers have been much divided
which terminates in a safe and commodious basin, pre- in opinion with respect to their utility. Montesquieu ob-
senting one of the finest harbours in the world. On the serves that luxury is necessary in monarchies, as m France,
east side of the bay stands the town of Beema, which com- but ruinous to democracies, as in Holland. With regard
prebends under its jurisdiction the Straits of Sapy, the whole to England, whose government is compounded of both spe-
of Manzeray, and the island of Gonong Api. The island cies, it may still be a dubious question, says Blackstone, how
produces sappan wmod, rice, horses, saltpetre, sulphur, wrax, far private luxury is a public evil, and as such cognizable
birds’ nests, tobacco, &c., though there is but little trade by public laws.
carried on at this place. The number of horses exported SUN, Sol, O, in Astronomy, the gieat luminary wine
under the appellation of Beema horses is very considerable, enlightens the world, and by its presence constitutes day.
There are two volcanic mountains in the island, Gonong SUNBURY, a town of the county of Middlesex, m t e
Api and another, which are looked upon with superstitious hundred of Spelthorne, eighteen miles from London. It is
veneration by the inhabitants. Gold-dust is found in Sum- finely situated on the left bank of the Ihames, between
bawa, particularly in the district of Dompoo, wdiich also sup- Hampton Court and Shepperton, and is much lesoitec to )
plies teak-timber. Pearls are fished for in the large bay the lovers of angling in the summer season. I he popula¬
te the westward of Beema Bay, as also at Pekat. tion amounted in 1811 to 1655, in 1821 to 1/ / 7, and in
SUMBHULPORE, a district of Hindustan, in the pro- 1831 to 1863.
vince of Gundwana, situated between the twenty-first and SUNDA, Straits of. The arm of the sea w ic i
twenty-second degrees of north latitude. It is of an un- rates the large islands of Sumatra and Java is so called by
wholesome atmosphere, especially to foreigners, owing to the Europeans, and by the Malays Sunda Ka apa. e
the mountainous and woody nature of the country, to the length of this channel, taken from the flat point to ar ens
sudden vicissitudes of heat and cold, and to the quantity of or Hog Point, is about seventy miles ; and on the opposite
jungle which it contains. The soil in the valleys is a rich coast, from Java Head to Bantam Point, about ninety. e
loam, which produces sugar, cotton, and all kinds of grain ; passage, though wide, is occasionally dangerous, rom ic
and in the mountains gold and diamonds are found. This currents. There are two passages formed y nnces
district constituted the ancient kingdom of Gurrah, and Island, which lies in the mouth of the straits , one e ween
was overrun by the armies of Aurungzebe. On the decline it and Java, which is generally made use o c unnS
of the Mogul empire it became independent; and in the south-west monsoon, in order that they may approac as
war between the British and the Mahrattas in 1803 several close as possible to the shore, so as to anchor to escape tne
of the pergunnahs or parishes were taken possession of by danger of being driven to sea by the currents vv nc s
the former. The capital, which is of the same name, is situ- strongly out of the straits to the westviaid. i ie o,. er p
SUN SUN 809
day sage, called the Great Channel, is sometimes resorted to
during the south-east monsoon ; but it is navigated with the
leeP o-reatest difficulty, in consequence of the opposition from
t\. the south-easterly gales. In the narrowest part of the straits
is an island, which, from its situation, is called Thwart the
Way, or Middle Isle; on both sides of which a strong cur¬
rent runs during the whole year, setting with the prevailing
easterly or westerly winds either to the north-east or south¬
west. The other chief islands in the straits are Prince’s
Isle, Krakatau, and Pulo Baby. The rest are small and
insignificant, mostly level, founded on beds of coral, and
covered with trees.
SUNDAY, or the Lord’s Day, a solemn festival observ¬
ed by Christians on the first day of every week, in memory of
our Saviour’s resurrection. In the Breviary and other offi¬
ces, we meet with Sundays of the first and second class.
Those of the first class are, Palm, Easter, Advent, and
Whitsunday, those of Quasimodo and Quadragesima. Those
of the second class are the common Sundays. Anciently
each Sunday in the year had its particular name, which was
taken from the introit of the day ; which custom has only
been continued to some few in lent; as Reminiscere, Oculi,
Lcetare, Judica. Some are of opinion that the Lord’s Day
mentioned in the Apocalypse is our Sunday, which they
believe was so early instituted by the apostles. Be this as
it may, it is certain a regard w'as paid to this day even in
the earliest ages of the church ; as appears from the first
Apology of Justin Martyr, where he describes the exercise
of the day as not much unlike to ours. But it was Con¬
stantine the Great who first made a law for the proper ob¬
servance of Sunday ; and who, according to Eusebius, ap¬
pointed it should be regularly celebrated throughout the
Roman empire. Before him, and even in his time, they
observed the Jewish Sabbath as well as Sunday; both to
satisfy the law of Moses, and to imitate the apostles, who
used to meet together on the first day. By Constantine’s
law, promulgated in 321, it was decreed, that for the future
the Sunday should be kept as a day of rest in all cities and
towns; but he allowed the country people to follow their
work. In 538, the council of Orleans prohibited country
labour; but because there were still many Jews in Gaul,
and the people fell into many superstitious uses in the cele¬
bration of the new Sabbath, like those of the Jew-s in that
of the old, the council declares, that to hold it unlaw¬
ful to travel with horses, cattle, and carriages, to prepare
food, or to do any thing necessary to the cleanliness and
decency of houses or persons, savours more of Judaism than
of Christianity.
Sunday Island, a small island on the east coast of New
Holland, discovered by Captain Bligh in 1788. Lat. 11.
58. S.
SUNDEEP Isle, an island of Bengal, in the district of
Chittagong, about twenty miles in length by ten in breadth.
It is the seat of a salt manufacture by the government,
subordinate to the Bulwa and Chittagong agency. The
soil is fertile and affords excellent pasture for cattle, and
might be easily rendered of much more value than it is at
present; but its station for the manufacture of salt super¬
sedes every other use. Ships may safely approach it on all
sides except the north. The entrance of the river is safe,
and it possesses good anchorage, where ships may remain
safe during the adverse monsoon ; but the climate is dan¬
gerous to Europeans. The town is situated about a mile
from the western shore, on the north bank of a creek called
Sittal. Towards the end of the sixteenth century a num¬
ber of Portuguese had settled on the coasts of Arracan and
Chittagong; and, having recommended themselves by their
bravery and maritime skill, had risen to considerable com¬
mands in the service of the native princes. But in conse¬
quence of their turbulent conduct, they were expelled by
the rajah of Arracan from his dominions, and many of them
VOL. xx.
put to death. A remnant however joining together, Sundella
elected Sebastian Gonzales for their chief, who took pos- II.
session of this island, and having collected about 3000
men, extended his conquests. He was at last subdued ^ ^ .
by the rajah of Arracan, who retained possession of the
island till 1666, when it was conquered by the Mogul
armies, and came into the possession of the British along
with the province of Bengal. Long, of the towm 91. 36. E.
Lat. 22. 25. N.
SUNDELLA, a town of Hindustan, in the nabob of
Oude’s territories. It is thirty miles north-west from Luck¬
now. Long. 80. 30. E. Lat. 27. 5. N.
SUNDERBUNDS, an extensive and woody district of
Bengal, situated at the mouth of the eastern or great
branch of the river Ganges. It is a dreary region, consist¬
ing of a labyrinth of rivers and creeks, all of salt, except
those that communicate immediately with the principal
arm of the Ganges, these numerous natural canals being so
disposed as to form a complete inland navigation. Bishop
Heber describes the prospect on the banks of the river as
a dismal unbroken line of black wood and thicket, ap¬
parently impenetrable and interminable, which, he adds,
“ one might easily imagine to be the habitation of every
thing monstrous, disgusting, and dangerous, from the tiger
and the cobra de capello down to the scorpion and mos¬
quito. The seamen,” he continues, “ spoke of the shore with
horror, as the grave of all who were so unfortunate as to
remain many days in its neighbourhood.” On a nearer
approach, the appearance of the Sunderbunds improved;
the woods assumed a greater variety of green and shade;
several round-topped trees and some low palms were seen
among them, and a fresh vegetable fragrance was wafted
from the shore.
In tracing the coast of this delta, eight openings are
found, each of which appears to be the principal mouth of
the Ganges. The navigation through the Sunderbunds
is effected chiefly by means of the tides, there being two
distinct passages; the one named the Southern or Sunder¬
land Passage, and the other the Balliaghaut Passage. The
first is the longer of the two, and opens into the river about
sixty-five miles below Calcutta. The latter opens into a
lake on the east side of Calcutta ; the navigation is intri¬
cate, extending more than 200 miles through a forest,
divided into numberless islands by various channels, and
the prospects are romantic. At one time the masts of ves¬
sels are entangled among the branches of trees, and at
other times they sail on a broadly-expanded river skirted
with beautiful woods. The water is everywhere salt; and
the whole tract is uninhabited except by tigers, and wild
deer, their natural prey. During the dry season, the lower
shores of these rivers are visited by salt-makers and wood¬
cutters, who supply Calcutta with wood for fuel from these
desolate tracts, and many of whom every year are devour¬
ed by tigers ; these animals growing here to an enormous
size, and so ferocious that they have been sometimes know n
to swim off and attack boats. In addition to these, the
waters swarm with alligators. Some attempts have been
made to bring parts of the Sunderbunds into cultivation, but
with little success, as the want of fresh water must always
prove a great obstacle to improvement; nor is it desirable
to settle such an unhealthy tract while so many healthy sta¬
tions remain unoccupied. The Sunderbunds are deemed of
importance as a political barrier to Bengal on the south.
SUNDERLAND, a large and important seaport town
on the east coast of England, in the county of Durham, 268
miles from London by w ay of Stockton. The municipal
boundary includes the townships of Monkwearmouth, lii-
shopweannouth, and South wick, which form an area of 5095
acres. The river Wear, after running through the centre
of the borough, tails into the sea. Sunderland proper is
situated on the south or right side of the river, and is a
810 SUN SUP
Sunder- place of considerable antiquity. At the latter end of the
^u'^‘ twelfth century it received a charter from Bishop Pudsey,
jr~ Y which gave it equal privileges with those enjoyed by New¬
castle, and from that time it has risen into importance.
The town consists of one long street, under the names of
Sunderland High Street and Bishopwearmouth High Street,
and the two together extend to nearly a mile in length.
This continued street is broad, well built, having many re¬
spectable shops, and in it are the principal buildings. With
this exception, Sunderland presents the appearance of one
mass of small houses, of considerable age, crowded together,
with interstices of narrow streets and lanes; and here the
population is extremely dense. To this crowded state of
the population, together with the want of cleanliness, may
be traced the fearful ravages of the cholera in 1832, which
first broke out in England at this port. On the outskirts
of the town there are some good streets, which are rapidly
extending, with excellent houses, and in them the higher
class of the inhabitants reside. There are various well fre¬
quented literary institutions in the town, to most of which
libraries are attached. It contains numerous charitable in¬
stitutions, which are liberally supported. The great object of
interest is the magnificent iron bridge which crosses the
Wear, and connects Sunderland with Monkwearmouth. It
consists of a single arch of 236 feet in span, formed by small
segments of iron, having a height of upwards of 100 feet
from the centre of the arch to the surface of the river at
low water, which enables vessels of above 300 tons burden
to pass under by merely lowering their top-gallants. The
projector of the bridge was Rowland Burdon, Esq. of this
neighbourhood, who subscribed L.23,000 out of the L.27,000
wdiich it cost. The harbour is constructed at the mouth of
the river, by means of two piers of more than 200 yards in
length, which form a beautiful promenade. It is defended
by a battery, near to which are extensive brick barracks,
capable of holding 2000 men. At the end of the north
pier there is a lighthouse. The water in the harbour is
too shallow to admit large vessels, and they are loaded
and discharged by means of large boats locally called keels.
Great advantages have been gained by the formation of a
railway, running through the eastern part of the town, in
the direction of the low quay; by which means the coals
and other products of the interior are more easily and ex¬
peditiously shipped than higher up the river, where great
inconvenience was frequently experienced from its crowd¬
ed state above the existing staiths where the coals are
kept. The trade, which is principally in the building of
vessels and shipment of coals, is on the increase. Of the
former, a hundred can be laid on the stocks at the same
time; and when it is mentioned that there are upwards of
thirty yards for building ships, five for small craft, and four
dry and floating docks, besides a large basin or dock, which is
constructed on the left bank, near the mouth of the river,
the shipping interest of the port must appear to be of
great value. In the year 1836 the number of ships which
left the port was S94, with a tonnage of 153,415; and
in 1837 they had increased to 1338, with a tonnage of
193,133. The coal-trade employs many vessels and hands.
It is calculated that upwards of 2000 seamen belonging to
the town are occupied in the trade, besides those employ¬
ed in the keels. The quantity of coals shipped for home
consumption in 1836 was 971,190 tons; for foreign con¬
sumption, 170,367 tons. In 1837 the quantity for home
use was 931,944 tons; for foreign, 242,252 tons. In ad¬
dition to those important branches of industry, there are
several extensive manuiactories for chain-cables, ropes,
sail-cloths, salt, glass, and pottery. Lime also forms a
considerable part of the trade, upwards of 40,000 tons be¬
ing annually shipped. The value of the custom-duty re¬
ceived at this port for the year 1836, after deducting all
expenses, amounted to L.71,637, and for the year 1837
L.80,072. The municipal government of the borough is vest- Simd*
ed in a mayor, fourteen aldermen, and forty-one councillors, bon
and it is divided into seven wards. The borough returns v H
two members to parliament. In 1821 the population of ut^r‘
Sunderland alone amounted to 14,725, and in 1831 to 17,060. s—^
In 1821 the conjoined population amounted to 31,891, and
in 1831 to 40,735.
SUNDRABORN, a small state and town on the island
of Celebes.
SUNERAMPORE, a town of Bengal, district of Dacca,
situated on the Megna river. Long. 91. E. Lat. 24. 5. N.
SUNGEI Tenang, a country in the interior of Sumatra,
between the second and third degrees of south latitude, It
is mountainous, and the access to it is extremely difficult,
from high ranges of mountains, and thick forests which in¬
tervene.
SUNNINGHILL, a parish in Berkshire, in the hundred
of Cookham, tw'enty-two miles from London, and five miles
from Staines. It is finely situated in the most delightful
part of Windsor forest. It chiefly consists of elegant villas,
and w7as once much visited on account of some mineral
springs, which had great reputation in removing paralytic
complaints. Besides the hill, the parish contains the liberty
of Early, and the townships of Sandford and Woodley. The
whole population amounted in 1811 to 1534, in 1821 to
1648, and in 1831 to 1703. A small portion of this parish
is on the opposite side of the Thames, and in the county of
Oxford.
SUPEREROGATION, in Theology, what a man does
beyond his duty, or more than he is commanded to do.
The Romanists strenuously contend for works of superero¬
gation, and maintain that a stock of merit is accumulated,
of which the church has the disposal, and which she distri¬
butes in indulgences according to her own pleasure. This
absurd doctrine was first invented towards the close oi the
twelfth century, and modified and embellished by St
Thomas in the thirteenth. Men were then taught to be¬
lieve that there actually existed an immense treasure of
merit, composed of the pious deeds and virtuous actions
which the saints had performed beyond what was neces¬
sary for their own salvation, and which wTere therefore ap¬
plicable to the benefit of others; and the guardian and
dispenser of this precious treasure was the Roman pontift ;
and that of consequence he was empowered to assign to
such as he thought proper a portion of this inexhaustible
source of merit, suitable to their respective guilt, and suffi¬
cient to deliver them from the punishment due to their
crimes. The reformed churches do not allow of any work
of supererogation ; but hold, with the apostles, that when
we have done our best, we are but unprofitable servants.
SUPERFICIES, or Surface, in Geometry, the outside
or exterior face of any body. This is considered as having
the two dimensions of length and breadth only, but no
thickness ; and therefore it makes no part of the substance,
or solid content, or matter, of the body. T he terms, or
bounds, or extremities, of a superficies, are lines ; and su-^
perficies may be considered as generated by the motions ot
lines. Superficies are either rectilinear, curvilinear, plane,
concave, or convex. A rectilinear superficies is that which
is bounded by right lines ; curvilinear superficies is bound¬
ed by curve lines ; plane superficies is that which has no in¬
equality in it, or risings, or sinkings, but lies evenly and
sti'aight throughout, so that a right line may wholly coin¬
cide with it in all parts and directions ; convex superficies
is that which is curved and rises outwards ; concave super¬
ficies is curved and sinks inwards.
SUPERFLUOUS Interval. See Music.
SUPERINTENDENT, which is equivalent to bishop,
denotes an ecclesiastical superior in several^ refbime
churches, particularly among the Lutherans ot Germany.
SUPERLATIVE, in Grammar, one of the degrees ot
SUP
i-rpar- comparison, being that inflection of adjective nouns that
■i-Pro-serves to augment and heighten their signification, and shows
t'on the quality of the thing denoted to be in the highest degree,
isti- SuPERPARTICULAR Proportion, or Ratio, is that
, )U. in which the greater term exceeds the less by unit or 1:
as the ratio of 1 to 2, or 2 to 3, or 3 to 4.
SUPEIIPARTIENT Proportion, oriswhen the
greater term contains the less term once, and leaves some
number greater than 1 remaining: as the ratio of 3 to 5,
which is equal to that of 1 to 1-|; of 7 to 10, which is equal
to that of 1 to If.
SUPERSTITION, a word that has been used so inde¬
finitely that it is difficult to determine its precise meaning.
From its resemblance in sound to the Latin word supe.rstes,
a survivor, it is evidently derived from it, and different
attempts have been made to trace their connection in sig¬
nification. In the dialogue of Cicero “ De Natura Deorum,”
Balbus says that they who prayed and sacrificed whole
days that their children might survive them, were called
superstitious. Lactantius censures this etymology, and
avers that they were not called superstitious who wished
that their children might survive them (for this we all
wish), but because they who survived their parents wmr-
shipped their images. Others again affirm that supersti¬
tion is derived from superstes, because it consisted in con¬
sidering the dead as if they were alive. But these etymo¬
logies are solely conjectural, and we consider conjectures
as absurd in philology as wre do in science; they may mis¬
lead, but are seldom of any benefit. The usual meaning
affixed to the word superstition, both in the Latin and Eng¬
lish languages, is so different from superstes, that its change
of meaning must be owing to some accident after which it
is in vain to inquire. If w'e had not known that the word
paganus, a pagan, was derived from pagus, a village,
because the heathens in a certain period of the Christian
history lived in villages, the whims and fancies of etymolo¬
gists would not have thrown much light on the subject.
Without labouring, from the aid of etymology, to define
superstition, which is a word of a very extensive signification,
we shall consider to what objects it is applied; and then,
by observing what is common to them all, we shall be en¬
abled to fix with some degree of precision the meaning of
the term. We apply it to the idolatry of the heathens; we
apply it also to the Jews, who made the will of God of no
effect by their traditions, and substituted ceremonies in
place of the religion of their fathers. We say also that
Christians are guilty of superstition ; the Romanists, who
believe in transubstantiation and in the efficacy of prayers
to saints; and those Protestants who esteem baptism and
the Lord’s Supper, and the punctual performance of other
ceremonies, without regard to morality, as sufficient to en¬
sure salvation. Those persons are also reckoned supersti¬
tious who believe, without any evidence, that prophecies
are still uttered by divine inspiration, and that miracles
are still performed. The w’ord is also extended to those
who believe in witchcraft, magic, and apparitions, or that
the divine will is declared by omens or augury; that the
fortune of individuals can be affected by things indifferent,
by things deemed lucky or unlucky, or that diseases can be
cured by words, charms, and incantations.
Through all the particulars which we have enumerated,
there runs one general idea, the belief of what is false and
contrary to reason. From this, however, wre must not sup¬
pose that whatever is false and contrary to reason may be
denominated superstition. Superstition has always a refer¬
ence to God, to religion, or to beings superior to man. We
do not however distinguish all false and irrational opinions
in religion by the name of superstition. We do not, for
instance, apply this name to the opinions which some of the
ancients entertained, that God is the soul of the world, and
that men are only portions of him separated for a time ; or
s u r 8ii
that the soul after death lives successively in different bodies. Supersti-
If we examine the subject with more attention, we shall ti0n'
discover that the foundation of superstition is ignorance of ^ v
the moral attributes of God ; for we never say a man is su¬
perstitious for entertaining erroneous opinions of the natu¬
ral attributes of God. Some of the Socinians have denied
the prescience of God ; and a French philosopher has not
only rejected the belief that he is a spirit, but has presumed
to say that he is composed of a species of crystals. The
first of these opinions discovers very imperfect ideas of God,
and the second is the height of impiety and absurdity ; yet
the Socinians have not been accused of superstition, nor can
this French philosopher be suspected of it. We do not call
every false opinion concerning the unity or moral attributes
of God by the name of superstition, as, for instance, the
opinion which some sceptics have supported, that God is
not good ; for, as was mentioned before, superstition always
involves the idea of credulity. It does not consist in falsely
denying that God possesses any particular moral attributes,
but in believing more than what is true concerning them ;
in forming mean, unworthy ideas of them; in supposing
that he is guided by blind passion like mankind, and en¬
joins upon his creatures commandments which are irrational
and absurd.
As superstition arises from ignorance and credulity in
the understanding, so it has also a seat in the passions. Fear
has been commonly considered as a passion of the human
mind, from which it chiefly derives its origin ; and there is
no doubt that more superstition has arisen from fear united
with ignorance and credulity, than from any other passion ;
yet it would certainly be improper to exclude all other pas¬
sions. We cannot account for the superstition of the Egyp¬
tians, without supposing that much of it arose from grati¬
tude. They worshipped the Nile, because it distributed
fertility and abundance over the land of Egypt; and they
worshipped some animals, merely because they prevented
the increase of other animals which wrere noxious. Thus
they adored the ibis, because it destroyed the eggs of the
crocodile.
Having thus endeavoured to analyse the ideas compre¬
hended under the word superstition, w'e may sum them up
in a few words. It respects God and beings superior to
man, and extends to our religious opinions, worship, and
practices ; and may be defined absurd opinions and actions
arising from mean and defective ideas of the moral attri¬
butes of God. Let us apply this definition to the different
species of superstition already mentioned.
But before entering upon this application, it may be pro¬
per to observe, that superstition involves the idea of a
blameable inattention to reason, or a credulity arising from
an indolence of understanding. We generally make a dis¬
tinction between the imperfect opinions which a savage,
from the necessary effects of his situation, forms of the at¬
tributes of God, and those which civilized nations enter¬
tain. We say the savage is ignorant, and we ascribe his
ignorance to his situation; but we call the Roman Catholic
superstitious, and we blame him for not having those just
ideas of God which he might have obtained by opening his
Bible, or by the exercise of his understanding in the favour¬
able situation in which he is placed. Superstition, then,
does not originate so much from the natural weakness of
the human understanding, as from a misapplication or a
neglect of it.
We cannot therefore with any propriety apply the name
superstition to polytheism in general; for what all the an¬
cient philosophers, after much study and reflection, con¬
cluded to be true, could never proceed from credulity and
inattention, but from their situation. We speak very pro¬
perly, however, wrhen we call idolatry by the name of su¬
perstition ; because there is no man so devoid of under¬
standing as not to be capable of discovering that a piece of
812
SUP
SUP
Supersti- metal, or wood, or stone, can neither hear nor answer peti-
t101^ tions. Superstition was a name which the ancient philoso-
phers gave to those who entertained mean opinions of the
gods, or did foolish things to obtain their favour. According
to Theophrastus, the superstitious man is one who, having
washed his hands, and sprinkled himself all round, leaves
the temple with a laurel leaf in his mouth, with which he
walks about the whole day. Or, if a weasel should cross
his path, he will not advance a step till he has thrown three
stones over the road. If he find a serpent in his house,
he rears a place of devotion on the spot. He often puri¬
fies his house, will not sit upon a grave, or touch a dead
person. He is anxious about the interpretation of his
dreams, will not offer a sacrifice unless his wife go along
with him, or, if she is engaged, he takes the nurse and the
little children. He purifies himself with onions ; and when
he sees a mad or an epileptic person, he spits in his bo¬
som. Such was the character of superstition in the days
of Theophrastus. All these whimsical ceremonies were
performed in order to prevent mischief, and to avert the
wrath of the gods ; and therefore perfectly correspond with
the definition given above.
It is only necessary to consider a little the superstitious
opinions and practices among Jews and Christians, to be
sensible that they have all arisen from mean and absurd
ideas of the moral attributes of God ; for they have gene¬
rally entertained noble opinions of his natural attributes.
The Jews considered God as a partial being, who had a
predilection for their nation in preference to all others, and
preferred external homage and ceremony to moral purity.
If the Romanists think consistently, they must esteem God
as a being who can be prevailed upon by the importunity
of one dead man to assist another, or as a being whose pa¬
tience would be fatigued with hearing prayers constantly.
Hence their practice of praying to saints. They in effect
believe, however they may deceive themselves, that God is
unjust, or they could not believe transubstantiation ; for it
supposes that God can give commands directly contrary to
those principles of belief with which he has endued the hu¬
man mind. They consider a strict adherence to a variety
of ceremonies, to forms, pomp, and show, as essential to
the worship of God; and thus they evidently betray most
inadequate conceptions of the creator and governor of the
universe. They thought it their duty to extirpate heretics:
this was supposing God a cruel and revengeful being. Even
among Protestants, we are sorry to say, a great deal of su¬
perstition remains: we have not yet learned to consider
God as a spirit, who is to be worshipped in spirit and in
truth, as a pure, moral, benevolent being; and hence arise
all the superstitious practices which prevail in some Protes¬
tant churches.
Besides those superstitious opinions and practices which
entirely respect our duty to God, there are others which
.may be termed vulgar superstitions. These also arise from
imperfect and mean ideas of the moral attributes of God.
To believe vulgar prophecies, which are always the effu¬
sions of madness or knavery, is to suppose that God, who
has drawn a veil over futurity/and only delivers prophecies
to accomplish some great moral purpose, sometimes gives
them for no purpose at all, or to gratify idle curiosity, or to
disclose such a knowledge of what is to happen as is incon¬
sistent with the free agency of man and the moral admini¬
stration of the world. Nor is it less superstitious to believe
in vulgar miracles. To believe in them, is to believe that
God suspends the laws of nature for the most trivial pur¬
poses, or to countenance fraud and worldly ambition : it is
to receive the most extraordinary facts upon the most un¬
satisfactory evidence. The belief of witchcraft, of appari¬
tions, and the second sight, may be resolved into the same
principle. To suppose that God would communicate the
power of doing mischief, and of controlling his laws, to crea¬
tures, merely for gratifying their own passions, is unworthy Super
of God. The belief of apparitions is equally inconsistent tioi.
with the goodness of God. The same objection rises V'““v
against the second sight as against the belief of vulgar pro¬
phecies, and may also be extended to omens, to astrology,
to things lucky and unlucky, and to fortune-telling. As to
the different devices and charms for preventing and curing
disorders, they resemble in every respect false miracles.
A judicious history of superstition would be a curious and
entertaining work, and would exhibit the human character
in a remarkable point of view. Superstition is most preva¬
lent among men of weak and uncultivated minds; it is
more frequent in the female sex than among men, and
abounds more in the rude than in the refined stages of so¬
ciety. The general features of it have been the same in
all ages; but it assumes certain peculiarities, according to
the diversity of character in different nations. It gained
admission into the science of medicine at an early period.
He who was endowed with superior genius and knowledge
was reckoned a magician. Dr Bartolo was seized by the in¬
quisition at Rome in the seventeenth century, because he un¬
expectedly cured a nobleman of the gout. Diseases were im¬
puted to fascination, and hundreds of poor wretches were
dragged to the stake for being accessory to them. Mer-
catus, physician to Philip II. of Spain, a writer of uncom¬
mon accuracy and information, appears strongly inclined to
deny the existence of fascinatory diseases; but he is con¬
strained to acknowledge them for two reasons; 1st, be¬
cause the inquisition had decided in favour of their reality;
2dly, because he had seen a very beautiful woman break a
steel-mirror to pieces, and blast some trees by a single glance
of her eyes.
As the opinions concerning the cause of diseases were
superstitious, those concerning the method of curing them
were not less so. In the Odyssey we read of a cure per¬
formed by a song. Josephus relates, that he saw a certain
Jew, named Eleazar, draw the devil out of an old w oman’s
nostrils by the application of Solomon’s seal to her nose, in
presence of the Emperor Vespasian. Many different kinds
of applications were used for expelling the devil. Flagel ¬
lation sometimes succeeded admirably; purgatives andan-
tispasmodics were other modes of discharging him. Dr
Mynsight cured several bewitched persons with a plaster of
assafeetida. How the assafeetida was so efficacious, was
much disputed. Some thought the devil might consider
so vile an application as an insult, and run off in a passion;
but others very sagely observed, that as devils are supposed
to have eyes and ears, they might likewise have noses.
Nor w'as it only in medicine that these superstitious opi¬
nions were entertained, they also prevailed in natural phi¬
losophy. The pernicious effects in mines, which we now
know' are occasioned by noxious air, were confidently im¬
puted to the demons of the mine. Even Van Helmont,
Bodin, Strozza, and Luther, attributed thunder and me¬
teors to the devil. Chemists were employed for centuries
in search of the philosopher’s stone, with which they were
to perform miracles. It w'as a common question among
philosophers in the seventeenth century, whether the ima¬
gination could move external objects; a question generally
decided in the affirmative.
Though superstition be generally the mark of a weak
mind, such is the infirmity of human nature, that we find
many instances of it among men of the most sublime ge¬
nius and most enlightened minds. Socrates believed that
he was guided by a demon. Lord Bacon believed in witch¬
craft ; and relates that he was cured of warts by rubbing
them with a piece of lard with the skin on, and then nail¬
ing it with the fat towards the sun on the post of a cham¬
ber window facing the sun. Henry IV., one of the most
illustrious of monarchs, was very uneasy before his assassi¬
nation, on account of some prophecies. Sully declares,
SUP
SUP
813
ipine that one of the considerations that kept him faithful to his
I! master in the most unpromising state of his affairs, was a
PPer' prediction of La Brosse, that Henry would make his for-
tune. The astrologer Morin directed Cardinal de Riche¬
lieu’s motions in some of his journeys. The enlightened
Cudworth defended prophecies in general, and called those
who opposed the belief of witchcraft by the name of atheists;
and the predictions of Rice Evans were supported in the
eighteenth century by the celebrated names of Warburton
and Jortin. Dr Hoffmann, the father of the modern theory
and practice of medicine, in a dissertation published in the
large edition of his works in 1747, says, that the devil can
raise storms, produce insects, and act upon the animal spi¬
rits and imagination; and, in fine, that he is an excellent
optician and natural philosopher, on account of his long ex¬
perience. Dr Johnson is supposed to have believed in the
second sight.
With respect to the effects of superstition on the human
mind, they are indeed deplorable. It chains down the un¬
derstanding, and sinks it into the most abject and sordid
state, and keeps it under the dominion of fear, and some¬
times of cruelty. Where once it takes possession, it has a
tendency to become extreme, and generally becomes so in¬
tolerable, that men of reflection and learning conspire its
destruction. The Christian religion gave a violent shock
to the heathen superstition; the reformation in a great mea¬
sure demolished the superstition of the church of Rome;
and the superstition which remained among Protestants
after their separation from that church has been gradually
yielding to the influence of enlightened reason, or to the
bold and daring attacks of infidelity and deism. We be¬
hold the prospect of its ruins with pleasure, and thank the
deists for their zeal; but it is from the firm hope that the
religion of Jesus will arise in all its beauty and simple ma¬
jesty, and be admired and respected as it deserves; for,
mean and contemptible as superstition certainly is, we
would rather see men do what they reckon their duty from
superstitious principles, than see anarchy and vice prevail,
even though attended with all the knowledge and liberality
of sentiment which deism and infidelity can inspire.
SUPINE, in Latin grammar, part of the conjugation of
a verb, being a verbal substantive of the singular number
and the fourth declension. There are two kinds of su¬
pines ; one, called the first supine, ending in um of the ac¬
cusative case, which is always of an active signification, and
follows a verb of motion, as uhiit deambulatum ; the other,
called the last supine, and ending in u of the ablative case,
is of a passive signification, and is governed by substantives
or adjectives, facile dicta.
SUPPER, the evening repast. Suppers that are heavy
should be avoided, because the stomach is more oppressed
with the same quantity of food in a horizontal posture than
in an erect one, and because digestion proceeds more slow¬
ly when we sleep than when we are awake. They should
be eaten long enough before bed-time, that they may be
nearly digested before going to sleep, and then a draught of
pure water will dilute that which remains in the stomach.
■ f ition. Supper of the Lord, otherwise called the Eucharist, is a
sacrament ordained by Christ in his church, of which the
outward part is bread and wine, and the inward part or
thing signified the body and blood of Christ, which the
majority of Christians believe to be in some sense or other
taken and received by the faithful communicants.
1 i:i }fvetr" T^ere *s no ordinance of the gospel which has been the
[ ft ut-U s^Ject m°re violent controversies between different
| and c“urches, and even between different divines of the same
| ri t church, than this sacrament; and though all confess that
tt! one purpose of its institution was to be a bond of love and
union among Christians, it has, by the perverseness of man¬
kind, been too often converted into an occasion of hatred. Supper.
The outward and visible sign, and the inward and spiritual
grace, have equally afforded matter of disputation to angry
controversialists. Many members of the church of Rome
condemn the Greek church and the Protestants for using
leavened bread in the Lord’s Supper, contrary to the exam¬
ple set them by our Saviour; while the Greek church in
genera], and some Protestant societies in particular, unite
with the church of Rome in censuring all churches which
mix not the wine with water, as deviating improperly from
primitive practice.
That it was unleavened bread which our Lord blessed
and brake and gave to his disciples as his body, cannot be
questioned; for at the time of the passover, when this or¬
dinance was instituted, there was no leavened bread to be
found in Jerusalem.1 For the mixed cup, the evidence is
not so decisive. It is indeed true, that the primitive Chris¬
tians used wine diluted with water; and if we may believe
Maimonides,2 it was the general custom of the Jews, as well
at the passover as at their ordinary meals, to add a little
water to their wine, on account of its great strength ; but
that this was always done, or that it was done by our Sa¬
viour in particular, there is no clear evidence. Origen in¬
deed affirms,3 that our Lord administered wine unmixed;
and he was not a man to hazard such an affirmation, had
there been in his days any certain tradition, or so much as
a general opinion, to the contrary. On this account we
have often heard with wonder the necessity of the mixed
cup insisted on by those who without hesitation make use
of leavened bread; for if it be essential to the sacrament
that the very same elements be employed by us that were
employed by our Saviour, the necessity of unleavened bread
is certainly equal to that of wine diluted with water.
But the mixed cup is said to be emblematical of the
blood and w^ater which flowed from the side of our Lord
when pierced by the spear of the Roman soldier, while the
absence of leaven is emblematical of no particular circum¬
stance in his passion. This argument for the mixture is as
old as the era of St Cyprian, and has since been frequently
urged with triumph by those who surely perceived not its
weakness. The flowing of the blood and water from our
Saviour’s side was the consequence either of the spear’s
having pierced the pericardium, or more probably of an
ascites or hydrothorax, occasioned by his cruel and linger¬
ing death. But whatever was the cause of it, how can the
mixing of wine with water in the sacrament be emblemati¬
cal of the flowing of blood and water separately ? Such a
mixture surely bears a more striking resemblance to the
reunion of the serum and crassamentum, after they had been
separated, by whatever cause. We urge not these objec¬
tions to the mixed cup from any dislike that we have to the
practice. It is unquestionably harmless and primitive; and Frivolous,
we wish that greater regard were paid to primitive practices
than the generality of Christians seem to think they can
claim: but let the advocates for antiquity be consistent; let
them either restore, together with the mixed cup, the use
of unleavened bread, or acknowledge that neither the one
nor the other is essential to the sacrament. This last ac¬
knowledgement must indeed be made, if they would not in¬
volve themselves in difficulties from which they cannot be
extricated. If either the mixed cup or unleavened bread
be absolutely necessary to the validity of the sacrament,
why not wine made from the grapes of Judaea ? why not that
particular kind of wane which was used by our Saviour ?
and where is that wine to be found ?
But the controversies respecting the outward part or sign About the
of the Lord’s Supper are of little importance when compar- thing sig-
ed with those which have been agitated respecting the in-n*flc(h
ward part or thing signified; and of these we hasten to give
Exod. xii. 15, 19.
* In Mishnam.
3 Horn. xii. in Hieremiam,
SUPPER.
814
Supper, as comprehensive a view as the limits prescribed to such
-V'—^ articles will admit.
Our blessed Lord, in the same night that he was betray¬
ed, “ took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it
to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And
he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them,
saying, Drink ye all of it; for this is my blood of the ^e\v
testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.”
Such was the institution of the Lord’s Supper as^it is re¬
corded in the gospel by St Matthew ; and we have the same
account of it, in almost the very same words, by other three
inspired writers, St Paul, St Mark, and St Luke. I hat it
was the bread which Christ blessed and brake that is here
called his body, and the wine over which he gave thanks
that he styles his blood of the new testament, will admit oi
no reasonable doubt; but in what sense they became so,
has been the subject of many controversies.
Doctrine of The church of Home, which holds, that after consecra-
the church tion, Jesus Christ, God and man, is really, truly, and sub-
of Rome. stantially, contained under the outward appearances of the
bread and wine, informs us, that about the middle of the
mass, when the priest, taking into his hand, first the bread
and then the wine, pronounces over each separately the
sacred words of consecration, the substance ot these
ments is immediately changed by the almighty power of
God into the body and blood of Christ; but that all the
outward appearances of the bread and wine, and all^ their
sensible qualities, remain. This more than miraculous change
is called transubstantiation, and is founded on the philoso¬
phy of Aristotle, which resolves all bodies into matter and
form; for it is only the matter or imperceptible substance
which supports \X\e forms or sensible qualities of bread and
wine, that is changed into the substance or matter of the
body and blood of Christ; so that this divine matter, com¬
ing into the place of the former earthy matter, supports the
same identical forms which it supported. Hence we are
toVl, “ that Jesus Christ, now present instead of the bread
and wine, exhibits himself to us under those very same out¬
ward forms or appearances which the bread and wine had
before the change.” Could this doctrine be true, it would
be abundantly mysterious; but, to add to the mystery, we
are further informed, that under each kind is contained
Jesus Christ whole and entire, his body and blood, his soul
and divinity ; so that when a man eats what has the appear¬
ance of a wafer, he really and truly eats the body and blood,
the soul and divinity, of Jesus Christ; and when he after-
wards drinks what has the appearance of wine, he drinks
the very same body and blood, soul and divinity, which not
a minute perhaps before he had wholly and entirely eaten !
The ingenious author from whose work we have taken this
account of the Romish doctrine concerning the real pre¬
sence, may perhaps reject our inference, that the orthodox
members of his church must believe the soul and divinity
of Christ to be eaten and drunk in the Lord’s Supper; but
he cannot deny that, according to his statement ot the Ro¬
mish faith, the soul and divinity are both received whole
and entire into the stomach of each communicant. He
says, indeed, that “ communion consists in receiving Jesus
Christ whole and entire, his sacred body, his precious blood,
his blessed soul, and his adorable divinity, into our soids
but that which was formerly bread and wine unquestionably
goes into the stomachs of the communicants; and since,
according to him, it is now the body and blood of Christ,
the soul and divinity must go thither with it, for these four
cannot be separated. This our author himself grants. “ The
Scripture,” says he, “ positively declares, that Christ rising
again from the dead, dieth no more; death shall no more
have dominion over him (Rom. vi. 9). Consequently his
body, his blood, and his soul, shall never more be separated
from one another; and as the union of his divine and hu¬
man natures can never more be broken, so neither can these,
his two natures, united in his divine person, be ever sepa¬
rated. From this it necessarily follows, that wherever the
body of Christ is, there also his blood, his soul, and his di¬
vinity, must of necessity be in like manner.”
Now, whether we suppose, with this author, that the
soul and divinity of Christ directly carry his body and blood
with them into the human soul, or, trusting in some degree
to the evidence of sense, believe that the body and blood
carry his soul and divinity with them directly into the sto¬
mach of each communicant; is it credible, is it possible,
that the high and lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity, and
whom the oracles of truth assure us that even the heaven
of heavens cannot contain, should be substantially received
whole and entire into a finite spirit like the human soul, or
into a body so limited as the human stomach ? Our author
says it is; declaring that, “ by the blessed presence of Jesus
Christ, whole and entire within us, are communicated to our
souls all the heavenly graces which are the effects of the
holy communion: such as the sanctification of the soul by
an increase of justifying grace ; the rendering of it more
pure, more holy, more beautiful, more agreeable, in the
eyes of God; the cleansing of the soul from all those venial
sins and imperfections of which we repent, and preserving
us from falling into mortal sins ; the uniting of us in a most
intimate manner with Jesus Christ, who comes to us in this
holy sacrament on purpose to dwell in our souls and abide
with us; and the giving us a pledge and earnest of a glori¬
ous immortality7, to the enjoyment of which it brings us at
last, if we persevere to the end in the grace of God.”
The consequence of the doctrine of transubstantiation is
the sacrifice of the mass, by which, it is said, God’s accept¬
ance of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is obtained for the
actual benefit of those persons in particular for whom the
mass is offered. In the work so often quoted, we are told
that “ Jesus Christ our redeemer, who is both our high
priest and our victim, who, in order to perfect the work of
our redemption, and reconcile man with his offended Crea¬
tor, offered himself once in a bloody manner upon the cross,
in order to communicate and apply to the souls of indivi¬
duals those graces which, by his death, he merited for man¬
kind in general, continues to offer himself daily upon the
altar in an unbloody manner, by the ministry of his priests,
in the mass. The sacrifice of the cross and that of the
mass are both one and the same sacrifice, because in both
the victim is the same and the high priest the same, viz.
Jesus Christ. The only difference is in the manner of
offering. On the cross he offered himself in a bloody man¬
ner, and actually died; whereas on the altar he is offered
up to God in an unbloody manner, not actually dead, but
under the appearance of death ;” so that the communicants
not only eat the man Jesus Christ, but even eat him alive!1
It is known to all our readers that this doctrine of tran¬
substantiation was one cause of the breach between the
church of Rome and those various societies which call
themselves reformed churches. The real and substantial
change of the bread and wine into the body and blood of
our Lord is rejected by every reformer, as a change contra¬
dictory and impossible, and fraught with the most impious
consequences; and volumes have been written to expose
the weakness of those arguments which have so often been
vainly urged in its support. It has been shown to imp y
1 This whole account of the Romish doctrine respecting the sacrament of the Lord s Supper is taken ,rom a work in tvtO —gat per¬
iled “ The sincere Christian instructed in the Faith of Christ, from the written V\ ord. Its autlior is a ° qie'doctrine of that
called     —  ... ......      , — .
sonal worth ; and as he fills a high station in the church of Rome, we cannot doubt but that he has given a iair view
church respecting this and every other article of which he treats.
SUPPER.
815
»per. numberless absurdities, such as, that the same thing can be
'I v"—'' in a million of different places, whole and entire, at the same
I ebrlegs instant of time; that it is above 1800 years old, and yet may
II 5" ke not more than one minute; that forms or sensible qua-
c lities are real things, independent of their subject and the
sentient beings who perceive them; that the infinite and
eternal God, who created and sustains the universe, is him¬
self wholly and substantially comprehended by the human
soul; and that the half, or fourth, or tenth part of the body
of Christ, is equal to the whole of that body. That these
are necessary consequences of transubstantiation, has been
so completely proved in various works to which every reader
may have access, that it is needless for us to repeat argu¬
ments so hackneyed; but there are two objections to that
doctrine, which, as we do not remember to have met with
them elsewhere, and as they appear to us absolutely con¬
clusive, it may be worth while to state in this place.
The advocates for the real presence in the Lord’s Supper
contend, that every word relating to that ordinance is to be
taken in the strictest and most literal sense ; and they affect
to triumph over the Protestants, because their notions of
the sacrament cannot be supported without having recourse
to figure and metaphor. This however is a very vain tri¬
umph ; for we hesitate not to affirm, that supposing tran¬
substantiation possible, and even capable of proof, there is
not in the whole New Testament a single word or a sinde
phrase which, if interpreted literally, gives the slightest
countenance to that wonderful doctrine. The reader will
remember that transubstantiation, as we have stated it from
a dignitary of the Romish church, and as it is in fact stated
by the council of Trent, consists in a change of the matter,
imperceptible substance, or substratum, of the bread and
wine, into the matter, imperceptible substance, or substra¬
tum, of Christ’s body and blood; for all parties agree that
the sensible qualities of the bread and wrine remain, and,
according to the Romanist, are, after the consecration, either
supported by the matter of Christ’s body and blood, or hung
trary upon nothing. Rut the phrase rovro sari rb auyd /xoy, if taken
ip‘ in the literal sense, cannot possibly denote the consequence
of such a change as this; for every person at all acquainted
with the Greek language, especially the language of the
Peripatetic school, knows that rb au:u,d you signifies, not the
matter or substratum of my body divested of its sensible
qualities, but the body of me in its natural state, consisting
of matter and qualities, or matter and form united. Unless
therefore the sensible qualities, as well as the matter of the
bread and wine, give place to the sensible qualities as well
as the matter of our Saviour’s body and blood, and unless
he appear glorified on the altar as he appeared on the mount
at his transfiguration, the words rb au^d /xou must be inter¬
preted figuratively. Had the apostles understood their
Master’s words in the sense in which they are understood
by the church of Rome, they would have rendered them
into Greek, not rcaro Ian rb cuy,d you, “ this is my body,”
but rouro ian rj 'jXr] rov aduaroi /mv, “ this is the matter of
my body.” In like manner, when St John relates1 that
Jesus said, “ Whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood,
hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day,”
had he understood his adorable Master to speak of his flesh
and blood in the Eucharist in the sense in which they are
taught to be there by the church of Rome, he would have
represented him as saying, not ’O rodyui /aov rrjv adgxa, xai
xom fio‘j rb ai^u, but ’O rodyuv rfiv vKt]v rr\i aaexog yov, xul
stlvtin rriv 'jXt\v rev cu/Aarog ju,ov, “ whoso eateth the matter of
niy flesh, and drinketh the matter of my blood, hath eternal
life, and I wall raise him up at the last day.”
But further, supposing this singular conversion possible
'n itself, it cannot be rendered credible, however stated in
any language that ever w'as or ever wall be spoken by man.
1 ’!>-
t'jof
Pf(
At first sight it may appear paradoxical to affirm that a Supper,
possible fact cannot be so related as to obtain credit; but
that transubstantiation, if possible, is such a fact, will be
apparent on the slightest consideration.
The relation which subsists between things and words is
arbitrary ; so that what is termed body in English, is cdua
in Greek, and corpus in Latin ; and the same thing might
with equal propriety (had the authors of these languages so
pleased) have been expressed in the first by sold, in the
second by vovg, and in the third by anirna. The conse¬
quences of this are, that there is no universal language
spoken, that the natives of one country understand not the
speech of those of another, and that different men speaking
the same language are perpetually liable to mistake each
other’s meaning. Between the substrata of bodies and
their sensible qualities there is a relation founded in nature,
so that the sensible qualities which indicate the substance
to which they belong, to be gold, for instance, in one coun¬
try, indicate the same thing in every other country, and
have done so from the beginning of time. The sensible
appearances of bodies therefore are a universal language,
the language of the Author of Nature, by which he de¬
clares to his creature man, that though the liXjj or
primary matter of all bodies, maybe the same kind of sub¬
stance, yet the uXjj n^eai’/fg of one body, or the internal
combination of its primary parts, differs from that of an¬
other ; that gold, for instance, has a different substratum
or basis from iron, lead, or silver; that the internal orga¬
nization or structure of the body of an ox is different from
that of a horse ; and that the internal substance or substra¬
tum which exhibits the appearances of bread and wine is
different from that which supports the sensible qualities of
flesh and blood. Supposing therefore the doctrine of tran¬
substantiation to be possible and even true, it would still be
impossible, by any statement in human language, or by any
argument urged in its support, to render that doctrine an
object of rational belief; for if it be said that the words
rovro sari rb auipa, uov were spoken by a divine person, who
could neither be deceived himself nor intend to deceive us,
it may be replied, that the sensible appearances of bread
and wine, which are confessed to remain, are likewise the
language of a divine person, even of the Creator and Go¬
vernor of heaven and earth; that this language addressed
to the sight, the taste, the touch, and the smell, is equally
intelligible to all nations; that since the creation of the
world its meaning has never been mistaken by the scholar
or the clown, the sage or the savage, except in this single
instance of our Lord’s flesh and blood exhibiting the sen¬
sible appearances of bread and wine; and that it is there¬
fore infinitely more probable that the members of the church
of Rome should mistake the meaning of the words rovro
ian rb auipd you, which, though spoken by Christ, are part
of the language of men, and liable to all its ambiguities,
than that all mankind should mistake the language of God
himself, which is liable to no ambiguities, and which was
never in any other instance misunderstood by a single in¬
dividual. Should transubstantiation therefore be really true,
its truth can never be proved or rendered probable, but by
an immediate operation of the Spirit of God on the mind of
man ; and he who is conscious of no such operation on his
own mind, may rest assured that the Father of mercies,
who knows whereof he is made, will never bring upon him,
for his incredulity in this instance, any of the anathemas
denounced by the church of Rome upon those who place
implicit confidence in the universal language of Him who
created them, in opposition to her figurative and contradic¬
tory interpretations of the written word. Of the transub¬
stantiation of the elements a visible miracle would afford
no proof. Had the water been changed into wine at the
* Chap. vi. 54.
816
SUPPER.
Supper, marriage in Cana of Galilee for the express purpose of bear-
ing testimony to this singular conversion, what must have
been the consequence on the minds of those who witnessed
that miracle ? Nothing, we think, but scepticism or dis¬
trust of their own faculties; for they would have had the
very same evidence that no substantial change was wrought
on the elements, as that the water was actually turned into
wine.
Though the reformed churches unanimously reject the
doctrine of transubstantiation, and of course the sacrifice
of the mass, its inseparable consequence, they are far from
being agreed among themselves respecting the nature of
the Lord’s Supper; and the notions of this ordinance en¬
tertained by some of them appear to us as untenable as any
Doctrine Part of the doctrine of the church of Rome. 1 he Luthe-
of the Lu- rans believe that the body and blood of Christ are really
therans in- and substantially present with the bread and wine; that the
credible. body is rea]ly and truly eaten, and the blood really and
truly drunk, by the communicants ; and that whatever mo¬
tion or action the bread has, the body has the same.1 Ac¬
cording to them, therefore, the same sensible appearances
are exhibited by two substances united in some inexpli¬
cable manner, which is neither a personal union, nor incor¬
poration, nor the enclosure of the body within the bread;
nor does it last longer than while the sacrament is cele¬
brating. This union is generally called consubstantiation;
but they reject the term, contenting themselves with assert¬
ing the real presence, without presuming to define the
mode by which the body and blood of Christ are united to
the sacramental elements.
It would be superfluous to waste time in replying to this
doctrine. Every reader sees that it implies the possibility
of the same thing’s being whole and entire in a million of
places at one and the same instant of time, which has been
so often urged as an unanswerable objection to the Romish
doctrine; and it is fraught with this additional absurdity
peculiar to itself, that two bodily substances may at once
occupy the same place, which is directly contrary to our
notions of solidity. It may likewise be observed, that what¬
ever be the real sense of our Saviour’s words, he says ex¬
pressly, “ This is my body;” this thing which I give you,
and which you see and feel: whereas, had he meant what
Luther and his followers teach, he would surely have said,
“ With this bread receive my body, with this cup receive
my blood.”
f t}j 'The notions of some of the early Calvinists respecting
earlv Cal- the Lord’s Supper are very mysterious, and expressed in
vinists, language of which we are not sure that w^e understand the
meaning. In the year 1561 an attempt was made in France
to bring the Catholics and Protestants to an uniformity of
doctrine on this great topic of controversy; and deputies
were appointed by both parties to meet at Poissy, and de¬
bate the question in a friendly manner. The principal ma¬
nagers on the side of the Catholics were the cardinals of
Lorraine and Tournon ; those on the side of the Protes¬
tants were Beza and Peter Martyr. After several meet¬
ings, disputes, and violent separations, the Protestant de¬
puties declared their faith in the following words: “ We
confess, that Jesus Christ, in the Supper, does truly give
and exhibit to us the substance of his body and blood by
the efficacy of his Holy Spirit; and that we do receive and
eat spiritually, and by faith, that very body which was of¬
fered and immolated for us, so as to be bone of his bone
and flesh of his flesh, to the end that we may be enlivened
thereby, and receive what is conducive to our salvation.
And because faith, supported by the word of God, makes
those things present which it apprehends, and by that faith
we do in deed and reality receive the true natural body and Supw
blood of Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit; by this v.
means we confess and acknowledge the presence of his
body and blood in the Supper.” One of the Romish dele¬
gates expressing his dislike of this last clause, the Protes¬
tant ministers gave the following explanation of their sen¬
timents. “ No distance of place can hinder us from com¬
municating of the body and blood of Christ, for the Lord’s
Supper is a heavenly thing; and though on earth we re¬
ceive with our mouths bread and wine, which are the true
signs of his body and blood, yet by faith, and the efficacy
of the Holy Ghost, our minds, which are fed with this food,
are rapt up into heaven, and enjoy the presence of the body
and blood ; and that by this means it may be said that the
body is truly joined to the bread, and the blood to the
wine ; but after the manner of a sacrament, and not at all
according to place or natural position.”2
If the reader can discover the precise meaning of these
passages, his sagacity exceeds ours. That the Protestant
deputies believed, or professed to believe, that the natural
body and blood of Christ are by the faithful received in the
Lord’s Supper, is indeed evident; but their notions respect-unintei
ing the manner of this reception are very unintelligible, ifgibk-
not contradictory. In the former quotation, they confess
that Christ’s body and blood are really present in the sacra¬
ment ; that they are made present by faith (we suppose the
faith of the communicants); and that the very body which
was offered and immolated for us is eaten spiritually and by
faith. In the latter quotation, they seem to say that Christ’s
body and blood are in heaven, at a great distance from the
true signs of them ; that on earth the communicants receive
only these signs, which are bread and wine; but that, by
faith and the efficacy of the Holy Spirit, their minds, during
actual communion, are rapt up into heaven, where they en¬
joy the presence of the body and blood; and that by this
means the body and blood are truly joined to the bread and
wine through the medium of the mind of the communicant,
which is at once present both to the sign and to the thing
signified. To this mysterious doctrine it is needless to urge
objections. Every man who is accustomed to think, and to
use words with some determinate meaning, will at once per¬
ceive that the authors of this declaration must have had very
confused notions of the subject, and have pleased themselves
with sound instead of sense, satisfied that they could not be
wrong if they did not symbolize with the Lutherans or the
council of Trent.
The churches of England and Scotland, in their establish-of the
ed doctrines respecting the Lord’s Supper, appear to be Cal-ohurcL-
vinistical; but the compilers of the Thirty-nine Articles rl ain
and of the Confession of Faith must have been much more
rational divines than Beza and Peter Martyr. They agree
in condemning the doctrine of transubstantiation, as contrary
to common sense, and not founded in the word of God;
they teach, that to such as rightly, worthily, and with faith,
receive the sacrament, the bread' which we break is a par¬
taking of the body of Christ, and the cup of blessing a par¬
taking of the blood of Christ; and they add, that the body
and blood of Christ are eaten and drunk, not corporally or
carnally, but only after a heavenly and spiritual mannei,
by which the communicants are made partakers of all the
benefits of his death.3 In one important circumstance tuese
two churches seem to differ. The Confession of Faith, as
we understand it,4 affirms that in the Lord’s Suppei t ere
is no sacrifice. The thirty-first article of the Churc o
England likewise condemns the Popish sacrifice of the mass,
as a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit; but m ie
order for the administration of the Lord's Supper or Holy
1 Luther. Cogit. MS. 400. Gerhard, in Loc. Theol. de Sacra Ccena.
* Thuanus, lib. xxviii. See also Johnson’s Unbloody Sacrifice, vol. i.
* Articles of the Church of England, art. xxviii.; and Confession of Faith, chap. xxix.
* Chap. xxix. § 3.
SUPPER.
817
9
,er. Communion, the celebrator “ beseeches God most merci-
fully to accept the alms and oblations of the congregation,”
and again “ to accept their sacrifice of praise and thanks¬
giving from which petitions many have inferred that, in
the Lord’s Supper, that church offers a commemorative and
eucharistical sacrifice. This inference seems not to be
wholly without foundation. In the order for the admini¬
stration of the Lord’s Supper, according to the form of the
Book of Common Prayer set forth by act of parliament in
the second and third years of King Edward the Sixth, the
elements were solemnly offered to God as a sacrifice of
praise and thanksgiving; and though the prayer containing
that oblation was, at the review of the liturgy some years
afterwards, removed from the prayer of consecration, to
which it was originally joined, and placed where it now
stands in the post-communion service, yet the very act of
parliament which authorized that alteration calls King Ed¬
ward’s “ a very godly order, agreeable to the word of God
and the primitive church, and very comfortable to all good
people desiring to live in Christian conversation.”
So Eng- The English church, however, has not positively deter-
lisl vines nrined any thing respecting this great question ; and while
10 lie she condemns the doctrine of the real presence, with all
Lc its dangerous consequences, she allows her members to
jje{ .aris. entertain very different notions of this holy ordinance, and
tic acri-to publish these notions to the world. Accordingly, many
fic of her most eminent divines have maintained that, in the
celebration of the Lord’s Supper, the elements of bread and
wine are offered to God as a sacrifice commemorative of
Christ’s one sacrifice for the sins of the whole world; that
these elements, though they undergo no substantial change,
yet receive such a divine virtue by the descent of the Holy
Ghost, as to convey to the worthy communicant all the be¬
nefits of Christ’s passion ; that they are therefore called his
body and blood, because being, after their oblation, eaten
and drunk in remembrance of him, they supply the place
of his body and blood in the feast upon his sacrifice;
and that it is customary with our Saviour to give to any
thing the name of another of which it completely supplies
the place, as when he calls himself the door1 of the sheep,
because there is no entrance into the church or kingdom of
God but by faith in him. They observe, that the Eucha¬
rist’s being commemorative, no more hinders it from being
a proper sacrifice, than the typical and figurative sacri¬
fices of the old law hindered them from being proper sa¬
crifices : for as to be a type does not destroy the nature
and notion of a legal sacrifice, so to be representative
and commemorative does not destroy the nature of an
evangelical sacrifice. To prove that, in the celebration of
the Lord’s Supper, there is a real sacrifice offered to God
as well as a sacrament received by the communicants, they
appeal to St Paul, who says expressly,2 that “ Christians
have an altar, whereof they have no right to eat who serve
the tabernacle,” and who by contrasting the cup of the Lord
with the cup of devils, and the table of the Lord with the
table of devils,3 teaches plainly that those cups and those
tables had the same specific nature. That the table of
devils spoken of by the apostle was the Pagan altars, and
the cup of devils the wine poured out in libations to the
Pagan divinities, will admit of no dispute ; and therefore,
say the advocates for the eucharistical sacrifice, the table of
the Lord must be the Christian altar, and the cup of the
Lord the wine offered to God as the representative of the
blood of Christ; otherwise there w’ould not be that absur¬
dity which the apostle supposes, in the same person drink¬
ing the cup of the Lord and the cup of devils, and partaking
of the Lord’s table and the table of devils. They observe
further, that in all the ancient liturgies extant there is a
solemn form of oblation of the sacramental elements, and Supper,
that all the Christian writers from the second century down-
wards treat of the Lord’s Supper as a sacrifice as well as
sacrificial feast, having indeed no value in itself, but ac¬
ceptable to God as representing Christ’s one sacrifice for
the sins of the world. Our limits will not permit us to
give even an abstract of their arguments ; but the reader
who shall attentively peruse Johnson’s “ Unbloody Sacri¬
fice and Altar unveiled and supported,” will discover that
their notions are better founded than probably he sup¬
poses, and that they are totally irreconcileable with the
doctrine of transubstantiation and the Popish sacrifice of
the mass.
Other English divines of great learning, with the cele- Others, a
brated Hoadley bishop of Winchester at their head, con-rner® |ne*
tend strenuously that the Lord’s Supper, so far from beingmona 5
a sacrifice of any kind, is nothing more than bread and wine
reverently eaten and drunk, in remembrance that Christ’s
body was broken and his blood shed, in proof of his Fa¬
ther’s and his own love to mankind ; that nothing is essen¬
tial to the sacrament but this remembrance, and a serious
desire to honour and obey our Saviour as our head ; that
the sacrament might be celebrated without uttering one
prayer or thanksgiving, merely by a society of Christians,
whether small or great, jointly eating bread and drinking
wine with a serious remembrance of Christ’s death ; that
St Paul enjoins a man to examine himself before he eat of
that bread and drink of that cup, not to discover what have
been the sins of his past life in order to repent of them, but
only that he may be sure of his remembering Christ’s body
broken and his blood shed ; that, however, it is his duty in
that, as in every other instance of religious worship, to re¬
solve to obey from the heart every precept of the gospel,
whether moral or positive; and that to partake worthily of
the Lord’s Supper is acceptable to God, because it is pay¬
ing obedience to one of these precepts ; but that no par¬
ticular benefits or privileges are annexed to it more than
to any other instance of duty. Bishop Hoadley acknow¬
ledges, that when St Paul says,4 “ The cup of blessing
which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of
Christ ? the bread which we break, is it not the com¬
munion of the body of Christ ?” he has been supposed by
many learned men to affirm, that all the benefits of Christ’s
passion are in the Lord’s Supper conveyed to the worthy
communicant; but this, says he, is an idea which the apos¬
tle could not have in his thoughts as at all proper for his
argument. The Greek wmrd xon/uvia and the English com¬
munion signify only a partaking of something in common
with others of the same society; and the apostle’s mean¬
ing, he says, can be nothing more than that in the Lord’s
Supper we do not eat bread and drink wine as at an ordi¬
nary meal, but as memorials of the body and blood of
Christ, in honour to him as the head of that body of which
we are all members. That the word xoivuuct is not meant to
denote any inward or spiritual part of the Lord’s Supper,
he thinks evident, because the same word is used with re¬
gard to the cup and the table of idols, where no spiritual
part could be thought of, and in an argument which sup¬
poses an idol to be nothing.5
To this view of the nature and end of the Lord’s Sup¬
per it must appear no small objection, that “ he who eat-
eth and drinketh unworthily is said to be guilty of the body
and blood of the Lord, and to eat and drink a judgment to
himself, not discerning the Lord’s body.” No doubt it
would be sinful to eat and drink a mere memorial of Christ’s
death without serious dispositions ; but we cannot conceive
how a little wandering of the thoughts, which is all the un¬
worthiness that the author thinks there can be on such
St John x. 7.
9 Ileb. xiii. 10.
6 Hoadley’s Plain
3 1 Cor. x. 16, &c.
‘’nd End of the Lord’s Supper.
* 1 Cor. x. 16.
5 L
VOL. XX.
818 SUP
Supper, an occasion, should be a sin of so deep a dye as to be pro-
y'''—'' perly compared with the guilt of those who murdered the
and others, Lord of life. Other divines, therefore, feeling the force of
a feast up- this and similar objections, steer a middle course between
on our Sa- t{ie mere memorialist and the advocate foi a real sacrifice
ritiee3 SaC ^ie holy Eucharist, and insist that this rite, though no
sacrifice itself, is yet a feast upon the one sacrifice offered
by Christ and slain upon the cross. The most eminent pa¬
trons of this opinion have been Dr Cudworth and Bishop
Warburton ; and they support it by such arguments as the
following. In those ages of the world when victims made
so great a part of the religion both of Jews and Gentiles,
the sacrifice was always followed by a religious feasting on
the thing offered ; which was called the feast upon or after
the sacrifice, and was supposed to convey to the partakers
of it the benefits of the sacrifice. Now Jesus, say they,
about to offer himself a sacrifice on the cross for our re¬
demption, did, in conformity to general practice, institute the
last supper, under the idea of a feast after the sacrifice ; and
the circumstances attending its institution were such, they
think,that the apostles could not possibly mistake his meaning.
It was just before his passion, and while he was eating the
paschal supper, which was a Jewish feast upon the sacrifice,
that our blessed Lord instituted this rite ; and as it was his
general custom to allude, in his actions and expressions, to
what passed before his eyes, or presented itself to his ob¬
servation, who can doubt, when, in the very form of celebra¬
tion, we see all the marks of a sacrificial supper, but that the
divine institutor intended it should bear the same relation
to his sacrifice on the cross which the paschal supper then
celebrating bore to the oblation of the paschal lamb ? If
this was not his purpose, and if nothing more was intended
than a general memorial of a dead benefactor, why was this
instant of time preferred for the institution to all others
throughout the course of his ministry, any one of which
would have been equally commodious ? Indeed any other
time would have been more commodious for the institution
of a mere memorial; for the paschal lamb and unleavened
bread were certainly a sacrifice; and the words used by our
Saviour, when he gave the bread and wine to the apostles,
were such as must necessarily have led them to consider
that bread and wine as bearing the same relation to his
sacrifice which the paschal supper bore to the paschal sacri¬
fice. At that Jewish feast, it was the custom of every fa¬
ther of a family to break the unleavened bread, and to give
to every guest a portion, saying, “ This is the bread of af¬
fliction, which our fathers did eat in the land of Egypta
custom which we may be sure that Christ, as a father of
his family, would religiously observe. The apostles knew
well that they were not eating the identical bread which
their fathers did eat in Egypt, but the feast upon the sac¬
rifice then offered in commemoration of their redemption
from Egyptian bondage ; and therefore, when they saw their
Master after supper break the bread again, and give it to
each of them, w ith these remarkable w ords. “ This is my
body which is given for you, do this in remembrance of
me,” they must have concluded, that his meaning was to
institute a rite which should to the end of the world bear
the same relation to his sacrifice that the paschal supper
bore to the sacrifice of the passover.
This inference, from the circumstances attending the in¬
stitution, Bishop Warburton thinks confirmed by St Paul’s
mode of arguing with the Corinthians on their impiety and
absurdity in partaking both of the Lord’s table and the
table of devils ; for “ what,” says he, “ had the eaters of
the sacrifices to do with the partakers of the bread and wine
in the Lord’s Supper, if the Lord’s Supper was not a feast
of the same kind with their feasts ? If the three feasts,
P E R.
Jewish, Pagan, and Christian, had not one common nature, Sup.,
how could the apostle have inferred tlutt this intercom-^— wf
munity was inconsistent? ‘Ye cannot^ says he, ‘drink
the cup of the Lord and the cup of devils ; ye cannot be
partakers of the Lord’s table and the table of devils.’ For
though there might be impiety in the promiscuous use
of Pagan and Christian rites of any kind, yet the incon¬
sistency arises from their having a common nature, and
consequently, as they had opposite originals, from their de¬
stroying one another’s effects in the very celebration. Sac¬
rifices, and feasts upon sacrifices, were universally consi¬
dered as federal rites; and therefore the Lord’s table and
the table of devils being both federal rites, the same man
could no more be partaker of both, than he could at once
engage to serve both God and the devil. This is the apos¬
tle’s argument to the wise men to whom he appeals; and
we see that it tui’ns altogether upon this postulatum, that
the Christian and Pagan feasts had the same specific na¬
ture, or were both feasts upon sacrifices. If this be admit¬
ted, it is easy to see why St Paul deemed those who ate
and drank unworthily guilty of the body and blood of the
Lord; for if the Lord’s Supper be a feast upon his sacri¬
fice, it must have been considered as the means of convey¬
ing to the communicants all the benefits of his death and
passion ; and the profanation of such a rite, by rendering
his death ineffectual, might be fitly compared and justly
equalled to the enormous guilt of those by whom his blood
was shed.” In reply to Bishop Hoadley’s remarks upon
the word xoivuvia, his brother bishop observes, that “ had
the apostle meant what the learned writer makes him to
mean, he would doubtless have said xoivuvlx b/iuv it; to
‘ your communion in the body—your eating it jointly.’
St Paul,” continues he, “ knew how to express himself pro¬
perly, as appears from a passage in his epistle to the Phi-
lippians, where, professedly speaking of the joint participa¬
tion of a blessing, he uses these words, xonconot, bfiuv h/j ri
{layyiXwv, ‘ your communion in the gospel.’ ” To the other
remark, that no spiritual part could be thought of in the
table of idols, because an idol is said by the apostle to be
nothing, Bishop Warburton replies, “ that by St Paul the
Gentiles are said to have sacrificed to devils, and those who
ate of such sacrifices to have had communion with devils;
now the devil” continues his lordship, “was in St Paul’s
opinion something.” But the inference which the apostle
draws from the acknowledged truth, that the cup of bless¬
ing which we bless is the communion of the blood of Christ,
and the bread which we break the communion of the body
of Christ, puts his meaning, our author thinks, beyond all
doubt. He says,1 that the partaking of one bread makes
the receivers of many to become one body. A just infer¬
ence, if this rite be of the nature of a feast upon the sacri¬
fice ; for then the communion of the body and blood of
Christ unites the receivers into one body, by an equal dis¬
tribution of one common benefit. But if it be only a ge¬
neral commemoration of a deceased benefactor, it leaves
the receivers as it found them, not one body, but many se¬
parate professors of one common faith.
Thus have we given such a view as our limits wouldThecj
permit us to give, of the principal opinions that have been
held respecting the nature and end of the Lord’s Supper.ml(ler
It is an ordinance which seems not to be generally under- ^od.
stood; though, being intended to show forth the Lord’s
death till he come, it is surely of sufficient importance to
engage the attention of every serious Christian. The most
considerable English divines who have expressly written
upon it are, Johnson in his Unbloody Sacrifice; Cud worth
in his Discourse concerning the true Nature of the Lord’s
Supper; Hoadley in his Plain Account; and Warburton
1 1 Cor. s. 27.
S U R
portersm his Rational Account. The notions of Cudworth and
(! Warburton are the same, and perhaps they differ not so
,rat‘ much from those of Johnson as many readers seem to ima-
gine. At any rate, the arguments by which Warburton
supports his doctrine must have some force, since it is said
that Hoadley himself acknowledged they would be unan¬
swerable, if it could be proved that the death of Christ was
a real sacrifice. (h. h. h. h.)
SUPPORTERS, in Heraldry, figures in an achieve¬
ment, placed by the side of the shield, and seeming to sup¬
port or hold up the same. Supporters are chiefly figures
of beasts: figures of human creatures for the like purpose
are called tenants.
SUPPOSITORY, a kind of medicated cone or ball,
which is introduced into the anus for opening the belly. It
is usually composed of common honey mixed up with soap
or oil, and formed into pieces of the length and thickness
of the little finger, only pyramidal.
SUPR ALAPSARIANS, in Theology, persons who hold
that God, without any regard to the good or evil w orks
of men, has resolved, by an eternal decree, supra lapsum,
antecedently to any knowledge of the fall of Adam, and in¬
dependently of it, to save some and to condemn others; or,
in other words, that God intended to glorify his justice in
the condemnation of some, as well as his mercy in the sal¬
vation of others ; and for that purpose decreed that Adam
should necessarily fall, and by that fail bring himself and
all his oilspring into a state of everlasting condemnation.
These are also called antelapsaries, and are opposed to
sublapsaries and infralapsaries. According to the supra-
lapsarians, the object of predestination is, homo creabilts et
labilis ; and, according to the sublapsarians and infralapsa-
rians, homo creatus et lapsus.
SURAJEGHUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Bahar, district of Monghier, sixty-eight miles east-south¬
east of Patna. Long. 86. 15. E. Lat. 25. 14. N.
SURAJEPOOR, a small town of Hindustan, in the
province of Allahabad, fifty-one miles south-west by south
from Lucknow, pleasantly situated on the west side of the
Ganges,
SURAT, a large and populous city of Hindustan, in the
province of Gujerat, situated on the south side of the Tap-
tee river, about twenty miles above its junction with the
sea. It is one of the largest cities in Hindustan; and is
termed by Bishop Heber a very large and ugly city, with
narrow winding streets, and high houses of timber-frames
filled up with bricks, the upper stories projecting over each
other. The city is about six miles in circuit, in the form
of a semicircle, of which the river Taptee or Tuptee forms
the chord. Near the centre of this chord, and washed by
the river, stands a small castle, w'ith round bastions, glacis,
and covered way, in which are stationed a few sepoys and
European artillerymen ; and w hich is distinguished by the
singularity of two flag-staffs, on one of which is displayed a
union jack, on the other a plain red flag, the ancient ensign of
the emperors of Delhi; an arrangement which was adopted
in courtesy when the fort was conquered from the nawab
of Surat, and was continued, though the nawab is only a
pensioner on the bounty of the government. In the neigh¬
bourhood are most of the English houses of a good size.
Without the walls is a French factory, containing some
handsome and convenient buildings, but now quite deserted
by their proper owners, and occupied by English officers.
A French governor with several officers came to take pos¬
session of the factory, which was restored in 1814 at the
conclusion of peace ; but the governor died, and his suite
was so thinned by disease that the survivors returned to
the isle of Bourbon, and no one has appeared to supply
their place. The city is protected on one side by a river;
and on the other three sides by a brick rampart, or a ditch.
The w all is entire and in good repair, with semicircular
S U R 819
bastions and battlements. There is also a strong citadel, Surcingle
erected on the bank of the river, and surrounded by an II
esplanade. v ,
Surat formerly carried on a very extensive trade. In v
1775 a greater quantity of ships belonged to the port than
to Bombay. Large exports of cotton were formerly sent
to China, but they are now chiefly sent by the way of
Bombay. The trade has greatly declined, consisting of
little but raw cotton, which is chiefly shipped in boats
for Bombay. In manufactures the native artisan is now
undersold by the English ; a dismal decay, says Heber, has
consequently taken place in the circumstances of the na¬
tive merchants ; and he mentions an instance of an ancient
Mussulman family, formerly of great wealth and magnifi¬
cence, who were reduced to dispose of their library for sub¬
sistence. The most thriving people in Surat are the Boras,
or money-lenders, who drive a trade all through this part
of India, and the Parsees. The last are the proprietors of
half the houses in Surat. They are dexterous mechanics,
good servants, and skilful merchants. They intermarry
with each other, and retain all their ancient customs and
prejudices, among w'hich is their repugnance to extinguish
fire, and the exposure of their dead to be devoured by birds
of prey. The boats which lie in the river are of thirty or
forty tons, with two masts. Vessels of greater burden must
lie about fifteen miles off, below the bar, at the mouth of
the Taptee; but few larger vessels ever come to Surat.
There is a very neat and convenient church, as well as an
extensive and picturesque burial-ground, full of large and
numerous tombs of the former servants of the Company;
most of them from 120 to 180 years old, and in the Mus¬
sulman style, with large apartments surrounded by vaults.
There are no remarkable buildings in Surat. The naw’ab’s
residence is modern, but not particularly handsome. The
British society is numerous and agreeable, this city being
the station of a considerable force, of a collector, a board
of customs, and the courts of justice. Of the ancient his¬
tory of Surat under the Hindoo dynasties there are no
authentic records. It was taken by the emperor Akbar in
1572, after a vigorous siege of forty-seven days. It was in
1664 taken and plundered by Sevajee, the great Mahratta
chief, and was again visited by him in 1671, and laid under
contribution, as it was by his successors in 1702 and 1707.
Surat w^as surrendered to a British force in 1759 by the
nabob, the ancestor of the present nawab, who wras com¬
pelled to have recourse to foreign aid. He was succeeded
by his sons, the last of whom agreed in 1800 to resign all
his authority to the British for an annual pension of
L. 12,500. Surat is fifty-one miles south-west by south from
Lucknow. Long. 73. 3. E. Lat. 21. 13. N. ' (f.)
SURCINGLE, a girdle with which the clergy of the
Church of England usually tie their cassocks.
S UR CO AT, a coat of arms, to be worn over body ar¬
mour. The surcoat is properly a loose thin taffety coat,
with arms embroidered or painted on it; such as is worn
by heralds, and anciently used by military men over their
armour to distinguish themselves by.
SURD, in Arithmetic and Algebra, denotes any number
or quantity that is incommensurable to unity : it is other¬
wise called an irrational number or quantity.
SURDASTRUM, the ancient name of a drum used as
an accompaniment to a pastoral pipe in a dance which was
supposed to have the virtue of rendering harmless the bite
of the tarantula.
SURDY, a small uninhabited island in the Persian Gulf,
situated to the south of Kishme. Lat. 25. 54. N.
SURF is a term used by seamen to express a peculiar
swell and breaking of the sea upon the shore. It some¬
times forms but a single range along the shore, and at
others three or four behind one another, extending perhaps
half a mile out to sea.
820
SURGERY.
Surgery. The terra Surgery, or Chirurgery, nom ysio, the hand,
^ v ' and ijyov, work, originally signified, as its derivation implies,
the manual procedure, by means of instruments or not, di¬
rected towards the repair ol injury and the cure ol disease,
in contradistinction to the practice of medicine, denoting the
treatment of disease by the administration of drugs, or other
substances supposed to be of a sanative tendency. Such
a meagre description applied but too justly to surgery in
its infancy, and still more after its separation from its twin-
sister medicine, in the twelfth century. W hen its practice
was denounced by the Council of lours as derogatory to
the dignity of the sacred office of the priesthood, and be¬
neath the attention of all men of learning, the term chirm-
gery, in its most literal interpretation, was quite sufficient
to comprehend the duties of the degraded and uninform¬
ed surgeon, who had become a mere mechanic, attacned to
and completely dependent on the learned and philosophic
physician. But the matured progress of the healing art
has, fortunately for science and humanity, rendered such
a definition of surgery in these days utterly untenable.
Its complete separation from medicine would now be at¬
tended with the utmost difficulty; nor is it desirable that
the attempt should be made, because its success, however
partial and imperfect, would be most hurtful to both. They
are now, and it is to be hoped will ever remain, one and
inseparable. Their principles are the same throughout,
and the exercise of their different branches requires the
same fundamental knowledge; but their details are so nu¬
merous and intricate as to render it most difficult, if not
impossible, for any one individual to cultivate all with
equal success. The consequence has been, that while the
theory and principles of physic and surgery remain united,
as constituting one and the same science, the practical
parts are now frequently separated into distinct professions,
each person adopting that department most congenial to
his pursuits, and for the management of which he con¬
ceives himself best qualified. Ihe separation howevei is
not that of acquirements, but merely of practice. It should
never be forgotten, that the physician, before he can be
either accomplished or successful in his profession, must be
intimate with the principles, if not with the practice of sur¬
gery. And most certainly no one can ever lay just claim
even to the title of surgeon, far less hope for eminence or
success, unless he be equally qualified to assume both the
appellation and the employment of the physician.
Many and laboured have been the attempts to define sur¬
gery according to its present state, so as to prevent inter¬
ference with the department of physic. This example w e
will not follow. The arrangement as to what is medical,
and what surgical, must in a great measure depend on cus¬
tom, not on fixed and permanent rules. The paths of the
practical surgeon and physician are distinct, but in their
course they must often cross each other; and these colli¬
sions, so far from being avoided, ought rather to be sought,
as probable sources of mutual benefit, so long as those
enlightened feelings are entertained, and that honourable
conduct pursued, which ought ever to distinguish the fol¬
lowers of a liberal, useful, and learned profession.
The limits allotted to this article not permitting us to
enter into the details of surgery, we must content ourselves
with a sketch of its history, and with some account of its
improved condition as it is at present practised.
Origin. That surgery is as old as man himself, that it was coeval
with his fallen state, there can be little doubt. The fall
entailed the frequent reception of injuries by external
violence ; and to assuage their pain and remove their in¬
convenience, the ingenuity and contrivance of the sufferer Surger
were powerfully excited. Thus it would seem, that as tos"-v^
antiquity of origin, surgery must take precedence of medi¬
cine. And after wars and dissensions began to prevail, and
wounds and injuries became both more Ifequent and more
deadly, it is most probable that to these the practitioners of
the healing art alone directed their attention, before the
nature of disease began to be understood, or its cure was
supposed to be within the reach of human means.
As to the state of surgery among the early Egyptians, we Early
know but little, except that it was customary, in the time of Egyptia
Joseph, to embalm the dead; a process which appertains close¬
ly to both medicine and surgery. There are some grounds,
however, for suspecting that they were more conversant with
surgery than is generally supposed; for it is said that on
“ the ruined walls of the renowned temples of ancient
Thebes, basso-relievos have been found, displaying surgi¬
cal operations, and instruments not far different from some
in use in modern times.” Their medical practice, entirely
founded on incantation and astrology, was sufficiently simple.
They divided the body into thirty-six parts, believing in an
equal number of demons, to whom those parts were intrust¬
ed, and to invoke whose aid in sickness was the principal
duty of the physician, each spirit being called upon to cure
his own peculiar portion.
Among the Jews, the operation of circumcision was per-Jew3
formed, no doubt skilfully and dexterously, though with rude
implements, by the priesthood, an order which, for many
ages, and in many climes, conjoined the cure of the body
with that of the soul.
The earliest notice of this art is from the ancient Greeks, Greeks,
who, it is probable, had derived their medical traditions
from the Egyptians. They considered medicine to be of
divine origin; and its first professors, as they inform us,
were no less personages than gods and sons of gods.
Medicine and surgery, at their origin, were conjoined;
and both continued to be practised indiscriminately, until
separated by the Arabian school. Their complete estrange¬
ment occurred, as we have already stated, about the middle
of the twelfth century. At first, surgery chiefly occupied
the attention of the ancient leech, as the more certain and
more obviously useful branch of his profession ; but ulti-
mately it became very secondary to medicine when dignified
by philosophy and priestcraft.
Chiron the Centaur, born in Thessaly, is presumed to Chiron,
have been the father of surgery, celebrated for skilfully ap¬
plying soothing herbs to wounds and bruises. But his fame
is somewhat endangered by that of ./Esculapius, the son of
Apollo, by some held to be the pupil of Chiron, by otheis,
his predecessor and superior. ^Esculapius is supposed toiEscu.
have been deified, on account of his skill, about fifty yeais d
before the Trojan war. His very existence however has
been questioned. Apollo was the original god of physic
among the early Greeks; but he appears to have r^lSn-
ed in favour of .Esculapius, whose temples became the de¬
positories of medical and surgical knowledge; more parti¬
cularly those of Epidaurus, Cnidos, Cos, and Pergamus.
Certain it is, according to the testimony of Celsus, thatPochl^
jEsculapius is the most ancient authority m surgery. nischaoni
immediate descendants, two sons, Podalinus and Macnaon, B c m
have been immortalized by Homer. I hey followe ga-
memnon to the Trojan war, and there their services were so
highly valued as to secure them a not unconspicuous niche
among the heroes of the Iliad. Of the two, Machaon seems
to have been the more distinguished. When he is woun e
by Paris, the whole army is represented as mterestec m
SURGERY. 82
•ger\. his recovery. Even the stern Achilles inquires anxious- human body must have been to them a profound mystery. Surgery.
' ly after “ the wounded offspring of the healing god and And, knowing that anatomy is, was, and ever must be, the '"“"-v'”'*-
the valiant Nestor, to whose care he is intrusted, is ex- foundation of true surgical knowledge, we cannot evade the
horted to unwonted exertion in his behalf; “ for a leech conviction that surgery, though occasionally successful and
who, like him, knows how to cut out darts, and relieve the honoured in ancient times, must have been nothing more
smarting of wounds by soothing unguents, is to armies more than a rude, imperfect, and uncertain art. The practice of
in value than many other heroes.” Podalirius enjoys the its professors seems to have been extremely limited, con-
distinction of being reputed the first of phlebotomists, and sisting of little more than the binding up of wounds, and the
probably the most successful, from his time to this; having staunching of haemorrhage by styptics and the cautery; the
opened a vein in either arm of the king of Caria’s daughter, extraction of darts and other missiles from the wounds which
who had been severely injured by a fall from the house-top, they had inflicted ; phlebotomy, both general and local;
having, after her recovery, been rewarded with the hand and cupping by scarification. Whether they practised the
of the fair princess, and having been presented by her mu- capital operations or not, we are not informed; but it is
nificent father with the Chersonese as her dowry. As to probable that their comparative ignorance of anatomy effec-
medicine, they seem to have been either ignorant, or in no tually deterred them from any extensive division of the soft
great i ^pute; for, on the breaking out of pestilence in the parts, as extremely hazardous and uncertain.
Grecian camp, Homer neglects them entirely, and applies Hippocrates, bom in the 80th Olympiad, upwards of 400 Hipppo-
at once to Apollo. And even their surgical attainments, years before the Christian era, did more for medicine and crates>
for which they are celebrated by him, seem to have ex- surgery than all who had preceded him ; and indeed few of13,0, 400*
tended no farther than to the simple extraction of darts and those who have succeeded him have been of equal service
other offensive weapons, the checking of haemorrhage by to the profession. He soon freed medicine in a great mea-
styptics oi pressure, and the application of lenitive salves, sure from the absurdities with which ignorance and super-
The poet takes notice of his warriors sustaining fracture stition had invested it; and through a long, honoured, and
of the bones; but in such emergencies he adopts the same glorious life he set a splendid example of persevering in¬
course as in the pestilence, and invokes the aid of the non- dustry, philosophical research, and high moral w’orth. His
professional deities; from which circumstance we may infer, fame soon raised the Coan school farabove its rivals. Though
that in those days surgery had made but little advancement, his anatomical knowledge seems little better than a blend-
A Files. For upwards of 600 years after the Trojan war, there are ing of ingenuity with error, yet he appears to have had some
scarcely any accounts of medicine and surgery. They seem indistinct notions of the circulation of the blood ; but Dr
to have remained strangely stationary during the whole of Pitcairne, in his “ Solutio Problematis de Inventoribus,”
that period. Their practice was confined to the Asclepia- has sufficiently evinced that he was very far from anticipat-
des, or reputed descendants of Aesculapius ; whose lore was ing the great discovery of Harvey. With all his deficiencies,
orally communicated from father to son in that family, until and notwithstanding all the disadvantages under which he*
they received an extraordinary impulse from the great Hip- laboured, so correct was his observation’ and so faithful his
pocrates, himself a branch of the family, and said to have chronicling of disease, that many of his descriptions maybe
been the fifteenth in lineal descent from the deified foun- fairly inserted in our modern nosologies. Though his atten¬
dee The Asclepiades, in the course of their monopoly, tion was chiefly directed towards the improvement and pro-
established three schools of medicine, at Rhodes, at Cnidos, motion of physic, now begirt with philosophy, and studied as
and at Cos. The last gave Hippocrates to the world, and a science, and though his practice was principally confined
thus attained a proud and enduring pre-eminence. to the treatment of internal disease, yet he was not wholly
P.ltgora?, Pythagoras was the first who brought philosophy to bear inattentive to surgery. And his practice seems to have been
1 wO. upon the practice of the healing art, and led the way in tolerably bold and decisive; for, in regard to external dis-
raising it to the dignity of a science. Democritus, the liappy ease, it was with him a maxim, that “ when medicine failed,
sage, likewise turned his attention to medicine as a branch recourse should be had to the knife, and when the knife was
of general philosophy, and pursued it zealously. He lived unsuccessful, to fire a substance of which all the ancient
in terms of friendship with Hippocrates, by whom he was doctors seem to have been particularly fond, from Prome-
held in great respect. By Pythagoras a school at Crotona theus downwards. Hippocrates employed it not only in a
was founded, about the time of Tarquinius Superbus, espous- variety of diseases, but in various forms. Sometimes he ap¬
ing doctrines somewhat different from those of Cos and plied red-hot irons to the part; sometimes he raised a con-
Ci cedes. Cnidos. It produced Damocedes, a contemporary of Py- flagration on it, and of it, by a piece of wood dipped in boil-
tnagoras, who seems to have practised in Athens, an ho- ing oil, or by burning a roil of flax after the manner of the
noured and successful surgeon. By Polycrates, king of modern moxa. He also made use of tents and issues, as
hamos, he was presented with two talents of gold for having more gentle means of counter-irritation. He seems to have
cured him of a troublesome distemper. He was afterwards performed the capital operations with boldness and success,
takei captive by the Persians. Their king, Darius, was excepting lithotomy, the practice of which appears to have
intrusted to his care for a dislocated ancle, as well as the been confined to a few who made it their exclusive study,
queen, Atossa, for a cancer of the breast; and he was soon He however recommends the removal of calculus, laro-e and
loaded wdth honour and wealth on account of his wonderful firmly lodged in the kidney, by incision; adding, probably in
cures, performed after the Egyptian physicians, previously apology for the daring of the procedure, that otherwise there
in attendance, had signally failed. are no hopes of a cure, and that the disease must prove fatal.
But we cannot suppose such men as Damocedes and the He reduced dislocations, and set fractures, but clumsily and
Asclepiades to have attained any great proficiency in sur- cruelly; extracted the foetus with forceps when necessary ;
gery ; lor the touch of a dead body was interdicted as a and both used and abused the trepan, employing it not only
profanation both by Jew and Greek, and consequently they in depression and other accidents of the cranium, but also
must have been almost entirely ignorant of anatomy. They in cases of headach, and other affections to which the ope-
may have understood something of the skeleton, from their ration w as inapplicable. In cases of empyema and hydro¬
practice amongst fractures and dislocations; and they may thorax, after ascertaining by percussion that fluid was pre-
have formed some general idea of the viscera, from re- sent in the cavity of the chest, he did not hesitate to make
searches in comparative anatomy, and from instruction by an incision betw-een the ribs; and having allowed part of
the Egyptians, whose practice in embalming afforded am- the fluid to escape, he placed a tent in the wound, and by
pier scope for observation. But the minute structure of the withdrawing it regularly once a day, the whole was ulti-
82^2
SURGERY
Surgery, mately evacuated. He seems to have been perfectly ac-
  ' (jnainted with tetanus and spontaneous gangrene ; observ¬
ing, that even minute wounds of tendinous parts, as the
fingers and toes, sometimes produce convulsions which ter¬
minate fatally ; and that black spots on the feet frequently
increase to extensive gangrene and incurable mortifications.
Some of his practices have been long and justly exploded,
some have been successfully continued, and others have,
after disuse, been revived as modern inventions. For ex¬
ample, his method of ascertaining the presence or absence
of fluid in the chest was by percussion, and applying the
ear to the part, thus anticipating the use of the modern ste¬
thoscope. One of his modes ot counter-irritation, we have
seen, was by burning flax on the part, as in the modern
moxa; and he strongly recommends the production of es¬
chars on the back and breast in the earlier stages of pul¬
monary disease, thus anticipating the supposed valuable
discoveries of a celebrated modern charlatan. His wntings
are elegant, and well repay a careful perusal. By them
he made posterity his debtor ; his contemporaries were not
insensible to his merits, and endeavoured to reward them
during his life. The inhabitants of Argos voted him a
statue5 of gold ; he was more than once crowned by the
Athenians, and, though a stranger, was initiated into the
most sacred mysteries of their religion, the highest distinc¬
tion which they could confer ; after his death, universal and
almost divine honours were paid to his memory ; temples
were erected to him, and his altars covered with offeiings.
We have already seen that surgery had long been station¬
ary before the time of Hippocrates ; and it made but little
advancement during many succeeding generations. The
Asclepiades had confined the knowledge of medicine among
themselves; Hippocrates, however, gave oral instructions
in anatomy and the art of healing, and thus disclosed
its mysteries to the world. But few of his disciples seem
to have profited much by his liberality. One ol them, his
kinsman Ctesias, we are told, acquired considerable renown
for his skill; and having been taken prisoner by Artaxerxes
Mnemon, in a battle fought against his brother Cyrus, was
successful in curing him of a severe wound, and thus obtain¬
ed favour with his captor. Plato began to flourish about this
time; but though he was connected with medicine, we can¬
not lay claim to him as eminent in surgery; and he was more
famous for his philosophy than his physic. Perhaps the most
distinguished in surgery, among the more immediate suc¬
cessors of Hippocrates, was Diodes Carystus. He devoted
more attention to anatomy than any of his predecessors, was
curious in bandaging wounds of the head, and invented the
bellulon, an instrument for extracting darts. Carrying his
surgery into the practice of medicine, he w^as not very happy
in the result; from observing that external wounds, abscesses,
and inflammations were attended with fever, he supposed that
general fever was uniformly occasioned by one or more ot
these causes operating internally. He followed Hippocrates
in practice, and, like him, cultivated his profession, “ not for
lucre or vain-glory, but from real love of the medical art,
and a pure spirit of humanity.” Praxagoras of Cos was the
last of the Asclepiades who succeeded in leaving a name be¬
hind him. As a surgeon he is reported to have been bold
in the extreme, incising the fauces freely, and excising por¬
tions of the soft palate, in bad cases of cynanche ; and mak¬
ing incisions into the bowels to remove obstructions, when
Aristotle, milder measures failed. Aristotle, the celebrated precep¬
tor of Alexander the Great, although not strictly in the
medical profession, was the promulgator of doctrines which
for a long time had a powerful effect on medicine. While
he followed out the general principles of the healing art, and
Ctesias.
Plato,
a. c. 370.
Diodes
Carystus.
Praxa¬
goras.
was curious in anatomical research, he seems to have dis- Surgery
dained to meddle with the practical details, and among the
rest those of surgery.
On the dismemberment of the vast empire of Macedo-Egypt,
nia after the death of Alexander the Great, learning took
up its chief abode at Alexandria, under the protection of
Ptolemy Soter. And here it was that popular prejudice b. c. 300„
first gave way, and permitted the examination of dead bo¬
dies, the greatest possible boon to the medical profession,
inasmuch as it removed what had hitherto been the most
serious obstacle to its advancement, ignorance of human
anatomy. Herophilus and Erasistratus, the two great heads Herophi’,
of the Egyptian medical school, were the first who had anfid Eraw
opportunity of practising human dissection, the bodies of r‘‘lUI‘-
criminals having been given to them for that purpose; and
they consequently not only corrected many errors, but
made numerous and important discoveries, in anatomy; thus
imparting a fresh stimulus, and affording a new and more
solid basis to both medicine and surgery. By some they
have been accused of carrying their enthusiasm in this in¬
quiry to such an extent as to ‘‘open the bodies of living
criminals for the furtherance of their physiological views;
but this is probably a mere exaggeration, originating in the
horror with which human dissection was at first regarded ;
a horror which unfortunately is not even in our day alto¬
gether extinguished, notwithstanding the recent legislative
enactments in favour of anatomical research. But we find
even these privileged men falling into most palpable mistakes;
for example, Herophilus plainly confounds the tendons and
ligaments with the nerves. l(et the fact that the names
winch he gave to many parts still remain in use, will of itself
remind posterity how much they are indebted to him for his
anatomical labours. He was likewise one of the greatest
surgeons of ancient times, and, as well as Erasistratus, ac¬
quired as much fame for brilliant cures as for anatomical
knowledge. The surgical practice of the latter was cha¬
racterized by peculiar boldness and decision, and strongly
marked with the failing of his time and school, a love of
multiplying and inventing murderous implements, and the
relentless use of them. “ In schirrosities and tumours of
the liver, he did not scruple to make an ample division of
the integuments, and try applications to that viscus itself.
He followed the same practice in diseases of the spleen,
which he regarded as of little consequence in the animal
economy.” And perhaps he was right in his supposition,
though not in h.is practice. In cases of retention of urine,
he made use of the particular catheter which long bore his
name. Xenophon of Cos, said to have been a follower oiXemm
Erasistratus, seems to have been among the first who ar¬
rested haemorrhage from a member, by encircling it tightly
with a ligature. Mantius, a pupil of Herophilus, wrote aMarun.l
treatise on surgical dressings, which he rendered compli-
cated in the extreme. Another, Andreas of Carystus, wrote Andrea,
on the union of fractured bones, and invented several pon¬
derous machines for reducing luxations of the femur. n
deed the surgeons of the Alexandrian school were all dis¬
tinguished bv the nicety and complexity of their dressings
and bandagings, of which they invented a great variety.
Among them, as in the time of Hippocrates, lithotomy
was practised by particular individuals, who devoted them¬
selves exclusively to that operation ; and we are told Ua
one of them, Ammonias, employed an instrument, by me
of which he broke down stones in the bladder, plainly anti¬
cipating Civiale, and furnishing a marked example to the pre¬
sent age of the truth of Solomon’s apophthegm, that the
is nothing new under the sun.”' It is not ™P">b,ab,«
some of their other practices might have afforded equa y
1 A curious illustration of this is given by Dr James Johnson, in the narrative of his to Iat Naples. The
which Mr Weiss of the Strand obtained so much repute a few years ago, ^ /. ^unfortunateW there Ja key to the similitude, which de¬
coincidence in such an ingenious contrivance would be absolutely miraculous, but unfortuna y 7
SURGERY.
Ury. striking examples of this sometimes unpalatable truth ; but
N r—' unfortunately the greater part of the writings of the Alex¬
andrian school perished in the conflagration of the famous
national library in the time of Julius Caesar; a calamity
fraught with immense loss to the healing art, as well as to
almost every other branch of knowledge,
jl . The arts and sciences followed the seat of empire in
its transfer to Europe under Julius Caesar, and Rome be¬
came the grand centre of intellectual illumination. Not¬
withstanding the shrewd sense displayed by the ancient
Romans in most matters, it is strange, yet true, that for
centuries all ranks of society, from the mere plebeian rabble
to the censor, had entertained an abhorrence of all practi¬
tioners of medicine and surgery, and trusted for cures to
spells and incantations. Indeed public edicts were issued,
“ discouraging all countenance to the professed exercise of
physic, and recommending faith in traditionary prescrip¬
tions and religious rites.” Cato the censor managed the
sick of his own family according to the terms of this edict,
and gravely wrote down the words of incantation for curing
dislocation or fracture. For nearly the first GOO years rtf
its existence, Rome, accordingly, had no regular practi-
Ai iga- tioner of medicine. The first we read of was Archagathus,
411 a Greek, from the Alexandrian school, who practised in
Rome, chiefly as a surgeon, during the consulates of Lu¬
cius iEmilius and Marcus Livius. At first his surgical skill
obtained for him no inconsiderable fame, but the ancient
prejudice soon revived in full vigour. An enraged populace
—perhaps not without some reason, for he seems to have
been particularly fond of the knife and cautery—com¬
pelled him not only to suspend his practice, but, changing
his original title of “ healer of wounds” to that of “ execu¬
tioner,” caused him to be banished from the Roman capi-
A^pi- tab Afterwards, however, a native of Bithynia, assuming
j the name of Asdepiades, established himself in tolerable
rn" repute by virtue of insinuating manners, shrewd common
sense, and the performance of several fortunate cures “ tu-
to, cito, et jucunde.” But with him we have little concern,
for his sagacity soon taught him that it was essential to his
welfare to avoid the unpopular practice of surgical opera¬
tions, and accordingly he confined himself entirely to the
apparently less hurtful administration of medicine. The
only important traces of his surgical practice are, that in
ascites he practised and recommended discharge of the ac¬
cumulated fluid by minute punctures of the abdominal pa-
rietes; and that for quinsy, which term probably compre¬
hended many of the various acute diseases of the throat
now known and distinguished, he not only employed bold
blood-letting, local and general, by the lancet and by cup¬
ping, but also had recourse to scarification of the fauces,
and even attempted laryngotomy. By novel and success-
. cures in his medical practice, and frequent indulgence
in skiltul quackery, he obtained great personal reputa¬
tion, and so far overcame popular prejudice as to establish
a tolerably fair field in Rome for future practitioners. He
was the contemporary of Caesar, and the personal friend of
ficero. i he latter is eloquent in his praise, and through
nm seems to have formed a high estimate of the medical
823
character. “ Nothing,’’says he, “ brings men nearer to the Surgery,
gods, than by giving health to their fellow-creatures.” It
would thus seem that, in his time at least, the ancient
grudge against the doctors had abated in Rome. Among
the disciples and immediate followers of Asclepiades was
Cassius, described as latro-Sophista, who left behind Kim Cassius,
several works on anatomical and surgical subjects. In one
of the latter he distinctly accounts for wounds on one side
of the head producing paralysis on the other, from the de¬
cussation of the nerves ; a tolerable proof that he was not
only a good anatomist for the time, but also an observant
practitioner.
Rome itself did not produce a single medical practitioner Celsus.
of any reputation before the age of Aulus Cornelius Celsus,
although he himself chooses to be complimentary to some
of his immediate predecessors, “ Tryphon, Euelpistus, and
Meges, the most learned of them all.” Celsus, the contem¬
porary of Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, likened to Hippocrates
for the quantity of his sound practical information, and to
Cicero for the elegance of his style, lived in the reigns of
Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero, in the beginning of
the first century of Christianity, upwards of 150 years be¬
fore Galen.1 In his celebrated medical work, he places great
reliance on Hippocrates and Asclepiades, more particularly
the latter, and gives a complete and excellent digest of all
the true medical and surgical knowledge of his times, al¬
though it is not certain that he himself either practised
medicine or operated in surgery. “ Of his surgical opera¬
tions and remarks, many are yet far from being obsolete,
and impress us with a high idea of his ingenuity and judg¬
ment. His mode of performing lithotomy (on the grips)
has been in recent times warmly defended by Heister, es¬
pecially as applicable to children. He describes the ope¬
ration for cataract by depression, and the method of form-
ing an artificial pupil. I he whole of his account of inju¬
ries of the head is admirable, and evinces wonderful tact
and discrimination. His rules for distinguishing fracture,
and for the application of the trepan, have been highly
eulogized ; nor is what he says about contrecoups less°ac¬
curate. He is the first who has remarked that there may
be rupture of a vessel within the cranium without fracture
or depression.” And he is the first who recommended the
application of ligatures to a wounded artery, with the view
of arresting its haemorrhage, after pressure has failed. He
improved amputation, an operation then not much in use;
and recommended its adoption in cases of gangrene from
external causes. He is minute in his details as to the treat¬
ment of fracture and dislocation ; his description of car¬
buncle is good, and its treatment similar to that now pur¬
sued, namely, free application of the strongest escharotics
to the gangrened part. He describes several species of
hernia, and gives directions for their reduction. “ It would
be endless however to particularise. Whoever wishes to
know the exact state of surgical knowledge in the world at
the time of the Caesars, may turn to the pages of Celsus,
with the hopes of a gratification which will not be disap¬
pointed.”2 1
Aretaeus, born in Cappadocia, practised in Rome, proba-
anTllsedlrotf ^ huTwn “w' ' A Ii'renchm,an memory, and with some awkward deviations, the Pompeian Speculum^
eovcrits m-iv nr! vmi — * ,,rapro,ved upon di* Frenchman, and hit upon the exact construction of the original! Many modern tiis-
coveries may probably have originated m the same way.” b *
CorneliWVK by Joaniles J1<-hodius ^ subjoined to the second edition of a work of that learned Dane, entitled “De Acia Dissertatio ad
to “ jI £ 5 rt™' qU ■ -'“a1 UTerSa ^m!a“ rati0 «PlicatT” 1G72’ 4to- We must likewise refer our philologicaVreSers
v ; ; B pt t* Mo.rgagm m Aur. Corn. Celsum et Q. Ser. Samomcum Epistola;, in quibus de utriusque Auctoris variis Edkionibus Li¬
bra quoque manuseriptis, et Commentatoribus disseritu,” TW-fW i 7‘M ^ vL _ of Celsus appears t^have Cn Sit,
■rnesti.
Eric A . ° . ^ AjjJiaiUicC, Jli tJlilDUS Qe UtriU
oris quoque manuseriptis, et Commentatoribus disseritur.” Hagte-Com. 1724, 4to. The preenomen o
an« is a “nomen gentile.” See Fabricii Bibliotheca Latina, tom. ii. p. 37. edit. E
ereTtes an interesting anecdote of Hippocrates, illustrative of his abuse of the trepan. “ Knowing and skilful as he was he once
the I > f a- ’• !• ™as a.ctlng llke a truiy great man : little gemuSes, conscious to themselves that they have nothing to snare cannot bear
ou CHS 1 ’“nnutiqn of their prerogative, nor suffer themselves to depart from any opinion which they have embraced how false’and nernici-
uvsein generation ^ * posterity to read the truth : a moral which cannot be too often forced upon the attention of the
SURGERY.
Aretneus,
a.d. 50-80.
Heliodo-
rus.
Antyllus.
Rufus, A.D
96-117.
Archi-
genes.
Galen,
a.d. 131.
bly about the time of Domitian. He was the first who made
use of blisters, using cantharides for that purpose. Dissec¬
tion in his time was prohibited under the severest penalties:
his anatomical knowledge was therefore neither profound
nor exact; “ nevertheless he had the sound penetration to
regard anatomy as the only legitimate basis on which either
medical or surgical science could rest.” Heliodorus, the ce¬
lebrated physician of the emperor 1 rajan, has left some ex¬
cellent observations on injuries of the head ; and Antyllus,
almost a contemporary, was a zealous and successful surgeon.
He boldly recommends bronchotomy in cases of threatened
suffocation induced by disease of the throat; and, in inflam¬
matory affections of emergency, advises arteriotomy in pre¬
ference to venesection, showing that excessive loss of blood
thereby need not be dreaded, it being readily prevented by
dividing the artery completely across. He also alludes to
the operation for cataract by extraction, which he however
recommends very cautiously, and only when the cataiact
is small. He obtained the radical cure of hydrocele by free
incision of the parts. Rufus the Ephesian, who seems also
to have lived in the time of Trajan, was a zealous anato¬
mist and surgeon, and has left a treatise on diseases of the
kidneys and bladder. About the commencement of the
second century, Archigenes the Syrian settled in Rome, and
distinguished himself both in medicine and surgery. His
writings, which wrere chiefly confined to the latter subject,
are unfortunately lost. Between Celsus and Galen, how¬
ever, we meet wdth no great Roman writer on medicine or
surgery. These were among the last of the liberal arts that
were encouraged by the Romans ; and the proud patricians
refusing to educate any of their family to such a profession,
the medical practitioners of Rome were at first importa¬
tions from Greece and Alexandria, and afterwards self-edu¬
cated slaves and freedmen.1
Claudius Galenus was born at Pergamus, in Asia Minor,
in the 131st year of the Christian era. After studying at
Smyrna and Corinth, he completed his medical education
at Alexandria, and ultimately settled in Rome, where he
soon obtained a great reputation, both as a successful prac¬
titioner, and as a public lecturer on anatomy. Professional
jealousy of his talents, howrever, drove him from Rome, to
which he did not return until recalled by Marcus Aurelius.
Shortly afterwards he was appointed physician to the young
emperor Commodus, with whom, as well as with the pub¬
lic, he rose to great favour. A man of great erudition, bril¬
liant genius, and indomitable industry, he produced works
which exerted a most powerful and extensive influence oyer
medical practice. He has the merit of rescuing medical in¬
quiry from the chaos in which he found it, and restoring it to
the paths of light and nature. His fame indeed wras so great
as to prove, in one sense, detrimental to the advancement
of the medical profession, inasmuch as his opinions were re¬
ceived as oracular in the schools of all the civilized coun¬
tries for no less a period than 1300 years, thus seriously re¬
tarding further investigation. His works were both nume¬
rous and elaborate; but unfortunately he seems to have been
debarred from the study of the groundwork of his profes¬
sion, human anatomy, flis dissections appear to have been
limited to the simiae and other mammiferous animals, as
most resembling the human structure, though on one occa¬
sion “ he felicitates himself on the opportunities he had en- Surg
joyed of examining two skeletons preserved in Alexandria,
and recommends all anxious to obtain a thorough know¬
ledge of osteology to repair to that city.” In his early years,
he practised surgery at Pergamus with marked success;
but in Rome he seems to have confined himself almost en¬
tirely to medicine, excepting the occasional performance of
phlebotomy: probably the valorous Romans had not yet
lost their hatred and dread of the terrible operations of
surgery. Like others, however, he was still so much of a
general practitioner, as to practise pharmacy as well as me¬
dicine, with a little of surgery; and he himself informs us,
that he had a drug-shop in the Via Sacra. “ He establish¬
ed two general principles as the basis of all surgery—syn¬
thesis, or the reunion of parts—diaeresis, or their complete
division, as by amputation or extirpation. In four cases he
detected luxation of the femur backwards, a variety not
mentioned by Hippocrates; and records two instances of
spontaneous luxation of the same bone. He also treats of
more than one species of hernia. But although in his writ¬
ings we meet with a few bold chirurgical attempts, as in
the application of the trepan to the sternum in a case of
empyema, yet it must be confessed that by far the greatest
part of his surgery seems to have been confined to fomen¬
tations, ointments, and plasters, for external affections, to¬
gether with the art of bandaging, a love for which he ne¬
cessarily acquired at the Alexandrian schools ; and the
employment of complicated machinery in fracture and dis¬
locations.” His researches were not limited to medical
science, but comprehended literature and philosophy.2
The early Christians unfortunately appear to have in¬
jured medicine and surgery, by attributing to martyrs and
their relics the power of healing wounds and curing dis¬
eases ; “ acknowledging the active interference of demons ' j
and blessed spirits in the affairs of men, and leaving true
philosophy in total abandonment.” A Cimmerian gloom
was then fast overspreading the world, by which science
and art w'ere destined to be long obscured; and short¬
ly after the time of Galen, we accordingly find the medi¬
cal along with the other sciences encompassed by the dark
clouds of ignorance and barbarism. One or two names
howrever occur worthy of notice, but more from having
preserved than advanced medical knowledge. Oribasius, aQ^ J
pupil of Zeno, lived in the time of the emperor Julian, whose A d. d
friendship he enjoyed, and became a celebrated practition¬
er, as well as of great importance in the state. His works
are principally compilations, though judicious and useful.
His surgery is marked with timidity, discouraging opera¬
tions, except in most extreme cases, and is chiefly confined
to unguents and embrocations. He abstracted blood locally,
by making deep and extensive scarifications, or rather in¬
cisions, with the knife ; a proceeding somewhat resembling
the important modern improvement in the treatment of
erysipelas, but adopted under different circumstances, and
with other objects in view.
During the fifth century the west was repeatedly invaded
by the Huns, Goths, Alans, and Lombards. Science greatly
suffered in consequence ; and no name worthy of remem-
brance is to be found, until, nearly two centuries after On-A D 5,
basius, appeared Aetius, a native of Amida, and a pupil of the 550.
1 On this subject, a remarkable controversy took place in England during the earlier part of last ce"^ry- “C“cxxm.^Adjecta et-t
“ Oratio Anniversaria Harveiana, in Theatro R Medieorum Lond.nensmm Collegn habita, ad fet” XV^bv a publication of
Dissertatio de Nummis quibusdam a Smymaeis in Medicorum honorem percussis. Lend. 1724, 4to. 11ns was A,m Sponium
Dr Middleton, “ De Medicorum apud veteres Romanos degentium CondUione Dissertatio ; qua, Ur Ward of Gresham
et Richardum Meadium, servilem atque ignobilem earn fuisse ostenditur. Cantab. 1126, 4to. . in the course of the
College published an answer in 1727 : Middleton published the first part of a defence in 1728, and Ward
same year, his antagonist prepared a second part, of which Dr Heberden printed a few eojiies in 7 , e rum Graecorum Opera qu®
2 Here we must refer our classical readers to a most important collection published under the title 0 , • • • |>ubiiCUs Ordi-
exstant Editionem curavit D. Carolus Gottlob Kuhn, Professor Physiologic et Pathology in Literarum Hip*
narius ” Lipske, 1821-250, 26 tom. 8vo. Three of the volumes are each divided into two parts. This collection includes tne
pocrates, Aretmus, Dioscorides, and Galen. Dioscorides was edited by Sprengel, and the other writers by Kuhn.
SURGERY.
825
A a rider,
a I
Pal s
iE jta,
se' ::h
ceJty.
Alexandrian school. “ His surgical writings are copious
and valuable. His opinions were guided by experience,
and his methods of management and cure are characterised
by much caution and discrimination. We find a variety of
surgical queries and suggestions which had escaped Celsus
and Galen, as well as the description of several diseases
which have been omitted by Paulus iEgineta. He recom¬
mended and practised scarification of the legs in anasarca,
and made free use of both the actual and potential caute¬
ries ; he cut out haemorrhoidal tumours; operated for aneu¬
rism ; tried to dissolve urinary calculi by the administration
of internal remedies ; and has given a series of interesting
chapters on inflammation of the intestines followed by ab¬
scess, on encysted tumours, on the varieties of hernia, on
diseases of the testicle and castration, on the pricks of the
nerves and tendons, and in fact on almost every important
branch of surgical knowledge. If, mixed up with these, we
find some things which the matured experience of ages has
abolished, it is less to be marvelled at, than that surgery
was already enriched with so many valuable facts and ob¬
servations.” He makes no reference to the reduction of
fractures and dislocations, whence it has been plausibly
inferred, “ that in all likelihood quacks were at that time
in complete possession of this branch of practice. Better
were it for society that it was quite out of their hands now !”
He seems to have been the first to open up a field of me¬
dical inquiry, which has since been so successfully culti¬
vated,—the nature and composition of urinary calculi. Pie
appears also to have turned much of his attention to dis¬
eases of the eye, and is the first who speaks of the dracun-
culus or Guinea-worm. Alexander of Trallis, a famous
physician in the time of Justinian, about the middle of the
sixth century, was an author of more originality than either
Oribasius or Aetius. He wrote on diseases of the eye, and
on fractures; but both treatises have been lost, which is
the more to be regretted, as, with this exception, he con¬
fined himself entirely to internal disease. The celebrated
Paulus Algineta, also of the Alexandrian school, lived about
the middle of the seventh century, and made both large
and valuable contributions to surgery. He frequently per¬
formed the operations which he describes, £nd abandoned
the labours of the mere theorist, for the more valuable re¬
sults of practical observation and experience. “ His sixth
book has been considered by many, and not without rea¬
son, as the best body of surgical knowledge, previous to the
revival of letters.” He recommended bleeding from the
immediate neighbourhood of the part affected, in prefer¬
ence to general blood-letting, because more effectual; and,
for the like reason, opened the temporal artery in cases of
very severe ophthalmia. He had recourse to copious ve¬
nesection, with the view of accelerating painful descent of
calculus in the ureter. He opened internal abscesses by
caustics, and defined the points at which he thought it
advisable to perform paracentesis in the different alleged
species of ascites. In lithotomy, having first endeavoured
to ascertain the situation of the calculus by the rectum, he
made his incision, not in the centre of the perineum, as re¬
commended by Celsus, but to one side of the raphe, as is
now practised. Of the impropriety of extensive incision of
the bladder he seems to have been well aware, directing
that the external wound should be much freer than the in¬
ternal, and that the latter should be in extent merely suf¬
ficient to admit of the passage of the stone. While Celsus
limited the operation to patients between nine and fourteen
years of age, he sanctions its performance after the age of Surgerj.
puberty, but admits that the chances of success increase
with the youth of the patient. He described more than
one variety of aneurism, pointing out those cases in which
he thought it advisable to attempt a cure by operation ;
and extended this to the aneurisms of the head and joints,
excepting only those of the groin, arm-pit, and neck, in¬
stead of confining it to the tumours of the arm alone, as
had been done by Aetius. All aneurisms, excepting aneu¬
rism by anastomosis, which he dearly and accurately dis¬
tinguished, he conceived to originate in rupture of the
coats of the artery. He performed extirpation of the mam¬
ma by crucial incision, and practised both laryngotomy and
tracheotomy. He is the first wTho seems to have performed
the latter operation as a means of carrying on respiration
during occlusion of the larynx, but naturally enough falls
into the error of transverse instead of longitudinal incision.
He describes different species of hernia, and did not hesi¬
tate to operate w'hen the tumour became strangulated. He
is also the first who treats of fracture of the patella. He
was pre-eminent as an accoucheur, and wTas the originator
of the obstetric operation of embryotomy.1 From the time Actuarius.
of Paulus, we find no Greek or Roman surgeon of note,
until the appearance of Actuarius, a Greek, who practised
with great distinction at Constantinople, probably about the
beginning of the twelfth century, but at what exact period
it is impossible to ascertain. Among his writings are
found several surgical treatises, which however possess no
greater merit than as compilations from previous authors.2
Having thus traced surgery from its origin, through the Arabia.
Egyptian, Greek, and Roman dynasties, we come to notice^11,
the prolongation of its feeble existence in Arabia.1 From
Alexandria, captured by the Saracens under Amrou in 640,
knowledge was gradually communicated to Arabia. Its people
became acquainted with medicine through the medium of
translations of the Greek authors; and the “ seat of learn¬
ing was transferred, for a time, from beneath the shadow of
the cross to the empire of the crescent; from the classic
shores of Italy and Greece, to the warlike followers of Ma¬
homet, and the fiery descendants of Ishmael.” Many va¬
luable manuscripts, rescued from the savage destruction of
the Alexandrian library, were carefully transcribed, or trans¬
lated into the Syriac or Arabic languages, and dispersed in
various directions. The first Arabic translation was made
about the year 683, by Maserjawaihus, a native of Syria;
but the most eminent in this labour was Honain, called, by
way of eminence, “ the translator,” a Christian, born at Hira
in 764. 1 owards the end of the eighth century, a college
wras founded at Bagdat by the Caliph Almanzor; and there
medicine obtained a permanent footing, under the fostering
care of the far-famed Caliph Haroun al Raschid. Public
hospitals and laboratories were founded by him for the
benefit of students, who are said to have amounted at one
time to no fewer than six thousand, consisting chiefly of
Christians banished on account of their religion ; and the
Caliph Almamon surpassed even his predecessors in muni¬
ficent patronage, extended to every department of art and
science, and in unwearied exertions to restore and propa¬
gate the various branches of learning. By supplication he
prevailed upon the Grecian emperors to send him many
works in philosophy; and, employing the best interpreters
that he could find, ordered all these books to be translated,
and encouraged the industrious study of them by his own
personal example. The medical school at Jondisabour, the
1 Mr Francis Adams, a very erudite surgeon practising in the vicinity of Aberdeen, has published the first volume of “ The Medical Works
5 M
82f>
Surgery.
SURGERY.
Ithaz^.
a d. 852-
932.
Hally Ab¬
bas.
a.d. 980.
Avicenna.
a t). 960-
1030.
capital of Chorassan, established by Sapores the First as
early as the end of the third century, had by this time risen
to great celebrity; and from it Rhazes, Hally Abbas, and
Avicenna derived their medical education. Mesue lived
during the caliphate of Haroun al Raschid, in the end ot
the eighth century, and Serapion during that of Almamon,
about a century later; both eminent medical men in their
time, but both pure physicians. The first Arabian worthy
in the surgical department was the celebrated Rhazes, who
presided over an hospital at Bagdat in the end of the ninth
and beginning of the tenth centuries. His works are not
remarkable for anatomical knowledge, which is not surpris¬
ing, since the study of anatomy was strictly forbidden by
the Mahommedan religion, and consequently the Arabians
had to rest contented with the writings of the Greeks
on that subject. 44 One of their religious prejudices against
dissection was, that the soul did not instantly forsake the
body, but lingered in some particular portion of it for some
time after apparent dissolution, so that the dismemberment
of it might be a species of hideous martyrdoma very
sufficient reason why a professor of such a belief should
strenuously object to the anatomization ot himself and his
friends. Rhazes is the first who has described spina ven-
tosa and spina bifida. Of the real nature of the latter, how¬
ever, he does not seem to have had any clear idea. Re¬
garding cancer, he advised that the knife should never be
used except when the disease wras limited, and the whole
tumour could be completely removed; condemning the op¬
posite procedure as cruel and unavailing; an opinion which
after-experience has shown to be most just and true. In
bites from rabid animals, he first cauterized the wounds,
jtnd then prescribed emetics to expel the 44 black bile an
evacuation considered most essential to the cure. His ac¬
count of hernia is better than any to be'found in the Greek
writers. His works on surgery, however, are little more
than compilations from Hippocrates, Oribasius, Aetius, and
Paulus. His confidence in oculism does not seem to have
been great; for, having in his old age become blind from
cataract, he could not, though urged, be prevailed upon to
undergo an operation for its removal. In his time lithoto¬
my, and some other operations, seem to have been entirely
in the hands of juggling impostors. Hally Abbas, surnamed
the Magician, on account of the extent of his knowledge
and acquirements, lived in the end of the tenth century.
His great work, the Al-meleky, written about the year
980, is, in its anatomical and physiological department, a
mere transcript from the Greeks; and his surgery possesses
but few peculiarities. 44 From the idea that caustics were
efficacious when a redundancy of the humours flowed to a
particular part, he recommended their application for the
cure of hydrocele. In the management of dropsical affec¬
tions his attention was always directed to the remote causes;
and he preferred puncturing in the linea alba, a little below
the umbilicus, for the relief of ascites.” Avicenna, who
divides with Rhazes the honour of having first introduced
chemistry into physic, flourished later than the two preced¬
ing Arabians. Fie was termed, in his day, the Prince of
Physicians, and seems to have been regarded as almost
miraculous for the extent and variety of his knowledge.
He was born in 980, and died in 1036, without a rival, either
in the medical profession, or in general science. In his
great medical work, the Canon, the surgical department
is not altogether forgotten, but holds a second place to phy¬
sic ; indeed, before the appearance of Albucasis, surgery
seems to have been all but extinct amongst the Arabians.
He has distinguished between closure of the pupil and ca¬
taract, and in operating for the latter recommends depres¬
sion ; extraction he considers a very dangerous experiment.
It is probable that to him we owe the first use of the flexi¬
ble catheter. His works are said to have remained the ora¬
cles of medical knowledge for nearly six hundred years.
Albucasis, who died in 1122, exerted himself more than his Surgen
predecessors in behalf of surgery, which, by his own ac-s—v-v
count, he found in a most deplorable condition; and he ia^uca®
chiefly distinguished as a surgical writer. Cauteries and cans-A‘D‘ 11‘-
tics seem to have been his favourite remedies; and he becomes
enraptured when speaking of the “divine and secret virtues”
of fire surgically employed. The actual cautery he looked
upon with veneration, and describes more than fifty affec¬
tions in which his experience had found it beneficial. He
is minute in his directions for its application, and forbids its
use, 44 except by persons acquainted with the anatomy of the
frame, and the position of the nerves, tendons, veins, and
arteries from which latter circumstance some idea may be
formed of the extent to which he himself was in the habit
of roasting his unfortunate patients. He checked arterial
haemorrhage by his favourite method of cauterization, but
also employed styptics, as well as complete division of the
vessel, and ligature. Fie is supposed to have been the first
to remark, that it is by the formation of a coagulum in the
orifice of an artery that its calibre is closed and haemorrhage
arrested. He has described a particular instrument of his
own for the cure of fistula lachrymalis, and the needle used
by the surgeons of Irak for cataract. He speaks of operat¬
ing for the relief of hydrocephalus, but the success of the
practice does not seem to have been greater then than in its
revival in our own time; for he confesses that he knew of but
one successful case, and therefore does not recommend the
operation. He seems to have been conversant with the mode
of removing tumours by ligature when the knife is inex¬
pedient ; he advises amputation in gangrene of the extre¬
mities ; and is the first who has described the mode of ex¬
tracting calculus by incision in the female. His method of
lithotomy resembled that practised by Paulus iEgineta;
and, like him, he seems to have been bold in puncturing
and excising the tonsils, removing the uvula when obsti¬
nately relaxed, and extracting polypous tumours from the
fauces. He mentions bronchocele as occurring most fre¬
quently among ummen; but, fond of the knife and cautery
as he was, he does not seem to have employed either for
the removal of that tumour; indeed he tells us of 44 an
ignorant operator who,” in attempting extirpation of a bron¬
chocele, 44 by wounding the arteries of the neck, killed the
patient upon the spot.” He invented the probang, for dis¬
lodging foreign bodies from the gullet; and in wounds ot
the intestines practised union of the divided parts by suture
more than once with success. Though thus bold in his
operations, and, like ail the Arabians, too fond ot the
employment of instruments, he was not however without
judgment and caution. For example, he condemns tra¬
cheotomy as worse than useless when the inflammatory
affection of the windpipe is acute, and has extended to the
bronchi; an opinion which is acknowledged as true, though
unfortunately not always followed in the present day. And
he exceeds even Rhazes in his dislike to operative inter¬
ference with cancerous tumours, declaring that he never
either cured, or saw cured, a single instance of that disease;
a conclusion too nearly consistent with the history of that
most implacable malady in all succeeding ages. His re¬
marks on abscesses are most judicious; directing particular
attention to their situation, and recommending their being
early opened, whether “matured” or not, when in the neigh-
bourhood of joints or other important parts, which would
be injured by their continuance; a rule of practice which,
if more faithfully followed, would materially diminish the
number of diseased joints and bones. Fie also advised w nat
lias since been so much insisted on by Mr Abernethy, that
when the abscess is very large, its contents should be eva¬
cuated by degrees. Fie is the only one among the anci¬
ent writers on surgery who has described the instruments
used in each particular operation. Avenzoar, a Spanish Avcrzo31
Arab, practised physic with distinction, about the beginning
SURGERY.
827
g'ry. of the twelfth century, at Seville in Andalusia. He describes
inflammation and abscess of the mediastinum, from which
he had himself suffered; and mentions a case of abscess of
the kidney, from which fourteen pints of matter were eva¬
cuated. He speaks of bronchotomy as expedient in dan¬
gerous cases of inflammation of the tonsils: and in stricture
of the gullet proposes three modes of treatment; the occa¬
sional passage of a tin or silver tube ; the use of a milk bath,
that nutritious particles may be taken up by the pores on
the skin; and the injection of nutritious fluids by the rec¬
tum. He also details cases of “ rupture, fracture of the hip¬
bone, wounds of the arteries and veins, tumours, and other
varieties of surgical disease, which lie appears to have un¬
derstood well, and treated with discretion.” He does not
complain, like Rhazes, that lithotomy was in the hands of
mountebanks, but tells us that the Arabians then reckon¬
ed such operations “ filthy and abominable, and unfit for
any man of character to performand held that “ no reli¬
gious man, according to the law, ought so much as to view
■rrlioes, the genitals.” The brightest name in the history of Ara-
1.1206. philosophy is that of Averrhoes, the pupil of Avenzoar,
born at Cordova about the middle of the twelfth century,
and said to have died in the year 1206. But he cultivated
the study of medicine only as a branch of general phnoso-
phv> and surgery he seems to have altogether neglected.
Such wertTthe Arabians. Of these, Albucasis was the
most famous in surgery, as Celsus had been among the
Romans, and Paulus iEg'meta among the Greeks, but
even he could not escape the unfortunate fading of the
Saracenic school; endless invention of manifold and com¬
plicated instruments, attaching far too much importance
to the mechanical part of their profession, and mistaking
the inspiration of terror and infliction of cruelty for ener¬
getic and judicious surgery. In order, for example, to
arrest hremorrhage from a wounded surface, if time piessed
and assistants were scarce, it was not uncommon to cap
the part into boiling pitch, a liquid which was then digni¬
fied with the appellation of a styptic. They however sys¬
tematically divided physic, surgery, and pharmacy into
three distinct professions; and so, by commencing the
division of labour, may be considered as having done
something not unimportant towards the ultimate advance¬
ment of medical knowledge. “ The last traces of their
intellectual illumination appeared among the Spanish Moors
in the thirteenth century, when the Christian arms having
become more and more powerful, they were compelled to
substitute the field for the study—the sword for the Pen~
and, before an overwhelming opposition, were at length
driven from a region whose fields they had tilled, and whose
olives they had gathered, for a thousand years. W ith the
decline of the Saracenic school, the daylight of science went
down over the nations ; and an intellectual darkness, whic |
endured for three hundred years, enveloped the general
face of society. All the fountains of science were diied up,
and the world seemed retrograding into the unillummed
chaos of ignorance.”1
ool of a knowledge of the Greek and Arabian systems ot rne-
'rno> dicine was introduced into Italy, at Salerno, in the begin¬
ning of the eleventh century; and this school soon rose to Surgery. ^
celebrity as a seat of medical learning. In the time of the''’ v
Crusades, Salerno was a place of great resort for warriors
of all nations passing between Europe and Palestine; and
bv these wanderers, on their return, the light of medical
science was thence slowly conveyed over Europe. It ob¬
tained the privileges of a university ; but the medical school
of Salerno did not long retain its high reputation. In mo¬
dern times, it is chiefly remembered on account ot thc^
Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum, a singular production, of
which more than one hundred and sixty editions are known
to have been published. Though written in the name of
the Schola Salernitana, it has generally been ascribed to
Joannes de Milano. The English king to whom it is
addressed is supposed to have been Robert of Normandy,
whose claims to the English crown were recognised by
some of his contemporaries. The poem opens with these
lines:
Anglorum Regi scripsit Schola tota Salerni.
Si vis incolumem, si vis te reddere sanum,
Curas tolle graves, irasci crede profanum.
Farce inero, ccenato parum, non sit tibi yanum
Surgere post epulas, soinnum fuge meridianum,
hlon inictum retine, nee comprime fortiter anum.*
In the twelfth century, the Jews practised medicine, not
only among their own tribes, but also among the Moors and
Christians ; and though, like all others of this age, merely
treading in the beaten track of the Greeks and Arabians,
yet, from their superiority in such learning, they came to be
reputed the most skilful practitioners. About the middle
of that century, as has already been stated, surgery was
completely separated from physic, by the edict ot the
Council of Tours prohibiting the clergy,3 who then shared
with the Jews the practice of the healing art in Christian
Europe, from in any way causing the effusion of blood, at
least as a means of curing bodily ailment. Surgery was
in consequence abandoned to the uneducated laity, and
sunk to a deplorable state of prostration ; it became a
mere matter of plasters and unguents; and if any thing
happened to be written on the subject, it was but a bad
compilation from the Arabians.4 We shall however notice
some of the more remarkable events in connection with
it during its temporary abasement. In the year 1271, theA. d. 1271.
foundation of the College of Surgeons at Paris was laid
by Pitard, a surgeon of eminence in those days, and whose
enthusiasm effected something towards raising his humbled
profession. About the same time lived Gulielmus de Sa-
liceto, a professor at Verona, said to have been “ a power¬
ful man” in both surgery and medicine. He seems to have
earnestly dissuaded men from the copying and study of
books in preference to practical experience, and he himself
set a better example. In our own country Gilbertus Angli-
canus is the first name connected with surgery; but he
seems to have been little more than a compiler from the
Arabians. He lived about the beginning of the fourteenth Fourteenth
century ; and shortly after him appeared John of Gaddes-century,
den, author of the Rosa Anglica, and said to have been
an erudite and ingenious man, as well as a skilful practi-
• Moir’s Outlines of the Ancient History of Medicine. Edinb. 1831, 16to. Of this work we have not scrupled to make free use in the
course of the preceding observations. Preservation of Health, in rhyming Latin verse, addressed by the School of Salerno to
JC introduction and note. * Sir AWandcr Crokc,
D.C.L. and F.A.S. Oxford, 1830, iLmo. ,. . their peculiar privilege, and, using it chiefly as a means of personal power and
The early clergy c aime eWlatanrv and imposture It was to check this that the Roman council assembled by Pope Innocent
gain, disgraced it by ignorance, charlatanry, a P, 1 and canons who applied to the practice of medicine, “ neglecting the
II. in 1139, threatened >vtth the severest P« » health ^exchange for ungodly lucre.” But even this, though
sacred objects of their own profession, and holdn g m presidedj did not make them altogether forego what they
found so c^veniTnTand "profita^fe. It was necessary to Repeat the edict in 1179 and 1216; but notwithstanding, the monks continued still
to practise physic, and it was chiefly by their evil influence that the school of Salerno was brought to decay.
4 The writers of that age were aptly termed by Severinus, Arabistae.
828 SURGE R Y.
Surgery, tioner. About the middle of the fourteenth century, Guy
de Chauliac practised with renown at Avignon, and is
“ accounted one of the revivers of the languishing art.”
In his Chirurgia, a history of the state of surgery in his
day,1 we find the first mention of the Caesarean operation.
Contemporary with him was John of Ardern, an English
surgeon. He wrote with simplicity and honesty, and may
be regarded as a reviver of surgery in that country. In
his practice he was peculiarly successful in the treatment
of fistula in ano, and thereby acquired a great reputation.
Valesco de Taranta, a Portuguese, practised at Montpel¬
lier, and wrote on surgery in the beginning of the fifteenth
century. He was the first who proposed the cure of can¬
cer by the application of arsenic. About the middle of
the same century, lithotomy, the practice of which had
hitherto been confined to itinerant and ill-informed opera¬
tors, was restored to the regular profession by Germain
Colot, a French surgeon, high in favour with Louis the
Eleventh. He first contrived to witness the operation by
the itinerants, then practised it on the dead body, and at
last performed it successfully on a condemned criminal
who happened to be afflicted with stone, and who con¬
sented to undergo the operation on condition of being par¬
doned if he survived. His success, in having thus doubly
saved life, obtained for Colot much renown ; and litho¬
tomy ever after continued a regular part of surgical prac¬
tice.2 The fifteenth century contains other two events im-
2450. portant to surgery ; the discovery of the art of printing, about
the year 1450, which gave a new impulse to science and lite¬
rature, by rendering the accumulated stores of knowledge
more accessible ; and the importation of the venereal disease
from America, by the first discoverers of that continent, giv¬
ing the small pox as if in exchange, about the year 1492.3 In
this century also the Turks captured Constantinople, thus
overthrowing the last remains of the eastern empire ; and
by the multitude of Christians who fled from that city many
manuscripts of the Greek medical writers were brought
to Italy, and their contents thence slowly disseminated over
Europe.
Hitherto surgery can scarcely lay claim to an actual revival.
Occasional attempts had been made to raise it from its low
Sixteenth position, but all proved abortive. At length, however, in
century, the beginning of the sixteenth century, the practitioners of
the healing art were happily convinced that the observa¬
tion of nature was superior to compilation from the an¬
cients, whether Arabian, Roman, or Greek ; they conse¬
quently ceased to tread blindly and servilely in the foot¬
steps of their predecessors, and a new era arose to the
1539. profession. About the same time Vesalius gave birth to
anatomy, properly so called ;4 illuminated by which science,
surgery became a worthy object of pursuit to men of
talents and education, and under their cultivation it was
gradually raised to an enlightened and liberal profession.
The most conspicuous name in this new era of surgery is Surge™
that of Ambrose Pare, a Frenchman. In this country siir- “'-v-v
gery was then sadly depressed, having retrograded since the A- Pani-
time of John of Ardern. Its list of practitioners comprised
barbers, farriers, sow-gelders, cobblers, and tinkers; and it
is not matter of surprise that from among these no name has
been handed down as worthy of remembrance. The com¬
bination of the practice of surgery with the more harmless
manipulations of the barber, w'as not confined however to
this island, but existed also in France, and continued in
both countries for upwards of 200 years. The great Pare
does not reject the appellation of barber-surgeon, as ap¬
plied to himself; nor does he seem to think that there is
any thing derogatory in the title. He was surgeon suc¬
cessively to Henry the Second, Francis the Second,
Charles the Ninth, and Henry the Third, of France; and
followed the French armies in all their campaigns down to
the battle of Moncontour in 1569. His consequent expe¬
rience of gunshot and other wounds, on the field of battle,
naturally directed his attention to the subject of hemor¬
rhage ; and it is to him that we owe the revival and im¬
provement of the method of arresting bleeding from arteries
by ligature, and discontinuance of the cauteries and styp¬
tics, which, to the disgrace of surgery, had hitherto been
in exclusive use for this purpose. Yet so averse are man¬
kind to abandon their ancient customs, that the improve¬
ment of Pare was not sanctioned till after much abuse and
persecution, directed both against himself and his discovery;
indeed so bitter and unrelenting were his jealous brethren,
that he -was compelled for his own safety to adduce garbled
and incorrect extracts from Galen and other ancients, in
proof that to them, and not to him, the invention was to
be referred. So far he was less in error than he himself
supposed, for we have already stated that he has merely the
merit of reviving the use of the ligature.5 Celsus distinctly
advises its employment when pressure fails to stop arterial
haemorrhage; and Albucasis sometimes condescended to
use it instead of his favourite cautery and cruel styptics.
Pare, however, was amply repaid by future fame for the
opposition which he had at first sustained. He rose to an
unparalleled height of popularity with the army, by whom
he was absolutely adored. On one occasion, his mere pre¬
sence among the garrison of a beleagured city about to capi¬
tulate, re-animated the troops to such an extent, that their
resistance became more energetic than before, and the
besieging army perished beneath the walls. By his sove¬
reigns he was also highly esteemed. From the general
massacre on the fearful night of St Bartholomew he was
rescued by the personal exertions of Charles the Ninth, his
great merits being appreciated even by that weak and cruel
monarch. But he was not content with the respect and
praise of his contemporaries; his writings, the result of ’
great experience and accurate observation, freed from the
1 Some idea may be formed of tlie languishing state of surgery at tins time, from his division of the surgeons into the following five
sects. The first applied cataplasms indiscriminately to every description of ulcer and wound. The second in similar cases employed wine
only. The third used emollient ointments and plasters. The fourth, chiefly military surgeons, promiscuously employed oils, wool, potions,
and charms. The fifth, “ consisting of ignorant practitioners and silly women, had recourse upon all occasions to the saints, praised each
other’s writings perpetually, and followed each other in one undeviating track, like cranes.”
3 In the beginning of the sixteenth century, cutting upon the staff was introduced by Johannes de Romanis and Marianos Sanctus, and
very successfully followed by Laurence Colot, a descendant of Germain.
* The first author who clearly describes the venereal disease is Marcellus Cumanus, who wrote in 1495. It was not till 1530 that Fra-
castorius wrote his celebrated poem X)e Morbo Galileo, in reference to which it has been said that the chaste and classic elegance of its language
was worthy of the best days of imperial Rome, and the mellifluence of its versification hardly surpassed by the bard of Mantua himself. By G.
Torella, physician to Pope Alexander the Sixth, we are informed that the insane abuse of mercury as a means of cure was not quite a uni¬
versal practice on the outbreak of the disease; for, in describing some particular forms of mercurial ointment, he himself states that “ they
destroyed an infinite number of people, who in this case did not die, but were downright killed ; and these bold empirics must give an account,
if not in this, in the next world, of their practice, and be drowned in the pit of repentance.” It is but very lately that the “ pit of repent¬
ance” ceased to be useful under very similar circumstances.
4 A little later in the century, Fallopius taught anatomy at Pisa, and Eustachius at Rome, and to their efforts, as well as to those of \ esa-
lius, the advancement of that science is much indebted. Fallopius died in 1503 ; Eustachius in 1574.
s As an example of how little the hint of Celsus was attended to, we may mention, that Procopius relates how Artabazes perished of a wound
in the neck, “ the artery of the neck having been cut through, so that the blood could not be stopped.” Their cauteries and styptics had no
effect on the carotid, or its larger trunks.
SURGERY.
•\'~m
S ji¬
lt ll
n (iry.
C
ti;
T
tii
St :inus,
F{l]ua-
pt .‘iite.
mco-
\\ man.
Hi
Vo,
■ yoke of authority, and digested by genius of a high order,
''have rendered him immortal. His works, first published in
1535, and afterwards more fully in 1582, exerted a most
powerful and beneficial influence upon his profession. The
influence was not however immediate j for at his death the
light he had shed was for a time obscured, surgery reverting
to the state of degradation in which he found it, in conse¬
quence of its baneful association with barberism. Pigrai was
his successor, but an unworthy one : endeavouring to fol¬
low the footsteps of his master, he obscured and almost
effaced them. The most interesting of Fare’s surgical
treatises is that on gunshot wounds, a class of injuries then
of recent introduction, and little understood : the murder¬
ous cannon and firelock had not long been in use.
In the seventeenth century surgery again revived, resum¬
ing the impulse which the genius of Pare had imparted.
Italy produced Caesar Magatus, who simplified, and conse¬
quently must have improved, the treatment of wounds ; the
never-to-be-forgotten Tagliacotius, with his rude repairs of
the human face; and Marcus Aurelius Severinus, a skilful
and intrepid operator. At the end of the sixteenth and be¬
ginning of the seventeenth centuries, Padua was favoured
with Fabricius ab Aquapendente, the preceptor of Harvey, a
most distinguished physiologist, and the most eminent sur¬
geon of his time. His Opera Chirurgica passed through
no less than seventeen editions, and contain not only an
excellent digest of surgery as it then was, but also many
improvements of his own. About the middle of the seven¬
teenth century arose the true father of British surgery, our
own Wiseman, the Pare of England. One or two English
names are to be found before him: William Clowes, a mi¬
litary surgeon of some eminence, attended the Earl of Lei¬
cester’s army in the Low Countries, and wrote on gunshot
wounds ; and Lowe, a Scotchman, gave to the world a
Discourse on the whole Art of Chirurgery, dated 1612:
but Wiseman doubtless is the first Briton worthy of note
in surgery. He was serjeant-surgeon to Charles IL, and
amidst the horrors of the civil wars had ample scope for the
study of his profession. His surgical works, consisting of
eight treatises, dated 1676, contain much information, at that
time most valuable, and still amply rewarding an attentive
perusal. In military practice he strongly advocated imme¬
diate amputation, “ while the patient is free of fever,” in
the case of such injuries as rendered preservation of the
member improbable, of course allowing the primary shock
of the accident to be past; a point of practice which long
discussion in after years served to confirm. It was not
till his time that surgeons ceased to believe that gun¬
shot wounds were necessarily envenomed by the powder
and ball, and had to be treated accordingly with potent and
cruel dressings. I he immortal Harvey, contemporary with
Wiseman, cannot perhaps be classed among the eminent
surgeons, having principally confined himself to anatomy
and physiology, yet he is inseparably connected with that
science by his discovery of the circulation of the blood ; a
discovery which has done so much for the advancement
of all medical knowledge, but of surgery in particular.
James Y oung, a surgeon in Plymouth, may be said to have
been also contemporary with Wiseman, having written in
1679. He is the first who proposed amputation by a flap,
an improvement to which two French surgeons, Verduin
and Sabaurin, lay claim ; and he is also the first who re¬
commends limited compression of the main artery in am¬
putation.
Germany boasts of several eminent surgeons of this time ;
Fabricius Hildanus, a most successful practitioner, and au¬
thor of a surgical treatise dated 1641 ; Scultetus, author of
the work, celebrated for its horrid array of lethal weapons,
Armamentarium Chirurgicum, 1653; and Purmann,
who displayed too great an attachment to the dangerous re¬
presentations of Scultetus. Heister, a professor in the uni-
829
versity of Helmstadt, wrote a system of surgery, which has Surgery.
been translated into most of the European languages, and " v—
is still in high repute.
Plolland likewise possessed successful practitioners of
surgery, but tainted with an unworthy concealment of their
methods of cure. Rau, a native of Germany, though a Rau.
professor at Leyden, was perhaps the most successful litho-
tomist that ever lived, but he kept his method of operating
a profound secret, and made it a mystery even to his own
pupils; as appears from the circumstance that his two favour¬
ites, Heister and Albinus, of a more liberal spirit than theii
master, in attempting to divulge his secret for the benefit
of the profession at large, have varied most materially in
their statements. This illiberal spirit pervaded the other
branches of medicine as well as the surgical. The famous
anatomist Ruysch preserved inviolate the secret of his
w-onderfully minute injections, although really the discovery
of his friend De Graaf; and Roonhuysen the accoucheur
worked stealthily with his invented lever. The succeeding
generation however removed this stigma from the Dutch ;
and their great Camper was equally celebrated for the
number of his discoveries and the zeal with which he
made them known.
From the time of Pare, France produced no surgeons of
great eminence until the eighteenth century. In the se¬
venteenth, we find the names of Dionis, Belloste, Saviard, Dionis.
and a few others of some renown, but not at all equal to
their contemporaries in other nations. Some idea may be
formed of the then feeble condition of surgery in France,
from the fact, that Louis XIV. was not cured of a simple
fistula in ano, until after his life had been in no small de¬
gree endangered by repeated abortive operations. That Eighteenth
the French can boast of surgeons of the first class in the century,
next century, however, is indisputably shown by the simple
mention of Petit and Desault; names that must ever oc- Petit,
cupy a proud place in the annals of surgery. The former,
adding to the most powerful talents great industry, and an
innate love of his pursuits, rose rapidly to eminence, though
not without much envious opposition, which seems to be the
portion of nearly all those who occupy a pre-eminent place
in the profession. On general surgery, he has left a work
of much value ; and his treatise on diseases of the bones,
though produced at an early age, entitles him to be called
the father of that branch of pathology. For many years it
remained the best work on the subject. He was the in¬
ventor of the screw-tourniquet, and the first who operated
for fistula lachrymalis by transfixion of the sac. He con¬
tributed largely to the Memoirs of the Royal Academy of
Surgery ; an institution which has done much for the ad¬
vancement of surgery, not only in France, but throughout
the world. Its Memoirs, containing the result of the la¬
bours of many eminent, men, constitute a work of the great¬
est value. Desault, also of high reputation, both as an Desault,
anatomist and as a surgeon, was the first who taught sur¬
gical anatomy, and gave clinical lectures on surgery. His
improvements on the apparatus for fractures were most im¬
portant ; and a splint invented by him is still in use for frac¬
tures high in the femur. His modifications of cutting instru¬
ments were also good; among others, changing the am¬
putating instrument to a straight knife, instead of the old
curved weapon. He was the first who contemplated the
cure of artificial anus, resulting from strangulated hernia;
and he further improved Fare’s revival of "ligature of the
arteries. I he proposal of curing aneurism by ligature of
the vessel on the distal side of the tumour originated with
him ; a proceeding, hovvever, of which the merit is still du¬
bious. His writings are both valuable and extensive. After
the great names of Petit and Desault, not a few French
surgeons of the same century, though less eminent, yet de¬
serve mention ; Le Dran, a copious and excellent author ;Le Dran,
Sabatier, jamous in the department of operative surgery j^c.
SURGERY.
America.
Pott.
Hunter.
Garengeot, Louis, La Motte, Frere St Cosme,1 Portal, Pou-
teau, Lecat, Chopart, Morand, Moreau, &c.
It is about the middle of the eighteenth century that our
attention is first attracted to our transatlantic brethren. In
1763, lectures on anatomy and surgery were delivered in
Philadelphia by Dr Shippen ; and in 1791 the medical
school of that city was completely established, under Benja¬
min Rush, the Hippocrates of Colombia; a school which has
since lent invaluable aid to the progress of both medicine
and surgery. .
Our own country was at this time by no means barren in
surgery. Percival Pott and John Hunter are names which
occur, the one in the middle, the other in the end, ol the
eighteenth centurv, and are fully equivalent to I etit and
Desault; indeed Hunter may be justly ranked as the great¬
est man that ever graced the profession. Pott, the best
author, operator, and practical surgeon or his time, greatly
improved the practice of surgery in England, both by his
writings and by personal example. Like Desault, his at¬
tention was particularly directed to the treatment ol fiac-
tures, of which he had some painful experience in his own
person, having sustained a severe compound fracture of the
fen-. He has left a justly celebrated treatise on the sub¬
ject. On amputation his observations are most important,
clearly discriminating between those cases, ot injury ™or®
particularly, which demand the operation, and those which
do not; at the same time marking the period most advan¬
tageous to its performance. Regarding injuries of the head,
he wrote with more precision, and at the same time with
more originality, than any previous author, and will ever re¬
main a valued authority upon that subject. The same may
be said of his description of vertebral disease, he having
been the first who clearly distinguished between those cur¬
vatures of the spine depending on mere change of form in
the bones, and those occasioned by caries or abscess : the
latter formidable affection is still known as “Pott’s dis¬
ease” of the vertebrae. He greatly improved the treat¬
ment of fistula in ano, and abscesses in general; and by
simplifying the whole art of surgery, discarding the cautery
and escharotic unguents, or rather limiting them to then-
proper place and use, employing also the cutting instru¬
ments with caution and reserve, and placing more implicit
trust in, and showing more respect for, the powers of nature
than had hitherto been the custom, he achieved a most im¬
portant and beneficial reform in surgery. Until his time,
the maxim “ Dolor medicina doloris” remained unrefuted.
The actual cautery, for example, was in such general use,
that “ at the time when surgeons visited the hospital, it
was regularly heated and prepared in the w aids, and in the
presence of the patients, as a part of the necessary appara¬
tus. Mr Pott lived to see these remains of barbarism set
aside, and a more humane and rational plan, of which he
was the originator, universally adopted.” John Hunter, a
native of Scotland, the pupil, first of Cheselden, and after¬
wards of Pott, though not remarkably distinguished as an
operator, was the most gifted surgeon of which the medical
profession can boast, and no less eminent as an anatomist,
physiologist, and general philosopher. His researches com¬
prehended a wider range than those of Pott, but arrived at
the same end, the improvement of surgery. The know¬
ledge obtained by his vast inquiries into physiology, patho¬
logy, and human and comparative anatomy, was, with all the
power of his genius, brought to bear upon the practice of
the profession, and with the happiest success. The doc- Surges
trines of adhesion, granulation, ulceration, and infiammation ''“"“V"'
with its various results, were,until detected and explained by
him, comparatively obscure and uncertain ; and no one is ig¬
norant how much the successful treatment of disease, either
bv surgery or medicine, must ever depend on an accurate
and familiar knowledge of these rudiments. To him we
are indebted for the simplification of more than one opera¬
tion, the discovery of the vitality of the blood, important
advice as to the treatment of gunshot wounds, the enforce¬
ment of excision of bitten or poisoned paits, many new
facts as to the physiology and pathology of teeth, and other
valuable additions to practical surgery. But these assume
an unimportant place among his deeds, wdien placed be¬
side the two with which his name is indelibly associated
the cure of popliteal aneurism by ligature of the femoral
artery, and the elucidation of the venereal disease; his work
on the latter subject still remaining standard, and in many re¬
spects unsurpassed. His improvement ot the operation for
aneurism marks an era in the history of surgery, being one of
the most important of its advances. Dissatisfied with the
cruel, formidable, and unsatisfactory operation for popliteal
aneurism, by incision of the tumour and ligature of the vessel
at its diseased part, he made himself aware of the causes of
failure by the old system, contemplated the plan of cure
which bears his name, satisfied himself of its practicability by
diligent study and experiment, successfully brought it to the
test of actual practice; and then, extending the principle
to all aneurisms, effected for surgery a great triumph over
that formidable disease,2 His first operation was performed
in 1785, and was successful; proving that permanent re-a.d. 178
moval of the force of the circulation in the aneurism is suf¬
ficient for its cure, by permitting consolidation and ultimate
obliteration of the tumour. Since his time the method of
applying the ligature has been considerably improved, and
the certainty of success consequently increased. But “ the
more brilliant a discovery, and the more beneficial its re¬
sults, the more certain is its author of becoming the butt ot
envy and the object of detraction.” And accordingly we
find that Hunter has not been permitted to remain m un¬
disturbed possession of his discovery. Its merit has by some
been claimed as due to Aetius; others, with better hopes of
success, support the pretensions of Guillemeau (a pupil of
Ambrose Pare), Anel,3 4 and Desault; but a candid inquiry
into facts and dates will ever result in ascribing the honour
to our illustrious countryman. Had he even been deprived
of this, his name must still have been immortalized by other
and more palpable labour of his mind and hand—his books
and museum. ,
In the same century with Pott and Hunter, Britain a s
produced White, an excellent practical surgeon and “ u h,t.
writer; Cheselden and Douglas, two eminent hthotomists, Cheseld
the former peculiarly successful; Sharp, famed for his Cii- Sharp,
tical Inquiry into the State of Surgery ; and Monro, a name Monro,
indissolubly united with the birth and fame of the Edinburgh
medical school.1 . „ _
. In Italy, where, during the times of Pott and Hunter, se¬
veral eminent surgeons lived, Lancisi, Morgagni, ertian i,
Troia, &c.,—the labours of Hunter in aneurism were ably
followed up by Scarpa, who still further elucidated the doc-Scarpa,
trines regarding the new treatment ot that disease, an
blished the success of the operation. He was also *
ly successful in his researches as to the anatomy and patno-
1 Frere Jean de St Cosine, although a monk, had been educated as a surgeon. He was the inventor of the Lithotome Cache, and with i
obtained wonderful success and celebrity as a lithotomist r arnmltation of the aneurismal limb.”
* “ So discouraging were the results of the old operation, that many surgeonsperforming amputat.on
* Guillemeau and Anel placed their incisions and ligatures in the immediate ne*Sh ou , d . the ensujno. year he was appointed to a
4 Dr Monro was appointed professor of anatomy to the company of ^! . n no^!nated . Sir Robert Sibbald, Dr Ilalket,
public of LCu™, »d Ue ■»
a great measure be regarded as the founder of the medical school of Edinburgh.
SURGERY.
sj "ry- logy of hernia, a subject which he has made peculiarly his
—' own. The same century saw in Germany, Schmucker,
Richter, and the great Haller, whose Disputationes Chirur-
(jkxe bear, equally with his other works, the impress of both
labour and genius of a high order,
enth , The nineteenth century will not yield to any former era
• in a numerous and bright array of names dear to surgery.
;tby, It has seen the fall of Abernethy and Dupuytren, brilliant
stars in the galaxy, and mourns others highly valued; but
vast and powerful is the host who are still labouring, with
distinguished success, in their noble calling. In all civilized
countries, the dark days of the profession have, we trust, for
ever passed away ; and many are the illustrious names in
which it now' exults, more particularly in France and Ger¬
many. But we hesitate not to assert,—and we cannot think
that national prejudice exerts any influence in leading us to
the conclusion,—that no country can boast of such a crowd
as that by which Britain, in the present century, has been
and still is adorned. And we feel an honest pride in stating,
that the medical school of Edinburgh can claim connection
with not the least among these living names.
Jloltll
tur v’,
Having followed surgery thus far, from the earliest times,
in its most notable points of history, we shall proceed to
inquire briefly into the practice of the present day. And,
Op* ions, first, of the art of operating. It is a favourite phrase by
which operations are stigmatized as the “ opprobria of sur¬
gery. Nothing can be more unjust. So long as injury and
disease are permitted to afflict mankind; so long as bones are
crushed, and flesh bruised and torn ; so long as tumours
grow, and gangrenes spread—and we know nothing short of
direct divine interposition that can wholly prevent such ac¬
cidents—it is only by operation, dexterously executed and
skilfully timed, that the human frame can be kept in repair,
and life prolonged. To be able safely and expeditiously to
remove parts which accident has rendered totally useless,
and which would prove highly injurious if longer attached
to the body; to take away diseased formations, or other
noxious substances, fflid, at the expense of but brief suffer¬
ing, to dispel torture which had rendered existence a bur¬
den for previous weeks, months, and years ; to accomplish
such results, though it.be by blood and pain, is alike credit¬
able to the operator and beneficial to the sufferer. It is
not a disgrace to the profession that certain injuries and
diseases are of so grievous a nature as to be incurable but
by operation, for such is the dispensation of Providence ;
it is the surgeon’s boast to have recourse to the knife as sel¬
dom as possible ; but it is also his pride to be able by it, as
a last, and, to both parties, painful resource, to ward off suf-
, fering, deformity, and death. It is not, to operate, but to
operate unseasonably, unnecessarily, unskilfully, that can
ever bring disgrace ; and to refrain from performing an ope¬
ration when it is loudly and plainly called for, would carry
not only opprobrium to surgery, but guilt and shame to
the surgeon. We are speaking of surgery as it now is, not
as it was. In former times operations were its disgrace.
Knives, hot irons, screws, files, and saws, were employed
with cruel and ignorant recklessness; but of late years, it has
been the object of each truly good surgeon to simplify and
diminish the number of instruments, and at the same time
to use them as seldom as possible. He does not hesitate
to employ them when his knowledge and experience tell
him they have become indispensable.’ On the contrary, he
will probably be urgent in their application, knowing that
an early wound may save much after-suffering ; but, in the
hrst place, he will exert all his skill and all his powers, by
milder measures to counteract injury and restrain disease, Surgery,
so as to supersede the necessity of operating. To effect this —~v—
is doubtless the true triumph of his profession ; and this tri¬
umph he often attains. But he must be Utopian indeed
who can seriously hope that the period will ever arrive when
operations shall have altogether ceased to be required. In
the progress of surgery, many a murderous weapon, at one
time in frequent use, has grown thick with rust, and be¬
come almost unknown; those retained are few, effective,
and never employed without good cause. The growth
of science and experience is bringing the ravages of disease
more and more under control; operations are not only less
frequent, but more simple and less dangerous in the perform¬
ance ; and it is the pride of the modern surgeon to witness
and promote this great improvement of his profession. But
there are, and ever must be, diseases which we cannot ex¬
pect to cure, and injuries against which we cannot hope to
strive successfully, so as to preserve life, by any measure
short of operation. Modern surgery, accordingly, while
anxious to limit the necessities for operation, is not the less
aware of its importance as a means of cure; and has not
only directed attention towards its improvement, but also
extended its application, and with the happiest result, to dis¬
eases formerly unopposed. Many patients, for example, are
now by the knife freed from morbid growths and natural
deficiencies, who w ere formerly left an unprotected prey to
deformity and disease.
The necessity for an operation having been clearly esta¬
blished, our object then is to perform it as safely and expedi¬
tiously as possible. We now7 no longer hear, as we did even
so lately as fifteen or twenty years ago, of a poor patient be¬
ing tortured for the space of an hour, by cruelties misnamed
lithotomy : in a few minutes the bladder is cleared of ex¬
traneous matter; and almost the like number of seconds
w ill suffice for amputation.1 With this celerity, the safety
oi the patient is not only equally, but more secure; for ra¬
pidity is still held subservient to, though conjoined with,
excellence of performance ; and the mere absence of pro¬
tracted pain confers a most important advantage on the re¬
parative powers of the system. A prominent cause of this
improvement in the art of operating, is an increased simpli¬
city of the instruments, their arrangement, and use. On
this subject, one who is facile princeps among the opera¬
tors of the present day,3 observes: Our armamentaria should
contain simple and efficient instruments only ; the springs,
grooves, notches, and curves, seeming to be chiefly inteiffl-
ed to compensate for want of tact and manual dexterity.
The apparatus, though simple, ought to be in good order,
and should always be placed within easy and convenient
reach of the operator, so that he may be in a great mea¬
sure independent of the lookers-on, w'ho, owing to anxiety
or curiosity, hurry and agitation, are apt to hand any thing
but what may at the instant be required. He will consi¬
der well what place he himself will most conveniently oc¬
cupy duiing the operation ; and having obtained proper as¬
sistants, he will make sure that they all understand what is
expected of them. In short, before he ventures to begin,
he will ascertain that every thing is arranged, and in pro-
per order ; more particularly, that the cutting instruments
have good points, that their edges are keen, and that the
joints of forceps and scissors move freely and readily. The
principle on which the instrument is made to cut should be
w7ell considered. Every knife is to be looked upon as affine
saw ; the teeth of some are set forwards, and these cut best
Irom point to heel, as does a razor ; but the greater num-
bei are set in the opposite direction,^—for example, the com-
mortal Harvey, first Seen of his’S ieir T"’61*’ be exP^s themselves as did the preceptor of the im-
H if it be adherent to fhe chest I cut itwitS \ U ln”veable tumour, I cut it away with a red-hot knife, that sears as it cuts;
I dig out the rest with my faWs^ bleeding, with a wooden or horn kmte, soaked in aquafortis, with which, having cut the skin,
' • 8 Mr Liston.
832
S U R G E R Y.
Surgery, mon scalpel and bistoury,—and act efficiently only in being
v ^drawn from heel to point. The cutaneous tissues, and in
many instances the subjacent parts, should be divided at
once and completely, by a single incision made lightly and
rapidly ; for the pain experienced is in proportion to the
pressure and tardiness of movement in the instrument ap¬
plied. The pain of partial division of the skin, in tails left
at each end of an incision, is very great; and, besides, such
wounds are not so available, as they would otherwise be, for
the intended purpose of evacuating fluid, for permitting the
extraction of foreign bodies, or for the dissection ot mor¬
bid growths. Also, the pausing of a surgeon in the midst
of a dissection, and the resort to fresh and more extensive
incisions of the surface, is not only always awkward, but at¬
tended with much additional and unnecessary pain to the pa¬
tient. Every cutting instrument should be well balanced,
and placed in a steady, smooth handle ; the point should
either be in a line with the back, which ought then to be
perfectly straight, or both edge and back should be so far
convex, the point being in the middle ot the blade. I he
form and size of the instrument ought always to be in pro¬
portion to the extent of the proposed incisions, both as re¬
gards their length and depth : nothing can be imagined
more cruel and reprehensible, for example, than an attempt
to remove the lower extremity of a full-grown person with
a common scalpel or dissecting knife. If an extensive in¬
cision is necessary, an instrument should be employed pos¬
sessing length of edge sufficient to separate the parts smooth¬
ly and quickly. Should the operator be required to cut on
important parts, to perform a delicate dissection of the liv¬
ing tissues, he will choose a short-bladed instrument, with
a handle rather long and well rounded ; and alter the su¬
perficial incisions have been effected, he will hold it as he
would a wwiting pen, lightly but firmly, so that he can turn
the edge, and cut either towards or from himself as occasion
may require. A small well-made scalpel, with a good point,
and less convexity than those usually employed, is the in¬
strument best adapted for such a purpose. Grooved probes
and directors should be used as little as possible. With a
little practice, incisions may be made upon the most deli¬
cate parts, without risk, by the hand unsupported, one layer
being cut after the other. If any instrument is wanted to
make the proceeding more safe—if the closely investing
fasciae of a hernial tumour, for example, are to be cautious¬
ly raised—dissecting forceps will be found the most conve¬
nient instrument for elevation previous to incision. In di¬
viding the skin, the knife, whether a scalpel or a bistoury,
is to be held and entered with the point and blade at right
angles to the surface. It is carried with a decisive move¬
ment down to the subcutaneous cellular tissue ; the blade
is then inclined towards the part to be divided, and by a
rapid and slightly sawing motion—as little pressure being
applied as possible—the division is effected to the desired
extent. The incision is finished by withdrawing the knife
in a position perpendicular to the surface, so as to divide
the entire thickness of the skin at the extremity as well
as origin of the wound. For dexterously effecting such
manipulations, the “ fingers must be educated and dili¬
gent practice in the dissecting-room will be found the best
foundation for surgical dexterity, as it is for sound surgical
knowledge : “ it is only when we have acquired dexterity
on the dead subject, that w'e can be justified in interfering
with the living.” By practice the pupil will be enabled to
use either hand almost equally well, and none should neglect
to attain this power, for an ambidexterous surgeon possesses
a great advantage as an operator. An ordinary degree of S'
expertness is within the reach of any one who will indus-
triously seek for and improve the opportunities for its ac¬
quirement ; but yet a certain combination of natural quali¬
fications is undoubtedly necessary to the attainment of pre¬
eminence in operative surgery ; for a great operator in one
respect resembles a great poet,—“ nascitur, non fit.” The
importance of these natural gifts did not escape Celsus.
“ He must be young, or at most but middle aged,” says he,
*£ and have a strong steady hand, never subject to tremble.
He must be ambidexterous, and of a quick, clear sight. He
must be bold, and so far void of pity that he may have in
view only the cure of him whom he has taken in hand, and
not, in compassion to cries, either make more haste than
the case requires, or cut less than is necessary, but do all as
if he were not moved by the shrieks of his patient.” The
coolness and courage thus inculcated are the most valuable
natural gifts of the surgeon ; and it would be well did every
patient remember that they are equally important in him¬
self, for on his steadiness and patience under suffering much
of the celerity and success of an operation depends. Ex¬
pert skill in operation contributes greatly towards perfect
self-possession ; for the dexterous surgeon, like an adroit
master of the sword, “ will not enter rashly into difficulties,
but being engaged from necessity or conviction, will bring
himself through with courage.” He who has what is strange¬
ly termed “ comm m sense,” enjoys another of nature’s
choicest gifts; and to no possessor does it prove more
valuable than to the surgeon, as by its judicious applica¬
tion the want of more than one of the prominent qualifi¬
cations considered as essential to his success may be fully
compensated.1 But a combination of the natural essentials
for an eminent operator, as may readily be imagined, falls
to the lot of only a small number ; and to that gifted few it
were well, when circumstances will admit of it, to delegate
the performance of the more dangerous and difficult ope¬
rations. Every surgeon, however, should be ready to un¬
dertake the greater number of surgical proceedings with¬
out hesitation or delay ; for though, as we have already
stated, operations do not form the most important part cf
surgery, they still are, and ever must be, inseparable from
its successful practice.
Haemorrhage, the most prominent accompaniment ofT
surgical operation, is now in much better command, bothr:
temporarily and permanently, than it used to be, and con¬
sequently is less dreaded by the surgeon. During the
operation, complicated machines, encircling the whole
—very painful from the great and general pressure,
and increasing the loss of blood by swelling the venous
torrents and retarding retraction of the minor vessels—are
now superseded by the skilful application of the “ educat¬
ed” and steady hand of an assistant, compressing the trunk
of the main artery, and it alone. This change is particu¬
larly advantageous to amputation, admitting of its perform¬
ance with greater despatch, less haemorrhage, and less
pain. In more tedious proceedings, the cautious extirpa¬
tion of tumours, for example, the surgeon commences his
incisions where he knows the principal vessels enter the part
about to be the scene of operation : they are consequently
divided at once ; an active and steady assistant secures their
orifices by the pressure of one or more fingers, and t s
proceedings are completed with comparatively httle loss o
blood, and without the hinderance of applying ligatures to
any arterial branches until all the knife-work has been
completed. Sometimes, when the part is unusual y vas
tirger
a?mor-
uge. |
1 The ancient Athenians had a taw, that no slave or woman should study medicine ; probably fearing want of education in f sent
and deficiency of common sense in the other. Perhaps it were well if a similar protection to the practice of the pro ession ^ 0n lie
force, as was proposed by the late Mr Alexander Wood of this city. In addition to the usual examination for the diploma o, ^ ^
wished to establish a jury to determine on the common sense of the candidate, stating as lusreason,
a for the rest of their medical knowledge.”
aminauon lor me o
i, “ If they have not that, 1 would not give
SURGERY. 833
i ery. cular, and important vessels come from all sides, this rule
v" ^'cannot be followed, and ligature must be applied to each
important branch as it is divided; but this necessity for
delay does not often occur. The ligature,—a firm hempen
thread, well waxed,—ought in all cases to be applied very
carefully, and made to enclose the orifice of the artery
alone, which for this purpose is pulled out by common
well-pointed dissecting forceps, or, when the parts have
been consolidated by infiltration, by a sharp tenaculum. A
double knot, carefully secure, having been made upon the
isolated orifice, one end of the ligature is cut otf close
to the knot, the other being left protruding from the most
dependent part of the wound, that the ultimate separa¬
tion of the ligature and its enclosed slough may thus be
watched and made certain. It was lately recommended,
and is still practised by some, to cut away both ends of the
ligature close to the knot, in the belief that the union of the
wound by the first intention would thus be favoured, and
in the hope that the noose would become encysted in its
original situation, and produce no further annoyance; that
hope however has been disappointed. It was then thought,
that by making the ligature of an animal substance, as
catgut, it might be slowly removed by absorption, and
thus be prevented from becoming a source of future irrita¬
tion ; but that plan also failed. No doubt, ligatures in such
circumstances have long remained quiescent, but that has
been seldom; sooner or later, perhaps after the cure has
been thought complete, they occasion the formation of ab¬
scess after abscess, and produce much irritation, until they
themselves are expelled; and thus recovery is in the end
much protracted. The usual practice therefore now is,
to leawe one end of each ligature a little protruding from
the lips of the wound, in order to secure their complete
expulsion at the proper period. These remarks of course
apply only to wounds which are approximated soon after in¬
fliction, with the hope of their adhesion. When the cut
surface, on the contrary, is left open, in order to suppurate,
both ends of each ligature should be removed close to the
knot, the practice being then unexceptionable. Another
innovation lately practised, was the substitution of torsion
tor ligature of the arterial orifice, thereby imitating the
natural means of suppressing bleeding. The method has
only been found to succeed well with vessels of the second
class, such as those of the fore-arm—being inapplicable to
the smaller twigs, and not safe in the case of the larger
arterial trunks. In every extensive wound, therefore, some
ligatures must be applied ; and that being the case, it has
been found more convenient and satisfactory to apply liga¬
tures to each orifice requiring artificial closure. Hemor¬
rhage from veins usually ceases spontaneously when the
position of the part is attended to, and all pressure remov¬
ed that might prove an obstacle to the venous return. If it
should be found obstinate, pressure applied to the orifice
will be sufficient. Under any circumstances, cauteries and
caustics are now seldom if ever required for arresting hae¬
morrhage.
M* , These remarks naturally lead to the consideration of in¬
cised wounds, and here we again find that simplicity and
improvement in surgery are synonymous. “ Hot dressings,
tilthy unguents, greasy poultices, stimulating plasters, and
complicated bandages, have given place to light water-dress-
mg, unirritating plaster sparingly applied, and careful posi¬
tion of the part.”1 To no one does a larger share of merit
ciong m this, than to him from whom w^e have made the
above quotation; and w'e cannot do better than continue
to glean from him a little more on this subject. “ Formerly
(and they are even still) wounds were put together without
delay, and their edges squeezed into apposition, and retained
by various means, such as sutures, plasters, compresses, and Surgery;
bandages. They were carefully covered up, and concealed ~
from view for a certain number of days. Then the enve¬
lopes of cotton and flannel, the compress-cloths, the pledgets
of healing ointment, and plasters, w'ere taken away, loaded
with putrid exhalations, and a profusion of bloody, ill-di¬
gested, fetid matter. A basin was forthwith held under
the injured part, and the exposed and tender surface was
deluged with water from a sponge, and then well squeezed
and wiped. Then came a re-application of retentive ban¬
dage, of the plaster, of the grease mixed with drying pow¬
der, all surmounted by some absorbing stuff, as charpie or
tow, to soak up the discharge. This was not unaccom¬
panied by pain, often more complained of than that at¬
tendant on the original injury or operation. This process
was repeated day after day, the patient was kept in a state
of constant excitement, and often, worn out by suffering,
discharge, and hectic fever, fell a victim to the practice.
The wound was, as it were, put into a forcing bed, excited
action beyond what, was required was hurried on, and the
consequence was, that immediate union seldom if ever could
or did take place. A suppurating surface, on the contrary,
with bad profuse discharge, and a very tedious cure, if any,
were obtained.” This was an uncomfortable state of mat¬
ters, but there is now a change. Surfaces are not disposed
to unite for many hours after the division and separation
have occurred. So long as there is oozing of blood, no good
end is to be attained by their close apposition. Should
this be attempted, the blood which continues to be dis¬
charged from the smaller vessels is necessarily prevented
from escaping ; and the consequences are, infiltration of the
loose cellular tissue, distention of the cavity of the wound,
and separation of the surfaces probably throughout their
whole extent. Then ensues a congested state of the sur¬
rounding vessels, with perhaps a troublesome haemorrhage
from branches that would otherwise have become sealed
up ; at all events, much constitutional disturbance, a heated
swollen state of the injured parts, profuse, bloody, and put¬
rid discharges, must occur; and this will certainly be fol¬
lowed by wasting suppuration from a foul cavity, which
will be long in assuming a healthy action. It is only when
re-action has occurred, when gentle vascular excitement
has taken place in and around the solution of continuity, and
when plastic matter begins to be secreted and thrown out,
that the process of adhesion can be expected to commence.
The edges of a large wound, as that resulting from ampu¬
tation of the extremities, may be approximated in part,
either by position, or by a few points of interrupted su¬
ture, as soon as bleeding from the principal vessels has
been ai rested. But the close apposition, and application
of all the retentive means, had better be delayed for six or
eight hours at least. In the interval, sensibility will be
abated, the oozing moderated, and the chance of second¬
ary haemorrhage much diminished, by lightly covering the
parts with lint dipped in cold water, and frequently re¬
newed ; or a piece of lint may be placed between the cut
surfaces, and a constant irrigation of them be kept up for
some time, by threads passing from a vessel containing cold
water. When all oozing has ceased, and the surface be¬
come glazed, the surrounding skin, previously shaved, is
made thoroughly dry ; coagula are removed, the edges are
put carefully and neatly in contact, and are retained by
narrow slips of adhesive plaster placed at intervals. The
plaster commonly in use does not retain its hold sufficiently
long, is loosened by discharge, heats the surface, and often
gives rise to erythema. A better kind is made by spreading
f0^ution ol isinglass in spirit on the unglazed side
of oiled silk, cut into slips of the necessary length and size ;
rgery.
O
N
VOL. XX.
1 Liston's Practical Su
834 SURGERY.’
Surgery, this plaster is quite unirritating, and often retains its hold propriety of delay in permanently closing wounds, may be Surgery
v until the very completion of the cure. Being transparent, it departed from with advantage; as when the entire sur-
does not prevent any untoward process that may be going on face can be brought into close and accurate apposition, so
underneath from being observed ; and if any fluid collects that no clot of blood can be interposed; as, for instance, in
under it, an opening can be made for its escape. If su- penetrating wounds of the mouth ; in division of the lip, as
tures have been previously employed for the partial ap- for harelip ; and in repairing some deficiencies of the ge-
proximation of the wound, they can be removed by cutting nital organs. In such cases, either the twisted or quilled
the thread, shortly after the fixing of the plasters, for these suture is used, usually the former, and no other dressing
alone are sufficient!v retentive. !No other dressing need should be applied. lo put on strips ol plaster, to cover the
be employed in the "first instance ; no compress, no pledget, part with lint smeared with ointment, to interpose dossils of
no bandage; for in general they will not promote union of lint between the skdn and ends of the pins, to support the
the wound, and may do harm. The slight discharge that wound by a uniting bandage—all this is mischievous, and a
oozes out is from time to time wiped from the surrounding remnant of the old meddlesome surgery. .Any kind of ap-
skin, and from the glazed cloth on which the part is laid, plication collects and retains the secretions, heats and ex-
In some cases of amputation, after a few days a roller may coriates the surface, promotes suppuration, and interferes
be applied, to encourage the subsidence of any slight oedema with the process of union.
that may have arisen, and to bring the stump into a good Such is an outline of the simple treatment of wounds now
form. By such simple treatment, a great deal of suffering employed, with the happy effects of saving the patient from
is saved to the patient, and he enjoys much comfort and much pain, and the surgeon from much trouble; obtaining
cleanliness ; besides, the surgeon is relieved from a load of a more frequent occurrence of adhesion in incised wounds;
most unpleasant and harassing duty. shortening the process of suppuration, and depriving it of
Wounds produced accidentally are almost always attend- much of its inconvenience. It is almost needless to observe,
edwith more or less bruising of the parts, and can be united that this, as well as every other treatment, will however
only by the second intention. After bleeding has been sup- prove of little avail, unless accompanied with a careful at-
pressed by the method recommended for incised wounds, tention to the general health: in other words, the surgeon,
the cold applications are to be superseded by those of an not hesitating to encroach thus far upon the duties of the
agreeable warmth, such as poultice of bread and water, or, physician, must ever be employing his medical science,
what is much to be preferred, from its simplicity and light- In no class of diseases is the operating knife now more Diseases
ness, lint of thick texture, and of sufficient size to cover the happily in abeyance, in comparison with former practice, the joints
wound, soaked in tepid water, and overlaid by an ample than in affections of the joints. Many a limb is now saved,
piece of oiled silk to prevent evaporation. Heat and mois- with its usefulness little if at all impaired, that would, in
ture, by which qualities a poultice produces its soothing and days not long passed, have been doomed at once, and with
beneficial effects, bv which the surface is relaxed, its capil- very little ceremony, to amputation.1 This important saving
lary circulation encouraged, and discharge promoted, are of life and limb is mainly attributable to the advance of patho-
thus amply afforded, without any of the weight, putrefactive logy. The cultivators of that science, among whom the name
fermentation, stench, and filth, inseparable from the best of of Brodie deserves prominent notice, have shown with great
common poultices. The edges ofthe wound are approximated perspicuity the various changes which moibid actions in-
as much as possible by attention to position; and by the same duce in the structure of articulations, and established a won-
meansthe return of blood is favoured, and engorgementof the derfully accurate diagnosis oi each affection. We can often
vessels and inflammatory swelling prevented to a very great tell in what tissue of the joint disease originated, of what
degree. If the wound run across the fibres of the skin and nature the morbid action is, and can predicate almost with
muscles underneath, these are to be relaxed by flexion or ex- certainty the actual state of the parts, as to extent and man-
tension, as may be, ofthe neighbouring articulations. Rest of ner of degeneration. According to the principle that “ the
the injured parts is also essential, and to obtain this it is some- knowledge of a disease is half its cure, great advantage is
times proper to apply splints. Contraction of the wound thus obtained in adopting and regulating the treatment suit-
takes place naturally, and generally with sufficient rapidity ; able to the circumstances of each case. Besides, we can
should the surface, however, from any cause become w'eak tell at once, and with tolerable accuracy, in what cases we
and flabby, the lint is to be wet with a gently stimulating shall probably succeed ; and in those in which we are made
solution, as of zinc, instead of tepid w'ater. Support, by aware that the disease is of such a nature, or has proceeded
bandage or plaster, may for a like reason sometimes be re- to such an extent, as to baffle all attempts to cure, we are
quired. But healing is often retarded by the plasters and enabled to save valuable time, and thereby to save life, by
bandages which are inconsiderately employed to hurry it on; proceeding at once to the only cure available, amputation,
the granulations are absorbed, the surface of the sore be- In whatever part of the joint diseased action may haveorigi-
comes foul, the discharge thin and offensive, perhaps inflam- nated,—bone, cartilage, bursae, or synovial apparatus,—if not
mation of the surrounding skin takes place, with extension arrested, it soon extends to all, converting the whole joint
of the sore by ulcerative absorption. Sometimes adhesion into one mass of disorganization. It is of the utmost con-
and suppuration may be happily blended in the cure. Thus, sequence, therefore, to be early in the employment of the
when, in a suppurating wound, whether accidental or incised, appropriate means of cure. I he first and most important
the discharge begins to thicken, and diminish in quantity, object is to secure absolute wrant of motion in the diseased
when the granulations are florid, small, and accuminated, parts ; and here it is that the greatest improvement has taken
and when the surrounding parts are sufficiently lax to admit place in the treatment of joints. “ If perfect repose and
of easy approximation, the granulating surfaces may then quiet of the affected parts be omitted, all other means are
be brought into close apposition, with every prospect of im- found nugatory, and were as well untried. Nothing but
mediate adhesion taking place. disrepute can accrue to the profession, if hot irons, moxas,
Under some circumstances, the rule laid down as to the and issues continue to be used inconsiderately, to the neglect
1 John Hunter himself seems to have been
dote abundantly proves. “ He once had a patient
silence reigned in the theatre. The surgery-man disappemeu. m i»*e. uw.iu^a ......... ...v,.. B  ,
do you not bring in the patient ?’ demanded the expectant operator. ‘ Because, sir,’ said the astonished surgery-man, ‘ because, sir, lie
run away !’ ” it is to be hoped that the custom of amputating legs that are able to “ run away” has fallen into complete desuetude.
SURGERY.
835
>?ry.
of more powerful and less appalling means. Instant relief
invariably follows the securing a state of perfect rest; other
means, local and constitutional, are thus afforded a fair
chance of doing good, and the natural efforts towards a cure
are no longer thwarted and interrupted. But, above all,
the effect on the general health is most remarkable and
cheering. Even in very complicated and bad cases, in
which sinuses communicate with the cavity of the joint,
and the heads of the bones are ascertained to be in a state
of ulceration, or partially necrosed, the good effects of per¬
fect quietude of the joint will soon be manifested by cessa¬
tion of pain, diminution of discharge, and speedy improve¬
ment of the general health. A cure of the local mischief
may not be possible by this means alone, but much will of¬
ten be gained, as regards the success of ulterior proceed¬
ings, by the rapid and certain amendment of the patient’s
condition.” This salutary rest is the first part of the treat¬
ment of all diseased joints, and is continued, in general,
throughout the whole period of cure; it is obtained by the
application of splints, varied in form and construction ac¬
cording to the particular joint affected.
Disease of the soft parts of the joint usually commences
in an inflammatory form, requiring depletion ; when acute,
the antiphlogistic treatment, local and general, must be very
active, so as at once to arrest the morbid action; and hot
fomentation and poultice will generally be found more sooth¬
ing than cold applications. When the more violent symp¬
toms have subsided, the disease giving way, a determina¬
tion to the surface, with discharge, lends powerful aid to¬
wards its final extinction. For this purpose vesication may
be produced, by cantharides or by nitrate of silver; or an erup¬
tion may be established by friction with a liniment of croton
oil, or an ointment of tartrite of antimony, their strength
proportioned to the nature of the part, and age of the pa¬
tient. In chronic swelling of a joint, whether the effect of
inflammatory action, or slowly and gradually supervening
after injury, the diseased action must not only be arrested,
but absorption also procured of the deposit and effusion
within the synovial capsule and bursm. To obtain the for¬
mer indication, local depletion and counter-irritation are
employed, accordingas the circumstances of the case require;
and to obtain the latter, uniform pressure of the whole swel¬
ling, and gentle irritation of the surface, are combined with
the means of securing the all-important rest of the joint,
according to the method first recommended by Mr Scott.
The limb having been uniformly supported by a roller, from
its extremity up to the diseased articulation, the surface of
the swelling is covered by lint spread with some gently
stimulating ointment,—soap cerate with camphor, for ex¬
ample, or that with a greater or less proportion of the un-
guentum hydrargyri; and the whole articulation is then sur¬
rounded by long strips of adhesive plaster, drawn with mo¬
derate and uniform tightness, so as to support and gently
compress the parts, without producing absolute pain or un¬
easiness. Above all, splints are applied to secure total im¬
munity from motion ; and they may either be of leather or
wood, as most suitable to the joint affected. When this
dressing has become loose, from subsidence of the swelling,
it is re-applied as often as may be necessary. Should fresh
excitement occur in the joint, from any accidental cause,
during this treatment, the apparatus must be discontinued,
until such excitement has been subdued by the usual means
already described; and when the pressure is resumed, it
should at first be very moderate. During the treatment the
limb must be kept or gradually brought into the most ad¬
vantageous position for ultimate use, particularly if, from the
duration, nature, and extent of the disease, there is reason
to expect impairment of the joint’s motion. Thus, by steady
extension with splints, the knee-joint may be brought into
nearly a straight position, so that it shall be serviceable in
progression; and the elbow may be bent, to form a right angle
w-ith the humerus, so as to be convenient for prehension. But
such alterations of stiffened limbs must be proceeded with
very cautiously, otherw'ise they may occasion undue excite¬
ment, and consequent renewal of disease in the joint.
The preceding treatment will be found applicable to al¬
most all joints, the hip not excepted. In morbus coxarius,
for example, it is useful for securing immobility of the ar¬
ticulation, an object of such paramount importance towards
arresting the progress of that formidable disease; and in
its advanced stages it is productive of at least relief. 1 he
joint is placed extended, that being the preferable position,
in case of anchylosis, and surrounded by “soft lint soaked
in a strong solution of gum acacia, which is laid on in
strips over the side and pelvis, from the short ribs to the
knee, and made to embrace the limb fully. A layer of dry
lint is first applied, and then two or three others, soaked in
the mucilage, follow': these are covered by a fold or two of
coarse calico, and the whole is retained by a roller.” Some¬
times it is necessary to preserve the limb steadily in posi¬
tion by a wooden splint, as in fracture, until the composi¬
tion has dried, and the splint, so formed, adapted itself close¬
ly to the parts. “ This gum-splint can be made of any
form, so as to allow of its being taken off, trimmed, lined
with wash leather, or protected with a layer of oiled silk,
and re-applied with a clean bandage. It can also be fashion¬
ed so as to leave any part exposed : the discharge from
issues and abscesses can thus be allowed to escape, and the
parts can be dressed, and otherwise attended to, without
disturbing the limb. In fact, the apparatus can be varied
as circumstances demand, and is applicable in a great va¬
riety of cases, and to any articulation.” A similarly useful
splint is made “ of leather dressed without oil, cut to a pro¬
per form, moistened in hot water, and applied with a roller.
It soon becomes firm, and forms a case which fits the part
Surgery.
accurately; it is then pared, fashioned neatly, and lined.
In many chronic cases such splints answer admirably ; but
the gum-splints can be applied w ith less disturbance of the
limb, which in many instances is a great recommendation.”
“ In the painful and dangerous affections of the articula¬
tions, when the cartilages are extensively absorbed, and
when the cancellated texture of the bone is more or less
diseased, good effects may yet follow judicious treatment.
Besides following out the principle of preventing all motion,
great relief will often be experienced from establishing a
permanent discharge from the neighbourhood of the diseas¬
ed tissues. This can be done simply and effectually, with¬
out causing alarm, or exciting much pain, by confining a
small piece of caustic potash on the skin near the diseased
joint. The sore thus formed is deepened, and made to dis¬
charge freely, when disposed to heal, by a few hours’ ap¬
plication of the antimonial ointment. A seton may be pre¬
ferred in some situations : certainly discharge can be thus
kept up, and derivation obtained from the affected parts,
fully as well as by actual cauteries, moxas, pea-issues, or
other farrier-like practices. Great care must be taken in
the placing of issues ; they should be near to, but not upon
a joint. Serious results have sometimes followed their care¬
less application ; diseased action has been increased, they
having reached, or even penetrated, the synovial capsule.’’
By the careful and judicious employment of such treat¬
ment, many affections of joints which resisted the less simple
modes of cure formerly in use, are now successfully com¬
bated ; and many limbs are saved which our forefathers
would not even have attempted to cure. But still there are
too many cases which baffle all efforts to arrest the progress
of morbid action; and it becomes necessary, in order to
relieve the labouring constitution, and preserve life, to re¬
move either the diseased parts alone, or the remainder of
the limb along with them by amputation. The former Resection
operation is termed resection, and is the preferable, because °f
the less mutilating and severe, when the case is such as to
83f,
SURGERY.
Amputa¬
tion.
Surgery, promise a tolerable certainty of success. Should it fail,
-—V—' amputation then becomes necessary; but by the failure,
the chance of the patient’s ultimate recovery is very much
diminished. The cases for resection, therefore, should be
carefully selected. The general health must not have been
much impaired ; the soft parts must not be extensively af¬
fected ; the disease must be almost entirely limited to the
articulating surfaces ; the joint must be such that the bones
can be reached easily, and without the risk of wounding
parts of great importance; and the patient must be of that
age and constitution most favourable to the reparation of
injury. The articulating extremities of the bones are ex¬
posed by free incisions, planned according to the circum¬
stances of the case, and the diseased portions are removed by
suitable saws, or by cutting pliers. The soft parts are then
replaced, and the cavity treated as a suppurating wound,
the intention being that it should heal by healthy granula¬
tions from the bottom. In patients tolerably advanced in
life, it is well to keep the maimed joint in perfect quiet,
and in the position most favourable to the subsequent use
of the member, in order that the cure may be by ligamen¬
tous anchylosis, otherwise the limb will prove weak and
not much available, and disease will be liable to return.
But in young persons of healthy constitution, motion of the
part is encouraged during the cure, with every prospect of
the new articulation becoming both free and strong. The
elbow-joint is the one to which the operation is most appli¬
cable. In the shoulder-joint it sometimes is expedient, also
in the carpus and tarsus; but in the knee and hip joints
experience loudly forbids its performance.1
When however all milder means have failed, and resec¬
tion is inapplicable, amputation must not be deferred until
the disease has grown riotous in its progress, and the ge¬
neral health has been seriously impaired. When the sur¬
geon is satisfied that amputation has become absolutely ne¬
cessary,—that nothing else can save life,—the sooner it is
performed, the greater is the chance that this severe re¬
medy will not fail in its issue; and it is consolatory to re¬
flect that modern improvement has greatly mitigated its
horrors, and increased the probability of its success. It is
performed more rapidly, more skilfully, and the suffering
is infinitely less both during and after the operation. The
tedious dissection of a limb, called the “ circular method,”
has now given place to the “ flap-operation” by transfixion ;
the only valid objection that can be brought against which
is, that perhaps a greater surface of wound is made; but
this is much more than counterbalanced by the many be¬
nefits which it otherwise insures. The operation is more
rapid, and less painful; the cut surface is smooth and re¬
gular ; adhesion, or union by the first intention, is much
more frequent; whether union be by the first or second
intention, the cure is more speedily completed ; the end of
the bone is infinitely better covered, and the stump conse¬
quently more useful; and if the flaps have been skilfully
formed, there will be no exfoliation of the end of the bone
protruding through ulcerated integuments, and no forma¬
tion of excruciating neuromata in the cut extremities of the
nerves, rendering a renewal of operation necessary for final
cure. The manipulations of the flap-operation are simple
and well known, so need not be here detailed ; but some
rules necessary for its dexterous accomplishment are not
always sufficiently attended to. The first regards trans¬
fixion ; and it is, that after the first flap has been formed, the
knife should not be again entered close to the top of the
wound, but about an inch below, as thus cross-cutting of
the integument is avoided. Another is, that in sawing the
bone, the surgeon must not trust the distal portion of the
limb entirely to an assistant, but, grasping it in his left
hand, must himself regulate its support, and so avoid splin- Surgerv
tering the bone. Pressure to command the bleeding need
not be severe, but must be true. As was formerly stated,
the tourniquet is seldom if ever used when the fingers of an
assistant can be obtained who is cool, steady, and well con¬
versant. with the course of the vessels. The pressure thus
obtained is not applied until the instant the incisions are
commenced, and then only on one point; the limb conse¬
quently is not gorged with blood, as it would have been by
the ordinary tourniquet; less blood therefore is lost, and
besides, the flaps are much more easily retracted from the
bone. When skilful assistants cannot be obtained, or when
it is probable that many vessels will require ligature, and
that consequently pressure must belong continued, a strong
metallic spring may be used, each extremity terminating in
a pad, one placed over the course of the vessel, the other
resting on the opposite part of the limb : the assistant pre¬
serves its just application, and regulates its pressure, and
the risk is avoided of his fingers giving way from cramp or
fatigue. When the surgeon, from want of other means, is
compelled to use the ordinary screw-tourniquet, its princi¬
pal pressure should never be applied until the moment be¬
fore incision ; and as soon as the larger vessels have been
secured, the whole apparatus should be removed, as thus
the loss of much blood by regurgitation, and particularly
from veins, will be avoided. The arterial orifices are se¬
cured by ligature, according to the method already men¬
tioned ; and should the venous trunks continue to pour out
their contents, notwithstanding the removal of all constriction
of the limb, pressure by the fingers of an assistant, though
for only a short time, usually suffices to arrest the haemor¬
rhage. The wound is treated according to the principle of
delay formerly explained ; and thus adhesion is not only
favoured, to the saving of time and pain, but the occurrence
of secondary bleeding is also made much more improbable;
for no warm coagulum is bound up in the wound, to act as
a sponge, and encourage escape of blood from all the untied
vessels; and even when it does take place, the bleeding
point is much more easily secured than when the stump is
bound up tight and close from the first. Should the stump
bleed seriously, six, eight, ten, twelve, or fifteen days after
the operation, in consequence of sloughing or some other un¬
healthy action having supervened, the ununited wound is to
be laid open, all coagula removed, and direct pressure applied.
But should this fail, the surgeon ought instantly to secure
the trunk of the vessel whose branches are at fault, at some
distance above the stum])—in amputation below the knee,
tying the femoral, for example—at the same time support¬
ing the stump by bandage. This practice has been found
almost invariably successful.
Amputation is also less frequently resorted to in cases of
severe injury than formerly. In fractures, skilful and care¬
ful management preserves many a limb useful and but little
out of shape, which before would have been considered too
seriously injured to retain its vitality. Nor are compound
luxations regarded with the same dread. In compound Disloca-
dislocation of the ankle-joint, for example, with protrusion
of the bones, instead of at once amputating the limb, the
dislocation is reduced, the protruding portions of bone hav¬
ing been removed in whole or in part, if so injured as to
render that proceeding necessary ; the limb is retained in a
favourable position, and in a state of complete rest; the
wound is treated by the simple soothing plan ; undue excite¬
ment is warded off or held in subjection by the usual means;
if abscesses form, they are early evacuated; the parts are
uniformly and gently supported; the surgeon’s medical ac¬
quirements are kept constantly on the alert; and thus, m
very many cases, the limb is retained, with the injured joint,
1 For further information on resection of joints, see Mr Syme’s excellent treatLe on this subject.
SURGERY.
:?ery. though stiff, exceedingly useful. The ordinary simple dis-
^ locations are now at once detected by the observant and
well-educated surgeon, and as readily reduced if recent;
so that branch of the profession promises to be soon rescued
completely from the maltreatment of ignorant empirics.
jkures. The whole treatment of fractures has been simplified and
improved; the process of reparation in disunited bone is
better understood, and the means which favour it are more
skilfully and effectually adapted. In fractures, whether
compound or simple, of the smaller bones, more particularly
of the upper extremity, the ghm-splint will be found very
suitable. By the employment of these or other light splints,
—of wood, pasteboard, leather,—w'ell padded, so as not to fret
the integument, and always of sufficient length to command
the neighbouring joints, the bones are not only kept accu¬
rately in their proper place, but perfect quietude and freedom
from all motion are likewise secured,—a point all-important
here, as in the treatment of diseased joints. Broken limbs
are no longer laid out in state on pillows, altogether unre¬
strained. Absolute rest, following early reduction of the
bones, and combined with strict attention to the workings
of the general system, usually succeeds in preventing inter¬
ruption of the cure by undue excitement in the neighbour¬
hood of the injury. Should this nevertheless occur, the
retentive apparatus can be so arranged as to admit of the
part in fault being attended to as freely and as often as is
necessary, without disturbance of the rest of the limb ; for
example, blood may be abstracted locally, fomentation or
poultice applied to a particular part, abscesses opened, and
wounds dressed, without undoing all the retentive apparatus,
and so jarring the fracture. In severe compound fractures
this advantage is particularly important. The soft parts can
be looked after as well as if no apparatus at all were applied;
and the untoward results likely to follow such a serious ac¬
cident can consequently be sometimes averted, and always
moderated, while the hard parts are uniformly kept in the
condition most favourable to their union. In fractures of
the lower extremity near the hip-joint, Desault’s splint is
still in use, somewhat modified When the break is lower
in the limb, an improvement of Macintyre’s double inclined
plane is by much the most suitable apparatus, combining in
an eminent degree the advantages of complete rest of the
whole limb, with ready and convenient dressing of particu¬
lar parts.1 The patient is also able, with safety, to be out
of bed, and in the erect posture, at an early period of the
cure; a circumstance very favourable to the preservation of
the general health.
Ga Ene. When, notwithstanding care and skill, gangrene occurs
after severe fracture, either immediately, or in consequence
of greater vascular excitement having taken place than the
hurt parts are able to bear, amputation must be had recourse
to, and the period of its performance is now no longer a
subject of dispute. It must be done immediately, in sound
parts, at a distance from the gangrene, without waiting for
a line of separation, as in chronic gangrene, else the sur¬
geon will expect the opportunity in vain, and meanwhile
his patient will sink.
iraeSometimes, either by the carelessness of the surgeon and in-
1 ic ' • efficiency of his treatment, or from the fault of his patient or
defect of his constitution, union of the fracture fails to take
place. In recent cases of such disunion, adjustment of the
broken ends in accurate apposition, and undisturbed rest of
the fracture and of the whole limb, will occasionally effect
a tardy union. But usually it becomes necessary to rouse
the parts; and the method now' followed, the most conveni¬
ent, as well as most successful, is the introduction of a seton
between the fractured extremities, gradually increasing the
size of the tape, but taking care to remove it altogether as
837
soon as it appears that excitement has been produced, suf- Surgery,
ficient for establishing the regenerative process. A fewv——'
days are usually enough; when ignorantly permitted to
remain for a long period, the mere presence of the foreign
body, and more particularly the constant discharge w hich
it maintains, tend most powerfully to prevent the result in
favour of which it was employed. After removal of the
seton, the limb is placed in the proper position, and must
be preserved in a state of most complete rest.
In fractures and other injuries of the cranium, the tre- Fractures
phine is now used with better judgment than formerly; of the cra-
more sparingly in most cases, more readily in others. Itnium*
is not considered necessary to convert every fissure of the
skull into a chasm, by following it out with the trephine;
in depressed fracture with compression of the brain, the
application of the trephine is imperative, but no more bone
is taken away than is necessary for the raising of the de¬
pressed portion, and the removal of what is so injured by the
accident as to render its retention of vitality improbable;
and to bore one or more holes in the cranium in search of
extravasated blood, is generally regarded as a proceeding
equally mischievous and unprofitable. But in punctured Punctured
fracture, the necessity for the trephine is urgent; it must fracture,
be used freely and at once; and as this important point of
practice is perhaps not yet sufficiently attended to, w'e shall
be a little more explicit on the subject. The punctured or
star-like fracture is occasioned by a sharp body striking the
head with considerable force. The integuments are divided,
and the surface of the bone presents an appearance of injury
somewhat resembling what is often seen in ice when struck
in a similar way. But this is a very slight extent of damage
compared with what the inner table suffers, when the punc¬
turing weapon has passed through the diplde, as is usually
the case. Ihe inner table, being by much the more vitre¬
ous, is shivered into numerous spiculae, which being driven
inwards by the force of the blow, perforate, or at all events
grievously irritate, the coverings of the brain, producing in¬
flammatory action, soon affecting that important viscus, and,
if not arrested, proving speedily fatal. After the infliction
of such an accident, therefore, even should the patient be
at the time so little affected as to w'alk to the surgeon to have
his w ound dressed, the trephine should be immediately ap¬
plied to the punctured point, in order that a portion of the
bone may be removed, sufficient to allow extraction of all
the displaced portions of the internal plate. In no other way
can we avert intense inflammatory action from the wounded
dura mater, extending in all probability to the brain and its
more immediate investments. Even should the practitioner
be in some degree successful in moderating the more imme¬
diate mischief by antiphlogistics alone, the necessity for tre-
phining will still remain, on account of abscess under the
bone, occasioned and kept up by the spiculse; the matter
must be evacuated, and the cause of its formation must be
removed. It is surely infinitely better, therefore, to operate
in the first instance, and so avert all such calamities. Ab¬
scess sometimes forms between the dura mater and the bone,
as a consequence of mere contusion ; its occurrence, and
usually its site, are indicated by constitutional disturbance,
peculiar oedema of the scalp, unhealthy discharge from the
w ound, and a pale necrosed appearance of the bone. In such
cases, also, perforation of the skull should not be delayed;
for it will usually succeed in evacuating the matter, and re¬
lieving the patient. But, on the whole, “ trepanning of the
skull, which, with our forefathers, appears to have been an
everyday occupation, is an operation now very rarely resorted
to. After its performance, from whatever cause, there is now
no rasping of the bone, or cutting away of the integuments;
the edges of the circular aperture are denuded of their pe-
1 For more minute details regarding these splints, see Liston’s Practical Surgery, p. 80, et scq.
838
SURGE R Y.
Surgery, riosteum as little as possible, and the soft parts, having been
v-™—' carefully replaced, are treated as a suppurating wound ; the
deficiency of the bone is filled up by a ligamentous expan¬
sion, incorporated with the granulating integument. When
a large portion of the skull has been removed, it is well to
afford support to the cranial contents, by the application of a
compress and bandage.
Erysipelas. There is no more successful caterer to the amputating
knife than erysipelas inertly treated ; destruction of bones
and joints has been too often its result, dhe improved
treatment by incision, however, now in general use, saves
many a limb entire and unscathed. So soon as tension of
the surface indicates that the cellular substance is so infil¬
trated as to threaten destruction of the tissues, free incision
must be immediately had recourse to ; the knife is used not
only to evacuate matter, but to anticipate its formation, and
prevent its baneful consequences. In the milder cases,—and
in erysipelas of the face, where incisions cannot be practised
with propriety,—sufficient relief is obtained by making, with
the point of a lancet, numerous punctures in rapid succes¬
sion ; effusion from which is encouraged by hot fomentations.
In most cases, even when severe, division of the integument
and subjacent cellular tissue suffices; but if the infiltration
has extended to the inter-muscular tissue, the knife must
follow: its free use may appear harsh, but is in reality a
valuable kindness. The burrowing of matter is prevented,
and consequently also sloughing of the soft parts, the open¬
ing up of bursae and articulations, and the denuding of
bones by destruction of their periosteum, ending in necrosis
more or less complete. Museums were at one time copi¬
ously enriched with splendid specimens of necrosis of the
long bones, throughout almost tbe whole extent or the limb,
all the result of neglected erysipelas; but the bistoury has
superseded the amputating knife, and such preparations for¬
tunately are now become valuable by their rarity.
Abscess. Similar remarks will apply to the early opening of ab¬
scesses in general. “ Pointing’’ is not now waited for ; be¬
fore that takes place, irretrievable mischief may have been
done. The tactus eruditus having acquainted the surgeon
with the existence of purulent formation, it must be reached
by his bistoury, at whatever depth, if it be in the neighbour¬
hood of joints, bones, or vessels, and more particularly if close
to important cavities or canals. The mere contact of puru¬
lent matter will not injure these, but its pressure will, and
from it they must be relieved, lest their functions be inter¬
fered with or their structure destroyed. For example, puru¬
lent collections in the fauces are evacuated by the bistoury
before the patient is threatened with suffocation ; and ab¬
scesses in the perineum, and neighbourhood of the anus,
are drained by an external opening before they have be¬
come troublesome fistulae.1 The knife must of course be
used cautiously when the abscess is deep, lest the vessels
and other important parts be wounded ; but let not the fear
of this deter the surgeon from relieving abscesses in their
immediate neighbourhood, for “ the vessels and nerves are
displaced by the morbid accumulation, and the knife is
passed safely, in their course, to such a depth as would great¬
ly endanger them in the healthy state of the parts.” The
opening should in all cases be made sufficiently large to af¬
ford a free exit to the matter; it should be placed in the most
dependent part of the cavity, with which view the prevail¬
ing position of the patient should be considered ; and some¬
times more than one opening should be made at once, to
prevent the necessity for future counter-openings, or the Surwr
formation of sinus,—as when the abscess extends over a con-
siderable surface, and cannot be made to discharge through
one aperture. After evacuation, in assisting which no pres¬
sure or squeezing should be employed, fomentations and
the water-dressing are applied. When the rule of early-
opening has not been attended to, and the abscess in con¬
sequence has become chronic and of large size, free incision
should still be made at the most dependent point of the
tumour, notwithstanding the advice of the late Mr Aber-
nethy to the contrary ; for experience has shown that the
Abernethian treatment of chronic abscess is more likely to
produce constitutional disturbance, with unhealthy excite¬
ment of the cavity, than when the matter is allow ed a free
and constant drain, and the parts are at the same time duly
supported. In establishing an artificial abscess, or issue, j rnv,
the modern caoutchouc seton is a great improvement onseton
the skein of silk or cotton formerly used, requiring no re¬
newal on account of decay, and absorbing no discharge.
Ulcers, like w-ounds, are now treated more simply anduicer,
better; and better because more simply. The healthy
suppurating sore is covered, like a suppurating wound, w ith
the plain and light water-dressing; simple in the first in¬
stance, afterwards medicated by gentle stimulants or not,
according as the progress of the sore may seem to< require.
When stimulants are used, their solution is at first weak,
and is increased in strength very gradually, lest the discharge
should be suddenly suppressed and the sore consequently
inflame ; the object is simply to moderate discharge, and
check weak exuberance of granulation. An inflamed ulcer
is subdued by the hot-water dressing, combined with anti¬
phlogistic regimen, rest, and elevation of the part. An ir¬
ritable ulcer is soothed by the water-dressing, and occa¬
sional slight application of the nitrate of silver to the jag¬
ged angry edges of the sore ; or the lint may be dipped
in a bland anodyne solution. In all such dressings, the
lint is kept constantly invested by a portion of oiled silk,
larger than itself, to prevent evaporation of the fluid in
which the lint has been soaked. When granulations prove
exuberant, they are to be reduced to the proper level by the
application of sulphate of copper, or may be shaved off by the
rapid sweep of a thin sharp bistoury ; or tbe surface may be
compressed by dry lint and bandage. An indolent ulcer
is stimulated to healthy action by pressure and support,
combined if necessary with a direct stimulant application.
This last description of sore is the most common, and is
usually found afflicting the labouring classes, to whom the
restoration of a limb is of more importance than to any
other class of patients; a speedy cure is therefore of no
little consequence. It is best effected by the method first
recommended by Mr Baynton. W hen the patient applies
for relief, there is usually considerable excitement around
the sore, and this must in the first instance be corrected
by the usual means. Then the foot and lower part of the
leg, for it is the part commonly affected, having been uni¬
formly supported by bandage, the sore is compressed by
adhesive plaster, applied in strips encircling the whole girth
of the limb, and with their extremities crossed over the
sore; if this is large, and pouring out much discharge, it is
well to cut a small hole in the plaster where it covers the
ulcer. The application having been made to extend about
an inch on each side of the sore, a little fine tow is place
above it, to absorb discharge, and the whole is retained
3 Dr Radcliffe has probably few imitators at present in his clumsy method of emptying abscess of the fauces.. “ Ue was once sen ^
into the country to visit a gentleman ill of the quinsy. Finding (supposing) that no external or internal application would be ° sfrvl.
desired the lady of the house to order a hasty pudding to be made; when it was done, his own servants were to bring it up. ’’e , an(j
preparing, he gave them instructions how they were to act. When the pudding was set upon the table, the doctor said, ome, a^^ ^
Dick, eat as quickly as possible; you have bad no breakfast this morning.’ Both began with their spoons ; but, on Jack s ipping o
Dick’s twice, a quarrel arose. Spoonsful of hot pudding were discharged on both sides ; handsful were pelted at each ot
was seized with a hearty fit of laughter, the quinsy burst, and the patient recovered.” A moment’s use of a straight sharp-pomte i 0 7
have saved both time and the pudding.
SURGERY.
839
S -ry. by continuation of the bandage which supports the lower
—' part of the limb. This dressing is removed at the end of
forty-eight hours, or sooner if necessary. The sore itself
is not to be washed or rubbed, for its own secretion is its
natural and best protection ; but the surrounding skin is
wiped clean, and, if excoriated by the pressure, bathed with
a spirituous lotion; the dressing is then re-applied as before.
By such manipulation, repeated as often as is necessary,
the indolent surface of the sore is stimulated to the for¬
mation of healthy granulations for raising its depressed
surface, while at the same time the swelling of the sur¬
rounding skin and cellular tissue is diminished by absorp¬
tion ; and thus, the sore and its margins having been
brought to one level, cicatrization proceeds. After the
ulcer has in this way been converted into the simple sup¬
purating sore, either the same dressing may be continued,
exerting less pressure, or it may be superseded by the
medicated lint and oiled silk. When nearly closed, all
dressing may be discontinued; the natural secretion form¬
ing a crust, under which cicatrization is speeddy com¬
pleted. Of course healing will be materially assisted by
rest and elevation of the limb; but the labouring man
cannot always afford this, and the treatment by plaster, just
described, possesses, in addition to its other virtues, this
advantage, that with it the patient can continue in the erect
posture with much greater impunity than when using any
other application. For some considerable time after cica¬
trization, the limb should continue to be supported by a
bandage or laced stocking. Another frequent ulcer is the
weak sore, with thin, dark red margins, based on cellular
tissue almost sloughing, and emitting a thin unhealthy dis¬
charge. Such generally form in clusters, and can be
brought to heal only after the unsound parts have been
destroyed by the potassa fusa, so as to obtain a sound foun¬
dation on which the reparative granulation may arise. This
description of sore, however, is too often combined with
and dependent on a strumous diathesis, and is healed only
to break out afresh.
Such is a bare outline of the modern treatment of ulcers,
to which however no fixed and absolute rules can be made
to apply ; for sores are often changing their character and
appearance, though perhaps but slightly, and consequently
demand as frequent a change in the treatment. “ A judi¬
cious practitioner, by varying his applications according to
the appearance and disposition of the sore, will serve "and
benefit his patient much more efficiently than by trying
empirically this or the other new specific, or blindly ap¬
plying one remedy for every sore, because he has seen its
good effects, or been informed of its answering miraculous¬
ly in one or two instances.” Be it likewise remembered,
that in no class of diseases is attention to the general health
more requisite.
We may here allude to the general improvement in hospi¬
tal practice, in consequence of which the hospital sore, so
long and so frequently a scourge in those valuable institu¬
tions, is now almost unknown. The ventilation, cleaning,
and general arrangement of the wards, the diet, clothing, and
classification of the patients, are all improved; but probably
nothing has tended so much to the disappearance of this for¬
midable disease, as the substitution of tow for sponge in the
dressing of sores; a change apparently simple and insignifi¬
cant, but in reality most important. Formerly both nurses
and dressers were in the habit of using one sponge for the
sores and wounds of a whole ward, and if in one patient un¬
healthy action supervened, the vitiated discharge was soon
afforded an opportunity of inoculating all. Now, sponges
are not seen but in the operating theatre; washing of wounds
and sores has been discontinued, because found to be preju-
H0Sr is.
dicial to cicatrization ; and when the parts around require Surgery,
cleansing, this is effected by means of tow, which, when used,-y'-—
is immediately thereafter destroyed or thrown away.
In aneurism, the discovery of Hunter has been most sue- Aneurism,
cesstully extended. Further investigation in arterial pa¬
thology, especially as to the effects of ligature, has produced
the most important results. The accumulated knowledge
and experience, applied to practice by the talents and cou¬
rage of Scarpa, Abernethy, Astley Cooper, Liston, Stevens,
and Mott, have achieved most triumphant advancement in
surgery ; for thus the means of cure have been happily ex¬
tended to cases of aneurism, formerly regarded as irreme¬
diable. There are many aneurisms, and not of unfrequent
occurrence, on which the surgeons of the last century were
content to look until the tumour burst, and their patient
perished under their very gaze, which are now fearlessly
encountered, and with the best hopes of success. In an¬
eurism of the neck, Hunter and Scarpa led the surgeon to
believe that a ligature placed on the carotid, between the
tumour and the heart, might effect a cure, and Cooper proved
that it did so. This arresting of the cephalic circulation is
no longer looked upon with insurmountable dread; for ex¬
perience has shown, that even both carotids may be tied,
with but a short interval between the operations, and with¬
out any untoward result. The surgeon’s knife and ligature
have, in the cure of aneurism, ventured even so near the
heart as the arteria innominata, but hitherto unfortunately
without ultimate success; indeed it is doubtful whether
the operation on this vessel can ever prove successful, there
being so many inevitable obstacles to complete consolida¬
tion by ligature; as yet, ulceration has always supervened,
occasioning fatal haemorrhage. The subclavian has been
deligated on account of axillary aneurism. Mr Liston had
the honour to be the first who did so w ith success ; and an
equally happy result has not been unfrequent since. Liga¬
ture of the axillary and humeral arteries, though difficult,
is regarded as scarcely unusual. The aneurisms of the
groin and hip were left to run their course unmolested, un¬
til Abernethy and Stevens showed that the Hunterian ope¬
ration could be extended even to them. “ The common,
external, and internal iliacs, are now tied without much dif¬
ficulty, and very often with a successful issue. These ope¬
rations are quite justifiable, provided always there has been
no mistake in diagnosis, and that there is nothing in the
state of the patient’s health, or in the condition of the ar¬
terial system, to contra-indicate interference.” The origi¬
nal operation on the femoral, on account of aneurism in the
ham or in the lower third of the thigh, is now looked upon,
when skilfully executed, as at once the simplest, most beau¬
tiful, and most successful interference with the larger ar¬
teries. Thus we see that all aneurisms of the extremities
are within the reach of art, and that a certain degree of
success has attended the approaches towards the trunk, as
far as the common iliac and arteria anonyma.1 It is to be
feared that “ the force of surgery can no further go.” It
is indeed a triumph that it has gone so far; and we cannot
reasonably expect that ligatures, placed nearer the great
centre of circulation than either of the above-mentioned
vessels, can ever be productive of a successful result. Sur¬
gical invention and enterprise have not, however, been
easily baffled; and in those cases of aneurism too deep to
admit of the Hunterian method of operation, it has been
pioposed to reverse the procedure, and place a ligature
on the distal side of the tumour. The operation has
been put in practice, and in a few cases with some tempo-
lary advantage, but the general result is not encouraging.
Great difficulty has sometimes been experienced in disco¬
vering the vessel destined for the ligature, in consequence
1 The aorta has been tied, but with a result which does not warrant repetition of the experiment.
SURGERY.
840
§ ninety, of displacement by the tumour, or more or less obliteration
s of its calibre. It is an operation “ which, in a favourable
case, and at the earnest solicitation of a patient, a surgeon
might be induced to adopt, as the only though desperate
remedy for an otherwise incurable disease ; but it is not a
proceeding which he would be warranted in urging his pa¬
tient to undergo.” In false aneurism from wound, as at the
bend of the arm, if pressure methodically and firmly ap¬
plied—the whole limb below the wounded point being duly
supported—fail to arrest the formation of tumour, recourse
is had to the ligature. If the tumour be recent, soft, and
superficial, and the parts around not much infiltrated, the
wounded point may be exposed at once by incision, and
ligature placed above and below the aperture. But if the
tumour be of cousiderable duration and size, ligature of the
trunk, between the tumour and heart, is the preferable and
equally successful proceeding.
The more important steps in effecting deligation of the
larger arteries, whether for true or false aneurism, may
here be briefly mentioned. The incisions are made with a
small, finely-edged scalpel, used lightly and cautiously;
neither directors nor blunt knives should be employed, for
they must bruise or tear to a certain extent; and the
simpler and smoother the cut is, the greater is the proba¬
bility that both wound and artery will assume a healthy
action. The vessel having been exposed, its sheath is
opened on the anterior aspect, to the extent of about an
inch, and the point of a blunt aneurism-needle is gently
passed beneath and around the artery, great care being
taken to exclude nerve and vein from its circuit. A strong
silk ligature having been thus passed, its loop is cut, and
one half withdrawn along with the needle; the other is
firmly secured on the artery, its effect on the tumour hav¬
ing, by previous pressure, been ascertained to be satisfac¬
tory. In placing the knot on deep-seated vessels, Mr
Weiss’s instrument will be found to afford important as¬
sistance. “ All this must be done without disturbing the
position of the vessel, without detaching it from the sheath,
or breaking up its fine cellular connections laterally and
behind, further than is barely sufficient for the passage of
the needle. There must be no lifting of the vessel on the
handle of the knife, or on the director, as if in triumph ;
for ulceration of the arterial coats, and secondary haemor¬
rhage on or about the separation of the ligature, are the al¬
most inevitable consequences of such proceedings.” If by
accident the vessel has been disturbed from its connec¬
tions, two ligatures are to be applied, one at each termi¬
nation of the separated portion ; but in general one single
ligature is much preferable. Both its ends should never be
cut away close to the knot; for, in addition to the ordinary
disadvantages found to belong to this plan, there is no
slight risk of abscess, caused by the deserted knot, inducing
secondary bleeding by ulcerative absorption of the arterial
coats. And indeed the surgeon will feel more comfortable,
in such anxious cases, if he leave both ends pendent from the
wound. Fora like reason, separation of the ligature should be
throughout its whole course spontaneous; rash pulling at its
ends may be productive of the most serious results. The
wound is brought together, and otherwise treated, accord¬
ing to the principles formerly detailed. Should secondary
bleeding unfortunately occur, the vessel must be exposed
above and below the source of haemorrhage, and a ligature
applied at each point. But if the original operation have
been judiciously as well as dexterously performed, and the
after-treatment carefully conducted, such an untoward re¬
sult need scarcely be dreaded. Should pulsation return in
the tumour, on the complete establishment of collateral
circulation, pressure well applied will suffice to perfect the
obliteration of the sac.
yejns. In dilatation or varix of the veins, if methodical pressure
and attention to the bowels fail to remove the disease, or
at least its inconveniences, a radical cure is obtained by Surges
obstruction of the calibre of the main trunk, on the cardiac
side of the dilatation ; and this is effected either by the ap¬
plication of potass, or by including about an inch of the
vein, at that part, between two points of twisted suture;
the needles being passed beneath the vessel, and removed
as soon as sufficient excited action has been produced in
the venous coats. Either method is effectual in obtaining
obliteration of the vein’s calibre at the selected point: the
latter is, perhaps, in most instances the preferable ; but in
both the procedure must be cautious, and the after-treat¬
ment watchful, in order to guard against haemorrhage and
extension of inflammatory action.
The operation of phlebotomy has always been simpleyenesec-
and of easy execution; in regard to it, the only modernt'on•
improvement which we have to notice, is the comparative
rarity of its performance. It was, and still is, too much
the custom to bleed, so as to appear to be doing something
active in treatment, not only when the proceeding has
seemed to the ignorant practitioner likely to do no harm,
but also when a wiser head could have told that it must do
irremediable mischief. The good fortune of the first phle-
botomist, Podalirius, seems to have produced in his succes¬
sors an unfortunate attachment to the operation, which has
been communicated from generation to generation, and
from which our day is not yet wholly exempt. In very many
cases it is doubtless the only certain means of relief, and
must be employed readily and boldly; but in fully as
many it had better be done with a sparing hand, or alto¬
gether omitted. What can be worse, for example, than to
find a patient who has just sustained a severe accident—
still labouring under the shock which the injury has pro¬
duced, pulseless, and with the powers of the system all but
extinguished—robbed by an ignorant or reckless man, un¬
fortunately called to his aid, of that very fluid, and con¬
sequently of those very powers, of which he is at the time
most in need, and without which the syncope must soon
pass into death. Such a case is too frequent even now:
but it is consolatory to know that the folly of such pro¬
ceedings is becoming more and more extensively known,
and that the thoughtless, mischievous practice of indiscri¬
minate venesection is more and more abandoned.
A similarly absurd practice prevails in regard to theBrui56-
treatment of bruise. Leeches are instantly applied, in order
that they may suck out the extravasated, or “ bruised
blood,” as it is called. These little animals drink only from
the running stream, drawing for themselves from the blood¬
vessels, and therefore fail to perform what is expected of
them by their employers. At the same time, their bites,
admitting the external air to the extravasated blood, may
induce suppuration of an unhealthy kind in the cellular
tissue. They are of use simply as a mode of local deple¬
tion, in order to moderate or avert inordinate excited ac¬
tion occurring as a secondary result of the accident.
In the treatment of hernia, the advancement of anato-Hernia,
mical knowledge has rendered operative procedure more
simple, safe, and effective. And pathological experience
having now fully established the great danger of delay af¬
ter the taxis, fairly tried, has been found unavailing, the
operation is had recourse to at once, with a much more
certain prospect of success. In the greater number of
cases the taxis will prove successful, when employed early
and with skilful perseverance. But as soon as the surgeon
is satisfied that his unarmed hands, assisted by his medical
skill, are incapable of reducing the tumour, each moment
of delay is culpable until he assumes the knife, and by it
relieves the constricted parts; for by its keen edge the
patient is infinitely less endangered than by even brie
continuance of the incarceration. This principle, now ge¬
nerally acted on, saves many a patient who formerly wou
either have perished in excruciating torture, or lingere on
SURGERY.
Cnl<1
disoii'
r. with artificial anus, noisome to others, and a burden even to
“'himself. But this is a subject too extensive to be here
more fully considered. Endeavours towards the cure of
artificial anus are made by the apparatus, and according
to the system of treatment, invented by Dupuytren ; and
sometimes they prove successful.
3 In the treatment of calculous disorders, modern improve-
• ment has effected much. Chemistry, happily combined with
pathology, has taught the surgeon in many cases to antici¬
pate cure by prevention, detecting the tendency to deposit
in the secretions of the kidney, ascertaining the exact nature
of that deposit, and then applying, according to its nature,
the suitable corrective. When there is reason to believe
that calculus has actually formed in the bladder, its presence
is to be ascertained by careful sounding. IVIanv affections 
for example, diseased kidneys or fundament, worms or other
causes of irritation in the bow'els—occasion all the ordinary
symptoms of stone ; and it is only after the surgeon has dis¬
tinctly heard the stroke of his sound on the foreign body,
that he can be certain that a stone exists. The most con¬
venient instrument for exploring all parts of the bladder is
a sound, steel throughout, with a sharp and sudden curve.
When, by its cautious and patient use, the presence of a
calculus is no longer doubtful, and some estimate has also
been made of its size and form, the question then arises
between patient and surgeon as to the preferable mode of
its summary extrusion; for removal by chemical solvents,
though sanctioned by act of parliament, is no longer trusted
to. It is only within these twenty years that a power of se¬
lection has existed; till then, the knife alone presented hopes
of relief. l\ow, however, cutting is often superseded by
crushing, and rightly. Indeed it is a qucestio vexata among
many, as to whether lithotomy or lithotrity be the better
adapted for general use; and each has its zealous and un-
conq remising advocates. As is usual in such cases, we
shall probably find that truth lies in the middle, and that
both operations must still be employed, each finding cases
to which it is peculiarly applicable. Lithotrity was at first
a very imperfect art, difficult and complicated in perform¬
ance, often failing in the attainment of its object, and not
seldom followed by the most untoward results. Its practice
was likewise in a great measure confined to a particular set
of operators, not the best qualified for such undertakings,
who, regarding it as a means of gain alone, were not long
in bringing discredit on its reckless and indiscriminate use.
Thus a great advantage was given to the old operation, over
its imprudently managed rival. But the instruments and pro¬
cedure of lithotrity have of late been greatly improved, and
have become, as is usual in such improvements, more easy
and simple, and at the same time more effective. They now
receive the attention of every well-educated surgeon ; the
student applies to lithotomy and lithotrity with equal care
and attention, and endeavours to perfect himself in the ma¬
nipulations of both ; and in consequence, the latter operation
has been rescued from the empirical professor, and placed
.^e^ter qualified hands of the regular practitioner,
■here is not now, as in the time of “ the invasion of pro-
essed stone-grinders,” some years ago, an indiscriminate
performance of one operation, in all cases, simply because
the operator knows no other. The circumstances of the
case had then very little influence in determining the nature
of the operative procedure. If a surgeon was applied to,
the knife was recommended ; and “ if the patient fell into
the hands of the professed stone-grinder, he was certain,
under all circumstances, of being subjected to the hammer¬
ing and boring processes.” Now, application being made
to the regular practitioner, at least in the first instance, he,
equally acquainted with either mode of operating, consci¬
entiously advises the one which circumstances require, either
operating himself; or employing one whom he may consi¬
der more dexterous and equally skilful. Lithotrity can only
VOL. XX. J J
841
be safely performed by those “ who understand well the Surgery,
healthy anatomy of the urethra and bladder; who are ac-
quainted with their sympathies, vital actions, and patholo¬
gical changes; and who understand and practise the treat¬
ment of their deranged functions.” And by such it is now
performed, in the cases to which it is applicable. In pati¬
ents above the age of puberty, when the symptoms have
not been of very long duration, when the stone has been
ascertained not to exceed a chestnut in size, when the ure¬
thra is free from contraction, when the bladder is capacious,
tolerably healthy in its coats, and free from irritability of its
lining membrane, and when the individual is of an easy,
patient disposition; under a combination of such circum¬
stances, lithotrity is the preferable operation; in other cases,
lithototny. It is thus apparent, that possibly lithotrity may
in time almost entirely supersede lithotomy in the adult;
all that is necessary being, that the patient apply to a well-
qualified surgeon at the very commencement of his ailments.
But until wusdom shall pervade mankind to this extent, very
many cases must occur in which the old operation, well
performed, is much to be preferred; and this need not be
greatly regretted, for the actual difference between the two
operations as to pain and danger is not so great as is gene¬
rally supposed.
I he simple instrument of two branches, as made by the
Messrs Weiss, has superseded all the more complicated and
less effective apparatus for lithotrity; as also Cooper’s for¬
ceps for removal of small stones by the urethra. The in¬
strument having been introduced into the bladder, tolerably
distended, is brought in contact with the stone; its blades
are opened, and the stone brought between, great care being
taken that the mucous membrane is uninjured; the blades
are then approximated by the screw, and the interposed
stone crushed more or less completely. When the stone
is single, small, and friable, one such proceeding will suf¬
fice : if not, the fragments are seized and bruised in suc¬
cession, either at the time, or at one or more subsequent
sittings. The screw-power is preferred to that of the ham¬
mer, as equally efficient and more safe, not endangering the
twisting or breaking of the instrument. Diluents are freely
exhibited, to promote and facilitate passage of the detritus
with the urine. Should the pain and irritation thus occa¬
sioned prove severe, opiates, blood-letting, and hot bathing,
may be required. But, in general, if the case have been
judiciously selected, and the operation skilfully performed,
the subsequent irritation will be but slight; and after a few
days, examination of the bladder may be resumed, to ascer¬
tain whether or not all the fragments have been extruded.
This exploration cannot be too minute and careful, for the
greatest stumbling-block to the advancement of lithotrity
in the confidence of the profession, has been the uncertainty
as to whether or not the bladder has bv such proceedings
been completely freed from every fragment, it being well
known that but a very small portion of foreign matter re¬
maining will become the nucleus of further deposit, and
speedily re-establish the disease. The advantage of litho¬
tomy is, that, for final exploration of the bladder, it has the
finger, which, if at all experienced, can seldom be deceived.
Lithotrity has but the sound for the same purpose, and
must endeavour to make patience, dexterity, and care, com¬
pensate for the inferiority of the instrument.
But when the stone is large, and has been long resident
in the bladder, this viscus has its cavity contracted, its coats
fasciculated, and its surface irregular, affording receptacles
for the fragments, from which the most careful manipula¬
tions may not dislodge them. Besides, such a bladder will
not bear the annoyance of instruments often introduced;
indeed the mere change of a tolerably smooth stone into
angular fiagments, may be sufficient to excite even fatal
disturbance of the viscus and of the system. In all such
cases, therefore, lithotomy is the preferable operation; it
842
SURGERY.
Surgery, not only insures, with common care, complete removal of
^ v ■- ' the source of irritation, but also, by suspending the functions
of the diseased viscus, gives it the advantage of rest, as vyell
• as the relief caused by loss of blood from the neighbouring
vessels. Even when the bladder is tolerably sound, a large
stone of ordinary consistence is unfavourable to lithotrity;
for the fragments must also be large, until after much manipu¬
lation ; and attempts to pass such fragments must be attend¬
ed with much pain and some danger. The immediate result
of lithotrity in such cases is, “like the partial delivery of a
pregnant woman,” very unsatisfactory. The fragments may
become firmly impacted in the urethra, causing retention of
urine, and all its direful consequences. _ When this happens,
and the impacted portion will not yield to an attempt to
push it again into the bladder, it must at once be reached
and removed by incision in the mesial line; and then the
surgeon may take the opportunity of extending the wound
a little farther, and with his finger and a scoop effectually
clear the bladder of all remaining detritus. Lithotrity is
scarcely applicable to young subjects; the parts are not
sufficiently capacious, the patient is too restless, and the
concretion, usually of oxalate of lime, is too hard to be easily
pulverized. This is the less to be regretted, as in them
well-performed lithotomy seldom if ever proves unfortunate.
Among them, therefore, and “ those of mature age who
are so foolish or so ill informed as to permit the stone to
attain an inordinate bulk,” lithotomy must still prevail. It
is an operation certainly more alarming to the patient, and
to the surgeon may be more difficult and perplexing; but
when dexterously and skilfully executed, we doubt much if
its average risk exceeds, or even equals, that of promiscu¬
ous lithotrity; its efficiency is indisputably greater. Ihe
mode of operation pursued by Mr Liston, the most dexter¬
ous, elegant, and successful lithotomist of the present day,
is similar to the method of Cheselden. For its details we beg
to refer to Mr Liston’s late work on Practical Surgery,
where the modern lithotriteur is also minutely described.
He attributes much of his success to limited incision of the
prostate, so as to preserve the internal cellular tissue of the
pelvis from infiltration of urine; and to the insertion of a
gum elastic tube in the wound, so as to afford a free exit to
the urine, and diminish the risk of its poisonous infiltration,
while at the same time it facilitates the arresting ol haemor
rhage, should this occur. “ The operation of lithotomy,”
says he, “ if performed in the easy and simple method re¬
commended, is effected with much less pain than is sup¬
posed ; it is completed, with perfect safety, in a short space
of time, and offers very favourable results. It is, however,
an operation which ought never to be undertaken without
due consideration of all the circumstances that may arise;
and the surgeon who does undertake it must have resources
within himself to meet with and overcome difficulties in all
the various stages of the proceeding.”
stricture. 1° tl56 treatment of stricture of the urethra, all armed
bougies have been laid aside, in favour of the plain metallic
catheter and bougie. The milder cases are easily over¬
come. A plated steel bougie, selected of such a size as
will with no great difficulty pass the constricted part, is
gently insinuated along the urethra. After three or four
days, the introduction is repeated. Then at each farther
re-introduction, at an interval of a few days, the size of the
instrument is gradually increased, until it completely fills
the orifice; a sign that sufficient distention of the canal has
been achieved. After this, it is right to pass the last in¬
strument occasionally, at long intervals, to counteract any
tendency towards return of the contraction. Soft pliable
bougies may sometimes be useful for mere exploration of
the canal, but are not of much use otherwise; it being diffi¬
cult to guide their points, or ascertain the exact direction
which they assume. During the cure, the state of the
urine should be strictly attended to ; for its acridity—one
of the causes of stricture—may, by irritation of the urethra, Surgery
materially retard the progress. Should the bougie cause'"—
serious irritation of the urethra, as sometimes happens, the
interval between its introductions must be increased, allow¬
ing the painful effects of each to subside before another is
attempted, else much more harm than good will accrue
from the use of the instrument. For the penetration of
tight unyielding strictures, a firm silver catheter is the most
appropriate instrument, its size being proportioned to the
extent of contraction. For very obvious reasons, great cau¬
tion must be observed in its use; steady, cautious, patient,
and gentle pressure, in the right direction, must never be
superseded by sudden and daring force, or irreparable
mischief may ensue. “ Lightness of hand, and gentleness
of manipulation, will often enable a surgeon to overcome
difficulties which to others may have proved insuperable.
The operation of introducing a catheter through what has
been called an impermeable stricture, is without doubt the
most difficult in the whole range of surgical practice, and
demands all the prudence, science, and skill of a master.
The art can only be acquired, and that gradually, by fre¬
quent practice.” When the stricture is very tight, and has
afforded much opposition to the passage of the catheter,
and more particularly when the operation has been under¬
taken on account of retention of urine, it is well to retain
the instrument secured in the strictured part for twenty-
four or eight and forty hours. The cure is thus much ex¬
pedited, as well as recurrence of the retention prevented.
The presence of the foreign body in the stricture calls up
a natural effort for its extrusion, resulting in relaxation of
the part, with profuse discharge ; and so remarkable is the
dilatation thus effected, that on withdrawing the instrument
at the end of the time already specified, it is found “ lying
quite loose” in the passage, although at its introduction it
had been grasped most tightly, and firmly fixed in the stric¬
ture. Immediately after its withdrawal, a much larger in¬
strument can usually be introduced with ease, and the cure
is then proceeded with as in ordinary cases. Sometimes the
parts so strenuously resist the presence of the foreign body,
that it is prudent to remove the instrument in less time
than we have mentioned. Under no circumstances should
it be retained beyond two days. It becomes coated with
calculous deposit; and, besides, there is danger of its irri-
tation proving excessive; ulceration may take place in the
urethra, or abscess form along its course.
Thus the worst possible stricture may be overcome, and
the urethra restored to its healthy functions and dimensions.
But, as already said, prudence and experience are insepa¬
rable from the safe use of the small catheter; with them,
it is a most valuable instrument, and saves many a patient
now-a-days who would otherwise have become the victim
of cruel and dangerous operation. It is seldom, indeed,
that we now hear of puncture of the bladder, even by the
rectum, a proceeding at one time so common here, as to be
known as “ the Edinburgh operation.” And wTe as seldom
hear of the catheter producing tears and wounds of the
urethra, followed by abscess and fistula, or urinary infiltra¬
tion ending in the death of the patient, or at least in the
destruction of a large portion of his genital integument an
cellular tissue. When from any cause urine has escaped
into the cellular tissue of the perineum, free and deep inci¬
sion, so as to afford ready escape to the poisonous fluid,
cannot be too early resorted to. Should it happen that the
surgeon, notwithstanding skill and perseverance, is foiled
in passing the catheter, and relieving distention, then,
instead of puncturing the bladder, the preferable procedure
is to “ make a free opening in the perineum, directly upo
the obstructed part; to cut upon the end of the catheter,
carrying the knife forwards; to open the dilated portion oi
the urethra, and then to pass the catheter on to the tra¬
der.” Thus the viscus is relieved, and a sure comment
SURGERY.
y. ment made of the cure of the stricture, while no perma-
--''nent inconvenience ensues, as after puncture of any part of
the bladder. In passing the catheter to relieve retention
caused by prostatic disease, it should never be forgotten that
the urethra is in such cases much elongated, and that in
consequence the instrument ought to be three or four inches
longer than those in ordinary use. The treatment of the
enlargement of that gland is entirely palliative ; nor can
proposals for its removal by operation be ranked among the
modern improvements.
pjgL Diseases and injuries of the windpipe are better under-
mdi iriesgtood, and more successfully treated, than formerly. In the
off latter, the surgeon is less meddlesome, and his patient is be-
w“l e’ nefited accordingly. In wounds of the throat it was formerly
the custom, after having secured the larger arterial branches,
to proceed at once to closure of the wound, dragging it
together by stitches and plasters, and covering all by lint
and bandage, as if the principal object were to conceal the
horrid gash from view. The consequence was, that the
blood which continued to ooze, finding no ready outlet
externally, collected in the air-passages, and suffocated the
patient, provided, as was most probable, he had not at the
time sufficient energy for forcible expectoration ; or if this
danger was escaped, it was shortly succeeded by one equal¬
ly imminent, closure of the windpipe at the injured part,
from inflammatory swelling of the wound. Now the intel¬
ligent surgeon is less precipitate; he knows the danger of
the old system, and avoids it by treating cut throat on the
same principles as he would an ordinary wound, making
no approximation until all oozing has ceased, and then only
drawing together the corners, trusting the centre to the
more gentle apposition by bending the head forward, and
by bandage retaining the chin approximated to the top of
the sternum. Thus a free outlet is left to the discharges
which must form ; for the transverse nature of the w'ound,
and the constant motion of its edges in respiration and de¬
glutition, render union by the first intention impossible. Im¬
mediate risks are thus avoided ; and if the patient’s energy
prove sufficient, the wound will gradually close by granu¬
lation. But in genera], at least in attempted suicides, a
low fever ensues, against which all efforts toward cure are
unavailing. The patient should be kept in a comfortably
warm and equable temperature, and the fore part of the neck
should be protected by some loose covering, that the in¬
spired air may be, as nearly as possible, of the same tempe-
| rature as in natural respiration. Thus the occurrence of
bronchitis is so far obviated; and so long as air passes
through the wound, no other dressing need be applied.
When the pharynx is involved in the wound, nourishment
is given from time to time through a tube introduced by
i the mouth ; not through the wound, lest contraction of the
tracheal opening should be interfered with, and its edges
cicatrize separately, leaving the patient in a very miserable
plight. Sometimes respiration becomes obstructed by swell- -
ing of the mucous membrane and accumulation of viscid mu¬
cus, so as to endanger suffocation, and render it necessary to
open the windpipe longitudinally below the obstructed part.
In injuries of the interior of the throat, tracheotomy is also
sometimes necessary. When the glottis has been injured,
lor example, by the swallowing of acids, or hot water, or by
the inhalation of steam, should the ordinary active treat¬
ment fail to arrest the urgent symptoms, tracheotomy must
be had recourse to without delay, otherwise the patient will
perish, either by immediate suffocation, or by effusion con¬
sequent on imperfect pulmonary circulation. A simple blow
on the larynx may so completely paralyze the parts, as to
render opening of the windpipe necessary for restoring the
respiration. And the operation is also required when fo- Surgery,
reign bodies have lodged in the air-passages, and cannot be -v—
expelled by expectoration. If allowed to remain, they are
productive of the greatest annoyance; perhaps suffocation
is immediate; and if they do not speedily induce inflam¬
matory action of the most serious nature, they are certain
ultimately to occasion phthisis, or other chronic disease of
fatal tendency. If the foreign body is loose, it will be
spontaneously ejected from the opening; if fixed, it must
be dislodged by forceps.1
In diseases of the air-passages, tracheotomy often be¬
comes necessary, on account of obstruction at the top of
the windpipe preventing free entrance of air into the lungs.
In acute inflammatory affections, croup, for example, it is sel¬
dom admissible. In the early stage, “ whilst active antiphlo¬
gistic remedies are indicated, and considered likely to afford
relief it could not with propriety be proposed; in the lat¬
ter stages, after lymph has formed, when the lungs are
gorged, and effusion has commenced at the base of the
brain, no good purpose can be answered by an operation.”
Sometimes, in adults, a favourable opportunity for the ope¬
ration may be selected between these stages, but it is sel¬
dom. To the chronic affections the operation is more ap¬
plicable. Even in phthisis laryngea, the most intractable
of these, advantage may be derived from it when perform¬
ed at an early period; the diseased parts above the opening
are set at rest, and an opportunity is afforded of making
direct application, through the wound, of the suitable re¬
medies to the ulcerated surface. But it is in oedema of the
glottis, whether as a primary affection, or supervening on
previous disease, that its beneficial results are most frequent
and most apparent; the patient is at once relieved from im¬
pending suffocation ; the swollen parts are put to rest, and
in time subside ; and after a while they so far recover their
healthy condition, as to admit of closure of the wound and
re-establishment of the natural course of respiration. In
all cases where opening of the windpipe is required, whether
on account of accident or disease, tracheotomy is preferable
to laryngotomy, and though a little more difficult, is equally
safe in performance. An opening in the cricoid membrane
wall not always suffice for detection and removal of a foreign
body ; and being placed in the ordinary site of laryngeal
disease, will usually fail to afford relief when undertaken
on that account. The incisions in tracheotomy are made
very carefully, so that stray vessels may be pushed aside
in safety; the trachea is pierced during the act of degluti¬
tion, when the larynx is elevated and the windpipe elon¬
gated ; a silver tube is immediately introduced, of calibre
proportioned to the object in view, and of such a form as
to prevent oozing from the wound by compression of the
edges. After a short time all irritation from the presence
of the tube ceases; but during the whole cure great atten¬
tion must be paid that it be kept clear of the vitiated mucus.
It should also be protected by some loose covering, in the
same manner and for like reasons as in cases of cut throat.
In the treatment of all affections of the throat, the possibi¬
lity of tracheotomy becoming requisite should always be
kept in view; and the curative applications should conse¬
quently be confined as much as possible to the sides of the
neck, leaving the fore part free, otherwise much difficulty
may be thrown in the way of the operator.
1 he treatment of diseases of the rectum has become sim- Diseases of
plified and improved along w’ith the rest of surgery. “ Many the rectum,
attempts have been made to mystify the subject of diseases
of this region, and to separate them in a great measure from
general surgery. There is no such difficulty as has been
supposed in understanding their nature; the principles
1 A most interesiing case of foreign body in the bronchus, successfully removed by operation, is detailed by Mr Liston, in his Practical
surgery, p. 3/1.
844
SURGERY.
Su rgery.
Tumours.
which should guide their management are simple, and
the means, operative and otherwise, easily enough applied.”
Of late a variance of opinion has arisen in regard to the
treatment after operation on the rectum ; one party main¬
taining that in all cases little or no dressing is required ;
the other, that in every case stuffing and compression of
the wound are essential to the safety of the patient. As is
usual when opinions are in extreme opposition, we find that
truth occupies a middle place. In some slight cases of ope¬
ration, for fistula, haemorrhoids, &c., no more dressing is re¬
quired than what is sufficient to prevent immediate union
of the divided parts ; while in others, a degree of compres¬
sion must be made on the divided surface, proportioned to
the extent of the incision and the probability ol haemorrhage.
It w7ould be very unnecessary to cram the wound in the first
class of cases ; in the second, it would be equally unwise to
leave the parts wholly unsupported.
As the pathology of tumours has become more and more
understood, operative procedure has been withdrawn from
some and extended to others. Diagnosis having become
both more easy and more accurate, we can now readily dis¬
tinguish between those of a benign and those of a malig¬
nant disposition. In regard to the latter, experience has
taught us to forbear from operative interference, unless at
the very first accession of the disease; for though the
more simple tumours, even when of large size and long du¬
ration, may be removed with every prospect ot permanent
cure, yet in those of a malignant nature, immunity from re¬
currence of the disease can be hoped for only when the re¬
moval is very early ; when the local affection is still limit¬
ed and loosely attached ; when there is a certainty of being
able to remove, not only the morbid structure itself, but
some portion of the unaltered tissues which invest it; before
any affection of the neighbouring lymphatics can be detect¬
ed ; and before the general system seems to have been perma¬
nently involved. Among the more benign tumours, the most
remarkable extension of active surgery is in regard to the
solid tumours of the jaw. Not long since these formidable
formations were looked upon with horror and dread, as one
and all of the most malignant tendency, and were conse¬
quently left to their own course. But now we have been
taught that such is not, and ought not to be, the case ; that
many doubtless are most malignant, and must not be in¬
terfered with ; but that others, and sometimes even those of
the most formidable appearance, are sufficiently local and
apathetic to warrant the adoption of active interference
with the most sanguine hopes of success. Both the upper
and lower jaws, involved in large and frightful tumours,
have of late years been removed by operation ; and when
the case has been judiciously selected, good success has
been invariable. In the soft medullary7 tumour of the upper
jaw, commencing in the antrum, an opportunity warranting
interference can seldom occur ; for before the morbid for¬
mation has appeared externally in the mouth or nose, it has
not only completely involved the bone in which it origi¬
nated, but also included in the diseased mass the palate-
bone, the ethmoidal cells, the orbit, and even the sphenoidal
sinuses.1 It is only when such a disease, at an early period^
of its existence, is confined to the antrum, that removal of
the superior maxillary bone can be of service ; but unfor¬
tunately its true nature is seldom discovered until a portion
of the tumour has become apparent by the giving way of the
parietes ; and when that has occurred the case is hopeless,
for its extensipn backwards very far exceeds the outward
protrusion. In its first stage the prominence of the cheek
has the same smooth glistening appearance as in chronic
abscess of the antrum ; but the parietes of the tumour are SurgK
hard and unyielding ; they soon thin at one or more points,vr
there communicating a pulpy feeling to the finger ; and
when they have completely given w7ay, the ravages of the
disease are as rapid as uncontrollable. The more benign
tumour in this situation—originating in the bone, and usu¬
ally the result of injury—is, on the contrary, slow in its pro¬
gress and of very firm consistence ; its surface is lobulated,
and if ulcerated by accident, soon heals again ; the inter¬
nal structure, of a firm fibrous character, is limited by a
dense cellular cyst; and the neighbouring bones are either
simply displaced, or removed more cr less by interstitial ab¬
sorption ; the progress of the tumour is in consequence al¬
most entirely towards the surface. It is in such cases that
the surgeon does not now hesitate to remove the superior
maxillary bone ; for with it he knows that he can take the
whole diseased formation. It is doubtless a formidable ope¬
ration, and not unattended with danger ; but the risk is in¬
significant when compared with the ultimate benefit likely
to accrue. It is therefore evidently of the highest import¬
ance to distinguish accurately these two classes of tumour,
the treatment suitable to each being so widely different;
in the one case operation is wholly inadmissible, while in
the other the sooner it is had recourse to, the greater is the
probability of a successful result. Care should also be taken
not to confound either with the more simple affection of
accumulated fluid in the enlarged antrum ; for it has hap¬
pened that a surgeon, after having made up his mind to at¬
tempt removal of the superior maxilla, has, “ on trying to
divide the connections of that bone, had his hands covered
with purulent matter, and himself with shame and confu¬
sion.” The same general description applies to tumours of
the low7er jaw as to those of the upper, with this difference,
that the relative position of the former somewhat prolongs
the favourable opportunity at which tumours even of ma¬
lignant tendency may be removed. The medullary tu¬
mours are also of much less frequent occurrence; there is
no large cavity, like the antrum, in which they may originate,
and the great majority consequently come under the deno¬
mination of osteo-sarcoma. That very many tumours of
the jaws are attributable to disease, or even faulty position,
of the teeth, and to unskilful dental operations, is a fact as
true as it is important, and should direct both surgeon and
patient to greater and more frequent attention to those in¬
fluential little portions of the osseous system. After the
operation on either jaw, an unseemly void of course remains;
but nature, assisted occasionally by the dentist, does won¬
ders in repairing this, and the actual deformity is in many
cases surprisingly slight.2
In operations for the removal of tumours in the soft parts,
we have elsewhere stated that the incisions should be so
planned as to divide the principal vessels at the outset, as
thus both time and blood are saved. If the vessels impli¬
cated are large, temporary pressure on the trunk may be
made by the assistant; but it can seldom if ever be neces¬
sary to practise a preliminary operation for the securing of
that trunk by ligature. In most cases the dissection of the
tumour should be made as rapidly as is consistent with the
safety of important parts in the neighbourhood. But vvhen
the tumour is suspected of a malignant tendency, the dma-
tion of the proceeding must not be considered ; the dissec¬
tion must be methodical and deliberate. As it proceeds, toe
parts must be examined carefully by both the finger an
eye; and on its completion, the removed mass must be mi¬
nutely surveyed, lest any shred ot morbid formation be e
in the wound. No successful result can be hoped for, un-
1 Sometimes these tumours commence in the latter situations, and involve the superior maxillary bone secondarily. ^ practi-
3 For details of the operation, we again refer to Liston’s Practical Surgery ; a work of great value, from the peru. a o v' ’ L 0f tlie
tioner and student will derive much profit, and to which, we beg to acknowledge, we have been not a little indebted in
present article.
SURGERY.
845
S’.ifry-
I Ven al
I diseL
Hyi :ele.
Res
live
?a-
tr-
S
)se.
less the whole altered structure is completely and freely re¬
moved. Another point in regard to operations on tumours
ought never to be forgotten, namely, that the most simple
and best dispositioned formations may, in the course of
timfe, degenerate into the most malignant and intractable,
and therefore should not be exposed to this contingency ;
they should be early removed, for the merest steatom has,
by circumstances, been transformed into the most frightful
and deadly fungus.
Vascular tumours, of erectile tissue, are now safely and
efficiently removed by ligature. Formerly they were usu¬
ally left undisturbed. Sometimes attempts at excision were
made, but the results were truly discouraging, the haemor¬
rhage proving most alarming, and not unfrequently fatal.
In a mere naevus, obliteration of the vessels may be safely
effected by vaccination, pressure, acupuncture, seton, or
the application of escharotics. But such treatment is total¬
ly inapplicable to the erectile tumours. These, when very
small, may be removed by excision ; but it is not a safe pro¬
ceeding, particularly in young patients, to whom loss of blood
is of serious consequence. But by ligature, vascular tumours
of almost any size and extent are safely removed, by arrest¬
ing their circulation, and so producing sphacelus of the ad¬
ventitious structure. When the formation is of a broad
base, several ligatures are required, passed beneath the tu¬
mour by needles; and when the integument is free, or
but slightly involved, it should be reflected by preliminary
incision, so that these ligatures may be the more effectually
applied. By such procedure, even enlargement of the thy¬
roid gland may be removed. Of course no one would
think of attacking the whole tumour on account of the mere
deformity ; but it sometimes happens that enlargement of
the isthmus occasions difficult respiration, congestion of the
cerebral vessels, and other alarming symptoms ; and in
such cases the offending part has been successfully remov¬
ed by a combination of incision with ligature, using the
knife as deeply as the haemorrhage will permit, and then
completing the isolation of the lobe by strong ligatures ap¬
plied by transfixion.
In the treatment of venereal affections, mercurial supre¬
macy has gradually given way to the influence of common
sense, and the disease has consequently become more mild
and tractable, particularly in its secondary forms. The pri¬
mary symptoms are treated as simply local affections, until
circumstances prove the contrary, which will be compara¬
tively seldom. When the exhibition of mercury seems advis¬
able, little usually suffices; it is used, not abused as formerly.
Hydrocele, which was at one time the apology for very
severe surgical proceedings, by knife, setons, and escharo¬
tics, is now under very simple treatment; the palliative,
is mere tapping of the cavity ; the permanent, injection of
it, after tapping, by some gently stimulating fluid, port wine,
for example. But great care must be taken during injec¬
tion, that none of the fluid enter the cellular tissue of the
scrotum, otherwise most violent inflammatory action must
ensue in the infiltrated parts.
Restorative surgery, in former years scarcely attempted,
is now making rapid progress towards perfection. Noses are
made and repaired most adroitly, not according to the old in¬
convenient system of the European father of rhinoplasties,
but by a modification of the plan practised by the Koomas,
a caste of Hindoos, and first introduced into this country
by Mr Carpue. This decorative operation has been very
successfully practised by Mr Liston, who is the author of
an important change in the procedure—not bringing the
columna from the forehead, but waiting till the new apex
and alae so obtained are consolidated, and then fashioning
a column out of the upper lip.1 By this little operation a Surgery,
more vigorous and substantial support is obtained for the v—
new parts ; and, besides, the lip, which formerly hung tu¬
mid and pendulous, is at the same time very much improv¬
ed in appearance. His nasal constructions, he tells us, are
scarcely to be distinguished from the natural feature at a
little distance, are quite sufficient for the ordinary uses of
that organ, and sometimes have been brought to desiderate
and enjoy the questionable accomplishment of snuff-taking.
He has likewise been very successful in relieving the nose
from inconvenient and unseemly encumbrances, produced
by lipomatous enlargement of the integument. The ex¬
crescence is simply pared off, care being taken not to in¬
terfere with the subjacent cartilages. The raw surface usu¬
ally cicatrizes rapidly, leaving the feature of its natural form
and size. By an operation conducted on similar principles
as the rhinoplastic, the lower lip is renewed from beneath
the chin ; the ear, or rather portions of it, from the integu¬
ment behind; and deficiencies in the urethra can be clos¬
ed by adaptation of a portion of either the prepuce or loose
neighbouring integument. Such proceedings some may
affect to disregard as trivial ; but they are not looked upon
as such by the unfortunate individuals to whom they are
applicable, and really constitute a most interesting and use¬
ful department of operative surgery.
Harelip, one of the most disagreeable of the congenital Harelip,
deficiencies, can be very perfectly remedied, by paring the
edges of the fissure, and securing them in close and accu¬
rate apposition by two or more points of twisted suture.
According to the principles already detailed, no further
dressing is applied ; and if the patient be otherwise in good
health, and the parts protected from external injury, adhe¬
sion will seldom or never fail to occur. The most important
part of the operation, as regards restoration of the lip’s na¬
tural appearance, is complete removal, by the paring of the
rounded margins where the membrane that covers the edge
of the fissure joins the true prolabium. If this be not at¬
tended to, the operation is imperfect, for a most unseemly
notch remains in the lip ; in fact, the fissure is merely di¬
minished, not obliterated. But when these rounded por¬
tions are completely removed, and the operation is in other
respects well conducted, a mere line of cicatrization is all
that remains of the deformity.
Club-foot, a most inconvenient as w'ell as unseemly Club foot,
malformation, is remedied in children by simple means;
merely applying the necessary retentive apparatus, until the
parts become fixed in the normal position in which that ap¬
paratus places them. Now', the cure is extended even to the
adult; and very many varous feet, formerly regarded as ir¬
remediable, are restored to usefulness and symmetry, at the
cost of but slight pain and inconvenience. The first part
of the treatment is to sever the tendo Achillis ; an operation
simple in performance, and seldom if ever followed by any
untoward results. A narrow knife or lancet-shaped needle
is introduced obliquely through the integument, beneath
the tendon, and at a little distance from it on one side; “ by
directing the edge against the resisting fibres, the foot
being kept powerfully extended by an assistant, the object
can be effected with scarcely a perceptible external wound,
and with the escape of only a drop or two of blood.” The
foot is then placed in the desired position, and retained so
by the suitable apparatus, for the necessary period; the
foot becomes both “ useful and ornamentaland the space
between the separated ends of the divided tendon is, after
no long time, firmly and completely occupied by a new for¬
mation, of tendinous structure and capabilities, by means of
which the functions of the muscles are ultimately restored.
. * rf^le columnar slip includes tbe whole thickncSs of the lip, end in its application is not twisted. The mucous membrane, after exposure in
its new situation, soon becomes cuticular in both appearance aud function.
846
SUR
S U R
Surname. A similar operation has been for some time in practice in
'-—s,'——^ the veterinary profession. It was first performed on the in-
man body by the continental surgeons. After dividing the
tendon, they again brought the retracted ends together, and
retained them in apposition until partial reunion took place,
when, by gradual extension, the new formation was elongat¬
ed to the extent necessary for the adjustment of the loot.
This method, however, is both more tedious and more pain¬
ful than the one already described ; and by either, the repair
is equally substantial and efficient. In some cases ot the
deformity, the bones are either so deficient in original de¬
velopment, or so firmly secured in their malposition, as to
be irremediable even by such means. Hut, as already statec,
there are very many cases, both of simple extension ot the
SURINAM. See Guiana.
SURNAME, that which is added to the proper name,
for distinguishing persons and families. It signifies some
name superadded to the proper name to distinguish the
individual, as Artaxerxes Longimanns, Harold Harefoot,
Malcolm Canmore. Surnames were introduced among all
nations at an early period, and seem to have been formed
at first by adding the name of the father to that of the son.
This ivas the practice among the Hebrews, as appears from
the Scriptures. Caleb is denominated the son of Jephun-
neh, and Joshua the son of Nun. That the same thing
was customary among the Greeks, every one who has re-ad
the poems of Homer must remember. We have an in¬
stance of it in the very first line of the Iliad : Hr^kriiahu
’AY'-krps, “ Achilles the son of Peleus.” This is perhaps
the general origin of surnames, for it has been common
among most nations.
The Romans generally had three names. 1 he first, call¬
ed pr cun omen, answered to our Christian name, and was in¬
tended to distinguish the individuals of the same family;
the second, called nomen, corresponded to the wmrd clan m
Scotland, and was given to all those who w-ere sprung from
the same stock ; the third, called cognomen, expressed the
particular branch of the tribe or clan from which an indi¬
vidual was sprung. Thus, in Publius Cornelius Scipio,
Publius corresponded to our names John, Robert, W illiam ;
Cornelius was the name of the clan or tribe, as Campbell
was formerly the name of all the duke of Argyle s clients,
and Douglas the name of the retainers of the duke of Ha¬
milton’s progenitors. Scipio being added, conveyed this
information, that Publius, who w^as of the tribe of the Cor-
nelii, was of the family of the Scipios, one of the branches
or families into which that tribe vras divided. Respecting
the three names which were common among the Romans,
we may say that the first was a name and the other two
were surnames.
Du Chesne observes, that surnames were unknown in
France before the year 987, when the lords began to as¬
sume the names of their demesnes. Camden relates, that
they were first assumed in England a little before the con¬
quest, under King Edward the Confessor; but he adds,
they were never fully established among the common peo¬
ple till the time of Edward II.: till then they varied with
the father’s name. Thus, if the father was called Richard,
or Roger, the son was called Richardson, or Hodgson. The
oldest surnames are those which we find in Domesday-
Rook, most of them taken from places, with the addition
oft/e; as Godefridus de Mannevilla, Walterus de Vernon,
Robert d’ Oyly, &c.; others from their fathers, with Jilius,
as Gulielmus Jilius Osberni; others from their offices, as
Eudo Dapifer, Gulielmus Camerarius, Gislebertus Cocus.
But the inferior people are merely noted by their Chris¬
tian names.
Surnames seem to have been introduced into Scotland,
in the time of William the Conqueror, by the English who
accompanied Edgar Atheling when he fled into that king¬
dom. These had their proper surnames, as Moubray, Lo¬
vell, Lisle, using the particle de before them ; which makes
it probable that these surnames had been derived from the
lands which their ancestors or they themselves had possess¬
ed. In Kenneth II.’s time, about the year 800, the great
men had indeed begun to call their lands by their own
names ; but the ordinary distinctions then used were only
personal, and did not descend to succeeding generations,
such as those employed by the Hebrews and Greeks: for
example, John the son of William ; or the names ot office,
as Stewart; or accidental distinctions from complexion or
station, Black, White, Long, Short; or the name of their
trade, as Weaver, Tailor, Baxter, Brewster.
It was long before any surnames were used in Wales,
except that of son, as Evan ap Rice, Evan the son of Rice ;
Evan ap Howel, Evan the son of Howel. But many of
them have at length formed separate surnames, as the Eng¬
lish and Scotish, by leaving out the a in ap, and joining the
p to the father’s name: thus Evan ap Rice becomes Evan
Price; Evan ap Howel, Evan Powel.
When we come to inquire into the etymology of sur¬
names, wre must allow that many of them were originally
significant of the qualities of mind, as Bold, Hardy, Meek ;
some of the qualities of body, as Strong, Low, Shoit;
others expressive of the trade or employment followed by
the persons to whom they were applied, as Bakei, Smith,
Wright, Butler, Page, Marshall. But the greatest num¬
ber, at least of the ancient surnames, were borrowed
from the names of places. Camden avers that there is not a
village in Normandy but has given its name to some fiunily
in England. He mentions as examples, Percy, Devereux,
Tankerville, Mortimer, Warren, &c. They were introdu¬
ced with William the Conqueror. Several have been de¬
rived from places in the Netherlands, as Gaunt, Tournay,
Grandison ; and many from the names of towns and vil¬
lages in England and Scotland, as Wentworth, Markham,
Murray, Aberdeen. Many have been formed from the
names of animals, as quadrupeds, birds, fishes; from vege¬
tables, and parts of vegetables, as trees, shrubs, flowers,
and fruits ; from minerals of different kinds. . Others are
formed from such a variety of accidents that it is impossible
to particularize them. .
SURPLICE, the habit of the officiating clergy m the
Church of England. By Can. 58, every minister saying
the public prayers, or ministering the sacrament or other
rites of the church, shall wear a decent and comely surphee
with sleeves, to be provided at the charge of the pans i.
But by 1 Eliz. c. 2, and 13 and 14 Car. II., the garb pre¬
scribed by act of parliament, in the second year of King
Edward VI. is enjoined ; and this requires, that in the say¬
ing or singing of matins, and even songs, baptizing ant
burying, the minister in parish churches and chapels s m
use a surplice. And in all cathedral churches and colleges,
the archdeacon, dean, provosts, masters, prebendaries, an
foot, and of that complicated with inversion, in which this Surplice; IJ1
little operation, well seconded by the care of the machinist, v~*~
will be followed with success almost equal to the most
sanguine hopes of both surgeon and patient.
We have thus briefly sketched the subjects which natu¬
rally occur to us, as the most prominent examples of the
modern advancement of surgery. It were easy to swell the
list. But our assigned limits have already been attained, if
not exceeded ; and enough has probably been said, both to
convey a general idea of the improvement recently effected
in this profession, and to encourage a hope that such pro¬
gress will still continue, year after year, bringing the prac¬
tice of this useful, enlightened, and noble art, closer to per¬
fection. (c* D*)
S U R
S U R
847
irey. fellows, being graduates, may use in the choir, besides their
surplices, such hoods as pertain to their several degrees;
but in all other places every minister shall be at liberty to
use a surplice or not. And hence, in marrying, churching
of women, and other offices not specihed in this rubric, and
even in the administration of the holy communion, it seems
that a surplice is not necessary. Indeed for the holy com¬
munion the rubric appoints a white alb plain, which differs
from the surplice in being close-sleeved, with a vestment or
cope.
& daries SURREY, an inland English county, on the banks of the
W:s* Thames, by which, on its northern side, it is separated from
Middlesex. On the west it is bounded by Berkshire and
Hampshire, on the south by Sussex, and on the east by
Kent. Its shape is an oblong, of moderate regularity, ex¬
cept on its northern side, where considerable indentations
are formed by the curvatures of the Thames. Its length
from east to west is about thirty-seven miles, and its breadth
from north to south about twenty-five. The area is 758
square miles, or 485,120 statute acres,
p L. The population of this county at the four decennial pe-
ti: riods of enumeration was found to be as follows ; viz. in
1801 it amounted to 269,043, in 1811 to 323,851, in 1821
to 398,658, and in 1831 to 485,700.
At the last date the occupiers of land employing
labourers were  1,873
Occupiers of land not employing labourers  727
Labourers employed in agriculture  16,761
Labourers employed in manufactures  2,065
Labourers in retail trade and handicraft 44,139
Capitalists, bankers, &c  14,235
Labourers not agricultural  24,878
Males at and above twenty years  10,756
Male servants  6,232
Female servants  24,540
In the same year the number of families chiefly employ¬
ed in agriculture was found to be 14,647; of those chiefly
employed in trade, manufactures, and handicraft, 49,616 ;
and of those not comprised in either of the preceding classes,
44,814. The number of inhabited houses was 80,070, oc¬
cupied by 109,077 families; of uninhabited, 6102; and of
those building, 1073.
The amount of the annual value of the real property of
the county, as assessed for the purposes of the property-tax
in 1813, was L.1,579,173.
Ins and The towns and villages within this county, whose inha-
1)bitants exceed 3000, are, with their population in 1831, as
follows. Such of them which are so in contact with the
metropolis as to form suburbs to it, are here distinguished
by an asterisk.
*South wark 91,501 F arnham 5,858
*Lambeth 87,856 Battersea 5,540
^Newington 44,526 Streatham 5,068
*Bermondsey 29,741 Chertsey   4,795
Camberwell 28,231 Dorking 4,711
*Rotherhithe 12,875 Godaiming 4,529
Croydon 12,447 Mitcham 4,387
Clapham 9,958 Egham 4,203
Kingston 7,257 Guildford 3,813
Richmond 7,243 Putney 3,811
Wandsworth 6,879 Ryegate 3,397
! of the The face of the country exhibits great varieties. On
1 c the north, by the banks of the Thames, from Lambeth to
Egham, the richness of the highly improved country, the
abundance of trees, the verdure of the meadows, the undu¬
lation of the hills, with the numerous elegant private houses,
all display the most pleasing marks of taste, wealth, and
comfort. The centre of the county is a range of chalk
hills, much covered with thick underwood, intermixed with
arable fields badly cultivated, and utterly destitute of w-a-
ter. The south part, at the foot of this range of hills, is a
flat clayey country, nearly impassable in the winter, but Surrey.
covered with some of the best and largest oak trees that are
to be found in the island. The north-western part exhibits
a considerable tract of the most sterile black heaths, while on
the south-west, near Farnham, is some of the most produc¬
tive land in England.
The productions of agriculture are various, and, at a Produc-
distance from tire capital, scarcely differ from those of other tions.
districts in similar circumstances. A greater proportion of
clover and of sanfoin is cultivated on the hills, where there
are no natural meadows, than in most other parts of the
kingdom. Woad is also very extensively raised in the
same districts. It is commonly sown along with turnips in¬
tended for feeding sheep, which will not touch woad. It is
generally harvested before the corn-crops are ready for the
sickle. Near London, the garden-ground extends over
several thousand acres. The growing of plants, for the use
of the druggists and perfumers, engages much attention;
and those gardens supply peppermint, lavender, wormwood,
chamomile, aniseed, liquorice, poppy, and other similar ar¬
ticles. Hops are extensively cultivated near Farnham, and
are sold for higher prices than those of any other districts.
No minerals are now raised in the county ; for though Minerals
iron is known to exist, and was formerly worked with an(l
charcoal, the improvements in chemistry have fixed thaU'13’
operation to the coal-districts. The fossil riches are va¬
luable, especially fullers’ earth, which is of the best quality,
and in abundance, and supplies the cloth manufacturers
both in the west and north of England. Limestone is plen¬
tiful ; and that, as well as chalk, is converted into lime, upon
a great scale, for the use of the builders of the metropolis.
The quarries of Merstham produce an excellent fire-stone;
and the sand near Dorking and Ryegate is in great request
for making glass, hour-glasses, and other purposes.
The manufactures are various and extensive ; but, being Manufac-
almost exclusively near the metropolis, may more properly tures.
be considered as belonging to London than to the county
of Surrey. The principal of these are brevveries and distil¬
leries on a magnificent scale. The tanners, rope and sail-
makers, glass-makers, starch and hair-powder makers, and
the preparers of vinegar and raisin wines, carry on large
trades. A few miles farther from London, chiefly on the
banks of the river Wandle, the calico-printers and bleach¬
ers have large establishments.
All the rivers of this county empty themselves into the Rivers, ca-
Thames. The only navigable river, besides that fine stream riajs. an<l
which bounds it, is the Wey, on which barges pass above ra^rc'ads’
Guildford into the Basingstoke Canal. The Mole is a beau¬
tiful small stream, celebrated for sinking into the ground,
and at some few miles lower again emerging. The Wandle
runs a short course, but is of great value, from the vast
quantity of mill-machinery which it keeps in motion, and
the employment which it thus affords to several thousand
persons. It rises in one spring near Croydon, turns a large
mill within a few yards of its source, and runs nine miles
before it joins the Thames. The Medway rises in Sur¬
rey, but is a very small stream till it enters the county of
Kent. The Loddon, a small river on the western border,
is chiefly valuable for the supply of water which it affords to
the Basingstoke Canal. That canal was one of the first
executed in this part of the kingdom, having been finished
in 1796. The Croydon Canal only reaches that towmfrom
the Thames; and the little success attending it has pre¬
vented its being carried farther, as was originally intended.
The Surrey Canal runs parallel to the Thames; but, by
avoiding the sinuosities of that river, and the whole of the
metropolis, is expected to be beneficial to the inhabitants
on the upper banks, by conveying coals and other heavy
commodities to them, from ships, at a cheap rate. Its en¬
trance, from the Thames below London Bridge, has a fine
basin, capable of containing 100 sail of square-rigged ves-
n
s U R S U R
Surrey, sels. Railroads have been constructed from Merstham to
' the Thames ; but the project has not repaid those who have
advanced the capital a sufficient interest to recommend any
further attempts. Several railroads which will pass through
the county have been projected, and acts of the legislature
for some of them have been obtained: only one of them
has yet made much progress, namely, the London and South¬
ampton. Some obstacles long delayed that intended to pro¬
ceed to Brighton, and the same is the case with the one
projected from London to Dover.
Antiquities Among the Roman antiquities of this county are the Er-
aud inte- mine Way, which traversed it, and the remains of which may
resting ob-sjqq |}e traced near Dorking. "Ihe piles are still standing
EJCts‘ in the river Thames at Walton, which were placed there
by the ancient Britons, to impede the passage of Julius
Ccesar. The vestiges of the encampments of the Romans
may be distinctly traced at Bottlehill, at W altonhill, and
some other spots. Among the antiquities of later date, are
the Palace of Lambeth, belonging to the see of Canterbury ;
that of Farnham, belonging to the see of Winchester; the
remains of the Abbey at Croydon, the Castle of Guildford,
Waverley Abbey, and some other Saxon edifices. The
meadow of Runnymead, St Anne’s Hill, the seat of the late
Mr Fox, the park of Richmond, and the terrace there, with
the palace and gardens of Kew, are all objects that excite
Capital. a high degree of interest. It is difficult to determine which
of the towns is the capital of the county. The principal
prison is in the borough of Southwark, and the quarter-
sessions are held there; but the lent assizes are held at
Kingston-on-Thames, and the summer assizes alternately
at Croydon and at Guildford.
Titles and The titles derived from this county are those of the Duke
represen- 0f Richmond, the Earls of Surrey, Guildford, and Onslow,
tation. an(i Baron Abinger. The county is formed into the eastern
and western division to elect two members for each. Ihe
election for the east division is held at Croydon; and the other
polling places are Ryegate, Camberwell, and Kingston. The Sum1 f
western election is held at Guildford; and the other polling U a
places are Dorking and Chertsey. The boroughs of Gatton ^u; • .
and Haselmere, which formerly returned tw o members each, ^ ^
have been disfranchised; and Ryegate, which chose two, now
elects but one member. Lambeth has been erected into a
borough, and returns two members; as do the ancient
boroughs of Southwrark and Guildford.
The number of seats belonging to noblemen and gentle- Chief
men in this county is so great as to forbid the noticing of seats. J
even all those which in any other county would be deemed
highly worthy of notice. The most remarkable are, her
majesty’s palace of Kew; Claremont, king of Belgium;
Clandon Place, earl of Onslow; Pepper Harrow^, Lord
Middleton ; Oatlands, Lord Francis Egerton; Painshill,
Lord Carhampton; Ockham Park, earl of Lovelace; Ad¬
dington Palace, archbishop of Canterbury; Rooksnist, C. H.
Turner, Esq.; Nonsuch Park, S. Farmer, Esq.; Gatton,
Lord Monson; Nork House, Lord Arden ; Betchworth,
Right Honourable H. Goulbourne ; Norbury Park, Joseph
Dennison, Esq.
See Manning and Bray’s History of Surrey; Salmon’s
Antiquities of Surrey ; Stevenson’s View of the Agriculture
of Surrey; Lyson’s Environs of London.
SURROOL, a town of Bengal, district of Birbhoom,
wffiere the East India Company have a factory for white
cottons. Long. 87. 42. E. Lat. 23. 39. N.
SURSOLID, or Surdesolid, in Arithmetic, the fifth
power of a number, or the fourth multiplication of any
number, considered as a root.
SURSUTTY, a river of Hindustan, which rises in the
mountains on the north-east boundary of the province of
Delhi, and running south-west, is lost in the sands of
Ajmeer. A town and fortress of the same name is situated
on the western bank of this river, and now belongs to an
independent chief. Long. 75. 27. E. Lat. 29. 13. N.
END OF VOLUME TWENTIETH.
f!
Printed by Thomas Allan & Co., Ballantynb & HoauBi,
and Balfour & Jack,
and Stereotyped by Thomas Allan & Co.
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    t) ; terrace there, with
• " .ul objects that e’.cite
. county. The princi})a.l
; <■ * t. owhwart, and the miavter-
. but the lent' assizes are held at
> 5 the summer assizes alternately
.:1h i v uvoy, Guildtord, and Orh'.ov ,
w rortued into the eastern
u . u • j ic-evulx'« tor each, the
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polling 11a.-; ateRyegate, Camberwell, and Kings?; !,. • Sar
western elects©u is held at Guildford; and the o,. p< ? |
*
and Hie -c. which formerly returned two menib-. , ' ■
electa but ofjo hi- -tnber. Lambeth has been erw , i
borough, returns wo members; as do ir, u t
.
The number of seats belonging to noblemen t>-ciid
men in this county is so great as to forbL of sc#; $.
evet all tho-r ', which in any other county won ued f
highly worthy of poti e. vThe most i mark.. her
majesty’s palace of Kew; Claremont, king ! n:
Clandon PI ce, earl of Onslow; Popper i 1
Middleton ; Oatland«, Lord Francis 1 ^erto h;’l,
Lord (hurhampton; Ockham Park, earl of L->
dingt, n Pala; , archbishop of Canterbury; E; M.
Turner, Es j. , Nonsuch Park, S. Farmer, i - j,
lord Mon sun ; Nork House, Lord Arden; rm,
Eight Honourable H. Goulbourne; Norbury • >
D- unison, Esq.
Sen Mitunii : ad Bray’s History of Srurrey WiwooV
Antiquities of Surrey; Stevenson’s View of the
of Surrey; Lyson’s Environs of London.
SURROOL, a town of Bengal, district a ,
where the East India Company have a taciot> U •
cottons. Long. 8'7. 42. E. Lat. 23. 39. N.
SURSOLID, or Suhdesoljd, in Aridt.Kih- •hr (fifth
power of a lumber, or the fourth inuitiplica.i i
number, considered as a root.
SUPtSUTTY, a river of Hindustan, whii t. • ♦ *
mountains on the north-east boundary of thi -i f . iiiv.* ■
Da:hi, and running south-wc.-t is loh: in n„, ^ J
Ajmeer. A town and fortress of the emm nm.. ; n h-d
on die western bank of this river,-and now b . ; •
independent chief. Long. < 5. 27, E. Lat. ;d. •
KND Vi- VOLt’MB TWENTIETH.
Fiy. 1.
Sniwih of ( atiL dioptric Up hi
SEA-LIGHTS.
StrUon, of Revolving Catoptric Jig kb.
PLATE CCCCXLI.
Section of Ed/fystone, Lighthouse.
i o 5 10 15 20 Feet.
Elevation of Corduan Lighthouse.
9
SEA-LIGHTS.
PLATE CCCCXL1L
Revolving dioptric light of first order
S &ctio 7b.
Fixed dioptric light of first order with mirrors.
S&ctio n.
'‘ardboUo Ref Lector and. Lcunp
. !h. shdm) apparatus, Section
Fog. 8.
h
Reflector and Lamp.
Side view.
Anirmt.DcV:
Plan,
>. A ikman., -Sni Ip /
SERPENTS.
PLATE CCCCXLJIl.
Pseudopus DurviUu.
Python.
PyPtou
Amphtsbcenn
ini phis Ik i ’na fuliginoscu
Head of Dendrvphis liocercus.
Head of E/peton tentaadatus
Hud of Python . S<huu'id// u
Pry op his misuta
< fotalus durissus
catuncL.
Drvophis riasutn
Crotcdus durissus.
camna
Geo. Aiknii w, Sailp t
JLt
PLATE CCCCXLTS
Posterior members
Tortnx.
Dorsal vertebrae
Skeleton of Colieber natruc.
Cee/SDa bvvittata
Hydrophis fasantus.
ion Sckneiderio
Dry.x; Benpalensis.
Tail of Aranth opus
/J/pseis cyanodon.
&eo. Ahk'nuvt, Sculp1
Jfessds of tk& Eleventh Century
Harold landing in Normandy.
from the Baveux Tapestry.
Wdldim die. Conqueror imm ting England.
feyjj**
Aforman Shipping of the Fourteenth Century,. _ from, Froissart.
L
PLATE CCCCXLVI.
Mediterrarieari Shipping ofih& fifteenth Century, from Brnydenbach's Vbyage to the Holy Land.
IMJMJ
ISSilSP1
&co.
Grzlley of the Seventeenth Centz/ry, from Van Yk.
s ii i i* nil i. I) I is o. i>i..i vv; xisViu.
\
SHIPBUILDING.
PLATE CCCCXLJX.
) irtrfh/’. Pep ysim/ Co UerLiorz.
TJl& Sovereign of the, Seas.-buff: 1637. From, a, Paj/Umg by VaadeveLdr
§
*—^—»    
T.B.
S HIP-BUILDI
DRAUGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S
G.
Dimensions.
Length of Gun Jfech 176 ft 4 ins.
L.ength of Keel, for Tonnage 145 .. 7vs.
BreadJh extreme. 47.. 10l/2.
Depth in Hold. 14.. 4-
Burtken in Tons, 1775 N?
0(1
Maui Deck
Quarter Decl j yl
/$■ Fore cast! ■
5
Fvg. 25.
BODY PI.AN.
Fig. 26,
HALF BREADTH PLAN.
Scale, of Feet.
F 20~ ~25 30 5^ 40
FjB
nm.
PLA TK
\,ATE YINBEPTIYE,
>fck
casM
'ryiaj/ient.
N° 8 indi.65 (*vt. 91? O ins. in Length.
?,j. 32prs. 36 .. 9. 6.
?.!, 32j>rs. 45.. 8 .. 6.
B O W.
F. CD*
TitMFi-ftnces.
Load Water Line.
Water Lines.
Butt1' Ki Bmv Lin is
Main Breadth
Top Breadth.
Top side.
Cutting down.
Quarter lice/:.
Fore aisde, Ii°
Upper Di
Lower I)?
Fore- Perpe/idieular.
After D?
Floor Head.
lUFuitock 1)1
2?d FiUtf D°
3?lFuitk £>°
uec. Aikma/t. Sculpf
etc CL. I
PLATE CCCCLI.
u
False. Keel
o jsr t cn: i n u
Strp/'i/hf Line
plate rrccLin.
Y.
x
SHIP-BUILD N'.
Made Flo or with
Stepping Pieces
Fig.37.
Lang's Saldg Keel.
Old Plan.
Midshnp Sections, showing Plans
Fig.40.
PLATE
D
N1 G.
Timbering Ships.
Modern Plan.
Fig. 36.
Fig. 41.
nn
SHIP BUILDING.
PLATE ('('((’IX
Section of a Fust Rates Ship of War, showing the various Plans which hove, been
adopted for seauiruj theBm/n ends to the side,- together with those at present in use.
fiop ur Rtnmd Bom,
a,. J‘Lite, Bolt..
t. hvn Kriss. under B&un.
/'late Knee,.
d. lud'eO.'i'.-i Plate Knee
e. Wbodti Rung inn Knee.
f. Wooden Standard Knee.
g. Han or Hanging Lodging Knees.
h. T. plate Knee.
i,l. Modern Forheil Knees
k. Modern Side cast Knee
m Srppitig 's Larked. Knee and, hud.
n. Side Flate.
PLATE <'CC<TM.
ggj
plate rcrriM.
SHI P B r I HI) I NG.
i yitudinaj of a Ship.on S/t' finhrr/, Soppmps :v J)ni/pmaj System
Fui. 48.
Modern Disposition, of the, TunJbers of an- JSnpiish Lme, of Batile S/iip;
?. A thrum, Sculp ■
i
\
\ *
1 , ‘
V. I), s
SHIP-BUI LI
Modern Elli.ptical Stem.
QVDt Sill.
lr.T).S.
G.D.S.
L.T.
w.l.;
=j
32 00
Methods of Tunbermp Square, Cut f‘
Circular St
Preferences.
?. C. T. Side, Courier Timber.
Win <) Tra/isum.
Filling 1)1
Deck D"
Tranrorn iV* 1.
D° W2.
W.T.
FT.
D.T.
J.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
S. T.
F P.
De
D°
D°
Stem Timkns.
Farhion Piece
PLATE CCCC
S(/uarc Stan.
*
h
*
\
_______
shoo ri ,\ g
S H O O T I N G. PLATE CCCCLXI.
3F uni AS AMT®
S M E 1
IN
SMELTING IRC
Sf*
Tiq. 7.
Plan
Section
Transverse Section
Lone/. Section
-r?';
"»fc*frinTT
Lone/. Section
I.....:..'.
PI a n
SMm/l
Details
of heating pipes.
7v
mm/Wm
Drawn, by W. Stanley.
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PLATE CCCCLXIIL
PLATE CCCCLXTV.
rnutxjjp
M'
/OniHOd ^ NIYdS
Long-itade West from 8 Greenwic h 7 'C.Spartd
*
□
Geo. Aibnan.
SPINNING.
PLATE ('('('('LAW
SPINNING.
PLATE CCCCLXVL
s ■') s x I >: (
'
SPINNING.
PLATE CCCCLXVU.
SMITH’S SELF ACTING WOOLLEN MULE.
Aiknum. Sculp1.
Front Elevation.
.Side Ele. vatio n.
STEA
Iiuiu i;! r \ <t 11 r n .
Villi' /‘Jrvallot/
A
E N G I N E .
PLATE (('(
Fig. Z
Side ElevatLojb.
End Elevation.
ST K AiV
Geo. Aikman, Sculp*.
Geo. Aik/nan, Sculp*
STEAM ENGINE.
PLATE CCCCLXX.
'
Geo. Aihrum, Sculp*
S T E
Fit). L
(rev. Aikmaii. ScuL;>t
AUiX'iDJJD MNIONa IVv:lls
AIXA1)))) 'Aivid M.VIONM KVILLS
Sf’c/iorzal Grot//ids PGizis.
.'Aikman, Sculp1.
STEAM ENGINE.
Ro t a to r \• En g inn.
Fig. 1.
PLATE CCCCLXXVI.
Front Elevation.
Fig. 8.
r
w
Fig. 3.
Fig. 6.
Transverse
TZ.
Side Elevation.
Section.
Fig. 7.
Geo. Aikman, Sculpt
o. Aihnan. SculpP
STEAM NAVIGATION. platk cccclxxvti.
o. Aihrum. SaUpP
STE
j i- j, ..,i ^
in'o. Aikman.Sculp
* T E A M N A V) G A T ION.
St;•am. S/uja. /Srifartaia,, Ac/u/m , tSafrdama and/ Cohwtbm
STEAM NAVIGATION.
PLATE ((<( LXXL\.
I Steam S/ups. BriTan/iim. Acadia, Caledotua, and Columbia
Geo. Aiknum, Sculpt
STEAM NAVI
atm'
Geo. Aiknum, Sculp?
PLATE ('('('< L
Side Elex •ation.
'Avl ATI ON
tAt/ Urgent.
I
i‘\ 'l l-: i,.xx.xi
STEAM NAVIGATION. plate cccclxxxj
I,
Aikman, Sculpt
PLATE CCCCLJLXXII.
I
Geo Aikmcai. Sculp*
AM N A V
STEAM NAVIGATION. ' plate cccclxxxui.
Geo. Aikman, Sculpt
Aikman,Sculp}
,
 --  .  — -   
STEAM NAVI GAT l
N- ^
Single Manna Engine, of - US '
Elevation of the Cylinder end.
Fig. 2.
Plan.
PL A TE CrCCL A Vi A’ l II.
Fig. 4.
Elevation of the Crank end.
feo. AikmaJi, Sadpt
Double Towint/ /;>/<//'//r o/'45
o. Aikrrum, Sculpt
I
Double Towincf of 45ID
s
N
Side Elevation.
Geo. Aikman, Sculpt
1
STEAM NAVIGATION.
PLATE CCCCXC.
STENOGRAPHY.
PLATE CCCCXCI
the Alphabet
with The Double & Triple Consonants.
PEE IP© § FUTONS AM® TERMINATIONS.
Letters. Char. ArMtraiy Abbreviations. D¥*Cons. &c. Char. ArbWAbbreviations. IVepositions. Char. Exam.
CL
b
C
d
e
f
9 J
h
i
k
l
m
TV
o
p
9
r
s
t
v
u
w
X
y
z
cc, CUL, aiov&
be, by, because.
do, did.
ever, every, middle
from, if.
God, give, gives,
f he. had, bus.
I, eye, below
\ king, know. b
/ Lord, will, all. d
me, Try, most. f
and, in, nature. j g
0, oh, owe, above j h
p people, peaxe. ; k
qj question, quantity, hr
ch
sh
th
thr
sir
wh
A cash, such.
I shall, she.
f that, they.
^ therefore.
°\ j strive, strain/.
>— who, which.
VO WEILS JPE,A.%MS .
cl. e. i o. Ui y.
,c, ; '(
’C’
,y
/ or, are.
_ is, us, soon.
I i the, to, it.
g-i have. save.
• you, view, middle
we, with.
ot except, example,
ye,your, yes, below
m
n
P
l
s
t
V
w
X
c/’
D
Q_1
r
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r
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<r\y r\ ir\ -n<- r>
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,e : p I -p- .e
CU QJ •Qd‘ Qi
X I T i 'I-
ot’ g c/ 'c/- I g
ambjtmamt marks.
: on, one.
.. for.
o of, oft, ofteih.
o at, am.
» as.
; only.
o nothing.
P where-fore.
/
Figure s.
s g a 6 y s y o
\
/tfjy.fJ ,C\.
r
ahs. obs
and, ante,
anta
contr a a ]
contra l
counter J
dis-UL-com
hyp-o-er
hiagn-i-a
mu Id
omni
mt-ei'-ro ]
D Dp
f f\A
enter
post
prefer
recon
recom
satis
super
drawn
trans
ert-erui
extra
Signification.
abstain.
antidote.
counterfeit.
discompose,
hypocrite.
magnify.
omniscience.
■/\J j entertain .
Terminations. Char. Exam
able, ible i c I 1
! c
fleet
re
A
c/p
postpone.
reconcile.
satisfy
transfer.
extirpate.
fleet
full
ference
mg
digs
don
don
sum
dan
tian <ie.
dons <lc.
s/ss ces
.s'j'.v sus
tious
cams c?r.
less
ment
self
stead
strict
ward
>i Q-
J|
..J Si tip. //. />
A MM ME VIA TIN & MARKS.
A Substantive. 1 Division.
An Adqective. J Divisible.
A Verb. i Divide.
A Participle. ! Dividing.
IPGINTS.
A CorruncL. ‘ I A Semicolon.
A Colon. * I A Period.
A Point of Interrogation.
A Point of AdmiratiorL.
Si gniti cation.
stable.
conflict.
P/
A
thing.
things.
petition.
petitions.
diesis.
barn/less.
indictinent.
himself.
substract.
forward.
THE LO RD'S P.R Ay.K.H ,
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i.Aikmiui, Sculp!